Debbie Macomber's Navy Box Set

by Debbie Macomber

  Marilyn brought the coffeepot around the kitchen counter where Catherine was sitting on a high stool. She, too, was dressed in her housecoat, her hair mussed. Catherine loved her mother’s kitchen more every time she came to visit. It was painted a light shade of cheery yellow, with bright sunlight spilling in from the three skylights overhead. The counters were white with a huge wicker basket of dried flowers decorating the corner.

  “So are you going to tell me about him?” Marilyn asked, slipping onto the stool next to Catherine.

  She hadn’t mentioned a word about Royce. Her flight from Seattle had landed late the night before. Her mother and Norman had picked her up at the airport, and they’d driven directly to the condo in San Francisco’s refurbished Marina District. Catherine and her mother had stayed up half the night, but all the talk had evolved around her mother and Norman. Not once had Catherine mentioned Royce.

  “About who?” she asked innocently, not sure even now she could talk about him.

  Her mother’s smile was chiding. She raised the coffee cup to her lips and took a sip, then sighed. “I remember the day Norman asked me to marry him. It wasn’t the first time, mind you, but he hadn’t pressed me in more than a year. I asked for more time, the way I always do. Ever the gentleman, Norman accepted that, but then he said something he never had before. He said he loved me, and always would, but he explained that a man only has so much patience. He was tired of living his life alone, tired of dreaming of having me for his wife one day. Then he asked me if I truly loved him.”

  “You do.” Catherine already knew the answer to that.

  “Of course I do, I have for years.” Marilyn paused once more for another drink of her coffee, which gave her time to compose her thoughts, it seemed. “That night as I was getting ready for bed, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror to remove my makeup. As I stared at my reflection I realized there was a certain look about me, a certain…I hesitate to use this word, readiness.”

  “Readiness,” Catherine repeated.

  “Yes. Right then and there I realized what a fool I’d been to wait so many years to marry Norman. The time was right to accept his proposal, it had been right for a good long while, only I hadn’t realized it. I couldn’t even wait until morning, I phoned him right then.” Her lips quivered gently with a smile. “I took one look at you this morning, Catherine, and there’s a certain look about you not unlike the one I saw in myself.”

  “Readiness?” Catherine joked.

  “No, not that. You have the look of a woman in love, but one who doesn’t know what she’s going to do. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I…don’t know.” Catherine had left for California shortly after her return to Bangor from the Venture. She hadn’t seen Royce in three days prior to her departure, nor had she spoken to him since that one horrible night aboard the Navy vessel. Every time she thought about Royce’s marriage proposal, she was forced to wade through a mine field of negative emotions, each one threatening to explode in her face.

  Her mother was watching her closely, and Catherine realized she owed her some explanation. “There are difficulties.”

  “Is he married?”

  Her startled gaze flew to Marilyn’s. “Nothing that drastic.”

  “I take it he’s in the Navy?”

  Catherine nodded. “That’s the problem. He’s the executive officer, my boss.”

  Her mother knew what that meant without Catherine needing to explain it. The dark brown eyes narrowed slightly. “Oh, Catherine, sweetie, you do like to live dangerously, don’t you?”

  “It wasn’t like I planned to fall in love with him,” she cried, defending herself. No one in their right mind would purposely put themselves through this torment.

  “Does he return your feelings?”

  “I think so.” After the night he’d met her on the dirt road, Catherine was convinced she’d never question the way he felt about her. Then he’d pulled that stunt aboard the Venture and she was left sinking with doubts.

  “You think so?” Marilyn repeated slowly, thoughtfully. It seemed her mother was incredulous that Catherine wouldn’t know something this important.

  “He loves me,” she amended.

  “He just has a difficult time showing it?”

  “Exactly.” Catherine replayed the latest incident and how he’d followed her into her cabin. It had been a foolish risk that might have cost them both dearly.

  “I take it you rejected his marriage proposal?”

  “Of course I did. He asked for all the wrong reasons.”

  “But if he asked for all the right ones, what would you have said?”

  “Honest to God truth?” Catherine asked.

  “Honest to God truth.”

  “Yes. In a heartbeat. Oh, Mom, I’m so crazy about this guy—I don’t know what’s right anymore. I never dreamed I’d defy Navy regulations. It’s simply not done. Yet here we are so crazy in love we’re acting like complete idiots, risking our careers and our reputations and everything else I always thought was so important…I still think is important.

  “I know Royce was upset that I’d been assigned to accompany him on the Venture. He’d wanted this time apart to gain some perspective about us and our relationship. At least I assume that was what he intended. Then I was ordered to accompany him, and it made everything much worse. Everything seems to be working against us.”

  “What’s going to happen when you return?”

  Catherine sighed and slowly shook her head. “I wish I knew.”

  “Royce…that’s his name?” At Catherine’s nod, Marilyn continued. “He’ll have the time you seem to think he needs.”

  “But, Mom,” Catherine said, feeling more miserable than ever, “if he does decide it would be best for us to marry, it won’t help matters any. We’d both continue to paddle in the same leaky boat as before.”

  “But if you marry Royce, won’t you give up the Navy?”

  “No,” she cried vehemently. “Why should I? I love the military. I’m not about to relinquish an eleven-year investment just because I happen to fall in love. And getting out of the Navy isn’t all that easy, either. It takes up to a year, unless I were to find myself pregnant.”

  Marilyn’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline.

  “Oh, Mother, honestly. There’s no possibility.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetie, it’s just that I’d love to have grandchildren someday.”

  “I’ll do my best—someday.”

  Marilyn rested her elbows on the counter and released an elongated sigh. “I hadn’t realized getting out of the Navy would be such a hassle.”

  “I’m not leaving the Navy,” Catherine reinforced.

  “So what’s going to happen?”

  Her mother asked the question as though Catherine kept a crystal ball in her pocket and consulted it regularly. “The only thing either one of us can do is put in a request for a transfer.”

  “But you just moved to Bangor from Hawaii.”

  “I know. It isn’t likely the Navy will look favorably upon shipping me elsewhere anytime soon.”

  “What about Royce? Can he put in a request?”

  Catherine bit into her lower lip. It was a thought she’d entertained often, although she’d never spoken to Royce about it. “Yes, but I don’t know that he will. He’s been stationed at Bangor for several years now, and he’d hate to uproot Kelly. It’s the only home she’s ever known. Of course there’s always the chance he’d be reassigned to one of the other commands in the Puget Sound area. We can hope, of course.”

  “Kelly? Who’s Kelly?”

  Catherine doubted that her mother had heard anything beyond the point that she’d mentioned Royce’s daughter’s name. “His daughter. She’s ten and oh, Mom, she is such a delight. We get along so well. She’s just at the age where she’s discovering what it means to be a girl. It all started with me painting her fingernails when she was hurt in an accident. We’ve gotten so close. The last time we met, Kelly w
anted her hair cut, so I took her to a salon and stood over the hairdresser like an old mother hen. When she’d finished, Kelly looked so cute.”

  “You’re spending a lot of time with her, I take it?”

  “As much as I can,” Catherine said, and hesitated. “You’re wearing that worried look again.”

  “I can’t help it,” Marilyn murmured. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “I won’t,” Catherine assured her with more confidence than she was feeling. “Now quit being such a worrywart. This is your wedding day, and I certainly don’t want you looking all serious and somber fretting about me.” Catherine took a sip of her coffee and glanced at her watch. “Oh, my goodness,” she said, sliding off the stool. “Look at the time! We’ve got to get ready, or you’ll be late for your own wedding. Norman will never forgive me.”

  * * *

  The wedding was lovely. Her mother made a radiant bride, Catherine mused during the plane trip on the way back to Seattle. Norman had never looked more distinguished or handsome. The two, backed with long years of steady friendship, were the ideal couple. Catherine had heard several people say as much as she wandered through the reception, making sure everyone had what they needed. Norman had insisted the affair be catered, but Catherine had made busywork in an effort to keep herself absorbed. If she’d sat back and relaxed, there might have been time to think about the young, handsome man in the photograph that rested on her fireplace mantel. The father she’d never known.

  It was ironic that Catherine would be better acquainted with her new stepfather than the man who’d given her life.

  When it came time for her mother and Norman to exchange their vows, Catherine had felt a sudden rush of emotion crowd her eyes. A tear or two did manage to slip down her cheek as she stood beside her mother, clenching a floral bouquet. If anyone noticed, and Catherine prayed they didn’t, she sincerely hoped they assumed it was a tear of shared happiness.

  Catherine was happy for her mother and Norman. Even more so now that she’d experienced these few days with them. It was almost comical watching the two. They were like young lovers, so involved with each other the rest of the world didn’t seem to exist.

  In many ways Catherine was envious. Her love for Royce was so much more complicated.

  As the Boeing 737 cut a wide path through the thick layer of clouds, Catherine couldn’t help wondering what kind of reception Royce would have for her upon her return. Would he be pleased she was back? Would his eyes search hers out so she’d know how much he’d missed her? Would he find an excuse to be alone with her? Or would the brick facade he so often carried be tightly locked in place? So secure he’d look right through her and reveal little of what he was thinking and none of what he was feeling.

  Catherine was exhausted when the plane landed at Sea-Tac. When she walked off the jetway into the airport terminal, she found her gaze scanning the crowds, hoping that Royce would be there waiting for her.

  He wasn’t.

  It was ridiculous to expect him. As far as she knew, he wasn’t even aware of her flight schedule. Then why, she asked herself, did she experience this heavy letdown?

  “You’re an idiot,” she whispered as she walked down the concourse to the baggage claim area.

  Again she reminded herself what a fool she was when she unlocked her apartment door over an hour later, after she’d picked Sambo up from the neighbor’s. To her disappointment, there wasn’t anything on her answering machine from Royce, either. Kelly had left two messages. The first call was to tell Catherine that her story about the Princess and the Dragon had been chosen by her teachers for the Young Authors Program. Kelly was so excited and had been talking so fast it was difficult to understand her. The second message had been made that afternoon, Catherine decided, and the purpose was to tell her Kelly missed her and wished she’d hurry back soon.

  Catherine toyed with the idea of phoning the ten-year-old, then noted the time and realized Royce’s daughter was probably already asleep for the night. It was unlikely that he’d appreciate the intrusion.

  Nevertheless, she couldn’t give up the idea. Five minutes later, against her better judgment, she found herself reaching for the phone.

  It was Royce who answered. His voice was as rich and masculine as ever, and just hearing it sent goose bumps up her spine.

  “It’s Catherine,” she said, managing to keep any emotion out of her voice, “I’m calling for Kelly.”

  He hesitated, as though she’d caught him off guard. “She went to bed about half an hour ago.”

  The tension crackled over the telephone wire like static electricity. “Will you tell her I phoned?”

  “Of course.”

  Catherine closed her eyes against the lack of sentiment in his voice. It was as if he were speaking to a casual acquaintance and not the woman he’d once claimed he loved. Once, only once, and then it had come as part of a jealous rage.

  “I…I won’t keep you then,” she announced stiffly.

  “You aren’t keeping me from anything more than television.” His control had slipped just a little, as if he were reluctant to disconnect the line. For that, at least, Catherine could be grateful.

  “How was the wedding?” he asked, as though looking for ways to make polite conversation.

  “Beautiful,” she told him, meaning it.

  “How were you?”

  He didn’t need to explain the question. He was asking how she’d dealt with the emotions she’d had so much trouble accepting when she’d first learned her mother intended to marry Norman.

  Involuntarily, Catherine’s gaze drifted to her fireplace mantel. “Fine,” she whispered. She’d dealt with it splendidly, far better than she’d expected. “Mom made a beautiful bride.” Once more there was a noticeable silence. He’d done his part, now it was her turn. “How did everything go at the office?”

  “There weren’t any problems.”

  “Good,” she whispered. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

  “So I understand.”

  Say something, Catherine pleaded silently. Let me know what you’re feeling. Tell me you missed me as dreadfully as I missed you. Tell me you regret that we parted without settling our differences.

  Nothing. The line went so quiet that for a moment all Catherine could hear was the sound of her own breathing.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, when it became apparent Royce had no intention of continuing the stilted conversation.

  “Right…in the morning.” How clipped he sounded, how eager to be rid of her, but all changed abruptly when he said, “Good night, Catherine.”

  There was such hunger in those few words, such longing. “Good night,” she responded softly.

  She pressed the receiver more closely to her ear when she heard him call her name.

  “Yes,” she said, trying hard to disguise the eagerness in her voice. She sounded like a silly school-girl and couldn’t have cared less.

  “About Mark Masterson.”

  “Yes?” Her eyes drifted closed, ready to savor his words of apology, ready to apologize herself, anything that would dislodge this ten-foot wall between them. This wall of pride and pain.

  “He phoned for you while you were away.” Royce’s voice hardened until each word fell like a chip of concrete against a hammer.

  “Lieutenant Commander Masterson?” Catherine had trouble believing it. She’d done everything possible to discourage the Venture’s officer. Catherine couldn’t understand why Mark, who had recently gone through a divorce, would turn to her.

  “He left a number where you can get in touch with him.”

  “I have no intention of contacting him,” she confirmed, in case Royce suspected she was even remotely interested in the other man.

  “What you do or don’t do is none of my concern.” The hard note in his voice progressed to a savage undertone. “You’re free to do as you wish.”

  “Do you honestly want me to date him?” she challenged, losing
patience with Royce.

  “What I want isn’t a concern here. Masterson left a message for you. Why he chose to contact me to give it to you is anyone’s guess. Apparently he’s going to be in Bangor sometime soon. Heaven only knows how he arranged that, but he did, and he told me to let you know he’ll be looking for you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Catherine demanded.

  “You can put your own connotation on it because I assure you I don’t have a clue.”

  “I’ll bet you don’t,” Catherine muttered.

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “You heard me, Royce Nyland.” The tension between them was stretched beyond the breaking point.

  “Listen, Catherine, if you’re waiting for me to tell you you’re free to date Masterson, then you’ve got it. Feel free. There’s nothing between us.”

  Catherine was so hurt and angry, she started to shake. “Is that a fact? Well, I must admit I find that interesting. One minute you’re demanding I marry you, and in the next you’re practically ordering me to date another man.” She was so upset, she could feel her anger overwhelming her good sense. Sucking in a giant breath, she forced herself to stop before she said something she’d regret. “The dirt road off Byron Way,” she said, as calmly as she could manage. “Meet me there in half an hour.”

  She didn’t wait for him to confirm or deny his being there, but replaced the receiver.

  She was walking toward the door when the phone started to ring. Ignoring it, she reached for her coat and purse and walked out of her apartment.

  Forty minutes later, Catherine was standing outside her car, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket, searching the night for Royce’s headlights. She’d just about given up hope when she saw his car come barreling down the road. At least she assumed it was Royce.

  He turned off the engine and leaped out of the car and stood there. For all his rush, he didn’t seem to have a thing to say.

  For that matter, Catherine didn’t, either. They stood staring at each other, the moonlight cascading over them like a golden waterfall, splashing light on either side of them.

  He looked dreadful, as though he hadn’t slept in days. His face was stern and harsh, as austere as she’d ever seen it. Her gaze slid to his. It seemed for a moment that he wanted to avoid looking at her, but apparently something compelled him to meet her gaze, but he did so reluctantly. Catherine gasped softly at the way his deep, cobalt-blue eyes plunged into hers as though he would have drowned just looking at her.