Marry Me, Major

by Merline Lovelace

  Love!

  You’re in my Heart!

  Happy Anniversary!

  Be My Valentine!

  Only after she’d waded through the first battery of balloons did she see the flowers. They crowded every horizontal surface in the living room. Vases of roses in red and pink and yellow. Pots of daisies. Tall, regal irises in a blue so deep it was almost purple. Baskets of mums and little feathery African violets. Sunflowers on their tall stalks, their smiling faces bending her way.

  Gulping, Alex spun in a slow circle while the significance of this magnificent, overwhelming, ridiculous display sank in. Hearts and flowers. She’d told him she wanted the hearts and flowers.

  “Well?”

  The deep-throated question spun her back around. Ben leaned against the archway leading to the kitchen, arms crossed. He’d changed out of his flight suit into jeans and a black stretchy T-shirt. Judging by his whiskerless cheeks and the damp glisten in his black hair he’d showered and shaved, too.

  “I bought out two flower shops. Hope to hell that’s enough to get the message across.”

  Alex summoned a wobbly smile. “I got it. I think.”

  “You think?” He pushed away from the wall and batted his way through the forest of balloons. “Not sure how I can make it any clearer. Except maybe to do this...”

  He slid an arm around her waist.

  “And this.”

  When he drew her against him, her heart hammered so hard and fast she thought it would jump out of her chest.

  “And this,” he muttered, bending to cover her lips with his.

  The kiss was hard and demanding and so possessive that Alex’s lids fluttered up in surprise. The look in his eyes was dead serious.

  “I haven’t said the words, Alex. Like an idiot, I didn’t even realize I needed to. I guess we just slid into this crazy marriage so easily that I took it—took us—for granted. But here they are. Straight from the heart. I love you and I love Maria. You’re what I didn’t know I needed. You’re my family. And I won’t let either of you go...unless that’s really what you want.”

  “Oh, Ben!” She was surrounded by bobbing balloons and drowning in the flowers’ overpowering perfume but every sense, every thought was focused on her husband. “I think I can speak for Maria and for me. We love you, too, and we don’t want you to ever, ever let us go.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  After the hectic events of the previous weeks, Alex almost forgot about the picnic hosted by Ben’s unit in conjunction with Kirtland Air Force Base’s Memorial Day Open House. He reminded her of it when he stopped by her shop after a doctor’s appointment early Friday afternoon.

  “Well, look at you!” Delighted, she admired the smaller, lighter boot that Ben could maneuver without a cane.

  “Better watch out,” he warned. “I’m mobile enough now to chase you around the bed.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He glanced around the shop and gave a wave to Terri and Caroline. “Where’s the rest of your crew?”

  “I sent them home to get a head start on the long weekend.”

  “Speaking of which... I don’t have any official duties tomorrow, so I volunteered us for grill duty. Hope that’s okay.”

  “What grill?”

  “At the squadron. You remember... Open house. Balloon hats. Hot dogs.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  She couldn’t believe she’d almost forgotten. “Good thing I transferred the design for the T-shirts you suggested I make for Maria and me to my computer. I’d better get to work on them.”

  “I’ll get out of your way, then. Want me to pick Maria up from school?”

  “Yes, please.”

  She chose red scooped-neck tees, then stamped the left shoulder of each with the 58th Special Operations Wing’s patch. The patch’s black background showed nicely against the red, especially after Alex accented its gold border with shimmering crystals. She highlighted Diana’s chariot and antlered steeds with amber crystals but relied on Caroline’s delicate touch to add drama to the goddess herself.

  “Tough-lookin’ gal,” the young Goth commented as she wielded glue and tweezers with a true artist’s skill. Chewing on the unpierced corner of her lip, she detailed the bow and arrows with tiny silver crystals, then added iridescent color to the folds of her short tunic.

  “There.” Straightening on her stool, she held up the finished product. “Whaddya think?”

  Alex studied the patch with a critical eye. As with her unicorn design, she’d opted for a minimalist approach. The effect was glittery and eye-catching but not, in her professional opinion, gaudy or so heavily ornamented it overwhelmed the key design elements.

  “Perfect,” she pronounced.

  Ben and Maria thought so, too, when Alex showed them the tops later that evening. Maria had to try hers on immediately, so Alex modeled hers, as well.

  “Better take an order book with you to the open house tomorrow,” Ben advised. “You two will be the star attraction.”

  * * *

  The next day dawned bright and sunny with the kind of achingly beautiful blue sky that only New Mexico could produce. Alex and Maria paired their T-shirts with jeans, sneakers and red ball caps. Ben wore jeans, too, and a T-shirt with an unsparkly version of the 58th’s insignia.

  After plastering themselves with sunscreen and stuffing a tote with bottles of water and a woven straw mat to sit on during the air show, they piled into the Tahoe and joined the river of vehicles streaming through Kirtland’s West Gate.

  Security personnel and volunteers in orange vests directed them to a parking area cordoned off on a stretch of tarmac. Booths and displays occupied another prime stretch between two immense hangars. Knowing Kirtland shared its runways with the adjacent civilian airport, Alex was curious how commercial airlines could shut down operation for the open house.

  “This was all coordinated more than a year ago with the Albuquerque Airport Authority,” Ben explained as he angled the SUV into position. “No flights are scheduled to arrive or depart during a preapproved window, and the airspace above the base is restricted to an aerial performance by the USAF Thunderbirds and tactical displays by our Special Ops aircraft.”

  “Will you show me your airplane?” Maria asked when he helped her hop down from the Tahoe’s rear seat.

  “You bet. Here, Alex, let me carry the tote.”

  “I’ve got it.”

  She kept a grip on the bag. Although he seemed to move easily in the smaller, lighter boot, she wasn’t taking any chances. He didn’t argue, just took Maria’s hand instead. Little flutters of sheer joy feathered through Alex as she watched the seven-year-old skip excitedly alongside the man who wanted to become her adoptive father.

  Please, God, she prayed silently. Please, let it happen!

  The closer they got to the center of the action, tantalizing scents from the various booths curled out to entice them. Sizzling hamburgers, garlicky pizza, spicy Indian tacos combined with supersweet cotton candy and fried ice cream to give the area a festive, almost circus feel.

  The displays were strictly military, however, yet still geared to families. Various squadrons from Kirtland’s host unit, the 377th Air Base Wing, had set up both static and active demonstrations. Kids clambered aboard fire trucks and posed for pictures in protective helmets. The hospital unit gave CPR demos. Security personnel from the K-9 unit put on a working dog demonstration that drew a huge crowd.

  “Wouldn’t want to be that guy,” Alex murmured as a snarling German shepherd leaped across a seemingly impossible stretch of open air to take down his heavily padded target.

  The Air Force Weapons Lab, a major tenant on the base, put on a laser light show that delighted kids and gave adults a hint of the next generation of space technology. And personnel from Ben’s wing had turned out en masse t
o man static displays of the aircraft assigned to their unit. Nub-nosed C-130s were parked alongside tilt-wing Ospreys and several varieties of helicopters.

  Maria had no trouble identifying Ben’s aircraft. “That’s your plane!”

  “Sure is. Want to see inside?”

  “Yes!”

  Maria’s eyes rounded as they walked up the rear ramp into the plane’s cavernous belly. A curly-haired sergeant wearing a flight suit with subdued stripes and a name patch that identified him as Staff Sergeant Girolandi was acting as interpreter and tour guide for the visitors. He smiled when he saw the newcomers and came over to join them.

  “Hey, Major Kincaid. Glad to see you dumped the cane. This your family?”

  “It is,” Ben replied, shooting Alex a quick smile. “Maria, meet one of the best loadmasters in the business.”

  “What’s a loadmaster?” she wanted to know.

  Girolandi squatted down to her level. “We’re responsible for everything that goes in the belly of this bird. People. Vehicles. Cargo pallets. We do preflight checks first to make sure the aircraft is good to go, then see that cargo is properly loaded and passengers are settled in. But our main job is to keep everything safe and secure during flight.”

  “Does every plane have a loadmaster?”

  “Every one like this one.”

  Her brows pulled together. “Then how come Ben broke his foot?”

  “Good question,” Girolandi said with a grin. “Probably because he didn’t have me working that flight.” He pushed to his feet and eyed the sparkling patch on Alex’s tank. “Cool shirts you gals are wearing. Mind if I ask where you bought them? I’d like to get one for my wife.”

  “I made them.”

  “No kidding?”

  “Alex operates a business that designs and manufactures specialty T-shirts,” Ben told him. “I’m trying to convince her to tap into the military market.”

  “Well, if you do any more shirts with that design, my Susan wears a medium.”

  “I’ll do one up for her.”

  “Told you,” Ben smirked to Alex as he maneuvered a careful path toward the cockpit. “You’ll be swamped with orders by the time we leave.”

  * * *

  She was.

  She was also sunburned despite all the sunscreen she’d piled on and itchy eyed from the smoke of the giant grill where she and Ben took a turn cooking hamburgers and hot dogs with other couples from his squadron. Maria romped nearby with a gaggle of other youngsters in an inflatable castle, close enough for Alex to keep a careful watch on her.

  The position also gave Alex an excellent view of pararescue personnel repelling from a helicopter and parachuting from both high and low altitudes. A slow-flying C-130 then demonstrated low-altitude cargo extraction almost right in front of them. That was followed by the USAF Thunderbirds’ incredible aerial acrobatics.

  As jaw-dropping as the display of military might was, the tight bond between members of the 58th Wing impressed Alex even more. They welcomed her and Maria with ready smiles and ragged Ben unmercifully for taking so long to dive into matrimonial waters. And almost everyone wanted to know where Alex bought her shirt.

  Ben’s boss, Lieutenant Colonel Rochambeaux, made a special point of coming by to introduce her husband. As tall and muscled as the colonel was petite and delicate, Pierre Rochambeaux offered Alex a hand the size of a ham.

  “Amiée told me Ben done snagged himself un belle fille for a bride,” he boomed with a Cajun accent even thicker than his wife’s. “Now maybe he won’t go around all mopey and boudeur.”

  “I, uh, hope not.”

  The colonel herself was more interested in Alex’s shirt. “Love that! Are you going to make it available through the BX?”

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  “Great. You’ll have to let me know when it’s in stock.” With seeming nonchalance she edged Alex a little way away from the others and lowered her voice. “Ben told us about that business with your little girl’s dad. Bastard’s lucky he got off with only a few broken teeth. He also said you’re worried how that incident might play at the adoption hearing. If you need any kind of a character reference—for him, for you—I can line up a couple hundred or so.”

  Alex felt her throat catch. “I don’t think we’ll need a couple hundred but I appreciate the offer.”

  “You’re family now. We take care of our own.”

  * * *

  The colonel’s words echoed in Alex’s head when Paul Montoya called three days later. She was at work, wading through the paperwork to get certified as a small business owner and product supplier to the Army and Air Force Exchange Service.

  “Got some news,” Montoya said when she answered.

  Her heart tripped. “Good or bad?”

  “Good. Mostly. Musgrove’s public defender just called. His client’s trying to cut a deal. Says he’ll withdraw his objection to the adoption if we can convince the feds to go easy on the kidnapping and child endangerment charges.”

  “No way in hell!”

  “That’s what I told him. But I suggested we might be convinced not to press ahead with the contempt of court motion for his violation of the custodial agreement. It’s a small sop, essentially meaningless considering the severity of the other charges, but damned if he didn’t go for it. I need to make sure you agree before we proceed.”

  “How will that look to Judge Hendricks?” Alex worried. “Like we bargained with Eddie to give up his daughter?”

  “We’ll make it clear he offered her up, and we accepted for Maria’s sake.”

  “So you think we should agree?”

  “I do. If Musgrove withdraws the objection, I’ll press for an immediate hearing. We won’t have to wait for the kidnapping charges to be adjudicated and use those against him.”

  “Okay, I...”

  She caught herself just in time. They were a family. Her, Ben, Maria. Decisions this important couldn’t—shouldn’t!—be made unilaterally.

  “I’ll get back to you. This afternoon at the latest,” she promised. “I just need to run this by Ben and Maria.”

  “Understand. In the meantime, I’ll have my people check to see if the judge has an opening on his schedule. With any luck, we might be able to wrap this up by the end of the week.”

  Ben’s response when she caught him at work came swift and sure. “Tell Montoya to go for it.”

  Alex presented the matter to Maria an hour later. School was now out for the summer, so she’d enrolled the girl in a fun-filled day camp that included field trips, art projects and plenty of playtime. To Maria’s delight—and as a thank-you to Dinah’s mom for her friendship and staunch support—Ben had insisted on paying for Dinah to attend the same camp.

  Alex rehearsed her approach as she waited in the activity center while one of the counselors fetched Maria. She had to present the matter in a way that didn’t destroy the girl’s rejuvenated spirits after learning the truth about her father.

  Luckily, she’d picked up some excellent tips from Dr. Jim. In his follow-up session with Maria, the psychologist had deftly guided her to the understanding that her dad had violated a court order when he took her to the park without Chelsea’s permission. He’d also very, very gently detailed the ransom demand and subsequent kidnapping charges, framing them more as a desperate attempt by her dad to get back on his feet after being released from prison rather than a cold-blooded offer to sell his only kid.

  For Maria’s sake, Alex was determined to maintain that same nonthreatening fiction. It wasn’t all that hard when the girl skipped into the center with the counselor, her eyes bright and her face streaked with finger paint.

  “Hey, Kitten.”

  “Hi, Alex. How come you’re here early?”

  “I need to ask you something.”

  When she patted the seat besid
e her, the counselor left to give them some privacy. Maria settled happily beside her and chattered about her current project.

  “It’s montage,” she said, impressing the heck out of Alex with her newfound artistic vocabulary. “For Ben, for Father’s Day. I know he’s not my real dad. Not till the ’doption. But I’m going to put my picture on it, and yours, and Sox’s, so I think he’ll like it.”

  “He’ll love it.”

  “Can I have some crystals to decorate it with? Purple and green?”

  “Sure. I’ll bring some from work.”

  “Don’t tell Ben what they’re for!”

  “I won’t.”

  Alex let out a long, relieved breath. Maria had just given her the perfect opening.

  “You may not have to wait for Father’s Day to give it to him, though. Your real dad has decided to agree to the adoption. We want to have the hearing as soon as possible...if that’s all right with you?”

  “Okay, but...”

  Maria’s brow pulled together in a frown, and Alex felt her stomach lurch.

  “You might hafta help me with the montage so I get it done in time. Or maybe Caroline will help. She’s really good with crystals.”

  Relaxing again, Alex ignored that slam on her professional skills. “No problem. You can come into work with me one afternoon.”

  That thorny problem solved, Maria was more than happy to return to her masterpiece in progress.

  Alex sat in the parking lot, her car’s air-conditioning blasting through the vents, and gave Montoya the go-ahead.

  “Great. I’ll have my people hand-deliver Musgrove’s agreement to Judge Hendricks. And I’ll see you, Ben and Maria in court Thursday at three p.m.”

  “Thursday! Like the day after tomorrow?”

  “Hendricks had an opening. We grabbed it.”

  “Omigod! I can’t believe it. After all this time, all this trouble...”

  “Believe it, Alex. We’re almost there.”

  * * *

  She was still half hopeful, half worried, and so nervous she’d skipped both breakfast and lunch when she, Ben and Maria walked into the courthouse on Lomas Boulevard and took the escalator to the second floor. Montoya had told them that final adoptions were usually joyous occasions, with balloons and smiles and pictures taken with the judge. Alex would believe that when she saw it.