Except it hadn’t ended there. He’d emailed and called, and during a break in BUD/S training he’d flown across country to see her. At first, she’d been scared and panicked to get serious with a man in the military and, even worse, a man who put himself in constant danger.
But keeping herself from falling for him had been like stopping flowers from blooming. One day the ground was barren and the next buttercups were unfurling in the chilly February sun.
She and her mom joined the current of people headed into the arena. They exchanged a hug and parted ways for the ceremony. Harper might not be able to pick her mother out of the crowd, but she would be there, supporting Harper and cheering her on. Like always.
The ceremony passed with less pomp and circumstance than the theme song would imply, with only one injection of heart-stopping adrenaline when her name was read, along with those of the other honors students in the business department.
It was over both faster and slower than she anticipated. Not just the ceremony, but her four years of college. She was officially an adult. Unfortunately, a lightning bolt of wisdom didn’t accompany her degrees, and a decision loomed.
She pushed through the crowd to the side of the floor and scanned the stadium seats for her mom. White flashed in her periphery, and she turned. Noah walked toward her in his dress uniform, his hat tucked under his arm, his swagger undeniable. The crowd parted for him like he was a celebrity, the ladies, young and old, taking surreptitious second glances.
Harper didn’t blame them a bit. Since she’d met Noah at eighteen, he’d matured into a Man with a capital M. The body-jammed too-warm arena had her needing a fan like some antebellum debutante greeting her returning solider.
When he got within earshot, like a toddler in possession of only a handful of words, she said, “Hi.”
His response was to sweep her into a hug that was at once fierce and tender. Her cap fell to the floor. It had been three months since she’d seen him, but the awkwardness slipped like sand through her fingers and she wrapped her arms around him.
“I didn’t think you’d make it,” she said into his neck.
“Almost didn’t. I got here halfway in. Heard your name. Dual degrees with honors. I’m proud of you.”
She tightened her hold. His pride in her meant a lot. He’d accomplished great things since they’d been together, and now it was her turn. Together they’d be unstoppable.
As soon as the thought popped into her head, her path was chosen. Maybe subconsciously she’d decided ages ago.
“Yes,” she whispered in his ear.
He pulled away and stroked a hand over her hair. “Yes what?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you.”
In slow motion, his smile morphed into gaping shock. “Are you serious?”
Even though nerves fluttered like a swarm of bees in her stomach, she nodded. “Completely and totally.”
He picked her up and spun her around. Giggling, she hit his shoulder to put her down. People around them smiled and gave them wide berth. He caught the eye of a salt-and-peppered father and pointed to Harper. “She agreed to marry me.”
“Congratulations, son,” he said with a smile, and moved along with the flow.
“Stop, Noah! You’re embarrassing me.” The heat her body was putting out made her feel like a foil-wrapped potato being roasted over coals. She flapped the front of her gown.
Noah never hid his emotions. His joy radiated to her and she tried to match him but couldn’t. Not that she wasn’t over-the-moon happy with him and her decision to accept his proposal. She was, but the gene to be able to express her emotions—both good and bad—had passed her by.
Her mom found them, and Noah relayed the news. She had no problem with public emotional outbursts and promptly started crying while trying to hug both of them.
Over her mom’s shoulder, Harper stared at the floor. His hat had fallen next to hers. Black and white. What was the symbolism? Good versus evil? Opposites attract? Or was it only the vagaries of gravity?
The three of them went to dinner. Still in his dress whites, Noah had gotten them preferential seating and a free bottle of wine from the manager whose son was serving overseas. Afterward, they gathered on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. Her mom shuffled through her oversized purse for her keys.
“Be careful and call me when you get home, okay?” Harper gave her mom a hug and kiss on the cheek. She didn’t want to let her mother go. It was like she was letting her childhood drive away and stepping into the shoes of an adult. She wasn’t ready.
The spike of fear faded like the taillights of her mother’s car. She put her arm around Noah’s waist and leaned into him, taking a deep breath. “Want to head back to my place?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Noah skimmed his hand over her bottom, leaving no questions as to his intentions. Which suited her fine.
She snuck him in the side door of her dorm and tried to muffle his laughter as she pulled him into her room. As soon as she turned the bolt on the door, he attacked the buttons of her dress. She did the same to his jacket and shirt. They fell together on the bed and made love with an urgency that reflected their time apart.
Afterward, tucked into his side, her heart still dancing an Irish jig along her ribs, she let her hands wander his chest, admiring the cut of muscle under skin. Things didn’t have to change immediately because they’d gotten engaged. She had a job offer from an accounting firm in Raleigh and another in Atlanta. They were due answers by the end of the week.
“When do you want to get married?” He traced unknown symbols on her back.
Her breath stalled.
He continued. “A deployment could be passed down any day. I think we should make it soon; otherwise we might have to wait a while.”
“How long?”
“Months. Maybe even a year.”
“I’ve got job offers.”
“You might be able to find something on base. Or you could do people’s taxes for extra money. Whatever.”
She propped herself up on her elbow and pulled the sheet over her nakedness. “I don’t want to do people’s taxes.”
“Then, don’t. You don’t have to work at all. In fact, I’d prefer you didn’t, so I can have you all to myself when I’m off.” His smile was sweet and charming, yet her stomach didn’t swoop because of excessive warm fuzzies.
“That’s not what I meant. I want a real job. I worked my ass off and want to work.”
“Okay, fine. You can look around Virginia Beach for something.” A hint of anger or frustration colored his words and tensed his body.
“Would it really be so bad to wait a few months or even a year? What difference does it make if I take the job in Raleigh if you’re not even here?”
His chest rose and fell, and when he spoke his voice was soft. “Because if … something happens to me, you’ll be taken care of if we’re married.”
His gaze didn’t waver from hers and in his eyes were grim possibilities of the future. The implication scored her heart. Noah could die.
She sank back into him and laid her head on his chest, his heartbeat steady and strong. She loved him more than she’d ever thought possible and wanted to be with him more than she wanted any dream job. She would find something in Virginia Beach. Flexing her independence wasn’t as important as what he did day to day, laying his life on the line to protect her and his country.
“We can get married tomorrow if you want to elope,” she whispered.
He kissed the top of her head. “That’s my girl.”
* * *
A week later, Harper twisted the gold band on her left hand and walked the perimeter of the town house they were leasing. Choices on base were limited and taken by single men, so they were off base, but close. The collection of town houses was filled with military families but projected a characterless, faintly institutional feel. Noah put his arms around her from behind and kissed her temple.
“A coat of paint. Some furniture. We
can make it work, right? And how about we hang your diplomas right here?” He tapped the wall behind him. Her framed diplomas had been her graduation present from her mom.
She leaned back into Noah’s chest and turned her head enough to give him a glancing kiss on the mouth. “That sounds perfect.”
Optimism flourished. She would spend some time turning the place into a home and then look for a job. Virginia Beach had a thriving economy. Surely finding something would be easy with her qualifications.
Three months later, she was no closer to finding a suitable job. She had to wonder if her status as a military wife was a black mark against her. Where the husband was stationed, the wife followed, leaving any company in the lurch.
After another fruitless interview, she’d kicked off her heels, poured a glass of wine, and plopped on the couch. The house was quiet. Suffocating.
An adjustment period was normal, right? She’d gone from living in a dorm teeming with people to a town where she knew no one except Noah, who worked from dawn to dusk. She checked her watch. Too early to call her mom. She did the next best thing and picked up a book.
An hour later, after she’d finished the glass of wine and closed her eyes for a second, the jangle of the front door startled her to full adrenaline-fueled wakefulness.
Noah rounded the corner into their den. Harper blinked, trying to orient herself in time. “You’re home early.”
He usually greeted her with a smile and kiss. Not today. “The team got its orders.”
Another shot of adrenaline weakened her knees and made the wine burn a path up her throat. She sank to the edge of the couch. “When? Where?”
“Can’t tell you where. We’re leaving in two weeks.”
In the routine of their days, it had been easy to ignore the deployment they both knew was coming. “How long will you be gone?”
“Six months. Maybe a year, if they extend it.” He sat next to her and his weight tipped her into him. She didn’t fight the natural laws and tucked herself close.
Months that he would be in danger every single day while she was safe. “Maybe I should go back to Nags Head with Mom.”
His sigh tickled the hair at her temple. “You need to acclimate yourself to life in Virginia Beach. Make connections. No luck at today’s interview?”
“That empty glass over there wasn’t celebratory.”
“I’m sorry, babe.”
The silence wasn’t suffocating with Noah at her side. If they could just stay like this forever.
“Did you contact Allison Teague yet?” he asked.
“Not yet.” She gnawed the inside of her mouth. “We don’t have anything in common.”
“You both have husbands who are about to deploy.”
“She has a baby.” She didn’t mean to add the pinch of panic to the word “baby.”
“Don’t you want to have kids?”
“I guess. Sure. Eventually.” The thought of having a baby while she was still so unsettled terrified her. It was like she’d stepped into quicksand and instead of saving her Noah was waving and saying, “Bon voyage.” “I didn’t go to college to pop out babies right away, Noah. You know I want a career.”
“Yeah, I know, but…” His shoulder moved under her cheek in a shrug.
She could sense he wanted her to press him for whatever strife was hiding behind his innocuous agreement. Melding their lives was already a complex process and if the fundamental beliefs were weakened she wasn’t sure what to do.
She did want kids. Really, she did. Just not at twenty-two with a husband who was getting ready to leave her all alone.
Chapter 9
Present Day
Hope and life thrummed through the cabin, but Bennett decided it had nothing to do with the logs around them and everything to do with the woman they harbored.
“All that salvation stuff is ancient history.” He rose and gathered the tin bowls and cutlery, bagging them for a cleaning. It busied his hands and allowed him to find his footing.
“Is it? I’m not so sure.” She stirred, and he watched her out of the corner of his eye. She flicked the short curtain aside and shivered. “Weather has gotten worse.”
“Yep.” The wind whistled through cracks in the chinking around the windows, making the curtains sway.
“Will we be stuck here another night?” She pulled a chair and her pack closer to the fire and rummaged around inside.
“Don’t rightly know yet. The front wasn’t supposed to drop this far south. The cabin is stocked with enough food and firewood for a week. You don’t have to worry about freezing or starving to death.” He pulled his chair next to hers, held out his hands, and rubbed them together.
“I’m not worried about freezing to death. Or starving. I was wondering if I should save these or not.” She dropped a package of graham crackers, marshmallows, and two chocolate bars on the table.
It took a few beats to put the items together logically. “You brought s’mores?”
“I thought they were mandatory on camping trips.” She ripped open the crackers and poked around the fireplace. “Have you got anything to roast marshmallows on?”
Roasting marshmallows on a survival trip. Ridiculous. Impractical. Fun? A warmth tied itself into a knot in his chest. “Let me see what I can find.” He ducked outside and foraged for an appropriate stick.
Back in his chair, he shivered and pulled out his pocketknife to whittle the end to a point. He handed it over and slumped back in his chair, his legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles.
She hummed a little off-key as she opened the marshmallow bag and speared two. Crouching at his feet, she turned the marshmallows above the flame, her patience keeping them from burning. Using his feet for leverage, she pushed up and assembled the s’more.
“This is a masterpiece. My best one ever.” She displayed it on the palm of one hand while performing a Vanna White flourish. She held it out toward him.
“Yeah, it looks amazing.” He couldn’t seem to stop his lips from turning upward.
“Go on. I made it for you.” She waved her hand under his nose.
He uncrossed his arms but didn’t reach for it. “For me?”
“You deserve it for putting up with me and not making me sleep outside and for getting the stick.” Her smile was coaxing and sweet.
He took the s’more and took a big bite out of the corner. The warm marshmallow and melted chocolate hit his tongue like a gourmet dessert. Still smiling at him, she licked melted chocolate off the side of her hand. The dart of her tongue did weird jumpy things to his heart.
“Is it heavenly?” she asked.
“’S good,” he mumbled around an even bigger bite. In fact, he couldn’t remember anything tasting so good.
She readied two more marshmallows on the stick and resumed her position at his feet, this time putting a hand on his knee for balance. The warmth of her touch was incinerating compared to the flames of the fire.
“In high school, we used to build bonfires on the beach and drink beers and make s’mores.” While she assembled her own s’more, she asked, “When’s the last time you had one?”
The last and only time he’d had one was in Mississippi. “It was a long time ago.”
“How long?”
“I was sixteen. Just out of foster care.”
She betrayed no hint of pity or surprise. “How did you end up in foster care?”
He laid his head back and stared through a smoky haze toward the ceiling. If she’d pressed him harder, he might have blown her off. But she didn’t. She only sat and watched and waited. Had Noah taught her how silence could be used to extract information?
She nibbled the corners of the graham crackers, acting as if she had all night. Which technically she did. What would it hurt to tell her? After all, it was ancient history and didn’t bother him anymore.
“My mom was a druggie. Opiates mostly. OD’d when I was nine. No one wanted me, so I was shuffled into the foster system.”
He didn’t mention the fact that he was the one who’d found her on the bathroom floor before school one morning. He hadn’t touched her, only backed out of the dingy little bathroom, called 911, and waited for the police on the front steps.
“How could no one want to adopt you?” Outrage for his younger self colored her tone.
“People want to adopt babies, not troubled kids. Nine is ancient in foster care.”
“What’s the difference between living with a foster family and getting adopted?”
“Foster families can return you if you’re defective.” The first days in a new family were always the worst. His attempt to act perfect always failed. “I got returned a lot.”
Her soft sound of sympathy landed like a punch to his chest.
“I deserved it. I lied. Stole. Was generally an asshole.”
“You were hurting.” She’d cut through to the truth in seconds.
He’d struggled with nightmares about his mother until other even more painful ones took their place. “When I was sixteen, I got one last shot. The state fostered me with a retired Army sergeant. He’d never married and occasionally took on problem kids.”
“Laurence from the compass. The man who adopted you.”
“I called him Sarge. The compass was a gift the day the adoption became legal.” He swallowed down a lump, surprised to realize his history still had the teeth to wound. “So I could always find home, he said.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Yeah, I guess it was.” When he reviewed his past, he tended to focus on the difficult times, but his pairing with Sarge had been a stroke of fortune for which he could never repay the universe. “That weekend he took me out into the woods for a camping trip. I had s’mores for the first time. It was … special.”
“I’ll bet. You finally had a family.” She finished her last bite, propped her chin in her hand, and regarded him with an intensity that veered toward uncomfortable. “Is he still in Mississippi?”
The Military Wife Page 10