Debbie Macomber's Navy Box Set

  The baby shower was a prime example. Riley knew Cheryl Morgan had organized it, but he’d never thought he’d see the day Don and Burt would sit around making small talk and eating cake with a bunch of Navy wives. Hell, he’d never thought he’d see the day himself. Nor would he ever believe he’d hold up tiny little sleepers and ooh and ahh over them like a softhearted woman. But he had, and his burly friends with him.

  Riley could feel welcome sleep coaxing him into a soothing void. Sam would be born with or without him sometime within the next two months; and God willing, all would go well.

  * * *

  “Riley,” Hannah whispered in the early-morning light. He slept soundly at her side; the even rise and fall of his chest had mesmerized her for the past several minutes. She scooted closer and pressed her head against his chest.

  “Hmm.”

  “I love you.” She had to say it, had to let him know what had been in her heart all these weeks. Tell him or burst with emotion. “I’m so proud to be your wife.”

  “After the incredible sex we just shared, I’m proud, too.” His arms cradled her against him, and he wore a silly, lazy grin. “What time is it?”

  “Four.”

  “What are you doing awake at this hour?” His eyes were closed, and he seemed far more interested in sleeping than carrying on a conversation with her.

  “Watching you. I have a…question.” She was pleased it was still dark, otherwise he’d know she was blushing.

  “Hmm?”

  “That night…in Seattle?”

  “Yes?” Slowly, reluctantly, he opened his eyes and looked at her.

  “We…you know…made love twice?”

  Riley frowned, as though he weren’t sure he understood what she was asking. “Yes.”

  “Do…men and women often do it twice in one night?” Her finger made lazy circles on his chest, curling the short, kinky hairs around her index finger. Her eyes purposely avoided his.

  “Sometimes.”

  “Oh.” She released a long, meaningful sigh.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I was curious.”

  “I’m curious, too,” he whispered hoarsely, and tunneling his fingers through her hair, he brought her mouth to his, slipping his tongue inside. While their mouths were joined, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him so that her legs were straddling his torso.

  She raised questioning eyes to his, slowly, meaningfully. “There are other ways?”

  He grinned, his look almost youthful as he nodded. “Plenty. With you like this there’s less likelihood we’ll injure the baby.”

  It was in her mind to assure him they hadn’t earlier, but the need for assurances was taken from her as Riley directed her mouth down to his. The only words either murmured after that were sighs, and moans, and whimpers of pleasure and love.

  * * *

  “You’ve got the doctor’s phone number by the bed stand?”

  “You know I do,” Hannah answered. He’d asked the same question no less than three times in the last ten minutes. She sat on the edge of the mattress, leaning back on her hands, while he finished packing his duffel bag.

  “Your bag is packed?”

  “Riley,” she said with an exasperated sigh, “the baby isn’t due for another eight and a half weeks. Worry about your own packing. I’ll be doing mine soon enough.”

  He stalked to the far side of their bedroom and stuffed what remained of this gear into the thick canvas bag with enough force to punch out the bottom. “I don’t want you lifting anything heavier than three pounds, understand?”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” She gave him a mocking salute behind his back.

  “Your job?”

  “We agreed when I was hired it would only be for a few months. I won’t work past February. I promise.” Once again she smiled.

  “Dammit, Hannah, this isn’t a laughing matter.”

  “I’m not laughing,” she assured him, giving her voice just the right amount of contriteness to convince him she was sincere.

  “Then why do I have the feeling you find this all a big joke?” He straightened and plowed his fingers through his hair. It was so rare to see Riley ruffled that Hannah honestly enjoyed it. Now that he was only a few hours from deployment, the realization he’d be leaving seemed to have hit him like a sledgehammer.

  “Honest to God, Hannah,” he whispered, “I’ve never been more terrified in my life and you’re handling the whole thing like some…”

  “Joke,” she finished for him. “The baby and I are going to be just fine. There’s nothing to indicate we won’t be, so stop worrying.”

  “I know. But things could go wrong.”

  “They won’t.”

  “I wish I could be here.”

  “I do, too. I’m sorry you can’t, sorrier than you know. But it isn’t the end of the world.” She did her best to give the appearance of being cool and collected. No one knew better than she how overwrought her husband had become in the last few days before deployment.

  “You’ll keep in touch?”

  Like everything else, he’d explained how the family grams worked a dozen or more times. Half the instructions he’d given her had been repeated so often that Hannah could recite them in her sleep. “I’ll send one every available opportunity.”

  He sighed once more. “You realize the chaplain’s office might not be able to contact me right away.”

  “Yes,” she said patiently. “You already explained that, too. If the Atlantis is in an ‘alert’ status, then it could be some time before you’re notified of Sam’s birth.”

  “I won’t be able to contact you even when I am told.”

  “I realize that, too,” she assured him softly. The teasing banter she’d hidden behind earlier vanished as the reality hit her. She wasn’t frightened—not of the actual birth—but everything within her longed for Riley to be able to share the experience with her.

  “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “Nothing will. I promise.” She bravely attempted to console him with a smile.

  “Take care of yourself?” His gaze had never been more tender.

  “Every minute of every day.”

  He moved across the bedroom and sank to his knees in front of her. He gripped both her hands and pressed his lips against the tips of her fingers. His shoulders heaved as he exhaled a sharp, anxious sigh. Gently, lovingly, he moved his hands over her abdomen and leaned forward to gently, sweetly kiss her stomach.

  * * *

  “Chinese, again?” Cheryl asked.

  Hannah giggled. “I have this incredible urge for pork-fried rice, and before you ask, I wouldn’t even think of using soy sauce.”

  The two were spending a lazy Saturday afternoon in the Kitsap Mall, window-shopping. Hannah’s due date was a week away, and she’d never felt more hearty. In the last week she’d accomplished more than in the past several that Riley had been out to sea.

  The days had sped past on winged feet, one often blending into the next. She was so busy that despite dreadfully missing Riley, the days piled on top of one another like professional football players.

  Her visits to Dr. Underwood were weekly now. Hannah had felt huge at seven months. Months eight and nine were like nature’s cruel joke. No longer could she stand upright and view her feet. She’d given up wearing shoes that entailed tying; it would be simpler to wrestle a crocodile. If there was anything to be grateful for, it was that Riley wasn’t there to fuss over her. If he’d been solicitous at seven months, she hated to think how he’d behave now.

  She was miserable, true; but not overly so. If she had anyone to complain about it was Cheryl, who’d become as much a mother hen as Riley had been. Hannah honestly thought Cheryl had taken lessons from Riley.

  Hannah swore her friend would follow her into the bathroom, if she would let her. The only thing she could figure was that Riley had gotten hold of the nurse and made her promise on her mother’s grave
to take care of Hannah.

  For a nurse who dealt daily with the birthing process, Cheryl behaved as though Hannah were the first woman alive to become pregnant.

  “Isn’t that blue dress a knockout?” Cheryl asked, pausing in front of MaryLou’s Dress Shop. “I should try it on, just for the fun of it. Something like that would drive Steve wild. Not that he needs much.” She laughed at her own joke. “Hannah?”

  “Oh, it’s cute, real cute.” The dress was that and more, although Hannah had given it only a fleeting glance.

  “Something’s wrong?”

  “No…” Hannah wasn’t sure.

  Cheryl gripped her arm, dragging her to the thick polished bench in the middle of the mall floor. “Let’s sit down.”

  “I’m all right,” Hannah protested. “I’m just feeling a little…strange.”

  “Strange as in how?”

  “Strange as in…oh…oh.” Her eyes rounded as she shot her gaze up to her friend. “If I’m not mistaken, that was a…labor pain.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Riley had been on edge all day. As Hannah’s due date approached, the weight of their separation pressed on him unlike anything he’d ever experienced. To love a woman, to care so deeply about her well-being was foreign to him. He was at a loss to know how to deal with his worries.

  Others around him slept without a qualm. But the escape of slumber evaded Riley. Rather than fight it, he’d lain back in his berth and stared into the dark. His thoughts were heavy, his anxiety high.

  In the last two family grams he’d received, Hannah had claimed all was well with her and Sam. But no matter how many times he’d read the words, analyzed the few sentences she was allowed to transmit, Riley was left with the feeling something wasn’t right. His fears were widespread, and once again he silently cursed the necessity of being at sea during these last worrisome months of her pregnancy.

  His friends were little help. Steve wasn’t a father yet, so he knew little of the…

  A father. Riley hesitated as the word passed through his mind with the speed of a laser beam. He was about to become a father. Funny, from the time he’d learned of Hannah’s pregnancy, he’d never thought of himself in those terms.

  A father.

  He knew little of such matters, he acknowledged, frowning. He’d never had the opportunity to know the man who’d sired him. From what Riley understood, his own father had been unaware of his birth. The man, who would forever remain a mystery to him, had contributed little to his emotional and physical well-being. The only male influence Riley had received had come from his stepfather, an abusive alcoholic who’d paid him little attention.

  Riley experienced an overwhelming surge of gratitude that he’d learned of Hannah’s pregnancy. In different circumstances he might never have known of it. He would have gone about his life blithely unaware of Sam’s existence, and would have missed so much more than he’d ever thought to experience.

  Considering the responsibility that awaited him with his child’s birth overwhelmed Riley. He knew so little of the ways of a father, and even less of love. But Hannah had taught him the very meaning of the word, and he was confident Sam would give him all the instruction he’d need to be a father.

  A daddy, he amended, grinning.

  A sigh quivered through his lungs, and he closed his eyes, content for the first time that day. He could sleep now, entrusting the well-being of his wife and child to a far greater power than his own.

  * * *

  “Lieutenant Commander Kyle would like a word with you.”

  Riley’s heart skipped a beat, then raced with such velocity he went dizzy and weak. There was only one reason the executive officer would want to speak to Riley.

  Hannah.

  The rush with which he moved through the tight quarters of the nuclear submarine caused more than a few stares. His eyes connected with the other man’s, and the lieutenant commander grinned broadly.

  “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  Lieutenant Commander Kyle was the best kind of officer. Riley had known him several years and liked him immensely. There wasn’t a man aboard the Atlantis who didn’t. Word had it the executive officer had been divorced for nearly two years and then had reunited with his wife. He’d been to hell and back, according to those who knew him best. Whatever the cause of his problems, he’d solved them and took an interest in his men and their lives.

  * * *

  The CO’s grin broadened as he held his hand out to Riley. “Congratulations are in order. We received word a few minutes ago that your wife has given birth to a healthy eight-pound three-ounce boy. Mother and son are doing well.”

  “A…son.” The words barely worked their way past a lump in his throat that was so large it made it painful to breathe.

  “Hannah?”

  “According to the wire, she’s fine.”

  Riley nodded. He’d heard the CO say it once, but he needed to be sure, to calm the doubts and the fears that crowded his heart and mind.

  “Eight pounds?”

  “Big and healthy.” The lieutenant commander slapped him across the back. “You look like you need to sit down, Murdock.”

  “I feel like I need to.”

  The commanding officer chuckled. “I understand that well. My second child, Patrick, was born while I was at sea. I wasn’t a damn bit of good to the Navy until I knew Carol had had a safe delivery.”

  A numbness had claimed hold of Riley, starting in his chest and radiating outward, paralyzing his lungs.

  “A son,” he repeated when he could.

  “I take it you wanted a boy.”

  Riley didn’t answer right away. “I suppose I did, but I wouldn’t have been disappointed with a daughter.”

  The other man nodded. “Our first was a girl, and I couldn’t have been more pleased, although I’d convinced myself I wanted a son. Somehow, once they arrive, all pink and soft, it doesn’t seem to matter.”

  They spoke for a few minutes more, then Riley returned to the torpedo room. He felt fiercely proud, an emotion so profound it was all he could do not to throw his arms in the air and shout for the sheer joy of it. The crazy part was, the desire to fall to his knees and weep was just as compelling.

  He had a son. Samuel Riley Murdock. Moisture blurred his vision, and Riley realized it was tears of jubilation; his heart felt so full of love he couldn’t contain it any longer.

  He had a son.

  * * *

  Hannah studied the clock on the wall of her hospital room, which was partially obliterated by two bright-blue helium balloons that were tied to the foot of her bed. Cheryl Morgan was scheduled to go on duty in fifteen minutes and had promised to stop in for a short visit beforehand.

  Hannah had been waiting to talk to Cheryl all afternoon. Her mind was on her son, who was sleeping serenely at her side. She’d been overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and attention she’d received after Samuel’s birth. She hadn’t lacked for visitors. Cards lined her nightstand, and her small locker was filled with gifts.

  “So how’s it going, little mother?” Cheryl asked, stepping into the room. She was dressed in her uniform and a soft blue sweater.

  The minute Hannah saw her, she couldn’t help herself—she burst into tears. “I’m fine,” she wailed, and reached for a tissue, blowing her nose.

  “New-mother blues?” Cheryl asked sympathetically, handing Hannah the entire box of tissues. “Don’t worry, it’s to be expected. With so many hormones swimming around, your emotions are bound to be in upheaval.”

  “It’s not that,” Hannah sobbed, pointing toward the window ledge where a beautiful bouquet of a dozen red and white roses was perched. “Riley had one of his friends on the base send them to me…The card…”

  “The card was sweet and sentimental?” Cheryl coaxed.

  “No,” she wailed. “The next time I see that man I’m going…to…slap him silly. I’m…so angry I could just spit.”

  “Angry?”

  ?
??Read it for yourself. Then you’ll know.” Hannah picked up the small envelope and handed it to her friend.

  Cheryl’s gaze narrowed as she slipped out the card and read the few scribbled words. Slowly she raised her gaze to Hannah, her look wide and questioning. “It says, ‘I love you.’ It’s signed, ‘Riley.”’

  Hannah sobbed once more and in a fit of righteousness tossed the damp tissue to the foot of her bed. “See what I mean?”

  “Those are certainly fighting words if I ever heard them,” came the sarcastic comment. “Are you going to torture him with the silent treatment once he arrives home?”

  “I should.” Using the heels of her hands, Hannah rubbed the moisture from her burning cheeks, irked all the more. “He hasn’t even got the common decency to tell me to my face,” she announced, and swallowed a hiccup.

  “Let me see if I understand this,” Cheryl said, pulling up a chair and sitting down. “The card claims he loves you, and that makes you angry?”

  “Yes,” Hannah snapped.

  “He’s not supposed to love you?”

  “Well, of course he is.”

  “I see,” Cheryl replied, frowning.

  It was apparent her friend didn’t understand anything of what had happened. “You don’t see,” Hannah argued. “Otherwise you’d be as outraged as I am.”

  “Maybe you’d better explain it to me.” Cheryl crossed her legs and leaned back as though convinced it would take considerable time to explain why Hannah had taken such offense at Riley’s card.

  Actually, Hannah wasn’t eager to rationalize her outrage, but there didn’t seem to be any help for it. “It’s Riley.”

  “That much I gathered.”

  “He…had his friend send the flowers with the card.”

  “I’m with you so far,” Cheryl prompted with one solid nod of her head.

  “It’s what he said on the card—that he loves me.”

  “I understand that part, too, only I seem to be missing some key link.”

  Hannah’s eyes filled with fresh tears. “I love him so much and…and he’s never told me he loves me. Not even once—and then he has to do it in a stupid card when I can’t be there to look in his eyes.”