The Major and the Librarian

by Nikki Benjamin

  She risked a glance at the clock on the wall—7:25. Where was he? Already on the transport plane? Or at the apartment, packing his gear, still too angry to talk to her?

  Crossing to the pantry, she pulled out a bag of chips, then put them back, her roiling stomach rebelling at the idea of eating anything.

  She eyed the phone on the counter, glanced at the clock again—7:40 now—then paced to the alcove and sat in one of the chairs by the table, for all of two minutes. Up again, she moved to the sink, took a glass from the cabinet, ran water into it.

  As she shut off the faucet, the sudden, shrill ring of the telephone jolted through her. She dropped the glass in the sink, luckily without breaking it. Her heart racing, she spun around and ran across the kitchen, her bare feet slapping against the linoleum.

  She grabbed the receiver on the third ring, then nearly dropped it.

  “Hello,” she said at last, a catch in her voice.

  “Emma, are you all right?”

  Sam…thank God…it was Sam.

  “I…I was just running to…to get the phone,” she stammered. “I didn’t want to…didn’t want to…” Unexpectedly, her eyes filled with tears, and she paused to swallow a sob. “Sam, I’m so sorry. I should have been there with you. I could have been there if only I hadn’t been so foolish.”

  “Emma, sweetheart, it’s all right.”

  “No, it’s not,” she insisted. “I acted like you were committing some kind of horrible crime when all you were doing was your job. But I couldn’t face the thought of you going away. You were right. I was thinking of my father, but you’re not like him. You’re a decent, honorable man. I love you and I’m going to miss you so much, but I didn’t even bother to tell you—”

  “Tell me now, Emma,” he cut in, his tone firm yet gentle.

  “I love you, Sam. I love you with all my heart. And I’m going to miss you so much.”

  “I love you, too. And I’m going to miss you every hour of every day until I’m home again. You’ll be waiting for me, won’t you, Emma? Because I am coming home to you just as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, Sam, I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “I’ll be in touch once I get settled in my quarters at the air base. You have Internet access and e-mail on that fancy computer of yours at the library, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she admitted, frowning thoughtfully.

  “Good. So do I. Got a pen handy?”

  He gave her his e-mail address, then jotted down hers.

  “We’ll be able to talk every day,” she said, smiling for the first time that evening.

  No matter where in the world Sam went, linked as they would be by the magic of cyberspace, it wouldn’t seem like he was quite so far away.

  “It won’t be as nice as hearing your voice, but it will most definitely be the next-best thing.”

  “Yes, it will,” she agreed.

  “Well, I’d better get going,” he advised with obvious reluctance. “My flight is scheduled to depart in about an hour.”

  “I love you,” she said, wanting to be sure, one more time, that he knew it. “So very much…”

  “And I love you,” he, too, repeated, a noticeable catch in his voice. “See you soon.”

  “Yes, soon…”

  For a day or so after Sam left, Emma moped around the house, generally feeling sorry for herself. But then, she found the first of what would be many e-mail messages from him waiting for her when she logged on to the Internet.

  He had arrived safely at the air base in northern Italy, he missed her more than ever and oh, by the way, would she mind going over to San Antonio every now and then while he was away, maybe with Margaret, to check on his apartment and take his car out for a drive? There was an extra set of car keys in a kitchen drawer. He’d appreciate it so much.

  Emma had assured him she didn’t mind at all. In fact, she was glad he’d asked. With one reason to go to San Antonio, others soon came to mind.

  Gradually, as one week became two, then three, she found herself thinking more and more of how she wanted her life to be when Sam returned, and began taking steps—albeit baby steps—toward that end.

  The first weekend she drove to San Antonio, Margaret went with her. They had planned to stay only one night, but ended up staying two nights instead. Taking Sam’s car, they went exploring one afternoon, ending up in the neighborhood where she and Sam had looked at houses earlier in the summer.

  The one Emma had liked was no longer on the market, but she saw another with a For Lease sign that looked equally promising. Without examining her motives too closely, she pulled over to the curb and jotted down the number of the real-estate agency listing the property while Margaret nodded her approval.

  The following day, they stopped at a nearby nursery and bought a variety of indoor and outdoor plants to liven up the interior of Sam’s rather sterile furnished apartment, as well as the bare balcony.

  Nesting, Emma thought, without any great surprise. Maybe she had some sort of natural instinct for turning a house, or a barren apartment, into a home. Considering the kind of future she now had in mind, she certainly hoped so.

  On her second trip to San Antonio, this time on her own, since Margaret had already made plans with several of her friends, Emma took along some of her favorite coffee mugs, a few books and CDs, and a brightly colored quilt for Sam’s bed. On that trip, she also looked at houses again, venturing into a couple of other neighborhoods the real-estate agent recommended.

  Prior to her third trip—made over a couple of week-days since she had to work over the weekend—she called one of the officers’ wives she had met through Sam. At Emma’s suggestion, they met for lunch, along with several of the other wives. Their candid conversation about life “in the military” was fascinating, as well as a bit frightening.

  They all seemed to be surviving quite nicely, though, their good humor and their years-long marriages intact. Their overall camaraderie and their obvious concern for each other’s well-being, especially while their husbands were away, was reassuring, as well.

  Emma realized that there would always be other women nearby who would not only understand what she was going through, but also offer their support whenever Sam couldn’t be there for her.

  On that third trip, Emma also checked out job prospects at the various libraries around town. Several positions were currently available and others would be opening up in the near future. She shouldn’t have any trouble finding work if she wanted it, and that, too, was reassuring.

  During the time Sam was away, Margaret also had her scheduled appointment with Dr. Rozan. There was more good news from him. Margaret’s leukemia remained in remission. She could go off the drug she’d been taking for two months, then the doctor would see her again and decide if further treatment was necessary.

  On the drive back to Serenity, Emma was elated. Margaret, too, seemed very pleased. Yet she had also prepared for less-heartening news in a way meant to lessen any burden on Emma and Sam.

  “I want you to know that I’ve found someone who can come and stay with me in the event I take a turn for the worse,” she announced in a matter-of-fact tone. “You and Sam are going to have enough adjusting to do without worrying about me. I know I can count on you in a crisis, but when minor problems arise, I want to be able to manage on my own without depending on your help.”

  “But—” Emma began, ready to protest.

  “No buts, Emma. Callie Miller is just the person to enable me to do that. She’s a retired nurse who’s recently lost her husband. I met her at one of the senior socials at St. Mary’s a few months ago, and we got to talking—found out we had a lot in common. Occasionally, she does some private nursing to supplement her income, and I can certainly afford to pay her.”

  Aware of how determined Margaret was to give her and Sam the opportunity to be together wherever he was stationed, Emma didn’t argue with her.

  As had been expected, political pressure from neighboring count
ries, combined with an increased threat of military strikes, brought the crisis in eastern Europe to a reasonably swift conclusion. To Emma’s relief, use of deadly force proved to be unnecessary. Not a single U.S. serviceman was killed, and six weeks after Sam’s departure, his return seemed imminent.

  For the most part, Emma was prepared.

  She had tentatively given notice at the library, recommending Marion Cole for her position. Since her husband had found work in Serenity, they would be staying in town, after all.

  Emma had also talked to Father Langley at St. Mary’s. She couldn’t set an exact date for her and Sam to be married yet, but she had put the kindly old priest on alert. His obvious happiness for them had truly warmed her heart.

  All she had left to do was make a decision about her house. Selling it outright was hard for her to contemplate. She and Sam wouldn’t be buying a house of their own for a while yet. His assignment in San Antonio had come about as a result of a request he’d made because of Margaret’s illness, and would be temporary at best.

  They didn’t need the money a sale would bring for a down payment on another property. But hanging on to her house, especially if she couldn’t find a dependable tenant, could end up being more trouble than it was worth.

  Her dilemma was solved by chance. A letter arrived from Megan Cahill. She, too, had lived in the same foster home as Emma and Jane, and like Jane, had left years ago, never to return. The last Emma had heard from her, almost a year ago, she had been living in San Diego with her husband and young son.

  Now it seemed Megan was returning to Serenity, alone, and was in need of a house to rent. While worry for her old friend’s misfortune—though Megan hadn’t elaborated, she and her husband were separating—Emma saw a solution to her own problem.

  Megan could live in her house for a nominal rent, giving Emma and Sam time to decide on a final means of disposition sometime in the future.

  Sam called at last, early on a Monday morning, with the news Emma had been longing to hear.

  “I’m scheduled to depart on a flight out tomorrow morning. Actually, late tonight your time,” he advised without preamble.

  “I’ll be waiting for you,” she promised, her voice husky.

  “Flight time is about fourteen hours, so I probably won’t be able to make it to Serenity until sometime Wednesday afternoon. I’ll have to stop by the apartment first, get cleaned up…”

  “No problem.”

  Smiling sleepily, she thought of how surprised he was going to be when he got to the apartment. She hadn’t told him half of what she’d been up to in his absence.

  “I’d better go,” he said. “Love you.”

  “Me, too. See you soon.”

  Her smile widening, Emma hung up the receiver, then tossed the bedcovers aside, ready to set in motion her own very special plan for Sam’s welcome home.

  Chapter 19

  By the time Sam collected his gear and caught a ride to his apartment, it was almost three in the morning. He had managed to doze, off and on, during the interminably long flight, but never for any extended period of time. He’d kept having erotic dreams about Emma—dreams that brought him awake in a painful state of arousal.

  Maybe after a hot shower and something to eat—he did have canned soup and crackers in a cabinet at the apartment, didn’t he?—he would be able to get a few hours’ sleep before he headed for Serenity. Tired as he was, he didn’t dare get on the road just yet.

  From the outside, his apartment looked deserted—the front windows dark, the blinds closed. But as Sam let himself in the door, he paused uncertainly. Even though his key had fit the lock, he glanced at the number on the door, just to be sure he hadn’t wandered into the wrong place by mistake.

  A lamp burned in the living room, casting a warm, welcoming glow over what had been a basically characterless room when he’d left six weeks ago. Now a vase of fresh flowers and a scattering of books and magazines graced the coffee table. A quilt he’d never seen before had been tucked over the back of the sofa, and there were several silver-framed photographs on the end table.

  Someone had been there while he was gone, and he had a good idea who. But where was she now?

  Down off the hallway to his right, he could see that another lamp had been left burning in his bedroom. Quietly, he closed the door and locked it, set his bags on the floor, then started down the hallway, his heartbeat quickening with sudden anticipation.

  She was lying on his bed, sound asleep, her glasses and an open book beside her, another quilt, similar to the one on the sofa, tucked around her. She wore a pale yellow sleeveless nightgown that nearly matched the roses in the bowl on the nightstand, and her red curls tumbled over the white-linen-and-lace pillowcase—another new addition—in a silky, begging-to-be-touched tangle.

  Sam leaned against the doorjamb and closed his eyes, overwhelmed by what she had done for him. With her own distinctive touches, she had made a home for him, and she had come there to wait for him just as she’d promised.

  Despite their constant communication while he had been gone, he’d had some reservations about how she’d greet his homecoming. He had been fully prepared to start again, building up her confidence in him. Now that seemed wholly unnecessary.

  Straightening, he moved across the carpeted floor as silently as he could. He didn’t want to disturb her until he’d had a chance to clean up. Then he intended to wake her slowly, gently, lovingly….

  Sam should have known the sound of the shower running, even muffled as it was by the closed bathroom door, would probably wake Emma, and she wouldn’t hesitate to join him.

  Still, the slide of the glass shower door caught him off guard. Startled, he turned away from the steaming spray as she stepped into the narrow enclosure, wearing nothing but a smile, and suddenly, she was in his arms, clinging to him, kissing him fiercely.

  In those first passionate moments, Sam thought of nothing but their mating, raw and wild. As he lifted her up, her legs wrapped around his waist, and he entered her with one swift, deep thrust. She uttered a soft cry, burying her face against his neck, and moved convulsively.

  Unable to hold back, Sam drove into her hard, fast, finding his release at almost the same instant Emma found hers. Still holding her locked to him, he sagged against the tile wall, breathing hard as he shut off the water.

  “Welcome home,” she murmured, her lips moving deliciously against his earlobe.

  “Oh, yeah,” he growled. “You can say that again.”

  “What I’d really like is to do it again.”

  “In bed, this time. Slow and sweet and gentle, the way I planned originally.”

  Only when they were snuggled close under the bedcovers did Sam realize he hadn’t even thought about protection.

  “You know,” he began hesitantly, “I didn’t have a condom handy in there.”

  “I know,” she answered much too blithely.

  “How do you feel about the possibility of an unplanned pregnancy?”

  “I’m open to it, although the timing’s not quite right,” she answered without seeming to have to think twice. “What about you?”

  “I’d like for us to be married first.”

  “Me, too.”

  “When?” he pressed, holding his breath.

  “I’ve talked to Father Langley. He’ll marry us whenever we’re ready. All I have to do is give him a day and time.”

  “What about you, Emma? Are you sure you’re ready?”

  “Well, I’ve had my dress for over a week now, I’ve given my notice at the Serenity Public Library and I’ve found a house for lease I think you’ll like.” She paused, frowning slightly, and levered up on an elbow. “I’m not rushing you, am I?” she asked.

  “Rushing me?” Sam laughed out loud, then grabbed her and hugged her hard. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

  “Not since you’ve been home.”

  “I love you, Emma Dalton, with all my heart and soul.”

  Almost tw
o weeks later, on a crisp, clear Saturday morning in late October, Sam left his mother’s house, his heart filled with anticipation. Wearing his dress uniform, he climbed into his car and started toward St. Mary’s Church. At the corner, however, he turned in another direction. He had plenty of time before the ceremony was scheduled to begin, and there was somewhere he needed to go first.

  There was little activity at Mount Grace Cemetery that morning. A few others were out, putting flowers on graves, but no one glanced his way as he drove past.

  Sam parked the car and walked the short distance to Teddy’s grave. Immediately, he saw the flowers at the base of the granite headstone. Chrysanthemums from Emma’s garden, he realized. Blooms of bronze and gold and buttery yellow tied with a wide ivory satin ribbon.

  She must have come earlier, he realized, his heart swelling with love for her. Today of all days, she would remember Teddy, just as he was.

  He stood quietly for several moments, his thoughts skimming from past tragedy, to present happiness, to the future stretching ahead, bright and full of promise.

  “I wish you could be with us today,” Sam said at last. “I know how happy you’d be that we’re together….”

  He took a step back, tears burning his eyes. Then, straightening his shoulders and standing at attention, he saluted smartly, turned on his heel and walked back to the car.

  A short while later, Sam stood at the altar, his gaze roving over the people filling the church pews. His mother beamed at him proudly, as did her many friends. Emma’s co-workers from the library and some of his fellow officers and their families were there, as well. Even Jane and Max Hamilton, along with their son, Blair, and their butler, Calvin Kerner, had come to celebrate the day with them.

  Somehow, their small, intimate wedding had grown out of all proportion, but he didn’t mind. He’d have Emma all to himself soon enough. Emma…