Debbie Macomber's Navy Box Set: Navy WifeNavy BluesNavy BratNavy WomanNavy BabyNavy Husband

by Debbie Macomber

  “He is wonderful.”

  “You both are.”

  Lindy’s nod was decidedly noncommittal. She could feel the emotion gathering in the back of her eyes. How could Steve sound so certain about her and Rush when she was struggling to believe in her own marriage? He made her happiness sound like a foregone conclusion when she was dog-paddling in a mire of self-doubts, struggling to stay afloat. A week before he would have taken her in his arms and comforted her. Tonight he made her sound like Joan of Arc for being so brave and true. There was no justice left in the world. None.

  “Attribute my foul mood to the fact that I was shocked by your news. That and a strong brotherly instinct to protect my baby sister. I think the two of you are going to do exceptionally well together.”

  With trembling hands Lindy smoothed the pink linen napkin in her lap, hardly able to breathe normally, let alone find words to answer her brother. His original disdain for her and Rush’s marriage had a lot more to do with his own unpleasant experience with nuptial bliss than anything else. Lindy’s greatest fear was that she’d made the same mistake her brother had.

  After an awkward moment, Lindy murmured, “I appreciate the apology, Steve, but it wasn’t necessary.”

  Her brother shook his head, dismissing her words. “Rush will be good to you, and you’re exactly the right kind of woman for him. I expect you’ll both be very happy.”

  “We’re going to try.” The words were squeezed out of Lindy’s throat. If he didn’t stop soon, she was going to embarrass them both by bursting into tears.

  “Give this marriage everything you’ve got, Lindy.” He set down the fork and reached for the water glass. “Hold on to the happiness with both hands. Don’t ever let anything stand between you.”

  His eyes were so full of pain that Lindy had to look away. She felt certain he must have read all the fear in her eyes. How sad it was that the two of them, who had once been so close, could sit across from each other and ignore what was on their hearts.

  Reaching for the menu once more, Steve released his breath in a long sigh. “What do you say we start off dinner with a Caesar salad?”

  “Sure,” Lindy answered, forcing herself to smile.

  My dearest Lindy,

  I feel like a first-class idiot, shouting at you the way I did on the phone the other night. I jumped to conclusions, thinking the worst when I didn’t get any mail from you. Lindy, I can’t even begin to explain what was going on inside me. Jeff tried to tell me there was some logical explanation why you hadn’t written, but I wouldn’t listen. It was as though my greatest fears were hitting me in the face. I couldn’t sleep; I couldn’t eat. In my mind, I was absolutely certain Paul had come back and told you he’d made a mistake and you’d left with him. I know it sounds crazy now, but at the time, it made perfect sense.

  From the day when the mail was handed out and I didn’t get any, I’ve been acting like a real ass. Jeff must have gone to the chaplain because the next thing I knew I got called in to talk to him. He was the one who arranged the ship-to-shore call. Thank God he did.

  After we talked, I was ready to free-fly. There’s no way to explain how much better I felt. Has anyone ever told you what a sweet, sexy voice you have? And when you told me you still loved me, I nearly broke down and wept. I was so relieved. God, Lindy, I don’t even know how to explain how good it felt to know everything’s all right.

  After the things I said to you in my last letter, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to bag this whole marriage, but I’m hoping to God you don’t. All I can say is, I’m sorry.

  Honey, it’s been less than three months and I’m already keeping track of how many days until I see you again. Try to arrange some additional time off in December, if you can, will you? I’m going to take you to bed and I swear it’ll be a full week before we venture out of the bedroom. I guess that tells you how I’m feeling right now.

  Before I met you I was this sane, ordinary man who was content with his life and sure of his goals. Two weeks after I meet you, and I’m a completely different person. There’s a wedding band on my finger and I’m thinking about how nice it would be to become a father. I’ve even been toying with the idea of buying a house. What do you think? You can bet I do a lot of thinking about making love to my wife. Mostly I’m wondering what the hell I’m doing on the other side of the world.

  I saw something yesterday that drove that point straight through my gut. We got orders to lend assistance to a Saudi oil tanker that had been hit by a Harpoon-type missile. One of our frigates pulled up alongside to help control the fire, and we sent a couple of Sea Kings with fire-fighting equipment and took their injured aboard. It really hit home that there could be trouble here, and this part of the world isn’t sitting around enjoying crumpets and tea. I’m not telling you this to worry you, Lindy. I needed to see that burning tanker to take care of some business matters I should have done a long time before now. If anything happens to me, I want you to know you’ll be well taken care of financially.

  I’ve got to close this letter for now, but I’ll write more later. Lots more. I love you, Lindy. It frightens me how much.

  Dearest Rush,

  Reading your latest letter was the best thing that’s happened to me since our wedding. I’ve been feeling so confused and blue lately. After your letter, I felt like singing and dancing. I love you, husband. I don’t have a single lingering doubt.

  Did you hear the shouts of glee all across America this morning? No, we haven’t landed on the moon or captured a Caribbean island. School started and those cries were the happy voices of mothers all over the land. At least, that’s what Sandy and Mary and several of the other navy wives told me today. I’ve gotten to be good friends with several of them. Did you know that Sissy Crawford’s real name isn’t Sissy? It’s something completely different, like Angela or Georgia. The other wives started calling her that because she hates it so much when Bill’s at sea, and she’s so sure everything’s going to go wrong that the women started calling her Sissy in a friendly, teasing way. The name stuck. I don’t know if I should tell you what they’ve been calling me. Actually it’s kind of embarrassing, but by the same token it’s true. Randy. Don’t worry. Susan made them stop. Good grief, we could all call each other that.

  As for taking time off in December, you’ve got it, fellow!

  It’s been over three months since you sailed…were deployed. Are you impressed with the navy lingo I’m picking up? Three months since we kissed; three months since we made love; three months since I’ve slept in your arms.

  And another three to go.

  I’ve got good news. I got a raise, which was a pleasant surprise. I’m working out well with Boeing and they seem to appreciate my obvious talents. I decided to put the extra money in a savings account so we’ll have a little something to fall back on when it’s time for me to give up working to stay home with the children. It’s difficult for me to imagine myself a mother when being a wife is still so new. I don’t think we need to rush into this parenting business—do you? I wish we’d talked about these matters before you left. I have no idea how you feel about starting a family. When you asked if I was pregnant, it didn’t exactly sound as if you’d have been pleased with the prospect if I had been.

  Anyway, we’re halfway through the tour and we’ve both managed to survive thus far. Susan and I and a bunch of other navy wives are celebrating Halfway Night this weekend. I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you this, so keep it under your hat because the other husbands are going to get insanely jealous. You, on the other hand, are sure to be cool-headed, mature and reasonable about this sort of thing, and I’m confident it isn’t going to bother you.

  The nine of us are carpooling it to a Seattle nightclub to see some male strippers. Doesn’t that sound like fun? Susan and I have been looking forward to this night for weeks. In fact we’ve had the reservations since the first week in August. As you’ve probably guessed, this is a popular club.

  Be
lieve me, Rush, you’re not going to say anything that will frighten me anymore than I already am about what’s happening in the Middle East. Reports are on the news every night. All I ask is that you take care of yourself.

  Steve left Monday for a week of sea trials, so it’s really been lonely around here. It’s the first time I’ve been in the apartment completely alone since I arrived in Seattle. It gives me lots of time to write to you so I don’t mind.

  I suppose you know by now that Susan is pregnant. She’s feeling surprisingly good, especially after the doctor confirmed that there’s only one baby. Susan’s hoping for a girl this time.

  I’m going to mail this off since I don’t want a repeat of what happened last month. Remember, I love you. Please don’t take any crazy risks.

  Lindy,

  What the hell do you mean, you’re going to see a male strip show! You’re damn right I didn’t tell the others. Good God, they’d stage a mutiny. As for me being mature and coolheaded, you couldn’t be more wrong. I don’t like it. Not one damn bit.

  My dearest, darling Rush,

  The male strippers were sexy as hell. What gorgeous bodies! What cute buns. What attractive…never mind. We had a fantastic time, but, quite honestly, it was too much for us men-starved navy wives. We talked it over and agreed this kind of entertainment would be better served later in the tour when we could count on our husbands being home soon. We decided to go back for a Final Fling the week before the Mitchell is scheduled to arrive home.

  I love you, Rush Callaghan. Take care of yourself.

  Love,

  Lindy

  * * *

  P.S. Would you ever consider wearing spurs and a cute little cowboy hat to bed?

  “Line 314,” Lindy murmured absently, answering the phone at her desk.

  “Lindy, it’s Steve.”

  Something in the pitch of her brother’s low-modulated voice, something in the way he said her name instantly alerted Lindy. Goose bumps shot up and down her spine. Not once in all the weeks that Lindy had worked for Boeing had her brother telephoned the office. She didn’t even know where he’d gotten her work number.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Steve hesitated. “I just heard a news bulletin over the radio. There’s been a report of an accident aboard the Mitchell.”

  “Oh, God.” The words were wrenched from her heart. “Rush…. Did they say anything about Rush?”

  “No, but it’s much too soon. Don’t panic, Lindy. There are nearly four thousand men aboard the carrier. The chance of Rush being a fatality is minute.”

  Lindy closed her eyes and cupped her hand over her mouth as terror gripped her. Her heart roared in her chest so loudly that it nearly drowned out her brother’s words.

  “I think it would be a good idea if you left work and met me at the apartment.”

  She nodded, unable to find her voice.

  “Lindy?”

  “I’m on my way.” Already she was clearing her computer terminal, doing only what was absolutely necessary so she could leave.

  “Lindy, can you drive? Do you want me to come get you?”

  “No…. I’m fine. When did it happen? How?”

  “They’re not exactly sure, but the preliminary reports are mentioning a plane crash.”

  “How many are dead?”

  “Sweetie, listen. The only reason I phoned was so you wouldn’t hear the news yourself or from someone at the office and panic. I’m telling you everything I know. I called the base and they’re setting up an information center for wives and family. Once you’re home I’ll take you there.”

  “I’ll meet you as soon as I can.” Worry had already clogged Lindy’s throat by the time she replaced the receiver. Her supervisor was just walking into her office when Lindy scooted her chair back from the desk.

  “You heard? Someone just told me there was something about the Mitchell on the radio. Take whatever time you need.”

  “Thanks.” Lindy grabbed her purse, her legs so weak she could hardly walk.

  The drive from Renton to the apartment normally took fifteen to twenty minutes. Lindy made it in ten and had little memory of the ride. She dared not turn on the radio for fear of what she’d learn. The entire time she was driving, she prayed, mumbling the same desperate plea over and over again. An aircraft carrier was a huge ship, a city unto itself, able to house as many as six thousand men. The possibility of Rush being a fatality was infinitesimal. He was the chief navigator. The bridge was possibly the safest place of all. He would be free from harm. At least that was what Lindy kept telling herself.

  Steve was waiting for her when she burst in the front door. “Did you learn anything more?”

  He looked terribly pale, and nodded. “Lindy, sit down.”

  “No!” she screamed, knotting her fists. “Tell me! Is he dead? Is he?”

  Steve raked his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. Apparently an Intruder was landing and a wing caught on the arresting gear. It cartwheeled on the flight deck, spewing wreckage,” he hesitated. “They haven’t released any names yet. Five are known dead.”

  “Dear God.”

  Her brother placed his hands on her shoulders and his eyes revealed his own personal torment. She knew in that minute that he would have given his soul not to be the one to tell her this.

  “What is it?” she asked, in a voice that was as calm and as accepting as she could make it.

  “The latest information reports that part of the plane careened into the bridge.”

  Lindy shut her eyes and it was the last thing she should have done. Instantly she felt her legs give out as her mind conjured up the worst possible scene of bodies being hurled through space and men screaming in agony. Fire seemed to have erupted everywhere. Lindy gasped and her hands shot out.

  Steve managed to catch her, pressing her head against his shoulder. “Rush is going to be all right,” he murmured, while his hand smoothed her hair.

  “No,” she said, in a whisperlike sound. “He isn’t.” If there was any action or any trouble, Rush would be there right in the middle of it.

  Steve escorted Lindy to the naval base, where an information center had been set up. The first person Lindy saw was Susan. The two women looked at each other and started sobbing. Timmy and Tommy, not knowing what to make of everything, were soon crying, too. Lindy took Tommy and attempted to comfort him, but the youngster wanted his mother and squirmed in Lindy’s arms.

  “Jeff?” Lindy finally managed to ask.

  “I don’t know. What about Rush?”

  Lindy heaved in a calming breath. “I haven’t heard.”

  It seemed hours passed before any additional information was released, and then the names of the injured were read. Neither Jeff nor Rush were listed. Lindy didn’t know whether to be happy or terrified. The only choices that remained were that both men had somehow magically escaped the explosion or were among those listed as dead.

  Steve was at Lindy’s side as much as possible, doing what he could. One look at her brother told Lindy he suspected the worst. As much as she could, Lindy tried to be positive. If Rush had died in the explosion, she reasoned, she would have felt it. Deep within her heart, she would have felt a part of herself die. She wouldn’t be this calm, this accepting.

  People milled around everywhere. Wives, children, parents. Rather than sit and worry, Lindy mingled with the others, talking, praying and crying—sometimes all three at once.

  It was when she turned to find Steve at her side that she knew word had finally come through. She looked up to the brother she had always loved, the brother who had shielded her from whatever pain he could, and Lindy smiled. She realized at the time how odd that was.

  Her brother slipped his arm around her shoulder and his jaw jutted out in a gesture of grief and pain.

  “Rush is listed as missing.”

  Chapter 13

  “What do you mean missing?” Lindy asked. “Rush couldn’t have just disappeared.” It astonished her how calm
she felt, how controlled, as though they were discussing something as mundane as the tide tables or what to fix for dinner.

  “Lindy, I think you should prepare yourself for the worst.”

  “That would be silly,” she said, turning back to the little boy she’d been talking to and purposely ignoring her brother. “Rush is fine. I know he is. There’s been some screwup and he’s going to be furious when he learns the way the navy has everyone so worried about him.”

  “Lindy….” Steve hesitated, and his brow creased in thick folds of concern and regret. “I hope to God you’re right.”

  “Of course I am.”

  Steve left her then and Lindy sank into an empty chair. Her hands shook so badly that she clenched them together in her lap, her long nails cutting crescents of pain into her palms. Soon her arms were shaking, then her legs, until her whole body felt as if it were consumed by uncontrollable spasms.

  Susan took the chair beside Lindy and wrapped her own sweater around Lindy’s shoulders. Susan held it there until some of the intense cold she was experiencing seeped away and a steady warmth invaded her limbs.

  Lindy tried to smile, failed, and whispered one word. “Jeff?”

  “He’s fine.”

  Lindy nodded once. “Good.”

  “They’ll find him, Lindy,” Susan said, her voice thick with conviction, although she was struggling with her own fears. “I know they will. Jeff won’t let anyone rest until they do.”

  “I know.” Lindy remembered how Susan had once told her that she didn’t worry so much about Jeff at sea because she always knew Rush would be there to watch out for her husband. The truth of what Susan was telling her now was the only slender thread Lindy had to hang on to. Jeff would turn hell upside down until he learned what had happened to Rush.

  Soon the other wives joined Lindy, scooting their chairs and forming a protective circle around her. No one did much talking. No one tried to build her up with false hopes. No one suggested she try to eat or get some sleep. Or leave.