“How's she doing?” Izzy and her father spoke in unison.
“Better, thank heavens. You should have seen her face when Ford walked in. She lit up the room. It won't take long now,” she predicted confidently.
“But what about the fetal heartbeat?” her father demanded.
“They're taking precautions. Carly's been given oxygen, and the doctor's prepared for a C-section if necessary. He's going to give her ten more minutes, then he'll decide.”
Carly's ragged cry of pain echoed from the delivery room. Nigel Brandon sank white-faced into his chair. “Heaven spare me, I can't take this. I'm an old man. Please, no more babies, any of you.”
Daphne patted his shoulder. “She's nearly there.”
The door opened again. A gowned and masked obstetrics nurse pushing an EKG machine bustled from the delivery room. McKay's low, calm voice drifted through the doors as he counted with Carly, helping her focus her breathing as the contractions came faster.
“That's the way,” Brandon said. “You can do it, Carly. Just breathe.”
Izzy wiped his forehead and sat down beside Brandon. “I hate feeling helpless like this. When will something happen?”
A muffled wail wafted from beyond the double doors, and another nurse rushed inside.
Daphne looked at the big doors. “What was that?”
“What was what?” her father asked.
“Shhh.” Daphne cocked her head. “Listen.”
Over the murmur of voices came another quivering wail. Seconds later it was followed by a full-out howl.
“Two of them.” Brandon closed his eyes. “One more to go. Sweet God I'm too weak for this. I just hope McKay is holding up in there.”
“He'll do whatever he has to do,” Izzy assured him. “Even if his stomach is jelly he'll look like steel. Carly won't know.”
“She needs him to be strong now,” Daphne whispered. “Delivering the last baby won't be easy.”
An uneasy silence fell, broken only by the low hum of the monitoring equipment and McKay's muted words of encouragement to Carly.
“Did he say something about a secret decoder ring?” Izzy looked confused. “What was that all about?”
“I haven't got a clue.” Daphne pulled her hospital gown closer, shivering. “This is taking too long, and she was already weak. Maybe they couldn't rotate the last baby. Maybe they'll have to do a C-section after all.” Her hands tightened. “Or maybe the third baby—”
Her father took her hand and locked down hard. Izzy clutched her other hand. “No way. No damned way. That's not going to happen,” Izzy said gruffly.
Beyond the doors came the swift tap of feet and a ripple of laughter. In the silence that followed the delivery wing echoed with a new squeal—angry, vital, and completely healthy.
Daphne hugged her exhausted father. They both began to cry.
McKay staggered out of the delivery room ten minutes later, looking exhausted and absolutely ecstatic. “I'm a father. I've got girls.” He shook his head. “Three beautiful, amazing girls.”
“So we heard.” Izzy smiled broadly. “How does it feel?”
“Like hell. I'm wasted.” McKay sank into the chair beside Daphne. “Carly was incredible. She never wavered, never complained. I didn't know a person could be so brave. I didn't want her to know that I was a wreck.” He drew a deep breath. “A father. I'm—a father,” he repeated softly.
“Make that a father times three,” Izzy corrected proudly.
“I'm not sure I'm cut out for this kind of work. Bullets, sure. Underwater explosives, fine.” McKay shook his head. “But babies… diapers.” He swallowed hard. “Dating. College. One day they'll leave home and get married.”
“You'll be just fine, Pop.” Izzy gave him a thumbs-up. “You're going to get a truckload of practice.” He glanced at Daphne and Nigel. “You'll also have plenty of help from your friends, me included. After all, someone has to teach these little ladies how to set up firewalls and hack into secured facilities,” he said. “What else is a godfather for?”
Daphne rolled her eyes. “Why am I suddenly seeing Charlie's Angels here?”
“Hey, you never know,” Izzy said, his expression thoughtful. Then he patted his pocket and grinned broadly. “Cigars, anyone?”
Epilogue
Santa Marina
Eight months later
The wind sang, clean and cool as it crossed the warm sand.
Down the slope, Ford McKay sat back, tanned and relaxed his two baby daughters staring at him from their blanket. The third gazed up unblinking from the carrier on his chest.
“Okay, troops, listen up.” McKay tickled his closest charmer, then nuzzled the two on the blanket. “Today we cover a few ground rules. Good intel comes first, and the best intel is what you gather yourself. Remember, never take secondhand information uncritically, because the techno-geeks reading high-res satellite photos can mess up big time. And frequently do.”
Three sets of eyes glinted up at him in adoration, oblivious to the azure sky and the ocean waves licking at the beach.
“Okay, team, next comes unit integrity. You can have the best intel and prep in the world but without unit integrity you're dead in the water.”
Sunny—or was it Olivia?—made a cooing noise, and the doting SEAL gave her a loud sloppy kiss, much to her sisters' delight. “Rule one: the team always stays together. No one is ever left behind.”
McKay settled back on one elbow, with his spellbound girls secure against his broad chest. “That means the unit eats together, trains together, moves together.”
Six keen blue eyes stared at the big, tanned officer. Olivia—or was it Sunny?—wiggled her toes and giggled.
“No back talk in the ranks,” McKay said with mock severity, swooping low for a noisy kiss on smooth, scented cheeks. “Only your mother is allowed to countermand the superior officer, although something tells me you three are going to turn strong men into putty in seconds.” He moved the umbrella carefully, screening them from the tropical sun. “Okay, now for specific terrain issues. Going to be near quicksand? Always carry a pole. If you feel yourself going down, that's your best escape option.”
McKay's lips curved in a rugged grin. “How? I thought you'd never ask. First you toss the pole down and then you lie across it, which keeps you from sinking as long as you don't panic and start struggling. Then work the pole beneath your hips and inch your way back onto solid ground. Got that, team?”
Olivia slid her thumb into her mouth with a happy pop, while her sisters yawned.
McKay gave a low, five-note whistle that brought all three of his girls to giggling attention. “Remember that whistle,” he said, suddenly grave. “Someday you may need it. If you ever get into trouble, signal once, and I'll be there. That's a SEAL promise.”
On the other side of the slope, Carly stood motionless. Through a haze of emotions, she fought to concentrate and hold her camera level. She focused carefully, framing her husband's tender smile as Sunny and Olivia crawled off the blanket onto his chest. Her next shot caught the squirming triplets as McKay rolled sharply, making his tiny girls scream with delight.
At that instant, Carly clicked off another shot, and her heart seemed to stop midbeat, engulfed by currents of love so rich and full she felt giddy. As she stood unseen, a wave of memories surged inside her.
The pain and exhaustion of labor.
Her delirious joy as she cradled her tiny, red-faced
daughters for the first time. After that came other firsts: Olivia's first smile; Cleo's first laugh; Ford changing Sunny's wet diaper, then staring in disbelief as she repeated the process with vigor.
Sweet, so sweet, every memory. Each one as close as yesterday.
Carly's rugged SEAL had been beside her every free moment, besotted with his girls, enchanted with this uncharted adventure they were sharing. With time he had even begun to relish his new teaching role, which put him more often on the training field than in the middle of a firefight.
To her amusement, Carly had discovered that commitment held no more terrors. Her heart was claimed, given once and forever to her three red-cheeked imps and their roguish father. In the process, her bittersweet memories of losing her mother and father had finally been laid to rest.
Cradling her camera, Carly studied the scene. On her blanket, Cleo kicked her feet in noisy abandon. Tucked against Ford's chest, Sunny sucked her fingers, and Olivia smiled radiantly.
Carly looked up from her camera, then back at the beach. There were a dozen more shots she yearned to catch while the light was good. She knew all of them would be unforgettable.
But in that moment Carly also knew, with stunning clarity, that across the slope was where she wanted to be, not standing to one side with her camera. There would be other shots, other times, long, happy decades of adventure and discovery to be shared.
Yes, her camera could wait. Now she needed to touch and be touched, to feel her husband's strong hands as he pulled her gently down beside him. It seemed a miracle that she had lost her heart and gained a future, no longer content to be a spectator in the crazy, wonderful parade of life.
Ford's eyes were dark and intent when she settled beside him. He took her camera and set it gently on the blanket. “Working again?”
“Just a few quick shots. Nothing important.”
“How do you feel?”
Carly stretched luxuriously. “Like I could eat midtown Manhattan.”
“Not that.” He kissed her cheek. “Are you… sore?”
“Boasting again?” She smiled slowly. “One time wouldn't leave me sore, tough guy.”
“It wasn't once. It was three times, but who's counting.”
“Certainly not me.” Carly settled her head against Ford's shoulder and drew Olivia close against her chest. “As a matter of fact, it was four,” she admitted with a silky laugh.
“You're a dangerous woman, Mrs. McKay.”
“Where you're concerned, I intend to be nothing less, commander. You can count on lots more of the same.” She tilted her head. “I'd say sixty or seventy years' worth, at least.”
McKay's fingers linked with hers. “Sounds damned fine to me.”
There in the thick, golden sunlight, Carly's world stretched out, perfect and complete. Wounds that she hadn't even felt were healed, old circles closed.
Home.
She took a long breath and let the knowledge slide deep.
Home at last, she thought. Where she was wanted, needed, the way she could never have imagined in all her wild dreams.
Best of all, she knew home would always and ever be as simple and as close as this. Home would be anywhere she stood within the sound of a baby's laugh or the careful reach of her husband's strong arms.
“So, Mrs. McKay. What do you think of married life so far?” Ford murmured.
“Marriage? With you?”
“Yeah. With me.”
Carly gave a slow, five-note whistle that had her girls giggling and her husband grinning as he drew her down against his chest for a long, brain-numbing kiss.
Author's Note
Have you been practicing your secret five-note whistle?
Something tells me that Ford will be busy keeping his three headstrong daughters out of trouble for many years to come. On the other hand, with the kind of tactical training he's providing, they might just save him from a tight situation one day!
If you enjoyed your visit to Barbados and want to read more, you'll find a nice taste of the island's rich heritage in Barbados: A World Apart, by Roger LaBrucherie.
Interested in the SEALs? There are dozens of books on this hot subject, each with a different slant on the elite group of fighters. Try Inside the US Navy SEALs by Gary Stubblefield for a basic introduction. For more of an historical overview, look for SEALs in Action, by Kevin Dockery, which includes information on BUD/S (Navy training course, Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL) and the rigors of Hell Week.
In case you find the stories of Brittany intriguing, just as Carly's mother did look for Pierre Deux s Brittany, by Linda Dannenberg, Pierre Levec, and Pierre Moulin. This lavish book will sweep you away to the rugged outpost of northwest France, making you smell the sea wind, glimpse the flash of bright blue fishing boats, and feel the fury of slashing waves on the jagged rocks of Ouessant.
If Izzy seems familiar, he should be! The first time he charmed his way onto the page was in my 1999 book, The Perfect Gift, and I have a strong suspicion this is one computer genius who will be back for another visit.
In the meantime, I would love to hear from you. If you'd like a signed bookmark and a copy of my next newsletter with information about past characters, upcoming books, and details about my books set at hauntingly beautiful Draycott Abbey, please send a stamped, self-addressed envelope (the longer-size envelope works best) to me at:
P.O. Box 25145
Scottsdale, Arizona 85255
And don't forget to visit me online at:
www.christinaskye.com.
The fire is always burning and the tea is always hot. You can sit for a while and enjoy my favorite recipes, as well as contests and writing tips. You can also drop me an e-mail at:
[email protected].
My next book?
Let's just say you'll find what happens when a tough, cynical man stumbles on a little piece of paradise and discovers that the right woman can bring him to his knees—and then make him whole again.
Stay tuned to my website for more details!
With warmest regards,
Christina Skye
About the Author
Christina Skye lives on the western slopes of the McDowell Mountains in Arizona. Going Overboard is her fifteenth novel, and her first set aboard a cruise ship. She enjoys the balmy Caribbean and the luminous Florida Keys, but her sharpest maritime memory dates to 1982, when a Chinese junk nearly tossed her headfirst into the gray spume of Kowloon Harbor. She still remembers how to scream “Watch out for the red sampan!” in Chinese.
Be sure to visit her online at: www.christinaskye.com.
Look for Christina Skye's next sizzling romantic adventure, on sale in Spring 2002.…
Loving him was dangerous. Thrilling. And absolutely unthinkable.
So Annie closed away her heart, no matter how hard it hurt to forget.
Now her dangerous lover is back, and all Annie's careful defenses are toast.
Safe or not, they have one week together. Seven days of magic in a little corner of paradise that will leave them both changed beyond recognition.
Like it or not, Annie is about to slow down, kick back, and fall in love all over again. Her tall, tough hero is about to discover that the right woman can bring him to his knees.
Then make him whole again.
ISLAND BOOKS
Published by
Bantam Dell Publishing Group
a division of
Random House, Inc.
1540 Broadway
New York, New York 10036
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2001 by Roberta Helmer
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.
Dell® is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
eISBN: 978-0-307-48551-9
April 2001
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