The Wedding Plan

by Abby Gaines

  John climbed back into bed.

  Just in time, because Cathy arrived a minute later, brisk and snappish, in pale pink scrubs. Someone should tell her it wasn’t her color; she looked much nicer in the lilac.

  “Barbara said you have something of my sister’s.” She stood, hands on hips, scowling.

  He knew that scowl, knew that it masked pain, that it held her defenses in place so she could get through the day.

  “How are you, Cathy?” he asked. She wasn’t close enough. He wanted to touch her.

  She blinked. “I’m fine.”

  “And Boo?”

  “He’s fine.” Then, belatedly, truculently, she asked, “How are you?”

  “All the better for seeing you,” he said.

  Naturally, she didn’t think much of that. “What is it you have of Rue’s?” she demanded.

  “Ah. I lied.”

  She turned on her heel.

  “Tell me this,” he said loudly, “how does a sixty-one-year-old man who hasn’t been with a woman in over twenty years fix things when he screws up with a woman he cares for?”

  A young nurse walking past the doorway burst into giggles, a clue that he might have overdone the volume.

  But at least Cathy had stopped. She turned around. “He doesn’t,” she said stonily. “If he doesn’t care enough, nothing’s going to fix it.”

  “What if he’s been blind and stupid, and hadn’t realized how much he cared?” John asked.

  Her shoulders trembled. “How much does he care?”

  That was his Cathy. Straight to the point, wanting a specific, quantifiable answer.

  “I painted this for you.” He turned over the portrait on his knees, held it out to her.

  It wasn’t large, about the size of two sheets of printer paper. She took it in both hands.

  “Oh,” she said, and tears spurted in her eyes.

  “You said you didn’t have any recent pictures of Rue,” he reminded her. “I’m not great with portraits, but I thought…this might do.”

  For the first time in his life, he’d painted a scene that was equal parts fantasy and reality. Reality was Cathy, sitting on the middle bench of the Sally Sue, straight-backed, fishing rod in hand, smiling closemouthed. Fantasy was that, alongside Cathy, was another woman, almost a mirror image, but fuller in the face and figure. Not holding a rod, but raising a cocktail glass to the viewer, her smile wider than Cathy’s.

  “It’s her,” she said. “It’s exactly her.” Carefully, she set the painting down on his tray table. She pressed her fingertips to her eyes, dabbing at moisture. “Better than a mug,” she said.

  He cringed. “I’m sorry about the mug. I hate the mug.”

  At last she came close enough for him to touch, and he took her hands in his. “You wouldn’t believe how happy I am to see you.”

  Her dubious expression suggested he was right, she wouldn’t believe it.

  “I’ve missed you, Cathy.”

  “You’ve missed having the company,” she said uncertainly.

  “I’ve missed you.” He squeezed her fingers. “I don’t want anyone else, any other company. When I think about you, you’re not runner-up. To anyone.”

  Her lips parted and her brow furrowed, as if she couldn’t be certain of his meaning.

  “I could—” John cleared his throat “—I could love you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “THAT WAS THE LAST OF THE activity tests, Lieutenant Commander Calder.” Dr. Ruth Ziegler smiled at Lucas. “So far, you’ve passed with flying colors. You may just want to rub yourself down with that towel before we move on to the eye test. Wouldn’t want sweat in your eyes.”

  He’d had to sit the entire physical again, not just the component he’d failed last time. Which meant pretending his hand didn’t hurt, but that was okay.

  “Will you be doing the eye test in here?” Lucas asked, looking around Dr. Ziegler’s large office, which held several fitness machines. She worked here at the submarine base in Groton, and was apparently one of the navy’s top medics.

  “I will. The equipment pulls out of this cupboard.” She crossed to a floor-to-ceiling unit and opened it. “Any last requests?” she asked, as she wheeled the familiar optometric testing station out.

  “Can you open the blinds, please?” Lucas asked.

  “Someone’s been reading up on how to pass the eye test,” she said. But she raised the venetian blinds so the window was bare. The office was much brighter. “Let’s have you sitting on this stool, please.”

  The first part of the test, for short- or long-sightedness, astigmatism and other eye problems Lucas didn’t have, went fine. At least, he assumed none of those things had changed in the two months since his last test.

  “Now for the biggie, depth perception. You’ve obviously been practicing,” Dr. Ziegler said with interest. “What have you found most useful?”

  Outside, a cloud chose that very moment to cover the sun, lowering the light level in the office.

  Lucas stifled a curse.

  “It’s not too bad,” the doctor sympathized. She handed him a device, a kind of “black box.”

  “What’s this?” Lucas asked.

  “It’s a Verhoeff stereopter. It tests your depth perception.”

  “I didn’t use this last time.” Hell, had he been practicing the wrong kind of test?

  “It’s one of several tests approved by the navy,” Dr. Ziegler said. “It’s the one I prefer.”

  They started the test. Lucas pretended Merry was standing beyond the machine, topless, and did his best to look through the various combinations of three bars whose distance he was required to judge.

  He felt as if the exam was easier than last time…but last time he’d had no clue that he was missing half of what he was supposed to see, so who knew?

  Dr. Ziegler read his results. “Hmm,” she said.

  What did that mean?

  Lucas forced himself to breathe. If he’d failed…he’d just have to stick around and help Merry when the baby came along.

  The office brightened, as that damn cloud moved away.

  “We’re going to run through it twice more, Lucas,” Dr. Ziegler said. She moved swiftly to set him back up again. “Try sitting ramrod-straight with your heels against the back of the chair’s footrest. It improves the blood flow to the optic nerve.”

  The stereopter used a randomizing process, so the test wasn’t at all the same as the one he’d just completed. When he was done, the doctor viewed the new results.

  “Interesting,” she said. “The first test, you were three points short of a pass. Second and third time around, with better lighting, you were right on the pass mark.”

  “Which score do you plan to record in my test results?” Lucas asked.

  “I’m going to pass you.” She beamed. “You’re back in. Congratulations.”

  Not quite back in; he still needed to get the discharge officially revoked. But now that he’d passed the eye test, that was a mere formality. If he wanted it to be.

  He could be back in the Gulf with his unit, back in his chopper, doing the work he was made for, in a matter of days. The guy who’d been flying his chopper temporarily would doubtless be miffed. But Lucas was the best man for the job.

  He wouldn’t see Merry again until the baby came. Then he’d be back to work, before the kid even learned to smile.

  “Lieutenant Commander, would you like a tissue?” Dr. Ziegler proffered a Kleenex box.

  Hell. Lucas pulled out a couple of tissues, mashed them against his eyes. “Those eye tests,” he muttered. “They’re quite a strain.”

  * * *

  MERRY TOOK A WALK ON THE BEACH during her lunch break, hoping the breeze might blow away the nausea that came on around ten o’clock most mornings and disappeared around three.

  Actually, this wasn’t so much a lunch break as the end of a shortened day. With Dad in the hospital, there was a limit to how much she could do in the office. She grinn
ed as she remembered the phone call she’d had from her father a few hours ago. He’d patched things up with Cathy, and he’d sounded happier than Merry could remember.

  It was strange walking on the beach without Boo, but he was ecstatic to be back in his old home. She wondered if he knew Cathy wasn’t Ruby, or if he just didn’t care.

  Next July, she’d be walking with her baby strapped to her chest, so she wouldn’t need to wrestle a stroller across the pebbles and sand.

  Merry patted her still-flat stomach. Grow, little baby, grow.

  Lucas would probably want to take the baby for walks, too, when he was on leave. She wondered if he’d finished his eye test, and what the outcome was. For his sake, she hoped he passed.

  I’ll miss him so much.

  As if her longing had transported him here, she heard him call her name. She looked up to see him striding along the beach, into the wind. It was amazing that she’d heard him at all.

  He wore a khaki uniform under his leather flight jacket, so he must have come straight from the test. As he drew closer, she could see he was grinning.

  He’d passed.

  Merry’s stomach dropped like a rock and fresh nausea roiled through her. She dredged up a smile, pinned it on.

  “You passed,” she said, when he reached her. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” He hauled her into his arms and kissed her with a sweetness that made her want to cry. Baby hormones. And a northerly wind.

  Sniffing, she pulled back. “So, now what? You appeal the discharge?”

  Maybe he would say no, he’d changed his mind.

  “Already did,” he announced. “I spoke to my C.O., and he said it’ll be revoked in a day or two.”

  It was stupid to be surprised, Merry knew. This was who Lucas was, the guy always looking for the next rescue mission.

  Lucas pulled a rolled-up sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. “I got you something.”

  She took it, unrolled it. “A Magic Eye picture? Haven’t you seen enough of those?”

  He grinned. “This is a custom picture, made to order. For you. I sat on the phone to the Magic Eye people until they agreed to do it right away.”

  Merry examined the jumbled pattern of rings and hearts in blues, white and yellow. “I don’t get it.”

  “That’s because you haven’t looked at it yet, honeybun.” He touched her cheek, and something in his face—a tenderness—made her heart stutter. “You need to hold it up to your face. Would it help if I take my shirt off while you look at it?”

  Yes, please. And more.

  “It’s December in Connecticut,” she said. “I’d rather have you alive.” And with me. But he’d already said that wasn’t going to happen.

  She held the picture up to her eyes, then moved it back. The hidden image came into focus, two words standing out, clear as anything: Rescue Me.

  She stared at it for long seconds.

  “Can’t you see it?” he asked anxiously.

  “I see it.” Merry bit her lip. “I’m not sure I understand it.” She knew what she wanted it to mean, but she wasn’t about to lay her heart on the line again.

  He took the picture from her, rerolled it and slipped it into his jacket. “When I asked for my discharge to be revoked, I requested that it be a temporary measure.”

  “But…you’re going back to the Gulf?”

  “Yes and no.”

  Her heart started to race. “What does that mean?” She shivered.

  “Honeybun, you’re cold.” Lucas unzipped his jacket. He tugged her into his arms, then pulled the jacket around both of them. “That better?”

  Much. She nodded.

  “You may not know this, but I’m the best guy in my unit at mine detection.”

  “I do know that, Hero Chopper Pilot.” Dwight had told her dad, who’d told her.

  Lucas kissed the tip of her nose. “So, naturally, I need to be back there to make sure not too many people die, that kind of thing.”

  “If you say so,” she said. Had she been dumb enough to think that Lucas might have learned something recently?

  “Wrong,” he said. “I need to do my bit, but I can’t take full responsibility for every man we have in the Gulf.”

  Okay, maybe he had learned something.

  “I’m going back over there to pass on my knowledge and experience to the other guys,” he said. “To bring them up to standard. When I’ve done that, my responsibility will have been discharged. Though I might need you to remind me of that sometimes.”

  Especially, she thought, if they heard reports of mine-related fatalities. Her heart swelled with pride in him. “So, will you be somewhere nearby, that I’ll get to tell you these things?” she asked.

  “I’ll be back before the baby arrives,” he said, “and from then on I’ll be very close by. About as close as I am now.” He took a break from explaining to kiss her thoroughly. “I love you, Merry.”

  For some reason, her brain didn’t issue the caution it had the last time he’d said that. Her heart went a bit crazy, though.

  “I know you’re going to ask me why I love you,” he said. “So here it is. You’re stubborn, your standards are too high, you never let me get away with anything.”

  He stopped.

  “That’s it?” she said.

  “Nope, that’s just the worse part of ‘for better or for worse.’”

  “Can I hear the better?” she asked.

  “You see right into the heart of me,” he said, “and I don’t know why, but you love me anyway. You have faith in me to be a better person, and you make me want to be that person. I don’t laugh as much with anyone else as I do with you. I know that whatever plan I come up with next, you’ll point out all the holes, but you’ll be with me every step of the way.”

  He stopped again.

  “Uh…” Merry said.

  “That’s the short version,” he said. “I hope to have the rest of my life to tell you the rest.”

  Even as she blinked away tears, she couldn’t contain her smile. “That sounds like a plan,” she said.

  “And by the way, the answer to your question? Yes. If you weren’t pregnant, I’d still want to stay married to you. I love you, Merry,” he said. “You may not need me, but I need you. Say you’ll be my wife, now and always.”

  She put a hand to his cheek, cupped it. “I’ll be your wife, now and always.”

  His joyous laugh rang on the breeze.

  “I love you so much,” she said. “And I do need you, but don’t let that go to your head.”

  “I won’t,” he said solemnly. “Well, I probably will, but again, I’ll rely on you to set me straight. We’re in this together, honeybun, you and me, side by side, each for the other.”

  Merry sighed happily. “There’s nothing wrong with your depth perception at all,” she said. And kissed him.

  EPILOGUE

  Christmas, one year later

  “IT’S OFFICIAL,” LUCAS SAID as he taped his daughter’s diaper. “You’re stinkier than your aunt Mia.”

  Rose Michelle Calder gave him one of her smiles that grabbed him by the heart and squeezed every time. At nearly six months old, she’d recently started laughing—great, fat chortles that made Lucas and Merry chortle back.

  Lucas picked Rose up from her changing table and carried her back to the living room of the Victorian house he and Merry had bought. They’d moved in last February, and since Lucas had arrived back from the Gulf in June, he’d been renovating the place full-time. Turning it into a home for his family.

  Today, Christmas Day, was the first time they’d had everyone here. A traditional Christmas dinner had left them all replete, and a contented hum of conversation filled the living room.

  Though Lucas’s entry with Rose caused a bit of a stir.

  “I’ll take her.” John held out his arms for his granddaughter, beating Cathy, Dwight and Stephanie to the punch. Rose had more adoring grandparents in her life than was goo
d for a young girl. But they would come in handy later, when Lucas and Merry wanted more private time for themselves.

  When he was sure John had Rose safely in hand, Lucas headed for his seat on the couch next to Merry. To get to her, he had to dodge the LEGOs castle that Mia had built. Maddie, Garrett and Rachel’s nine-month-old daughter, watched Mia from her father’s lap, fascinated.

  At last, Lucas dropped into his space next to Merry. She turned to kiss him, as if he’d been gone five hours, not five minutes. Naturally, one touch of her lips and he wanted to drag her upstairs and make love to her. Something he’d been doing at every opportunity since he got home. Something he’d never grow sick of. In the interest of decency, he settled for caressing the nape of her neck.

  A languorous half hour later, John spoke up. “Cathy and I should probably get home for a rest. I’m still a bit tired from the surgery.”

  His claim produced good-natured hoots from the assembled company. John had been back at full strength for months now. He’d had no more rejection episodes and was in excellent health, his blood pressure high, but controlled by medication. Still, he trotted out that “tired from surgery” excuse every time he wanted to rush home and make love to his new wife. As he’d once confided to Lucas, in a moment Lucas would rather forget, “I have a lot of catching up to do.”

  Cathy’s cheeks had turned pink. “And we do need to get home to Boo,” she said, which was her equivalent of the surgery excuse.

  No one could be bothered getting up to see them out, so John and Cathy said their goodbyes right there, then walked out hand in hand. “See you at work,” John called over his shoulder to Lucas.

  After much thought, Lucas had decided to put his marine engineering degree to use by going into business with John. It wasn’t about Lucas coming to the rescue; it was more about finding something that interested him deeply. John had welcomed Lucas’s knowledge of new materials and new technologies that could be absorbed into the business without losing the handmade, craftsman flair that made Wyatt Yachts so popular. Lucas would have his first day there on Monday.