Colonel Daddy

by Maureen Child

  Music to her ears. But how much sweeter it would be if he’d used the word love.

  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and inhaled the sharp, clean scent of him. Relishing these few moments in his arms, she had to force herself to take a long step back. To keep her mind on the prize. The future. Their future. “Thomas,” she said, “I want you, too. I really miss being with you.”

  He smiled, and that dimple of his nearly did her in.

  “Then what are we waiting for?”

  How could she tell him that she was waiting to hear him say he loved her? The minute the words were out of her mouth, he would launch into his speech about how lousy he was at marriage. How he’d failed before and wouldn’t do it again. How they were better off as friends...friends! No, she was in no condition to hear that particular speech again right now.

  So she simply said, “Just a while longer, Thomas. I know it’s hard, but I think it’s important for us to spend the beginning of our marriage getting to know each other as people, not just lovers.”

  “You’re killing me here, honey,” he said on a tight groan.

  Instinctively she reached up and laid her palm on his cheek. Immediately he covered her hand with one of his, turned his face into her palm and kissed her. She trembled, closed her eyes and savored the touch of his mouth on her skin. It was only after a long moment that she was able to summon the strength to pull free of his grasp.

  Looking up into the dark brown eyes that had so captured her from the first, she said, “Please, Thomas. It’s important.”

  He nodded slowly, his jaw tight. “All right, Kate. If it’s important to you, then it is to me, too.”

  It was hard for Kate to know if what she was doing was right when every instinct told her to do something different. But an instant later, something happened that Kate interpreted as a sign that she was on the right track.

  She gasped and covered her slightly bulging abdomen with both hands.

  Thomas nearly shouted. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is it the baby?” Grabbing her arm, he whirled her around and dragged her to a chair. Pushing her down onto it, he knelt in front of her, his gaze locked with hers. “Are you in pain? Is the baby all right? Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, awe pouring through her in a flood of color, like sunshine streaming through a stained-glass window. “We’re fine, Thomas. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that it felt so...weird.”

  “Weird how? Pain weird? What?” he demanded, his voice harsh with strain. “Should I call the doctor?” He paused briefly, a look of sheer panic on his face. “Who is your doctor?”

  “Thomas,” she said, and grabbed his hand when he would have turned for the phone. “It’s all right, I’m fine. The baby’s fine.”

  He stopped dead, sighed heavily, then dropped to one knee on the floor in front of her. Laying one of his hands atop hers, so that they both cradled the child within her, he said, “What’s going on, Kate?”

  She waited, holding her breath, concentrating, hoping to feel it again. But when nothing happened, she slowly lifted her gaze to his, heedless of the tears now rolling freely down her face. “It moved, Thomas.”

  “Moved?” His voice was choked.

  “The baby,” she whispered, almost reverently. “Our baby moved.”

  He expelled a pent-up breath, then squeezed her hands gently, still covering her and their child with his broad palm. “Geez, Kate,” he said softly, tenderly. “You scared me out of about ten years.”

  She laughed gently. “Sorry, but I was caught off guard. I had no idea what to expect. Or when to expect it.”

  “You’re about four and a half months now, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then,” he said with a smile, “from what I remember, Junior’s right on schedule.”

  Her smile danced briefly across her lips. Then she looked at him through wide, amazed eyes. “He’s moving inside me, Thomas. A real, live person, moving inside me.”

  “I know, baby,” he whispered and half rising, he laid his free arm around her shoulders, still keeping one hand atop her abdomen, helping her caress their child. He rested his chin on the top of her head and simply held her, silently.

  “It’s a miracle, Thomas,” she whispered, still stunned by her reaction to the tiny flicker of movement she’d felt to the depths of her soul. “Our own little miracle.”

  Her child was suddenly and irrevocably real to her. A living, breathing person who would depend on her and Thomas for everything.

  And in that moment she vowed to do whatever she had to do to win this love battle she was engaged in. The stakes were high, but the victory would be all the sweeter for it.

  Ten

  That evening Thomas stole a glance at Kate, across from him, curled up in an overstuffed chair, and not for the first time, realized how glad he was to have her here. His gaze shifted to dart about the room, noting the subtle changes she’d made in his life over the last three weeks.

  In the unused hearth stood a brass basket vase containing a huge bouquet of spring flowers. On every chair was at least one brightly colored throw pillow, giving the room a cheerful look even in the dim lighting. A hand-woven blanket that she insisted was called a “throw” was tossed casually over the back of the sofa, and an eclectic array of magazines were arranged neatly on the coffee table.

  Small things, he realized, but together they added to the whole, making his house feel like a home for the first time in years. But far more important was that her very presence transformed this place. And him.

  Since his marriage, he’d almost been able to forget how quiet this house used to be. Before Kate came, the nights had been long and lonely. He’d wandered through the empty rooms, hungering for the sound of another voice. Smiling to himself, he remembered flipping on the television the moment he entered the door, more for the noise than the entertainment value. Whenever the phone rang, rather than looking at it as an intrusion into his private time, he’d lunged for it gratefully.

  But that was then. Now, he told himself, there was Kate. The TV had been on only rarely in the past three weeks. Instead, he and Kate had talked—about their pasts, their jobs, their hopes for the future. And as much as he hated to admit it, Tom had to give her credit. If they’d been sleeping together and had been able to make love every night, as he still longed to do, they probably wouldn’t have had this much time to indulge in conversations.

  Still, he thought, as he looked her way again, he’d give anything to be able to walk across the few feet of space separating him from her and pull her into his arms. These days, the only time he was lonely was in the middle of the night, when he woke up, instinctively reaching for her.

  At that thought his dream images of her rose up in his mind. He dreamed about kissing her. Touching her. Loving her. He spent his days and nights haunted with images of Kate and him locked together in a tangle of sheets.

  She sighed heavily, and his idle imaginings were wiped away instantly. “Are you all right?” he asked, and in the stillness his voice seemed overly loud.

  “Hmm?” Kate looked up, met his gaze and gave him a half smile. “Yes, Thomas,” she said. “I’m fine. I’m just...thinking.”

  Seemed to be a lot of that going on in this house lately. And he wondered if she indulged her imagination with fantasies of him. Lord, he hoped so. “Not happy thoughts, apparently,” he said.

  She closed the book on her lap and set it on the table beside her. “Confusing ones, more like,” she said, then stood up and walked to the fireplace. She laid her palms on the mantel and stared down at the flowers in the hearth.

  He watched her, captivated by the line of her neck, the sweep of her hair and the white-knuckled grip she held on the ledge of wood.

  “Thomas,” she said, never lifting her gaze from the flowers, “did I ever tell you about my mother?”

  “No,” he said quietly. Standing up, he walked to her side and, sensing that now wasn’t the time to offer comfort,
shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from touching her.

  Kate shook her head and laughed gently. “She was a single mom.” Glancing up at him, she added, “I know I told you that much.”

  He nodded.

  “Well,” she dropped her gaze again and continued. “She wasn’t very good at juggling her responsibilities,” she said. “Worn-out and frazzled most of the time, she gave most of her energy to her job, and I got what was left over.” Suddenly she straightened up, released the mantel and turned toward him. “Not that I’m saying she was a bad mother, you understand.”

  He nodded again, unsure just what she was saying.

  “It’s just that—” Kate sighed again and pushed one hand through her hair, her fingers spearing through the thick mass. “Maybe some women aren’t meant to be the nurturing type. Maybe it’s not our fault. Maybe we just lack the right gene or something.”

  “Our fault?” he asked quietly, focusing on the one word in her speech that seemed to define what she was feeling at the moment.

  She flinched slightly. “I’m so much like her in so many good ways,” she wondered aloud, “what if I’m no good at the parenting business, either? What if I don’t know how to do this? What if I mess it up completely?” Turning anguished eyes on Tom, she whispered, “This is a whole new person, Thomas. A blank slate. This baby could be or do anything in the world.” Her voice dropped, her bottom lip trembled slightly. “Its future isn’t set. It’s up to me to make sure it has the best start in life. To see that it feels loved. Secure. It’s up to me to give it the kind of life it deserves. What if I fail? What if I’m just no good at loving?” She wrapped her arms around herself and hugged tightly. “My mom tried, you know. She really did. She just wasn’t very good at being a mom.”

  She was serious, he knew. Her doubts and fears shook in her voice like silken threads in a windstorm. And yet, no one knew better than he did that her fears were groundless.

  Warm, giving, kind and tolerant, she was the kind of woman every kid should have for a mother. In the past three weeks, she’d made his house a home, done her job on base effortlessly and had even tried to turn herself into a chef because she’d thought it would please him. If anything, Kate Jennings was too giving.

  But he knew more than most how old memories could color your future. Wasn’t he the one refusing to love again because he’d so ruined his first marriage?

  Surrendering to the urge to touch her, Tom pulled his hands free of his pockets and reached for her. Like this morning, she leaned against him, laying her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around his middle. To feel her this way only fed the desire that never seemed to leave him. And yet, for now, he buried that flash of heat in the more pressing need to reassure her.

  “First off,” he said quietly, his breath brushing the top of her head, “it’s not up to you alone to take care of this baby. It’s up to us.”

  She sniffed and burrowed closer. He smiled to himself, and tightened his hold on her. “And secondly,” he went on, “I think your mother did a great job of raising you.”

  “Oh, yeah, great. Look at me. I’m a mess.” Her words were muffled against his chest.

  He smiled to himself and rested his chin atop her head. “You’re a smart woman, Kate. You know better than to judge yourself based on someone else’s failures or successes.”

  “We learn from our parents, Thomas. How to be a parent ourselves. If we don’t have a good teacher, how good a student can we be?”

  He was hoping to disprove that particular theory. But now wasn’t the time to voice his own doubts. She needed reassurance here. “On base,” he said slowly, “you do your job as well as, or better than, any male Marine could.”

  “So?”

  “I’m not finished.”

  “Sorry.”

  “In three weeks time, you’ve made this house into a home...”

  She pulled her head back to look up at him through tear-washed eyes.

  “And,” he added, smoothing her hair back from her face, “because of your cooking, I’ve lost six pounds.”

  She laughed shortly and let her forehead fall to his chest. “Perfect. Our baby will weigh seven pounds nine ounces at his high school graduation because his mom can’t cook.”

  “His dad can,” Tom reminded her.

  “Thank heaven for small favors.” She shook her head again. “This is all really nice, Thomas, but it’s not about mothering. Nurturing.”

  “You also have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known.”

  “Thomas...”

  “Your mother had it rough, honey,” he said. “She was all alone, doing the best she could. We’ll have each other and so will the baby.”

  “Will it be enough?”

  “Of course.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  He was glad she thought so. It meant that he was succeeding at hiding his own fears and insecurities well. Weren’t his dreams still haunted by the fear of failing her and his child? Knowing that she, too, was racked by doubts somehow brought his own into perspective. He couldn’t afford to wallow in his own anxieties when Kate needed him.

  “Because, Kate, if we do half as well with our baby as your mother did with you, we’re going to have a helluva kid on our hands.”

  Her lips quirked and his heart twisted. Odd how just a smile from her was enough to ease his soul. Strange how just holding her could bring him a peace he’d never found before her. That train of thought was a little unsettling, so he shoved it aside for the moment.

  “So,” she asked, tilting her head to one side, “when did you get so full of confidence?”

  “It’s not confidence, honey. It’s determination.”

  “Determination?”

  “To do it right this time,” he said and pulled her to him again, needing the feel of her pressed close. “I hardly saw Donna while she was growing up. She came to live with me when she was thirteen and already her own person.”

  “She’s great, though,” Kate assured him.

  “Yes, she is,” he agreed. “Though that has more to do with what her mother did than with me.”

  “Thomas—” She pulled back again, and he regretted the loss of her pressed to him.

  Shaking his head, Tom said, “All I’m saying is that this time, we’re in this together, Kate. And together, we’ll do right by the baby. We’ll figure it out as we go along. Trust me.”

  “I do, Thomas,” she said softly. “I really do, but...”

  He grinned. Trust Kate to agree with a condition. “No buts,” he told her and smoothed his fingers across her cheek and into her hairline. Gently, he traced the outline of her ear and tugged at the tiny pearl stud shimmering in her ear lobe.

  Her breath caught, her eyes squeezed shut and she leaned into his touch. A small part of him was pleased to know that she obviously wanted him as much as he did her. “I’ve missed you, Kate,” he said quietly and heard the longing in his own voice.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” she said and took a reluctant step back. “This isn’t easy for me, either, Thomas.”

  Small consolation indeed, he told himself as he tried to rein in the need pumping through him. He looked at her and felt like a starving man staring through an impenetrable barrier at a lavish banquet. A feast for the eyes that left his insides hollow. As empty as his arms.

  And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand living separate from her. Not that he loved her or anything. This was desire, pure and simple. The desire she’d always sparked in him. Every night, as he lay alone in the dark, he told himself that what he was feeling had nothing to do with love.

  But every night, it became harder to believe it.

  With that uneasy thought in mind, he took a deep breath and announced, “Guess I’ll go to bed. Early day tomorrow with General Thornton’s visit.”

  “Oh, no,” she moaned. “I’d forgotten about him.”

  He had to laugh, she sounded so depressed. “He’s just going to be looking
around, Kate.”

  “Yeah. Looking to find something wrong.”

  “Well,” Tom said, “if I know you, he won’t find anything.”

  Thomas’s words came back to her the very next day as she heard from Eileen about the general’s questions. If the man didn’t find anything, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying.

  “He wanted to know everything,” the staff sergeant said. “And what I couldn’t answer, he got from someone else.”

  “Wonderful,” Kate murmured and leaned back in her chair. Her gaze shifted from one tower of files on her desk to the next. Work was piling up, due to her frequent, hurried trips to the bathroom. Plus, she couldn’t seem to concentrate even when she was at her desk, and sometimes her hormones raged so out of control, she’d simply locked herself into her office to indulge in a crying jag that she never would have believed herself capable of. And to top everything off, this morning she hadn’t even been able to fasten the waistband of her uniform skirt. Donna Candello might have been able to hide her pregnancy for nearly five months, but apparently Kate wasn’t going to be as fortunate.

  “Where is he now?” Kate asked warily.

  “Down the hall,” Eileen said, then shrugged, “but he said he’d be back.”

  Perfect. Kate’s mind raced as she mentally tracked through her work. As she thought, she began to relax a bit, realizing that most of her paperwork was up-todate and properly filed. Her department was a smooth operation on the whole, and hopefully that would be enough to convince the general that she was on top of things. Otherwise, Kate could singlehandedly give women in the military a black eye.

  “Are you all right, Major?”

  All right? No. Determined? Yes.

  “I will be, Eileen,” she said, sitting up and reaching for the nearest stack of files. “If I can whittle down this tower of papers in the next hour or so.”

  Her assistant grinned canspiratorially. “Would a cup of tea help?”

  Kate smiled back. She was almost getting used to hot tea. “Thanks. And keep it coming, will you?”

  “Sure.” She left, closing the door behind her.