“Carol.” Steve burst into the room and slowly dropped his sea bag to the floor when he saw her. His eyes rounded with shock.
Carol knew she looked dreadful.
“Honey,” he said, taking one step toward her. “I’m home.”
“Steve Kyle, how could you do this to me?” she cried and unceremoniously burst into tears.
Twenty
Steve was so bewildered by Carol’s tears that he stood where he was, not moving, barely thinking, unsure how to proceed. Handling a pregnant woman was not something listed in the Navy operational manual.
“Go away,” she bellowed.
“You want me to leave?” he asked, his voice tight and strained with disbelief. This couldn’t be happening—he was prepared to fall at her knees, and she was tossing him out on his ear!
With hands held protectively over her face, Carol nodded vigorously.
For three months he’d fantasized about this moment, dreamed of holding her in his arms and kissing her. He’d envisioned placing his hands over her extended belly and begging her and the baby’s forgiveness. The last thing he’d ever imagined was that she wouldn’t even listen to him. He couldn’t let her do it.
Cautiously, as though approaching a lost and frightened kitten, Steve advanced a couple of steps.
Carol must have noticed because she whirled around, refusing to face him.
“I … I know the baby’s mine,” he said softly, hoping to entice her with what he’d learned before sailing.
In response, she gave a strangled cry of rage. “Just go. Get out of my house.”
“Carol, please, I love you … I love the baby.”
That didn’t appease her, either. She turned sideways and jerked her index finger toward the door.
“All right, all right.” Angry now, he stormed out of the house and slammed the door, but he didn’t feel any better for having vented his irritation. Fine. If she wanted to treat him this way, she could do without the man who loved her. Their baby could do without a father!
He made it all the way to his car, which was parked in the driveway. He opened the door on the driver’s side and paused, his gaze centered on the house. The frustration nearly drowned him.
Hell, he didn’t know what he’d done that was so terrible. Well, he did … but he was willing to make it up to her. In fact, he was dying to do just that.
He slammed the car door and headed back to the house, getting as far as the front steps. He stood there a couple of minutes, jerked his hand through his hair hard enough to bruise his scalp, then returned to his car. It was obvious his presence wasn’t sought or appreciated.
Not knowing where else to go, Steve drove to Lindy’s.
Rush opened the door and Steve burst past him without a word of greeting. If anyone understood Carol it was his sister, and Steve needed to know what he’d done that was so wrong, before he went crazy.
“What the hell’s the matter with Carol?” he demanded of Lindy, who was in the kitchen. “I was just there and she kicked me out.”
Lindy’s gaze sought her husband’s, then her eyes widened with a righteousness that was barely contained. “All right, Steve, what did you say to her this time?”
“Terrible things like I loved her and the baby. She wouldn’t even look at me. All she could do was cover her face and weep.” He started pacing in a kitchen that was much too small to hold three people, one of whom refused to stand still.
“You’re sure you didn’t say anything to insult her?”
“I’m sure, dammit.” He splayed his fingers through his hair, nearly uprooting a handful.
Once more Lindy looked to Rush. “I think I better go over and talk to her.”
Rush nodded. “Whatever you think.”
Lindy reached for her purse and left the apartment.
“Women,” Steve muttered. “I can’t understand them.”
“Carol’s pregnant,” Rush responded, as though that explained everything.
“She’s been pregnant for nine months, for God’s sake. What’s so different now?”
Rush shrugged. “Don’t ask me.” He walked across the kitchen, opened the fridge and took out a beer, silently offering it to Steve.
Steve shook his head. He wasn’t interested in drinking anything. All he wanted was for this situation to be squared away with Carol.
Rush helped himself to a beer and moved into the living room, claiming the recliner. A slow smile spread across his face. “In case you haven’t heard, Lindy’s pregnant.”
Steve stopped pacing long enough to share a grin with his friend. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”
“Good grief, man, she could only be a few months along.”
“Not her,” Rush teased. “Me. The guys on the Mitchell claim I’ve got that certain glow about me.”
Despite his own troubles, Steve chuckled. He paused, standing in the middle of the room, and checked his watch. “What could be taking Lindy so long? She should have phoned long before now.”
Rush studied his own timepiece. “She’s only been gone a few minutes. Relax, will you?”
Steve honestly tried. He sat on the edge of the sofa and draped his hands over his bent knees. “I suppose I’m only getting what I deserve.” His fingers went through his hair once more. If this continued he would be bald before morning.
The national news came on and Rush commented on a recent senate vote. Hell, Steve didn’t even know what his friend was talking about. Didn’t care, either.
The phone rang and Steve bounced off the sofa as if the telephone had an electronic device that sent a shot of electricity straight through him.
“Answer that,” Rush said, chuckling. “It might be a phone call.”
Steve didn’t take time to say something sarcastic. “Lindy?” he demanded.
“Oh, hi, Steve. Yes, it’s Lindy.”
“What’s wrong with Carol?”
“Well, for one thing she’s having a baby.”
“Everyone keeps telling me that. It isn’t any deep, dark secret, you know. Of course she’s having a baby. My baby!”
“I mean she’s having the baby now.”
“Now?” Steve suddenly felt so weak, he sat back down. “Well, for God’s sake she should be at the hospital. Have you phoned the doctor? How far apart are the contractions? What does she plan to do about this?”
“Which question do you want me to answer first?”
“Hell, I don’t know.” His voice sounded like a rusty door hinge. His knees were shaking, his hands were trembling and he’d never felt so unsure about anything in his life.
“I did phone Dr. Stewart,” Lindy went on to say, “if that makes you feel any better.”
It did. “What did he say?”
“Not much, but he said Carol could leave for the hospital anytime.”
“Okay … okay,” Steve said, pushing down the panic that threatened to consume him. “But I want to be the one to drive her there. This is my baby—I should have the right.”
“Oh, that won’t be any problem, but take your time getting here. Carol wants to wash her hair first.”
“What?” Steve shouted, bolting to his feet.
“There’s no need to scream in my ear, Steven Kyle,” Lindy informed him primly.
Steve’s breath came in short, uneven rasps. “I’m on my way … don’t leave without me.”
“Don’t worry. Now, before you hang up on me, put Rush on the line.”
Whatever Lindy said flew out his other ear. Carol was in labor—their baby was going to be born anytime, and she was styling her hair! Steve dropped the phone to the carpet and headed toward the front door.
“What’s happening?” Rush asked, standing.
Steve paused. “Lindy’s with Carol. Carol’s hair is in labor and the baby’s getting washed.”
“That explains everything,” Rush said, and picked up the phone.
By the time Steve arrived at the house,
his heart was pounding so violently, his rib cage was in danger of being damaged. He leaped out of the car, left the door open and sprinted toward the house.
“Where is she?” he demanded of Lindy. He’d nearly taken the front door off its hinges, he’d come into the house so fast.
His sister pointed in the direction of the bedroom.
“Carol,” he called. He’d repeated her name four more times before he walked into the bedroom. She was sitting on the edge of the mattress, her hands resting on her abdomen, taking in slow, even breaths.
Steve fell to his knees in front of her. “Are you all right?”
She gave him a weak smile. “I’m fine. How about you?”
He placed his hands over hers, closed his eyes and expelled his breath. “I think I’m going to be all right now.”
Carol brushed a hand over his face, gently caressing his jawline. “I’m sorry about earlier … I felt so ugly and I didn’t want you to see me until I’d had a chance to clean up.”
The frenzy and panic left him and he reached up a hand and hooked it around her neck. Gently he lowered her mouth to his and kissed her in a leisurely exploration. “I love you, Carol Kyle.” He released her and lifted her maternity top enough to kiss her swollen stomach. “And I love you, Baby Kyle.”
Carol’s eyes filled with tears.
“Come on,” he said, helping her into an upright position. “We’ve got a new life to bring into the world and we’re going to do it together.”
* * *
Sometime around noon the following day, Carol woke in the hospital to discover Steve sleeping across the room from her, sprawled in the most uncomfortable position imaginable. His head was tossed back, his mouth open. His leg was hooked over the side of the chair and his arms dangled like cooked noodles at his side, the knuckles of his left hand brushing the floor.
“Steve,” she whispered, hating to wake him. But if he stayed in that position much longer, he wouldn’t be able to move his neck for a week.
Steve jerked himself awake. His leg dropped to the floor with a loud thud. He looked around him as though he couldn’t remember where he was or even who he was.
“Hi,” Carol said, feeling marvelous.
“Hi.” He wiped a hand over his face, then apparently remembered what he was doing in her hospital room. A slow, satisfied smile crept over his features. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I feel fantastic.”
He moved to her side and claimed her hand with both of his. “We have a daughter,” he said, and his voice was raw with remembered emotion. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful little girl in my life.”
“Stephanie Anne Kyle,” she told him. “Stephanie for her father and Anne for my mother.”
“Stephanie,” Steve repeated slowly, then nodded. “She’s incredible. You’re incredible.”
“You cried,” Carol whispered, remembering the tears that had run down the side of Steve’s face when Dr. Stewart handed him their daughter.
“I never felt any emotion more powerful in my life,” he answered. “I can’t even begin to explain it.” He raised her hand to his lips and briefly closed his eyes. “You’d worked so hard and so long and then Stephanie was born and squalling like crazy. I’d been so concerned about you that I’d hardly noticed her and then Dr. Stewart wrapped her in a blanket and gave her to me. Carol, the minute I touched her something happened in my heart. I felt so humble, so awed, that I’d been entrusted with this tiny life.” He placed his hand over his heart as if it were marked by their daughter’s birth and she would notice the change in him. “Stephanie is such a beautiful baby. We’d been up most of the night and you were exhausted. But I felt like I could fly, I was so excited. Poor Rush and Lindy, I think I talked their heads off.”
“I was surprised you slept here.”
He ran the tips of his fingers over her cheek. “I had to be with you. I kept thinking about everything I’d put you through. I was so wrong, so very wrong about everything, and yet you loved me through it all. I should have known from the first that you were innocent of everything bad I’ve ever believed. I was such a fool … such an idiot. I nearly ruined both our lives.”
“It’s in the past and forgotten.”
“We’re getting married.” He said it as if he expected an argument.
“I think we should,” Carol agreed, “seeing that we have a daughter.”
“I never felt unmarried,” Steve admitted. “There’s only one woman in my life, and that’s the way it’ll always be.”
“We may have divorce papers, but I never stopped being your wife.”
The nurse walked into the room, tenderly cradling a soft pink bundle. “Are you ready for your daughter, Mrs. Kyle?”
“Oh, yes.” Carol reached for the button that would raise the hospital bed to an upright position. As soon as she was settled, the nurse placed Stephanie Anne Kyle in her mother’s arms.
Following the nurse’s instructions, Carol bared her breast and gasped softly as Stephanie accepted her mother’s nipple and sucked greedily.
“She’s more beautiful every time I see her,” Steve said, his voice filled with wonder. The rugged lines of his face softened as he gazed down on his daughter. Gently he drew one finger over her velvet-smooth cheek. “But she’ll never be as beautiful as her mother is to me right this minute.”
Love and joy flooded Carol’s soul and she gently kissed the top of her daughter’s head.
“We’re going to be all right,” Steve whispered.
“Yes, we are,” Carol agreed. “We’re going to be just fine—all three of us.”
* * * * *
Navy Brat
New York Times Bestselling Author
Debbie Macomber
Chapter One
He was the handsomest man in the bar, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
It was all Erin MacNamera could do to keep her own coffee-brown eyes trained away from him. He sat on the bar stool, his back to the multitiered display of ornamental liquor bottles. His elbows were braced against the polished mahogany counter, and he nonchalantly held a bottle of imported German beer in his hand.
Against her will, Erin’s gaze meandered back to him. He seemed to be waiting for her attention, and he smiled, his mouth lifting sensuously at the edges. Erin quickly looked away and tried to concentrate on what her friend was saying.
“…Steve and me.”
Erin hadn’t a clue as to what she’d missed. Aimee was in the habit of talking nonstop, especially when she was upset. The reason Erin and her co-worker were meeting was that Aimee wanted to discuss the problems she was having in her ten-year marriage.
Marriage was something Erin fully intended to avoid, at least for a good long while. She was focusing her energies on her career and on teaching a class titled Women in Transition two evenings a week at South Seattle Community College. With a master’s degree clutched in her hot little hand, and her ideals and enthusiasm high, Erin had applied to and been accepted by the King County Community Action Program as an employment counselor, working mainly with displaced women. Ninety percent of those she worked with were on public assistance.
Her dream was to give hope and support to those who had lost both. A friend to the friendless. An encourager to the disheartened. Erin’s real love, however, was the Women In Transition course. In the past few years she’d watched several women undergo the metamorphosis from lost and confused individuals to purpose-filled adults holding on tight to a second chance at life.
Erin knew better than to take the credit or the blame for the transformation she saw in these women’s lives. She was just part of the Ways and Means Committee.
Her father enjoyed teasing her, claiming his eldest daughter was destined to become the next Florence Nightingale and Mother Teresa all rolled into one tenacious, determined, confident female.
Casey MacNamera was only partially right. Erin certainly didn’t see herself as any crusader, fighting against the injustices of life.
Nor was Erin fooling herself about finances. She didn’t intend to become wealthy, at least not monetarily. Nobody went into social work for the money. The hours were long and the rewards sporadic, but when she saw people’s lives turned around for good she couldn’t help being uplifted.
Helping others through a time of painful transition was what Erin had been born to do. It had been her dream from early in her college career and had followed her through graduate school and her first job.
“Erin,” Aimee said, her voice dipping to a whisper, “there’s a man at the bar staring at us.”
Erin pretended not to have noticed. “Oh?”
Aimee stirred the swizzle stick in her strawberry daiquiri, then licked the end as she stared across the room, her eyes studying the good-looking man with the imported ale. Her smile was slow and deliberate, but it didn’t last long. She sighed and said, “It’s you who interests him.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’m married.”
“He doesn’t know that,” Erin argued.
“Sure he does.” Aimee uncrossed her long legs and leaned across the minuscule table. “Married women give off vibes, and single men pick them up like sonar. I tried to send him a signal, but it didn’t work. He knew immediately. You, on the other hand, are giving off single vibes, and he’s zeroing in on that like a bee does pollen.”
“I’m sure you’re wrong.”
“Maybe,” Aimee agreed in a thin whisper, “but I doubt it.” She took one last sip of her drink and stood hurriedly. “I’m leaving now, and we’ll test my theory and see what happens. My guess is that the minute I’m out of here he’s going to make a beeline for you.” She paused, smiled at her own wit, then added, “The pun was an accident, clever but unintentional.”
“Aimee, I thought you wanted to talk….” Erin, however, wasn’t quick enough to convince her friend to stay. Before she’d finished, Aimee had reached for her purse. “We’ll talk some other time.” With a natural flair, she draped the strap of her imitation-snakeskin handbag over her shoulder and winked suggestively. “Good luck.”
“Ah…” Erin was at a loss as to what to do. She was twenty-seven, but for the majority of her adult life she’d avoided romantic relationships. Not by design. It had just worked out that way.
Debbie Macomber's Navy Box Set: Navy WifeNavy BluesNavy BratNavy WomanNavy BabyNavy Husband Page 39
