Prince Charming in Dress Blues

by Maureen Child

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s none of my business.”

  “Probably not,” she agreed, “but don’t be sorry for me. It’s an old story, certainly not a new one. I picked a lemon in the garden of love.” Her hand on her belly paused, as if she were trying to keep the baby from hearing what she was about to say. “When he found out I was pregnant, he left.”

  Okay, now he knew who the real idiot was. “Stupid of him,” he said.

  Annie smiled at the compliment. “Thanks. I thought so.” Really, as “burglars” went, he was a very nice man. And she was more grateful than she could say that he was there. She didn’t even want to imagine what it would have been like to be stranded, alone and giving birth. She squirmed a bit on the bed, feeling the pad of towels John had folded and slipped beneath the sheet. She just couldn’t get comfortable, she thought, and briefly longed again for that fabulous epidural she’d heard other women talking about. Funny how this had worked out. She’d never had any intention of having a natural childbirth. Annie was a big believer in taking advantage of medical science. After all, a hundred years ago women were putting knives under the bed to “cut the pain.” Who was she to go without medication when people had worked for years to make childbirth easier, safer and pain free?

  Something inside her began the slow, unmistakable tightening that by now she recognized all too well. Another contraction was coming. Her body readied for that slow climb to agony. And since there was no anesthetist around to give her a hand, she settled for something else.

  “Talk to me,” she whispered as her insides tightened and her back arched as she moved into the pain.

  His eyes widened. “About what?”

  “Anything,” she assured him. She just wanted something else to concentrate on besides her own discomfort. “Tell me about your family. Are you married?”

  He laughed shortly and shook his head. “Me? No. I figure I’ll stay single and save some poor woman a lot of headaches.”

  Oh, it was a big one. She tried to ride the wave, told herself that with each pain, her baby was that much closer. Keep talking, she thought. “Scared, huh?”

  John’s head jerked back, and he looked at her. “Scared? Who said anything about scared?”

  Despite her distress she laughed at his offended tone, then gasped and reached for his hands. Holding on tightly, she only said, “Talk, John. Talk to me.”

  “Uh,” he said, letting his gaze sweep over her before settling back on her face, “I have two brothers. They’ve both gotten married recently. Nice women,” he muttered, words tumbling out of his mouth, and she clung to each one as if it were a tiny life raft. “Can’t figure out why they’d want to be married to Nick or Sam, but, hey, I never did understand women.”

  A twist of her lips was the best smile she could give him. “So few do,” she said, and panted for air. “Tell me about them. About you.”

  “We’re Marines,” he said, throwing the words out quickly. “All of us.”

  Not a Boy Scout after all, she told herself, but close.

  “More,” she said through gritted teeth, seeing the pain as a red haze that settled over her eyes, blurring the rest of the world until only his voice kept her anchored.

  “My brother Sam is stationed in South Carolina. He just married a woman named Karen. She’s a real estate agent. Nice lady. Keeps Sam hopping, I can tell you.”

  Her hands tightened on his.

  John spoke quickly, keeping the words flowing.

  “Nick, he’s stationed here. At Camp Pendleton, like me. He’s married to Gina.” John laughed shortly, and she clung to the sound of it. “She’s Italian, too, so the two of them together get pretty loud when there’s a difference of opinion. But Nick—hell, he’s a marshmallow when it comes to her.”

  Calm, deliberate, he kept talking, telling her about his family, drawing her into his life. And as he talked, she listened, getting to know him not just through his words but through the gentle touch of his hands and the quiet timbre of his voice. While the wind howled outside and her body screamed inside, her mind reached out for him and held on.

  “Okay,” John told her from his position at the foot of the bed, “I think this is it.”

  He’d drawn on every bit of medical training he’d ever received in the Corps to help him out during the last several hours. And, God knew, it hadn’t been much. Knowing how to tie a bandage or temporarily set a broken bone wasn’t going to get him far tonight. But at least he felt somewhat prepared for what was coming.

  John only hoped he wouldn’t screw this up. Let her down. He was all she had to count on now. All the baby had to count on.

  His heart ached to watch her writhing in a pain she refused to acknowledge. She was either the bravest or the stubbornest woman he’d ever known. He knew damn well she was in agony, yet she’d hardly made a peep all night. Hell, he’d seen Marines wailing over a flesh wound. But Annie had simply gritted her teeth, steeled her will and ridden the pain out.

  Through it all, she’d amazed him with her courage.

  And now that the payoff was here…the birth imminent…he only hoped he measured up to her.

  “Get set, Annie. Next time you feel like it, you give this baby a big push into the world.”

  Annie nodded, propped herself up onto her elbows, took a deep breath and clenched her jaw. Every muscle in her body tightened, preparing for battle. When an overwhelming compulsion took hold, she pushed with everything she had, concentrating on moving her baby from her womb into her waiting arms.

  “’Atta girl,” John said, and she heard him as if from a distance. “Keep going, don’t stop now. It’s coming. I can see its head.”

  A smile bubbled up inside her, despite the pain roaring through her body. Almost, she told herself. Almost. After all these months, the moment was finally here.

  “Breathe, Annie,” he ordered, “you’ve got to breathe. Take a breath for God’s sake.”

  She sucked in air, used it for ammunition and bore down again. How many times, she wondered, her mind racing at a wild speed, had she seen this scene on television? Or in the movies? Push, push, someone was always shouting, and the poor beleaguered woman always ended up crying out, “I can’t.”

  Well, not Annie. She felt as though she couldn’t stop pushing. Her body had a mind of its own now. She was just along for the ride. Nature had stepped in and there was no stopping it. And as suddenly as that thought came, John called out, “Okay, ease back a little now. Stop pushing for a minute.”

  “No way,” she muttered. Her eyes flew open, and she looked at him where he knelt between her up-drawn legs. No modesty left, she thought idly, not caring right now who saw her in the most humiliating position a woman could find herself in. All she wanted now was to get this baby out.

  The urge to push clawed at her. “Have to,” she said between gasps for air, “have to push. Have to do it now.”

  “I know, honey,” he said, his voice soft, his hands against her body gentle. Then he met her gaze and gave her a smile. “The baby’s head’s out and it’s turning, so just hold back a minute or two more. It knows what to do, all we have to do is give it time to do it.”

  She blew air out in short, sharp puffs and told herself to hang on. Just another minute. And finally, when she thought she couldn’t stand it a second longer, she heard him say, “All right Annie, let’s meet this baby.”

  “Thank God,” she moaned and put everything she had into one last, colossal effort to push her child from her body.

  “Scream if you want to, honey,” he told her in a loud, clear voice. “No one’s around to hear you.”

  She didn’t want to scream. Didn’t want to waste that much breath. But as she felt her body give and stretch and pull taut, Annie heard a high, keening wail splinter the air and it wasn’t until much later that she realized the sound had come from her.

  The baby cried and Annie laughed, falling back against the pillows like a runner exhausted after a marathon.

  J
ohn’s voice, so familiar, so comforting, carried above the infant’s outraged screech. “It’s a girl, Annie,” he said, pleasure and awe coloring his tone.

  She looked at him and he held her baby up like a prize won in a county fair.

  “She’s gorgeous,” he said. “Just like her mother.”

  “A girl,” Annie crooned, lifting her arms out for the messy, squalling baby whose tiny arms and legs kicked furiously.

  “Let me just clean her up a little,” he said with a wink.

  So tired, Annie thought as she nodded and closed her eyes. She’d never been more tired. Or more fulfilled. She’d done it. She’d given birth and now she’d never be alone again. She had a family. A daughter.

  One part of her mind listened as John moved around the room, tending to the baby, talking to her.

  “You caused quite a stir, young lady,” he was saying, and the baby’s cries quieted, matching his soft tone. “Your mommy’s tired now, and I’m going to be a little busy seeing to her, so I want you to just take it easy and let her rest for a bit, all right?”

  Annie chuckled under her breath. It all felt so wonderful. So…right. Yesterday she hadn’t even known this man existed. And now…oh, she thought as he came toward her and laid her brand-new baby in her arms, now she couldn’t imagine not knowing him.

  As she tucked the squirming bundle of her daughter close to her side, Annie felt John’s fingers trace delicately across her forehead. She tore her gaze from the beautiful sight of her daughter’s face to look up at him.

  “You’re amazing,” he said and she saw admiration and wonder in his eyes. “She’s amazing.”

  Annie reached up and caught his hand with hers. Unexpected tears filled her eyes as she met his gaze and said quietly, “Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “No,” she said, cutting him off and staring deeply into his eyes. She wanted to tell him so much. To let him know what it had meant to her that he was there. That he was kind. And calm. And gentle. But all she could say was the same two words. “Thank you.”

  He shook his head, bent down, kissed her forehead, then kissed the baby for good measure. Smiling at Annie, he said, “Annie, I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. Thank you for letting me witness a miracle.”

  Four

  John leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb and stared at the sleeping woman across the room from him. She looked so small in the big bed, half-buried under a blue-and-white quilt and surrounded by a mountain of pillows.

  But he wasn’t fooled by her size. He knew firsthand just how tough this woman was.

  His insides flipped once, hard. Now that the emergency was over, he could take a minute to fully appreciate just how lucky they’d both been. The baby was a month early, but she was big and healthy. No complications during delivery. No problems at all, really. And as that thought fluttered through his mind, he sent up a quick, heartfelt prayer of gratitude.

  The baby, lying in the crook of Annie’s arm, stirred and whimpered. John pushed away from the wall and walked quickly, soundlessly to the side of the bed. Shadows of exhaustion lay beneath Annie’s eyes, but the baby looked wide-eyed and ready for trouble.

  A pair of hazy blue eyes looked up at him, and despite knowing that he probably looked like a big blur to her, John told himself that the tiny girl was staring right at him. One impossibly small hand lifted and long, fragile fingers reached for him. He sucked in a gulp of air and actually felt it when the baby’s fist closed around his heart.

  “A heartbreaker,” he whispered, and carefully lifted the baby, still wrapped in her bath-towel blanket, from the circle of Annie’s arm. “That’s what you are. A heartbreaker.”

  She only stared at him owlishly.

  “Come on, now, let’s give your mom some sleep time,” he said, his voice taking on an instinctive, singsong rhythm. Cuddling her into his chest, John headed for the main room and surprised himself by just how much he enjoyed the feel of that new life in his arms.

  He’d never imagined himself as a father—despite the fact that he’d had a damn near perfect childhood, raised by parents who loved each other. Fatherhood just wasn’t something that had appealed to him. Maybe it was the whole idea of being responsible for another human being. Maybe it was fear of screwing up an innocent kid by making stupid parenting mistakes.

  But whatever the reason, he’d avoided all chances at a serious relationship that might have led to parenthood. He’d always told himself that he was perfectly happy in his life. Answering to no one but the Corps. Going his own way. Doing his own thing.

  But now, he thought as he took a seat on the floor near the fireplace and leaned back against the sofa, he had to wonder. The small, sturdy weight on his arm felt good. Right, somehow. And looking down into a pair of eyes that had seen nothing of the world made him want to show her everything.

  She waved her little hand at him again, and this time he caught her fist with his fingertips. Smoothing the pad of his thumb into her closed fist, he felt those little fingers, sensed the strength inside and was humbled all over again.

  “You’re a booby trap, aren’t you?” he asked quietly, and she tilted her head as if trying to understand him. “Yep,” he went on, smiling now at the frowns and grimaces tightening her little features. “You look all innocent and everything. But once a person gets close, you suck ‘em in and take ‘em out.”

  She stretched and yawned, obviously bored with the conversation. John chuckled and tucked the towel more closely around her little body. Amazing, really, he thought. Only a few hours ago she wasn’t here. And now she was breathing and fussing and making herself known in no uncertain terms. An entire, new person.

  And he already loved her with a fierceness he wouldn’t have believed possible.

  Annie stood in the doorway, watching the two of them. Her heartbeat staggered slightly at the simple beauty of that gorgeous man tenderly holding the baby. Laying one hand against the doorjamb, she steadied her shaky knees and took a long minute to just enjoy the picture in front of her.

  She still wasn’t sure just who John Paretti was, but she was positive of one thing: tonight he’d been her guardian angel. And as that thought ricocheted through her mind, she told herself he even looked like some dark angel. Black hair, pale, icy-blue eyes and a face made up of sharp planes and angles.

  Silhouetted by the fire, his profile was strong, and his biceps looked huge even through the fabric of his Irish knit sweater. Yet this powerful-looking man held her newborn daughter with a tenderness she could sense from across the room. And she knew, from firsthand experience, just how gentle those big hands of his could be.

  A small curl of embarrassment wound through her before she could stop it. Silly, she thought, with an inward smile. Way too late to be embarrassed now. John had seen every inch of her—and not from a particularly flattering angle.

  And now that she thought about it, just what did you say to a man after sharing something like that? How about dinner? Nope. She didn’t think so. Besides, no point in getting attached to tall, dark and gorgeous. As soon as the snow cleared up, they’d be going their separate ways. She frowned as a distinct feeling of regret flared up inside her.

  Now where did that come from? she wondered, and quickly quashed the notion. But before it was totally gone, he turned his head and looked directly at her as if he was reading her mind and entertained by it.

  “Should you be out of bed?”

  Annie smiled and lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I couldn’t stay in bed.” Her gaze drifted from his to her daughter’s firelit face. “I got lonely.”

  “She was fussing, thought I’d let you get some sleep.”

  Pushing away from the wall, she crossed the room and carefully…very carefully, eased down onto the sofa beside him. “Ridiculous to admit this,” she said, wincing slightly as she settled into the cushions, “but I’m not really tired.”

  Her entire body ached, yet she felt better than she
had in years. In fact, she felt completely energized. As if she could run a marathon or climb a mountain or…okay, maybe not. But the least she could do was sit up and talk to the man she owed so much to.

  He turned his head and looked up at her, and as the firelight flickered across his features, a feminine dart of admiration shot through her. Really, he was way too good-looking. Then he smiled and her heartbeat skipped a bit.

  “I think she’s starting to look for dinner.”

  “Hmm? Oh!” Shaking her head she told herself to get a grip on obviously rampaging hormones, then held out her arms for the baby. John gently handed over her daughter, but didn’t move back as Annie tucked the infant into the crook of her arm.

  “She’s amazing,” he whispered, and she felt the brush of his breath across her cheek.

  “She really is beautiful, isn’t she?” Annie asked, turning her face toward his and almost gasping at just how close he was. Only a breath away. And in a deep corner of her mind Annie realized that if the circumstances were different, she just might be fantasizing about being kissed.

  Her gaze dropped briefly to his mouth, and she sucked in air and deliberately looked away. Boy, this hormone thing could really get out of hand.

  “So what’s her name?” he asked.

  The baby. Good. Talk about the baby, keep her mind off his mouth. “Jordan,” she said, smiling at the child she’d been waiting forever to meet in person.

  “Pretty name.”

  “Thanks,” she said, then added, “and thanks again for what you did for me and Jordan.”

  “You already thanked me,” he said quietly, his voice blending in with the hiss and crackle of the flames just a few feet away.

  Not enough, she thought, knowing that a part of her would always be thanking him. For the rest of Jordan’s life, Annie would be saying an extra prayer each night for the man who’d seen them both safely through. “Yeah, well, I figure delivering a baby deserves more than just one thank-you.”

  “Okay,” he said, smiling at her again, and one more time she felt that quickening of her heart.