SEALed Forever

by Mary Margret Daughtridge

  “Me,” Franks supplied. “I’ll be happy to assist.”

  Chapter 44

  “Look who I found!” Mary Cole came through the crowd, leading Carole by the hand. As when Bronwyn had seen her before, Carole was beautifully dressed, but the businesslike pantsuit didn’t match the formal dresses of the other women guests.

  “I’m party-crashing,” Carole acknowledged as soon as she reached Bronwyn, “but I knew where you would be tonight. I couldn’t call. I had to come in person. I had to thank you.”

  “Did you go to Sloan-Kettering?”

  “I told that oncologist at Lords, if time was of the essence, he’d better get us an appointment fast. Since the testing was all done, all we needed was a consult. We flew up to New York and back the same day. The pathologist there looked at the slides and knew right away what it was.”

  “Don’t keep me in suspense! What was it?”

  “A sweat gland. It’s extremely rare, and if we’d gone anywhere else, they might not have recognized it. Here’s the good news. It probably isn’t a metastasis. It’s probably the primary site. Since the lymph glands around it were clear and the tumor was still contained and had clear margins, they don’t recommend any further treatment.”

  “They don’t even recommend radiation of the site?”

  “Radiation isn’t effective. It doesn’t help a bit. Bronwyn, you saved his life. He didn’t want the radiation, and I’m convinced it would have killed him.”

  “Give yourself the credit. Your intuition told you it was the wrong path, and you listened to your own inner knowing.”

  “How did you know to send us to Sloan-Kettering?”

  “I didn’t know. It’s good, but there are a lot of good hospitals. Lords is good, for that matter. My main concern was that the doctors there were pushing a treatment that neither your husband nor you were on board with. You didn’t trust what you were being told. Give yourself the credit. You followed through.”

  “Now, speaking of following through.” Suddenly Carole wasn’t the supplicant; she was the one giving advice. “You should have a consultation room that’s more informal than most doctor’s offices, but you can’t keep seeing patients on the side porch. I’m taking over the renovation of your house. I’ll only charge you material and labor.”

  “That sounds wonderful, but I’ve heard about what you do. I’m not sure I can afford even that.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll come up with a figure you can live with. Do you make house calls?”

  “I would, under some conditions.”

  “It’s Spud. He hates going to the doctor, but I think if one came to the house and would sit and talk to him, like you do—I don’t think he would mind as much.”

  ***

  There she was! Garth finally spotted Bronwyn’s tiny form, almost hidden by the crowd. He quickly made his way to her and pulled her from the noisy room to an outside patio.

  First he kissed her. Then he told her. “Julia is ours, forever. Legally.”

  “I don’t get it.” Bronwyn objected after Garth had finished telling her what had happened in his meeting with the admiral. He had left nothing out. “What’s his claim to her? Is he Julia’s father, or isn’t he?”

  “I’m guessing that he is. He’s either her father or her mother’s father—which would make him Julia’s grandfather.”

  “You think Christine Freytag was his daughter?”

  “He doesn’t officially have any children, but you never know. One way or the other, I believe Julia’s mother meant something to him. But, I think Julia is more of an abstraction. You know how you told me that to some people other people aren’t real?”

  “I’m sorry for ever thinking that of you.”

  “No, you were right about me. Meeting Admiral Stephenson tonight was like seeing an older, more charming version of what I would have become.”

  “But you’re not that now.”

  Garth dropped a kiss on her lips. As long as her faith in his goodness lasted, he would never go back. “Back to Stephenson. He was willing to help the baby into this country for her mother’s sake. But really, she was a problem—and if he didn’t have to deal with it, that would be okay.”

  Bronwyn shook her head in consternation. “The fact that the man he sent to meet the plane knew nothing about Julia being aboard says it all, doesn’t it?”

  Garth tucked Bronwyn under his arm. “Stephenson left the door wide open for something to happen to her at the most vulnerable point. He’s too smart for that to be poor planning.”

  Bronwyn absorbed that for a minute and then went on to the part that interested her. “So Julia’s real name is Estelle.”

  “Estelle means ‘star,’ but I like Julia better.”

  Bronwyn thought, then said, “So do I, but names matter. We can’t take her name away from her. We’ll call her Julia and make Estelle her middle name.”

  Chapter 45

  The next day Garth arrived with a red canoe on a rack on the back of his truck.

  Bronwyn met him in the drive. “What’s the canoe for?”

  “We’re going on a picnic. Everything’s arranged. The sitter will be here by the time you put on lots of sunscreen and that lacy skirt I like.”

  In thirty minutes they were paddling down the dark, mysterious river. Bronwyn sat in the bottom of the canoe, propped against a strut. Over her shoulder, she said to Garth, who was wielding the paddle, “I’ve been thinking about your meeting with Admiral Stephenson last night. You didn’t ask for a discharge because of me, I hope. I don’t want you to sacrifice who you are. I tried that in my own life. I tried so hard to shave off all the pieces of me that didn’t fit so I could live in my parents’ world. It didn’t work.”

  “Yes, because of you, but not what you’re thinking. I’ve come to realize you’re doing what I want to do. You’re making one spot on earth a little better just because you’re there.”

  “Oh. That’s sweet.”

  He huffed. “Practical, too. I’m needed here. I’m needed by you and by Julia, and for myself, I need to be here. Do-Lord told me last night he wants to open a teaching lodge for men. To teach them the confidence to open themselves to life. I’ll run it, do river courses and, of course, work for the volunteer rescue squad. I want to raise tomatoes, children. I want to go to PSA meetings and church picnics, eat barbecue.”

  “And hunt?”

  She might not like it, but they might as well discuss it. “Yes.”

  “Okay.”

  He laughed. He leaned down and dropped a smiling kiss on her crown. “If I could fall in love with every woman in the world, I would still want you. I want to live with you. I want to be here with you, and I want to be here for you. These days, I am the man I want to be, and that man wants to be with you.” He steered the canoe out of the current and toward shallow water, where they would drift slowly. He stowed the paddle. “Move over. I want to be beside you, right now.”

  “Wait! How do we do this?”

  “Very carefully,” he said counterbalancing her movements. “But a flat-water canoe like this is actually very stable. No sudden movements, and we’ll be okay.” He let himself down beside her, tucking her under his arm. “Isn’t this nice? I’ve been wanting to kiss you. Now I can.”

  In a minute, Bronwyn pulled away, satisfyingly breathless, Garth thought.

  She stroked his face. “I’m glad you’re the man you want to be. You’re also the man I want you to be.”

  “You mean that? You’re not repelled by… the things I’ve done. They come with me, you know. I’ll live with them the rest of my life, and so will you.”

  “I would take the pain of the past away, if I could. I would put my body between you and it and hold you safe. But I will tell you right now, I do not regret any road you ever traveled—since that path brought you to me.”

  No w
oman had ever declared her desire to protect him. He was a man, so he pulled away from how that made him feel. He tapped her nose, smiling. “I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but what changed?”

  “You know what? My parents refused to help me down a path they thought I was sure to fail at, and one that would possibly destroy me. All this time, I’ve held onto the hurt of that—the sense that they rejected me, had so little faith in me.”

  Garth fought down his knee-jerk rage. It wouldn’t help her.

  Bronwyn sighed and snuggled deep to his chest. “I’ve long since acknowledged that they knew what I was up against—and, trust me, I didn’t! They were trying to protect me. But it didn’t stop the hurt. But you know what I realized last night? If my parents had paid for my medical education, I would have quit med school. Sooner or later I would have said, ‘This is too hard.’ If there had been a position to retreat to, I would have retreated.”

  Garth squeezed her. “No, you wouldn’t have. Being a doctor means too much to you. You would never let it go.”

  She cupped his cheek and smiled into his beloved face. “Because I had to do it on my own, to accept every bit of the cost myself. Let’s be clear, because it was my money—my future money—I was spending, I stayed strong, even when I was discouraged. I’d be tempted to quit, and I’d think about all that money that I would have to pay back whether I was a doctor or not, and I’d put one foot in front of the other and keep going.” She chuckled at herself in the way he loved. “Noble ideals may have motivated me, but what made it happen was needing a way to pay back all that money.

  “Today, I understood that no harm was done by my parents. I don’t know if I finally saw that because I didn’t want the pain anymore and so I decided to forgive them, or if forgiving them made me able to see it. All I know is that there is no more pain, and forgiving them is easy—because there’s nothing to forgive.”

  “It sounds circular, paradoxical,” Garth told her. “Is this an ‘It’s destiny and everything happens for a reason’ line of thought?”

  “I don’t know if everything happens for a reason. I’m still a scientist, and I don’t have enough data to make a sweeping statement. I’m not even saying I think this happened for a reason. And again, without data, I don’t know if forgiveness is possible in all circumstances.”

  Garth kissed his little scientist with the magic hands. He kissed her until she began to make the hungry little sounds he loved. “Let’s lie down,” he whispered. “I don’t want to limit any spontaneous movements, and the canoe will be more stable.”

  They scooted down until they were like peas wrapped in a canoe pod. In their ears was the wet lapping of the water; overhead they looked up into cypress trees millennia old.

  The sun was warm, but the water kept them cool.

  Bronwyn felt Garth’s erection against her hip. His shorts were unzipped. Suddenly it all clicked. The canoe, the baby-sitter. “You planned this, didn’t you? You planned the whole thing!”

  “Hoped. Let’s say I hoped.”

  “Hoped! Pooh. You’re so full of it. You lured me out here to have your way with me. You’re trying to ruin my reputation!”

  She squirmed against his arousal to show him she was playing, but he said, “Hey! Does that still bother you?”

  “Really? No.” She squirmed again, trying to get her hands on him. They were squeezed so tight there wasn’t room, but thinking about that hot, hard velvet in her palms made her willing to try. Finally she managed to circle him with her fingers. “Why shouldn’t a doctor have a hot stud, ex-SEAL lover?”

  He began bunching her lace skirt and skating his hands over her bottom. “Lover? You’re not taking any lovers. You’re making me an honest man.”

  She stretched to land a kiss on the underside of his chin, reveling in his hot, potent musk. “Show me what you can do. We’ll talk about it later.”

  “Just one question. Should I infer anything from the fact that you have on no panties?”

  “You should infer that I am not stupid. And I was hopeful, too.”

  “In that case, turn on your side,” he whispered. “I’ll show you.”

  Bronwyn turned on her side, her head pillowed on his arm with Garth spooned behind her. He slid his hands under her white tank top to cup and play with her breasts, while, devil that he was, he alternately kissed and nipped at her neck.

  She loved the freedom, sexual and emotional, she had found with this man. When she was moaning and reflexively arching her pelvis, he slid into her from behind. He thrust, and the canoe began to rock.

  “Uh!” She dug her fingers into the arm he held around her.

  “Relax.” She could hear the smile in his dark voice. The sound traveled straight to the place they were joined. “The canoe won’t tip.” He slid his hand under her skirt and unerringly found her clitoris. “Relax.” He moved within her in gentle nudges. The canoe began to rock in time with the rhythm he set. “We’re going to let the canoe do most of the work.”

  It was like making love with nature. The sun, the breeze, the water sounds that added to the wet sounds of their bodies together. The slow, gentle piling of sensation on sensation.

  Bronwyn slowly became aware of the most luscious, heady, thick, powerful, sensual, drunk-making scent she had ever smelled. She drew it deep in her lungs. It blended perfectly with the scent of the river, of Garth and sunshine, of earth and sex. “What is that?”

  Garth kept up the slow, inexorably gentle rhythm. “I hoped we would come across that.” His voice was as thick as the steadily increasing scent. “It’s swamp rose. They bloom in May. Unless you’re in a slow boat, just drifting, you hardly notice the smell. Breathe deep. Don’t work for the climax. Let it come to you.”

  And that’s exactly what they did until the ripples started deep within Bronwyn and she knew the climax would come, no matter what she did. She breathed deeply and let the day, the canoe, and Garth take her to the top of the peak, and let them push her over.

  ***

  In the lazy aftermath, Garth kissed her ear and said, “Last night, Do-Lord said something.”

  Bronwyn was too relaxed to open her eyes. “Hmm. What?”

  “He said, ‘Some things are for a season. Some things are forever.’ He was talking about how you know when it’s time to get out of the SEALs. But I think he was talking about the kind of love we have, too. This is the kind of love that is forever.”

  ***

  Much, much later, while they still lay spooned together, the rough rumble of his bass voice vibrating in Bronwyn’s chest, Garth said, “I’ll never know if you married me for myself or to get your hands on my baby.”

  “The baby, of course. Getting my hands on you was easy.”

  “I was easy?”

  “Oh, yeah. Thank God.”

  Acknowledgments

  Whenever I sit down to write my acknowledgments for a book, I’m always blown away by the sheer amount of generosity encountered along the way.

  I wouldn’t have had the courage to attempt a medical heroine if I hadn’t known I’d have my friend Elizabeth Vaughan, MD, always at hand. She talked me through the medical scenes and then checked them for accuracy.

  Jennifer Lohman and Elsa McKeithan read the manuscript and offered suggestions and dug me out when I got stuck. VK Powell was always on hand for another plotting session.

  My editor, Deb Werksman, and my agent, Stephany Evans, stayed with me—and after me—through thick and thin.

  To all of them, and to all the people whose work you hold in your hands but who go unsung—the copy editors, the cover artists, and people like Susie Benton, Danielle Jackson, Sarah Ryan, and Skye Agnew—my thanks.

  About the Author

  If you don’t count a thirty-seven page novel written when she was twelve, then SEALed with a Kiss was not merely Mary Margret Daughtridge’s first publishe
d novel, it was the first novel she ever wrote. She wrote it for fun—just to prove to herself that she could.

  Since she was writing only for herself, she had one guiding principle: she put everything she liked into the book and left out everything she didn’t like. She likes dogs [check], children [check], heroines with a sense of humor [check], and strong honorable men who are doing the right thing—by their lights. Check.

  And since she really likes a romance and a happy ending, she made them fall in love, learn their lessons, make sacrifices, and be stronger and more whole in the end.

  A graduate of the University of North Carolina at Greensboro, Mary Margret has a BA in speech communication and an M.Ed. in speech pathology and audiology. All her professional life she has been a therapist of one kind or another, desiring more than anything to empower people to reach beyond whatever limits them. As her alter ego, MM Holloman, she is a landscape artist whose paintings of North Carolina rivers, swamps, fields, forest, and coast hang in corporate and private collections across the state.

  She’s between dogs right now, so she’s thrilled when Fergus, a West Highland terrier, can come for a sleepover, even if the resident cat, Crystal, gets in a snit. Born in Ahoskie, Mary Margret still lives in North Carolina and visits places like Wilmington, Elizabeth City, Scotland Neck, and Topsail Island as often as she can.