The Littlest Marine & The Oldest Living Married Virgin

by Maureen Child

  “Oh,” she said with a tight smile, “I’ll be ready, Harding Casey. I only hope you are.”

  Harding watched the limousine pull up and park. He tugged at the hem of his dress blue tunic and tried to ignore the rush of nerves sweeping through him. Hell, he’d been in battle. He’d crawled to safety under withering enemy fire.

  Why was it that facing this one woman could bring him to his knees?

  Because, he told himself, the object of war was to simply stay alive. To keep existing. The object of this crusade with Elizabeth was life. Not just existing. But really and truly living for the first time. If he lost this skirmish, he’d have nothing.

  The limo driver opened the back door, and she stepped out. Just looking at her took his breath away. She straightened up, smoothed her black skirt and glanced around for a minute before she saw him. Then her eyes widened and her jaw dropped visibly.

  Good. He’d gone to a lot of trouble to ensure just that reaction. As she looked around, he followed her gaze, seeing it through her eyes.

  Alongside one of the fire rings set up for barbecues at the Huntington Beach pier, a small table was set up…with a white linen tablecloth, fine china and crystal glassware. A solitary candle burned brightly within the safe haven of a hurricane lamp. Standing a discreet distance away, a couple of Marines were stationed to keep other people from wandering in too close. For what he needed to say, he wanted privacy.

  But he also had wanted the atmosphere of the beach. He was hoping the memory of their walk on the sand that night they met would help his cause.

  Bending slightly to one side, Harding punched a button on a nearly hidden tape recorder, and immediately the soft, delicate strains of Beethoven lifted into the cool, summer air.

  He thought he saw a smile flit briefly across her face, but he couldn’t be sure, because it vanished almost instantly. Then she was walking toward him, and it was all he could do to keep from going to her, drawing her close and kissing her senseless.

  “What is going on, Harding?” she asked when she was within a few steps of him.

  “Dinner,” he said, and walked around to her side of the table. “And the chance to talk.”

  “You haven’t been very interested in talking during the past couple of days,” she said, her gaze locked on his.

  It had about killed him to stay away from her. But he’d forced himself to. To give her a little time. To think. To realize that they belonged together.

  Damn, why did he have to be shipping out now? Never once had being deployed bothered him. Not in the twenty years since he had signed up. Until now. Now, he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her. Of not being there to watch her body grow and swell with their child.

  “Or maybe,” she was saying, “you were too busy talking to everyone else to bother with talking to me directly.”

  He winced inwardly at her tone. All right, so he probably shouldn’t have had his friends talk to her. Obviously they hadn’t accomplished what he had hoped they would.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly, and reached for her unsuccessfully. She backed up, keeping a wary distance between them. “Maybe I shouldn’t have, but you didn’t leave me much choice, Elizabeth. I’m out of time. I had to try whatever ammunition I could come up with.”

  “You called my parents!”

  “That, I’m not going to apologize for. I had to talk to your father, man to man. I’m in love with his daughter and I had to get his blessing on our marriage.” That’s how things were done. Couldn’t she see that?

  Elizabeth glared at him. “My mother called me and read me the riot act for a solid half hour because I hadn’t confided in her about our ‘engagement.’”

  “Elizabeth—”

  “I’m only surprised you didn’t tell them about the—” she tossed a quick look at the two Marines, standing with their backs to them “—baby,” she finished in a much quieter voice.

  “I wouldn’t do that without you.” This was not working out as he had hoped. “Don’t you get it? I love you.”

  “Stop it.”

  “I can’t stop. And I wouldn’t if I could.”

  She shook her head firmly. “You’re only doing all of this because you’re leaving. You’re feeling guilty about leaving me alone and pregnant.”

  “You’re damn right, I do!” He covered the steps separating them in two quick strides and grabbed both of her arms fiercely. “Can’t you see what it’s doing to me? Knowing I won’t be here with you? Taking care of you?”

  Her head fell back on her neck. “I told you, you don’t have to worry. I’ll be fine.”

  “But I won’t.” He stared into her eyes, feeling the same, swift punch to the gut he always felt when looking into their depths. “I’ll be thousands of miles away from the one person I want more than my next breath.”

  Her features tightened, and she chewed at her bottom lip furiously. Indecision shone in her eyes, and he pressed his advantage ruthlessly.

  “I want to marry you, Elizabeth. Now. Tonight. We can fly to Vegas and be back in the morning.”

  For one short, heart-stopping moment, he thought he had won. Then a shift of emotions clouded her eyes, and the moment was lost. Pulling away from him, she shook her head proudly.

  “You can’t bulldoze me into marriage, Harding.”

  “Elizabeth…”

  “No. I won’t be bullied into making such an important decision.” Her heel caught in the sand, and she wobbled precariously for a minute. An ocean wind shot across the sand, lifting her hair into a wild, curly halo around her head. “You can’t simply decide what’s best for me and then steamroll me into agreeing with you. Marriage should be our decision, Harding. Not yours.”

  She headed for the limo. The chauffeur leaped out of the driver’s seat and scurried for the back door. Opening it just seconds before she arrived, he stood back while she slid inside.

  Harding was just a step behind her. Jerking his head at the driver, he waited until the man moved off before looking down at the woman he loved and had to leave. Tears filled her eyes, but stubborn determination was stamped on her features.

  Bracing both hands on the door frame, he leaned down and met her gaze squarely, silently daring her to look away. She didn’t.

  “Whether you believe me or not, Elizabeth. I do love you. Not just the baby. You.”

  She didn’t say a word, and he finally admitted to himself that he wasn’t going to convince her. Not now. Not before he left. Pain stabbed at his heart until he thought he wouldn’t be able to breathe. At last he finally understood what some of his married friends felt like when they were leaving behind all that they loved.

  His fingers tightened helplessly on the cold metal. There was only one thing left to say.

  “I want you to know,” he said softly, “I’ve done what I can to protect you and the baby.” He inhaled deeply, then told her, “I’ve named you my beneficiary and my next of kin. If anything should happen to me, you and the baby will be taken care of.”

  She gasped in surprise, then said, “You don’t have to do that. I don’t need financial help, Harding.”

  He scowled at her. She still didn’t get it. “This isn’t about money,” he said firmly. “This is about honor. Love.”

  “I…don’t know what to say.” One tear spilled from the corner of her eye and traced its way along her cheek.

  “Say goodbye, Elizabeth. I leave tomorrow night.”

  “Tomorrow?” she said. “Already?”

  He nodded. “Tell me you’ll miss me. Even if it’s a lie.”

  “Of course I’ll miss you, Harding,” she said as another tear traced its way down her cheek.

  “Take care of yourself,” he said softly.

  She nodded jerkily. “You, too.”

  “This isn’t the way I wanted to say goodbye to you, dammit,” Harding growled, feeling a huge, black emptiness welling up within him. Time had run out on him. He had failed at the most important mission in his life. And now he would ha
ve to wait six long months before getting a second chance at winning her.

  The months ahead stretched out in his mind, bleak and empty without her. He glanced at her trim figure and tried to imagine what she would look like, round with their child. Just the thought of all he would miss threatened to choke him. He had to go. Before he made a bigger mess than he had already.

  But he couldn’t leave without one last taste of her.

  Bending down, he reached into the limo, cupped her face with his palms and pulled her head close. Planting his lips firmly on hers, he gave her all he had, pouring his love and concern and sorrow into a kiss that seared them both to their souls.

  At last he released her and straightened away from the car. Staring down at her, he knew that this tear-streaked image of her was the one that would haunt him for six lonely months. He had had everything in the palm of his hand. How had it all disappeared so quickly?

  “I love you, Elizabeth,” he said, then closed the door and rapped his knuckles on the roof. The driver reacted to his signal instantly and keyed the ignition. With a muffled purr the long, white car drove away, taking Harding’s world with it.

  Elizabeth stared out the tinted back window until she couldn’t see him anymore. Slowly she sank down into the plush seat and curled up in a corner. She’d made the right decision, she knew. A rushed marriage to a man shipping out immediately afterward wasn’t the answer to a surprise pregnancy.

  But if it was right…why did it suddenly feel so wrong?

  Three weeks later, the first letter arrived.

  Elizabeth plucked it from the stack of junk mail and tossed the circulars into the trash. Carrying the letter into the living room, she sat down in the corner of the couch and stared at the envelope in her hand. Lightly she dusted her fingertips across Harding’s handwriting as if she was touching the man himself.

  Lord, she missed him. More than she had imagined she would. And every day for the past three weeks, she had asked herself the same questions. Had she done the right thing in not marrying him? Or had she made the biggest mistake of her life?

  Steeling herself, Elizabeth opened the envelope and slowly drew out the single sheet of paper. As slowly as a hungry man enjoying a fine meal, she devoured every word.

  Dear Elizabeth,

  I’m lying in my bunk wishing I was there, beside you. I know I made a mess of things before I left and I want you to know how sorry I am.

  She sucked in a gulp of air and paused in her reading. Sorry? Sorry he had proposed?

  You were right. I shouldn’t have tried to bulldoze you into marriage. My only excuse is that I love you. And our baby. But during these weeks without you, I’ve realized that you need time to think about us. I want you to know I’ll wait. My love won’t change and it won’t stop. Take care of both of you for me.

  Yours, Harding

  She let go of the letter, and the single page floated to her lap. Covering her mouth with one hand, she curled her legs up beneath her, laid her head on the sofa back and cried. For Harding. For herself. For lost chances.

  Two months later Elizabeth reported for her first ultrasound. Her doctor had suggested the routine test as a “precaution.” Uncomfortable after the seeming gallons of water she had had to drink, she stretched out on the examining table and stared at a blank TV screen.

  A male technician, who looked about eighteen, with his long, pulled-back ponytail, entered the room and took a seat on the swivel stool beside her.

  “All set?” he asked and readied his equipment.

  “I guess so,” she said, sighing.

  His eyebrows rose slightly. “Well, you’re the most unexcited mom I’ve had in here in a long time.”

  Mom. She shivered slightly. Even though she had broken the news to her family and everyone was now used to the idea of a baby coming, Elizabeth herself still sometimes had trouble believing it.

  “So,” the tech asked, “where’s Dad? How come he’s not here to catch the show?”

  She swallowed heavily before answering. “He’s overseas. In the Marines.”

  The teasing glint in his eyes softened a bit. “Sorry. Must be hard on him, missing all the fun.”

  “Yes,” she muttered. “It is.” She thought about the stack of letters she had received from Harding over the weeks. Almost every other day another one arrived. Lately she had found herself standing on the front porch, watching for the mailman’s arrival. She tossed a glance at her purse, where all of those letters were safely tucked away. She kept them with her at all times. Somehow it made her feel closer to him. Less alone. Less afraid.

  She couldn’t help wondering if he felt the same about the letters she had mailed him.

  “Well,” the man said as he pulled back her gown and squirted cold jelly onto her abdomen, “I knew just from looking at you that you were the kind of woman whose man would be here if he could.”

  “You did?” She looked at him, watching him pick up the ultrasound scanner and position it above her belly.

  “Sure,” he said. “You see enough pregnant women, you get to know which ones are unhappy and which ones are, well, loved.”

  Tears sprung up in her eyes. Elizabeth tried to blink them back, but the salty film was too much to be denied. She swiped at the tears on her cheeks, trying to hide them from the man beside her.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, and patted her hand. “In my line of work, I see crying women every day.” Nodding, he assured her, “It’s just the hormones.”

  He went about his work, smoothing the scanner up and down across her flesh, the machine making a series of soft clicking sounds as it took pictures of her womb.

  Elizabeth thought about what he had said. Hormones. No, it wasn’t just the changes her body was going through. It was love. And misery. The younger man had been right about Harding. He would have been here if he could. Nothing would have kept him away. She and the baby were loved. Really loved. How foolish of her not to have believed it before. And how stupid of her to risk losing everything because of her own fears and doubts.

  “There you go,” the tech said. “He-e-e-re’s junior!”

  Elizabeth stared at the TV screen at the tiny spot of life she and Harding had created together. Her eyes filled again even as she felt a ridiculous grin spread across her face.

  “Oh, Harding,” she whispered in a broken voice, “I wish you were here.”

  Harding pulled the grainy eight-by-ten photo out of the envelope and studied it. What the hell? In bright red ink, someone had circled a small blob of something in the photo. Holding the picture in one hand, he picked up Elizabeth’s letter and read it, hoping for a clue.

  In seconds he had dropped the letter to his bunk and was holding the photograph under the desk lamp. A slow smile curved his lips as his gaze locked on the circled blob.

  His baby.

  Turning around quickly, he snatched at the letter and finished reading it. As he read the last paragraph, his smile faded and a worried frown creased his features.

  Harding, when you get back, I’d like for us to sit down together and talk about all of this. Surely after six months apart, we’ll both be certain about what we want. And what we don’t want. Take care of yourself. I miss you.

  Elizabeth

  Damn. What did that mean? He winced inwardly. He knew just what it meant. Hadn’t he lived through this before? Hadn’t his ex-wife left him while he was deployed? Why should he expect Elizabeth—who hadn’t even wanted to marry him—to be waiting for him with open arms?

  He glanced at his child’s first picture again and felt the first stirrings of fear thread through him.

  Elizabeth stood near the back of the crowd. Hundreds of wives, mothers, husbands and children were stretched out along the edge of the Camp Pendleton parade deck. Signs dotted the eager crowd. Hand-painted with more love than style, they read Ooo-rah! and Get Some! the battalion’s motto. There were other, more personal signs being waved high in the air by family members counting the minutes until
their loved one arrived.

  Elizabeth’s fingers curled over her own sign as she clutched it tightly directly in front of her rounded belly. Maybe she shouldn’t have come. Maybe she should have waited for him to call her. That’s what she had planned to do. But at the last minute she had decided that the best way for her to know how Harding truly felt about her was to watch his expression when he unexpectedly caught sight of her.

  She only hoped she would see what she wanted to see. Smiling at the families around her, she remembered other times, other bases. She recalled clearly, running into her father’s arms as he came home from duty, and the all-encompassing sense of love that would wrap around her when he picked her up and swung her in the air.

  Home wasn’t a building. Home was love. The love that lived within the boundaries of a family.

  That’s what she wanted. That sense of belonging. With Harding.

  “Here they come!” someone shouted, and Elizabeth looked up in time to see the first bus from March Air Force Base drive onto the asphalt.

  She took a deep breath and watched, her heart in her throat. Within fifteen or twenty minutes the troops were assembled at attention on the parade grounds. After a brief welcome-home speech, the order, “Dismissed!” was shouted and pandemonium reigned.

  Jostled as people streamed past her, Elizabeth laid one hand on her swollen stomach as if to comfort her child. Then she focused her gaze on the sea of soldiers, searching for the one face she had so longed to see.

  Harding stayed near the back of the crowd. He had always been the last man off the tarmac. There had never been anyone waiting for him at the end of deployment. And this time would be no different. Elizabeth had already written him that she wouldn’t be there to greet him. She would be waiting at home for his call.

  He stopped dead as a young private darted in front of him, beelining toward a heavily pregnant, grinning woman. Harding watched their reunion for a moment, then continued on, slower than before. Better than being trampled in the rush of men running to their wives and kids. Slowly he walked across the tarmac, trying to ignore his friends’ happiness. All around him new babies were being admired, and the kisses being shared were hot enough to melt the pavement.