“Hey you,” he called, his smile growing. Ethan dropped the duffel bag and Sarah rushed into his opening arms.
Sarah muffled his name in his chest, throwing her arms around his shoulders, feeling Ethan’s arms hold her carefully. Her big belly was in the way and she laughed. “Welcome home, sailor.”
She slid her hands around his recently shaven face and kissed him hard and long. Oh! His mouth was so warm, so strong against hers, she couldn’t get enough of him! Sarah tasted the coffee he’d drunk earlier, inhaled his male scent, which made her crazy for him. He smiled beneath her mouth, his hands sliding gently up her back and capturing her shoulders.
Ethan pulled away, absorbing Sarah’s glorious blue eyes shining with life. “You look more beautiful than ever,” he said, stepping back to look at the baby she was carrying. A little girl, just as she’d prophesied. Gently, he cupped her belly with his large hands, a look of awe in his face. “Incredible,” he whispered, meeting her moist eyes. “Just…incredible…”
Sarah felt tears burn in her eyes as she held his hands against her belly. “Welcome home. We really, really missed you….”
He brought Sarah close and led her over to where his duffel lay on the sidewalk. Picking it up, he whispered softly, “Let’s go inside.”
Ethan urged Sarah in front of him and he stepped inside the condo. In one corner was a Christmas tree with all the decorations in place. As he looked after closing the door, he saw that the condo had a sense of home. They’d talked by Skype, planning the decor of simple, homespun furniture in the condo. His family’s Texas ranch wasn’t fancy. Just good, solid pieces of furniture that had been passed on down through the generations. There were green plants everywhere and Ethan thought that anything Sarah touched, flourished beneath her loving hands.
“What do you think?” Sarah asked, moving to the open kitchen. “Are you hungry?” She gave him a wicked look.
Ethan placed the duffel bag to one side. “Hungry. For you or food?”
“Or both?” she teased, raising one brow. It was noon and she figured that he probably hadn’t had much to eat on the military flights.
Ethan grinned. “Both.” He liked the bright, airy kitchen. Coming around the granite island, he watched her cutting up some apples and putting the slices into a homemade pie shell. “Mmm, that looks good,” he said, sliding his arm around her shoulders.
“I’m making it especially for you. Your mom told me the other night when I called her, that your favorite dessert was apple pie.” Sarah leaned against Ethan’s tall, strong body. He was dressed in SEAL cammies and boots. “She even gave me her recipe, thank God, because I couldn’t do this on the fly.”
He chuckled. “Uh oh, you two are already conspiring.” Over the months, his mother and Sarah had gotten on in the most positive of ways. He kissed her head. “Your hair is longer. Looks good. Do you like it?” Her black hair had a slight curl in it. The ends curved down to nearly her shoulder blades.
“I do,” Sarah said. “I’ve always worn it short, or just shoulder length.” She gave him a warm look. “It makes me feel really feminine.”
Ethan understood the weight of her comment. He watched her fingers with the paring knife. Sarah was quick, confident, and pretty soon the slices were piled high in the pie crust. She added about half a stick of butter, some cinnamon and sugar and closed it up. “What do you want to do?” he asked.
“Feed you.” Sarah gave him a worried look. Cammies were always bulky and hid the body, but she could seen the leanness in his face, almost gaunt-looking. “You look underweight, Ethan.”
He grimaced. “Lots of patrol work,” was all he could say. The Taliban usually ratcheted down in the fall and winter months, the snows too heavy and deep to travel in. But it didn’t happen this year and the SEALs were performing major patrols almost every other week. It was grueling, dangerous work. And most of the time, Ethan was so damned whipped by the time the team came in from the patrol that all he did was fall into his cot and sleep. Food was secondary. He felt her poke his ribs with her index finger and roused from his reverie.
“What was that for?”
“You didn’t hear a word I said. Did you?”
He gave her sheepish look. “Jet lag, angel.” Ethan saw her face grow soft with understanding.
“I asked if you wanted to get a shower and climb into some civilian clothes while I make you a turkey sandwich with some pickles and chips?”
“That sounds good,” he admitted wearily.
“You’ve got dark circles under your eyes, Ethan. Didn’t catch much sleep on the flights?” Sarah knew sleeping was nearly impossible on those military aircraft. She felt him rub her shoulders, kneading them slightly. Putting down the paring knife, wiping her hands on a nearby towel, Sarah leaned back against him, making a sound of pleasure in her throat.
Ethan kissed her cheek, holding Sarah against him, his hands cupping her shoulders. “I’ll go get a shower and clean clothes,” he agreed. “And we’ll share lunch. How does that sound?”
“Like a gift,” Sarah whispered, her hands resting against her baby.
*
The first time Ethan felt his daughter kick was when he was holding Sarah across his lap. They had eaten dinner, soft Christmas music was playing in the background and they’d had apple pie for dessert in the living room. Sarah had slipped into his lap, curled her arms around his shoulders and rested her head on the back of the couch next to his head, a soft smile on her lips. He’d placed his hand over her belly.
“What was that?” Ethan lifted his hand off her, sitting up more, staring in surprise at her belly.
Sarah laughed. “Our daughter. She usually wakes up about this time for a couple of hours and then goes back to sleep. Thank God for Sophie Hunter,” Sarah said, taking Ethan’s hand and gently placing it over their daughter again. “She has three girls and she’s been such a wonderful teacher to me. I don’t know what I’d have done without her, Ethan.”
She’d opened up to Sophie once she’d arrived here, all her worries, her terror about miscarrying her baby because of all her own trauma. Sophie had patted her hand, told her she was going to carry her baby to full term and not to worry about it at all. Sophie’s confidence dialed Sarah’s anxiety way down. And as the months went by, with Sophie’s mothering, she had finally released those dark fears.
Ethan allowed Sarah to guide his hand to where their baby kicked. She placed his hand palm down over the area and said, “Now, very gently just move your hand in slow circles. She loves that. And very soon, she’ll settle down because it’s almost like being held. And it’s time she got to know her daddy.”
Humbled by the mystery of a woman’s body, his wife’s beautiful body, Ethan felt her cooler hand against his. Pretty soon, the kick came again. This time, he moved his hand lightly, in a grazing motion, across Sarah’s distended belly. And sure enough, in ten minutes, the kicking stopped. Ethan looked up at Sarah, drowning in her smiling eyes. “What about a name?”
“I was waiting for you to get home first before we talked about it,” she whispered, touching his cheek.
“Do you have a list?” Ethan teased.
Shrugging, Sarah said, “I have one name I really would like. Do you have any?”
“Well,” he murmured, brows moving down, “my family has always named the new babies after our grandparents or great-great grandparents. It’s kind of a family tradition.” He saw the hurt deep in Sarah’s eyes, and remembered she had no family names to add to the list. He moved his hand to hers. “I want the name you want, Sarah. That’s important to me because you’r
e carrying her and you’re going to welcome her into this world.” Ethan became less serious, “Now, I know you already call her by that name. Don’t you?”
Surprised, she stared for a moment, caught off guard. “How did you know that?”
“I know you. So what can I call our daughter?”
Sarah felt tears in the backs of her eyes. “Emma. I wanted to name her Emma in honor of Emma Trayhern-Shaheen.” She whispered softly, “Emma was so kind to us, Ethan. She gave us a safe haven to be with one another. She and Khalid are so wonderful. I love them to pieces. And our baby was conceived at their villa. I—I just wanted them to know how deeply grateful we both are to them.”
Ethan took her hand into his, kissing her fingers. “I like the name Emma. And Emma was an Apache combat helo pilot. And you’re a pilot. Why shouldn’t our daughter be named after such a woman as brave as Emma Shaheen?”
“Really? You’re okay with it, Ethan?”
“I am,” he assured her huskily.
Wiping her eyes, Sarah whispered brokenly, “I didn’t want her to have my name. I want her to have a happy life, Ethan. Not like mine…”
He thickly murmured her name, drawing Sarah deep into his arms, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. “I like the name Emma. It’s adventurous, free and wild. Just like her mother.” He smiled, giving Sarah a tender kiss, tasting the salt of her tears on her lips.
“I waffled between calling our baby Emma or Sophie, after Hunter’s wife. I just was so grateful she took me under her wing when I got here to Coronado.”
Kissing her hand, Ethan said, “Well, if we happen to have a second little girl, maybe she can be named Sophie?” He saw the relieved look in Sarah’s eyes, as if Solomon’s wisdom had settled that dilemma for her.
“Oh,” Sarah murmured, “I think with the way we like to make love, Emma will have a kid sister in no time.”
*
Emma Quinn was born at noon on February fourteenth, Valentine’s Day. Ethan had welcomed his brown-haired daughter into the world with the help of two midwives. She had been born at home, where Sarah wanted it to happen. He’d been his wife’s coach for twenty-four hours of labor before Emma decided to enter the world. As Ethan held his baby daughter for the first time, her squalling filling the room, she opened her eyes. They were a cloudy gray-blue and the midwives assured him she would have blue eyes. Ethan hoped Emma would have the exact same color eyes as Sarah. Time would tell. He grinned and turned to his wife, who was lying there, utterly exhausted but with a happy and relieved look on her damp face.
“She has your eyes, angel.” Ethan brought her over to Sarah. The midwife had cut the baby’s cord, quickly cleaned up Emma and she now lay warm, wrinkled and small between his large hands.
“Let’s see,” Sarah whispered, her hair wet across her brow.
Ethan sat gently on the bed, facing his wife, watching her expression of utter maternal love as she brought Emma to her breast. Trudy, one of the midwives, smiled and showed Sarah how to cradle Emma at her breast so that she could suckle the colostrum, the first protective liquid of her life. He sat there watching the women, all four of them. Granted, one of the women had just been born, but just as soon as Trudy helped guide Emma’s bow-shaped mouth to Sarah’s nipple, that little girl began suckling like there was no tomorrow. Ethan felt an overwhelming swell of fierce love for his Sarah.
“Oh,” Trudy gushed, smiling at Sarah, “she’s strong! That’s good—some babies won’t suckle because they’re too weak.” Trudy touched Emma’s head. “This girl is going places.”
They all laughed.
Sarah sighed, sitting up, many pillows behind her back to support her. Her body felt as if it had been through another kind of war, but now the pain was gone and the joy of holding her eight-pound daughter in her arms was all that mattered. She scowled at Ethan.
“What?” he asked.
“Eight pounds, Ethan.”
“I warned you what Mom said. She said I was an eight pounder, too.”
“I wonder if Emma will be six feet tall like you? She has your hair.” She gazed adoringly down at her daughter who was a very hungry little tyke.
“Why not? Everyone in my family is tall. Both my brothers are six feet four inches tall. I’m the short one in the family.” Ethan grinned, reaching over and smoothing some of the damp strands away from her eyes. “You doing okay?”
“Whipped but happy,” Sarah muttered. “Eight pounds. God, I thought I was giving birth to a bowling ball.”
Both midwives, who were busy cleaning up and packing things away, laughed heartily.
“Sarah, she’s a completely healthy baby. Her lungs are clear, her heart rate is perfect and she’s eating like there’s no tomorrow,” Trudy assured her.
Snorting, Sarah growled, “That’s Ethan’s genes. He’s always eating. He never stops eating.” And in all fairness to him, the physical demands on a SEAL were horrific. Sarah watched a slow grin cross her husband’s face.
“I wonder if Emma is going to have her mother’s wild-child personality?” Ethan teased.
Sarah gave him an evil look. “Oh, if she does, Daddy is going to be dealing with her, then.”
Ethan chuckled. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Trudy came over, standing at the bedside. “You know, Emma is an Aquarius. She’s going to be stubborn, tenacious and fight for underdogs.”
“Hmm,” Ethan murmured, “sounds like you, Sarah. Just deserts that you’d get someone just like yourself.”
Sarah laughed softly, watching her daughter’s large gray-blue eyes wander around as she drank the colostrum. Her tiny hands here waving around, her precious, tiny feet, moving. “I can live with that,” she told him wryly, smiling.
Ethan had never looked so happy. Usually, he had that SEAL game face on and one never knew what he was thinking. Sarah had a feeling the past twenty-four hours had been particularly hellish for him. He was giving birth vicariously and every groan and cry ripping out of her as the labor pains bore down on her, Ethan must have felt them, too. He had held her in his arms, gripped her hand as she squeezed the life out of his fingers and mopped her sweaty brow and face with a cool cloth. Sarah was glad he was with her because he was so caring and such a great coach. She wouldn’t have wanted to do this alone.
Ethan watched his daughter. Pretty soon, her large eyes drooped closed, her little feet and hands stopped moving and her tiny mouth opened, releasing Sarah’s nipple.
Trudy came over and said, “I’m going to wrap her in her blanket. Do you want to continue holding her, Sarah?”
“I will,” Ethan volunteered. He looked at Sarah for an okay. She nodded.
“Sit down in the rocking chair,” Trudy suggested, wrapping Emma in a pale pink crocheted blanket that Ethan’s mother had made especially for her arrival. She came over and positioned Emma in Ethan’s awaiting arms.
“Now,” she said, easing Emma into the crook of his large arm, “you always want the baby’s head here. You don’t want her neck stretched out. But you don’t want her neck in an L-shape either or you’ll cut off her breathing and she’ll suffocate.” She positioned Emma just so, straightened and said, “There. Perfect. Now you can start rocking her gently, Ethan.”
“Is there an instruction manual that comes with her?” he asked, grinning up at Trudy.
Both midwives tittered.
Sarah grinned. “Poor baby. Are you feeling overwhelmed already?” She shook her finger toward Ethan. “Just wait until diaper patrol begins, big guy.”
The women tittered some more.
Ethan shrugged and gave Sarah a goofy grin. “I gu
ess I’ll just treat her like a well-loved rifle—field strip her and then put her back together again?”
The midwives howled.
Sarah laughed, but it hurt and she gently placed her hands over her tender abdomen. “Over my dead body, badass. She’s not a rifle. You’re going to have to learn finesse. Diapering isn’t all that bad.” Sarah had taken maternity courses at a nearby hospital while he was gone, so she was ahead of the game to a certain extent. She was going to rely on Trudy, too, who would come over tomorrow to check on Emma and her.
It was so nice to be in the company of women to have her baby. And she saw the warmth dancing in Ethan’s eyes as he slowly rocked his sleeping daughter in his arms. It was a priceless moment. And a fierce love for her husband rose in her as she lay down to sleep after the labor. There was so much to be grateful for.
Sarah lay down facing Ethan and Emma. Exhaustion hit her. She remembered her past. How she’d been birthed by a woman and placed in a Dumpster to die. Emma was not going to have that happen to her. She had come into a world where loving arms and anxious hearts awaited her arrival.
Knowing her whole life was changing, Sarah drew in a ragged sigh, peace filling her as her eyelids closed. She heard the rhythmic squeak of the rocker. Ethan, from the moment she’d met him, had protected her. Given her safety. A harbor of peace from the violent tumult of her early life. He was giving Emma the same fierce protection. His life as a SEAL was coming to an end, but she knew Ethan would always be one, whether he was in the Navy or not. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL. A sense of coming home blanketed Sarah. Now she had a family. She slept.
*
“Think Emma will sleep through the night?” Ethan asked, holding Sarah gently in his arms. He had placed Emma in the bassinet next to their bed after rocking his daughter to sleep. The midwives had left and he’d quietly moved to the bed and held his sleeping wife until she’d just awakened. Drowsily, Sarah said, “I don’t know. In the womb, she went to sleep at ten o’clock every night.”
Degree of Risk Page 23
