Paulo turned to her and Jack, pleading for understanding with his hands and his face.
"He says you have burden enough with your family. He knows you only took him in because the other family, the one who'd said they would adopt him, didn't want him. He thought maybe..."
The small hands went still.
"What?" Janice prompted after a moment. "What did you think, Paulo?"
The boy shot a look comprised of equal parts guilt and unhappiness at the two figures in uniform.
"He thought maybe Major Mac or the lieutenant would take him. He would have been a good son. Very quiet. Work very hard."
Cari's throat closed. "We would have taken you if we could, Paulo."
"He knows you could not," Janice translated. "He understands the major must go to the hospital for a long time. And he heard you explain to your sister that you go away on ships."
Oh, God! That's why he'd run away. He'd heard her talking to Deb yesterday afternoon. The realization settled with sickening certainty in Cari's stomach.
She tried to recall her exact words, then realized they didn't matter. What mattered was that she'd shattered his secret hope that she or Mac would give him a home.
She couldn't tell him that she'd harbored the same secret hope. Or that hard, cold reality had forced her to abandon the idea before it could even take shape. As miserable as Paulo now, she reached across the table and curled her hand around his.
"Now it's my turn to apologize. I'm sorry if it sounded as though I didn't want you. I do. I'd give you a home in a heartbeat if I could. So would Major Mac."
She looked to Mac, expecting him to jump right in with a vigorous second. His hesitation surprised her almost as much as the sudden narrowing of his eyes when they met hers. The face he turned to Paulo a moment later, though, showed only honest sincerity.
"She's telling you the truth. Either one of us would be proud to call you son."
Once more he hesitated, choosing his words carefully so as not to offer false hope.
"Stay with Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, kid. See how things shake out. If you still want to go back to Caribe a few months or a year from now, I'll take you myself and make sure you have a home other than the jungle. Deal?"
No one at the table needed an interpretation of Paulo's response. Cupping his hand, he moved it slowly up and down much like a head nodding a reluctant agreement.
Mac was quiet during the short drive back to the visiting officers' quarters. Cari, too, had little to say. Weariness, guilt and a sharp, stinging regret had taken the edge off her adrenaline high from plucking Paulo and the crew of the Star from the sea. Not until she and Mac had showered and changed into dry clothes did she add a healthy dose of anger to her mix of emotions.
Mac sparked it when she walked into the living room after her shower, still toweling her wet hair. His glance was cool as it skimmed over her cotton sweater and slacks before settling on her face.
Cari's hands stilled. She cocked her head, trying to assess his expression. "That's the second time you've looked at me like that," she commented.
"Like how?"
"Like you blame me for the fact that Paulo almost drowned."
"What?"
Draping the fluffy yellow towel around her neck, she raked a hand through her damp hair. "You can't blame me any more than I blame myself. I hate that Paulo overheard Deb and me. You have to know I never intended to..."
"Don't be stupid. No one blames you, least of all me."
His curt tone brought her chin up. "Then why the hell are you so uptight?"
Irritation pushed through her guilt and regret. After all they'd gone through together, the man could show some consideration here. Maybe even take her in his arms.
He did neither. If anything, his expression went more glacial. "You don't know?"
"Obviously not," she snapped, "or I wouldn't have asked."
Mac crossed the room in three swift strides. Even in shorts and the flip-flops he'd brought with him, the man could be intimidating. Cari stood her ground but didn't particularly care for the dangerous glint in his hazel eyes.
"Just tell me one thing," he growled. "Last night, when we were in bed, why did you toss out the idea of jumping a plane for a quick trip to Vegas?"
The abrupt change in direction confused her. Her fists tight on the ends of the towel, she fired back in the same belligerent tone.
"Because you said you love me and I said ditto. People do sometimes get married when they discover they're in love."
"Or when they want to adopt a kid."
Cari reared back. "You... You think I suggested Vegas because I wanted to give Paulo a home?"
Mac's face was relentless above his sling. "Isn't that why you broke things off with Jerry-boy? Because you wanted children and he didn't?"
Her mouth opened. Clamped shut. After a seething moment, she admitted the brutal truth.
"That was part of it."
Mac hooked a brow. "Only part?"
"Okay, that was the main reason. The fact that I was lusting after a certain hardheaded marine might have had something to do with it, too."
When Mac maintained his politely disbelieving expression, Cari blew out a long breath and forced herself to let go of her anger. The need to make him understand was too important, too urgent for sarcasm or sharp retorts.
"What I feel for you has nothing to do with Jerry or Paulo or my desire to have children. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you." Sighing, she reached up to curve a palm over his cheek. "You'll just have to trust me on this, McIver."
To her infinite relief, he turned his head and pressed a kiss into her palm. The icy remoteness was gone when he faced her again, replaced by the first glimmer of a smile.
"You'll have to trust me, too."
"I will. I do."
"Even when I tell you I've decided to leave the corps to become a stay-at-home dad?"
Dumbstruck, Cari gaped up at him. Her hand slipped downward, hit his chest with a thump.
"What!"
His smile slipped into a rueful grin. Reaching up with his good arm, he covered her hand with his.
"I won't be much use to the corps with this shoulder, but I figure I can give Paulo adequate guidance and supervision."
She'd known it! Sensed right almost from the day her all-or-nothing, you're-in-or-you're-out marine took that bullet he would never settle for a career of restricted duty.
Part of her ached for him. The rest of her accepted that the decision was his to make—and knew without a moment's doubt he'd apply the same one hundred percent effort to loving her and Paulo.
Still, she had to ask. "Are you sure, Mac? I know how much the corps means to you."
"It'll always be part of me. You know the old saying. Once a marine, always a marine."
His palm flattened over hers. She could feel the strong, steady beat of his heart under his shirt. The smile in his eyes was just as steady and sure.
"You mean more, Cari. So much, much more. You and Paulo and any other kids we might have if we try real hard and just happen to get lucky."
He was handing her her dream, a family she could share the good and the bad times with. Children she could cuddle and spoil and watch grow. A man she could love with all that was in her.
Her heart singing, she went up on tiptoe and brushed his mouth with hers. "I vote we get started on the trying real hard part right now."
Epilogue
The ceremony kicked off with the ruffles and flourishes appropriate to a four-star general. Flanked by Captain Westfall, the vice chairman of the Joint Chiefs marched into a spotless hangar illuminated to almost painful intensity by the New Mexico sun. Although the January wind frisking through the wide-open hangar doors carried a definite nip, none of the officers who leaped to attention noticed its bite.
They stood at the head of the Pegasus cadre. Their service dress uniforms were knife-creased. Their ribbons, badges and accouterments glittered in the bright sunlight.
Dave Scott wearing air force blue and rows of colorful ribbons topped by shiny silver wings.
Kate Hargrave in her navy blue skirt and jacket, with the shield of National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration gleaming on her cap.
Cody Richardson, also in dark navy, wearing the anchor insignia of the U.S. Public Health Service.
Cari with shoulders squared and her gold wedding band gleaming in the afternoon sunlight.
Mac standing tall and proud in his dress blues for the last time.
Another ceremony would follow this one. After three months of intensive physical therapy, Major Russ McIver was being released from active duty and medically retired from the United States Marine Corps. The ceremony would be done by Captain Westfall—newly engaged to Dr. Janice White— immediately following the vice chairman's formal acceptance of the military's new attack/assault vehicle.
Pegasus gleamed white and sleek across the hangar. The vehicle would go into full production soon. Within a few short months, personnel from combat units stateside and abroad would enter training to learn how to maximize its unique abilities. Dave Scott was transferring to the designated training base in Georgia, just a few hours up the road from Kate's base in Tampa. Cari had been selected for the training cadre, too.
She knew Captain Westfall had pulled some strings to make that assignment happen. It would give Mac time to transition to full civilian life, Paulo time to adjust to the artificial voice box doctors had implanted two weeks ago, and Cari to have three years of shore duty to enjoy motherhood.
Resisting the impulse to grin idiotically, she kept her back straight and her hand from straying to her belly in a protective gesture as old as time. The time for wonder and delight and celebration would come later, when she and Mac could share with their comrades in arms the results of the home pregnancy test she'd taken this morning.
Right now, her focus needed to remain on the ceremony marking the end of the operational test phase. Pegasus had proved himself—on land, air and sea. This was his moment in the sun, a moment every man and woman present took inestimable pride in.
When the general stepped to the podium to deliver the congratulations of the six service chiefs, the massed cadre went to parade rest. Legs spread. Hands whipped to the small of the back. Spines lost only a minimal degree of rigidity.
While the general adjusted his mike, a ripple of emotion passed through the officers. One by one they slipped a glance to the right, then to the left. The small smiles they gave each other reflected pride of accomplishment, along with the smug knowledge they shared that indefinable mix of adventurous heart and fearless spirit others called—for lack of a better term—-the right stuff.
* * * THE END * * *
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ISBN 0-373-27349-5
THE RIGHT STUFF
Copyright © 2004 by Merline Lovelace
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