Navy Families

by Debbie Macomber

  “The candlelight service is at seven,” her father reminded them.

  Hannah glanced at her watch. “I’d better change my clothes now,” she said, heading toward the stairway.

  “I put your suitcases in your old room,” her father called out after her. Hannah stopped midstep and glanced back at her husband, her eyes wide with apprehension.

  Riley read her look and followed her up the stairs. “What’s wrong?” he asked, once they were out of earshot of the living room.

  “Dad doesn’t know,” she whispered, hating the way color crept into her cheeks.

  “Know what?”

  Rather than go into a long explanation, she climbed to the top of the stairs and opened her bedroom door for him to see for himself. Inside sat two suitcases: one belonging to her and the other to Riley.

  “Dad assumes we’re sleeping together,” she said. “If we don’t...he might think something is wrong. Would you mind very much, Riley, just for tonight?”

  He paused just inside the room, and his eyes slowly found hers. “No, Hannah,” he told her after a while. “I don’t mind at all.”

  Ten

  Riley couldn’t be more pleased at this turn of events. His own father-in-law had inadvertently laid the groundwork Riley had been impatiently waiting weeks to arrange. Hannah and he would be sharing a bed for the first time since their marriage nearly three months past. It was all Riley could do not to wear a silly grin.

  “Will you be joining us for the candlelight service?” George Raymond asked Riley once he was back downstairs.

  Personally, Riley hadn’t given the matter much thought. He’d been attending services with Hannah for the past few Sundays and was surprised to find church wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d assumed. The sermons had practical applications to everyday life. He listened carefully, hoping to gain insight into Hannah’s personality. And into his own.

  “Hannah told me you’d been going to church with her lately,” George added, wearing a proud look, as though he’d always known his daughter would turn Riley’s life around. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

  Riley nodded, swallowing down a sarcastic reply; but one good turn deserved another, and his father-in-law had gotten Hannah into his bed—a feat Riley had been attempting for weeks. Christmas Eve candlelight service, however, seemed above and beyond the call of duty.

  It wasn’t until they walked the short distance from the parsonage to the white steepled church that Riley understood why George had made an issue of inviting him to the service. It would be the first time Hannah had been home since their wedding. With them married short of three months and her pregnancy apparent, there was sure to be stares and a few harsh questions.

  Riley’s arm tightened around Hannah’s shoulders; he wanted to shield her from gossip and candid looks. He was grateful when they sat toward the front of the church, away from discerning eyes.

  Once they were situated in the polished wooden pew, Riley’s gaze found the manger scene. The baby nestled in the straw captured his attention, and he couldn’t help wondering how Joseph must have felt the night Mary had been in labor. At least he hadn’t been out to sea, worrying about his wife, wishing he could be with her. The scene hit too close to home, and drawing a heavy breath, he looked away.

  The service started shortly after they arrived. One thing Riley appreciated about church was the music. When they stood and sang Christmas carols, his loud baritone voice boomed through the building, bringing several stares and a few appreciative nods.

  Hannah glanced up at him and smiled so sweetly that for a few measures, Riley had trouble singing. Love did funny things to a man, he realized meaningfully. Last Christmas Eve he’d been sitting in a bar, hitting on the waitress. Twelve months later, he was standing in a church singing “Silent Night” at the top of his lungs.

  George Raymond moved toward the altar and lit a candle, using it to ignite others. Two men stepped forward and accepted the lighted candles. Protecting the flame by cupping their hands behind the wick, they moved down the center aisle, lighting the candle of the parishoner sitting at the end of the pew. That person shared the flame with the one sitting next to him, who turned to share it with the next person, until the light had been passed all the way down the row. Soon every candle in the church was burning.

  There were a few more rousing Christmas carols. George might not have intended them to be sung boisterously, but Riley was in a spirited mood and it felt good to sing loud and strong as if he’d been doing it every Christmas of his life. At least he knew the tunes of these hymns. Some of the others he’d heard in church the past few weeks sounded as though they’d come straight out of the Middle Ages.

  The sermon was short and sweet, just the way Riley liked them. He’d wondered what kind of preacher his father-in-law would be, suspecting George Raymond would be the fire-and-brimstone type, but Riley was pleasantly surprised.

  There was another carol, and Riley was thinking the service would soon be over. He was mentally calculating how early he could pretend to be tired and urge Hannah to go up to bed. Since it was barely eight, he figured it would take another hour or so.

  “This has been a painful year for our church family,” George announced, stepping close to the podium microphone. “A year of change and transition. A year of pain and renewal. There seems no better time than Christmas to honor Jerry Sanders.”

  Hannah went still beside Riley. Still and rigid. She reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly, but Riley had the impression she would have held on to anyone’s hand. Her breathing went shallow, and he was left to wonder at her strange behavior. It took a few moments to understand what was happening, to realize the man his father-in-law had chosen to honor was the Jerry Hannah had been engaged to marry.

  Once he’d figured it out, it was all Riley could do to remain in the pew. To be forced to sit and listen to the tribute to Hannah’s former fiancé was like holding Riley’s face underwater and asking him to try to breathe.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered to Hannah, wishing there was something he could do to spare her this. To spare himself this.

  “Are you?” Her gaze—ripe with meaning, ripe with memories—slid to his.

  He nodded, taken aback by her question. No man enjoys being trapped into listening to the limitless virtues of the man his wife loved...loved still; but the choice had been taken away from Riley. He tried to relax and let his mind wander.

  “I doubt there is a life in this church that Jerry Sanders didn’t touch,” George continued, his low voice vibrating with grief. “From the time he was in his teens, Jerry felt God’s call to the ministry, but he wasn’t pious or overly devout. He was a man who loved others and reached out when he saw a need. Once, when Jerry was twelve, he brought a young mother to the church door, explaining that he’d met her outside a gas station. Her husband had abandoned her with a three-month-old child and she had nowhere to turn. Jerry couldn’t leave her and do nothing, so he did the only thing he knew how. He brought her to his church.”

  Hannah’s fingers tightened around Riley’s. Her features had gone pale, and Riley hedged, debating how much attention they’d garner if he picked her up and carried her out of the church. Too damn much, he decided reluctantly.

  “It wasn’t only strangers Jerry helped—he touched all our lives,” George continued, and stepped away from the podium. One by one, three men and one woman moved forward, sharing incidents that involved Jerry Sanders.

  Riley didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to hear any of this, but he had no choice. Each story revealed the other man’s generosity and love in a new light. As the tales were recounted, Riley realized he’d never known anyone as generous or as kindhearted as Jerry Sanders. What George had said earlier about Jerry not being a goody-two-shoes was right. He’d been real, reacting with indignation to the wrongs committed around him, reaching out to help others even when
he faced impossible odds. He was the type of man Riley would have liked to count as a friend.

  The realization struck a sharp cord within him. It wasn’t an easy thing to admit, even to himself.

  No wonder Hannah had loved him, and grieved still. Jerry’s death had dealt her a crippling blow. How unfair it must have seemed to her. How wrong that Jerry should be taken from her. He glanced over at her and noticed the tears streaking her face. She struggled to hide them, but it did little good.

  Leaning forward, Riley reached into his back pocket and handed her a handkerchief. Slowly, as though she feared what she’d find, her gaze sought his.

  Riley hurt. What man wouldn’t? But his concern at the moment was more for Hannah. For the loss she’d suffered, for the pain she experienced being forced to rip open the half-healed wounds of her grief.

  By the time the testimonials were finished and the plaque unveiled in Jerry’s honor, Riley was ready to weep himself. Weep with frustration and anger. Weep because the comparison of his life and Jerry’s was so striking. It was all he could do not to haul Hannah out of the church. And escape himself.

  He wanted to make a quick getaway, but as soon as the service was over, several friendly folks crowded around them, looking for an introduction. Their eyes were curious as they noticed Hannah’s stomach, but no one said anything.

  Hannah amazed him with the warm way in which she handled the potentially disastrous situation. She looped her arm around Riley’s, smiled adoringly up at him and introduced him with such pride and devotion that she fooled even him. Anyone listening would have thought their marriage was the love match of the century. It was left to him to complete the picture, and for her sake, he did the best he could.

  How well he succeeded remained to be seen.

  It seemed to take forever before they could escape. Riley turned his back on his father-in-law who stood in the vestibule, bidding the last well-wishers a joyous Christmas.

  “I’m going to kill him,” Riley muttered under his breath as they walked out the side door of the church. “How could he do that to you?” The tracks of her tears had left glistening streaks down her cheek.

  “I’m sorry, Riley. So sorry.”

  “What have you got to apologize for?” he demanded brusquely.

  “For Dad. He’d never do anything to intentionally hurt one of us. He simply wasn’t thinking. I’m married to you now, and he doesn’t realize you even know about Jerry. Dad loved and misses him still. Jerry was as much a son to him as my brother, and he’s still grieving.”

  “He might have warned you.”

  “Yes. I’m sure he intended to, then simply forgot.”

  Hannah could offer a hundred excuses, but it did damn little good. Riley claimed a few minutes to himself, making the excuse that he wanted to check the car. He did that, then walked around the block until the sharp tip of his anger had worn off. Then and only then, did he return to the house.

  George Raymond, his look apologetic, was waiting for him when Riley stepped in the front door. “Hannah’s upstairs.”

  Riley didn’t trust himself to say one word. He bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Tapping lightly against the bedroom door, he waited until Hannah answered before letting himself in.

  She was sitting on top of the bed, in a sexless flannel nightgown, brushing her hair. She cast her gaze self-consciously downward as he walked into the room and started unbuttoning his shirt after pulling it free from his waist.

  He wished she’d say something. She didn’t.

  Riley sat on the side of the mattress, his back to his wife, and removed his shoes and socks. When he stood to unbuckle his pants, Hannah peeled back the bedspread.

  “I...generally read for a while before I turn out the light,” she said softly. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “No.”

  With a maddening lack of haste, she walked around the end of the bed and rooted through the suitcase for her book. Bending over the way she did offered Riley a tantalizing view of her long, slim legs. It wasn’t more than a fleeting glimpse, but then it didn’t take much to get his juices flowing. Riley wondered how the hell he was going to lie next to her all night and not touch her.

  * * *

  Hannah was worried about Riley. In her heart, she knew her father hadn’t meant to hurt her. Or Riley. Even now, George Raymond seemed oblivious to what he’d done. Rather than cause a strain in their close relationship, she’d silently gone up the stairs following the candlelight service to wait for Riley. He seemed to take forever to join her. Not everything her father did was thoughtless or ill-advised; by chance he’d managed to get her and Riley into bed together, which was a feat she’d been working toward for weeks.

  Had she realized they’d be sharing a bed when she packed, Hannah realized sadly, she would have brought her silky peach gown. Pregnancy or no pregnancy, she wanted to view Riley’s reaction when she wore it.

  Riley was under the covers, lying back, his hands tucked behind his head, staring at the ceiling when she returned with the book she intended to read. He was so far over on his side of the bed it was a wonder he didn’t slide onto the floor. He continued to stare straight ahead at the light fixture while she hurried under the blankets, shivering with the cold. Still he remained where he was.

  Hannah read for no more than fifteen minutes, then hurried out of bed, turned off the light and rushed back. She rolled onto her side, tucking her knees under her breasts in order to get warm again.

  “You all right?” Riley asked in the darkness.

  “Yes...I’m just a little cold.” She hoped he’d snuggle up against her and share his body’s heat, but he didn’t. The silence was strained, but she didn’t know what to say to make it better. Feeling helpless and inadequate, and like the world’s worst wife, she buried her face in the pillow to hide the ever-ready flow of tears.

  “Hannah?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you crying?”

  “No.”

  He gave an abrupt, hollow laugh. “You never could lie worth a damn. What’s wrong?”

  If he wouldn’t come to her, then she’d go to him. Once the decision was made, she rolled onto her other side and aligned her body with Riley’s, pressing her head to his shoulder. He felt hard and muscular, warm and whole.

  Slowly, as though he were going against his better judgment, he brought his arm out from beneath his head and wrapped it around her shoulder. It felt so good to have him hold her, to have him touch her, that she closed her eyes on a deep sigh.

  “You have nothing to fear from him, you know,” she whispered, once her throat was clear enough to talk evenly, unemotionally. The love she felt for Jerry was far removed from the life she had now.

  “You love him.”

  Hannah couldn’t deny it. “A small part of me always will. He was a special man.”

  Riley grew silent, but she could tell from the even rise and fall of his chest and the steady beat of his heart that he hadn’t taken offense, but was mulling over her words.

  “When I was little, I can remember my father telling me that when God closes a door he always opens a window. This time he opened two. I don’t regret being married to you, Riley. I feel honored to be your wife.”

  His hand gently stroked her shoulder. The day had been long and emotion packed. Hannah yawned and, nestling her face near Riley’s neck, closed her eyes.

  A smile curved her lips as she felt his mouth brush a soft kiss at her temple. Within minutes she could feel herself drifting off to sleep.

  * * *

  Until he’d met Hannah, Riley hadn’t realized how full of irony everyday life could be. He’d dreamed, plotted, schemed to get her into his bed, and once she was there, he found he was afraid to touch her. Afraid and unworthy. He, Riley Murdock, actually feared her moving close to him, tempting him beyond endurance, snuggli
ng her lush breasts against him. He trembled at the thought of his body, so hard and powerful, filling Hannah’s delicate softness. The problem, he recognized, was one of his own making. Knowing that didn’t alter the situation, however.

  Hannah openly admitted her love for her dead fiancé, and after learning what he had that evening, Riley didn’t blame her. Jerry Sanders had been one hell of a man.

  A far better man than he’d ever be. Riley had been born on the wrong side of the blanket. By the time he was in junior high, he’d been labeled a troublemaker and a rabble-rouser. His headstrong, rebellious ways had repeatedly gotten him into trouble throughout high school. He was lucky to have escaped reform school, not to mention prison. Actually, he had the Navy to thank for rescuing him from a life of crime.

  He’d enlisted the day after he graduated from high school, at the bottom of his class. His cocky attitude hadn’t lasted long; by the end of boot camp he’d realized the Navy could well be his one chance to turn himself around. It was up to him to decide.

  It had taken him fifteen years to make the transformation from a street-smart, foulmouthed kid with a chip on his shoulder the size of a California redwood to a responsible Navy chief. A few of the rough edges of his personality had been rounded off over the years, but he’d never be the educated, cultured husband Jerry Sanders would have been to Hannah.

  Riley would like to hate Hannah’s fiancé, challenge him face-to-face for her heart. But everything he’d heard that night in church convinced Riley that, had he known Jerry, he would have liked him. Jerry Sanders had been the kind of man everyone looked up to and admired. A natural leader, a lover and defender of justice. Hell, the man had been near perfect. There wasn’t anything to fault him with. He’d been a saint. He must have been, to be engaged to a woman as beautiful as Hannah and restrain from making love to her.

  Hannah, who’d been sheltered and protected all her life, was the perfect match for such a man as Jerry. She was generous and sweet, a delicate rose; and by God, she deserved a better husband, someone far more decent than he’d ever be.