Navy Blues

Dear God, he felt ready to soar. He shouldn’t be on a nuclear submarine – a feeling this good was meant for rockets.



Carol found herself humming as she whipped the cream into a frothy topping for Steve’s favorite dessert: French pudding. She licked her index finger, grinned lazily to herself and leaned her hip against the kitchen counter, feeling happier than she could remember being in a long time.



Friday night had been incredible. Steve had been incredible. The only cost had been her bruised pride when she’d arrived at his apartment with such a flimsy excuse. The price had been minor, the rewards major.



Not once during the entire evening had Steve mentioned Todd’s name. Maybe, just maybe, he was ready to put that all behind them now.



If she was pregnant from their Friday night love-making, which she sincerely prayed she was, it would be best for the baby to know "her" father. Originally Carol had intended to raise the child without Steve. She wasn’t sure she would ever have told him. Now the thought of suppressing the information seemed both childish and petty. But she wasn’t going to use the baby as a convenient excuse for a reconciliation. They would settle matters first – then she would tell him.



Steve would make a good father; she’d watched him around children and had often been amazed by his patience. He’d wanted a family almost from the first. Carol had been the one who’d insisted on waiting, afraid she wouldn’t be able to manage her job, a home and a baby with her husband away so much of the time, although she’d never admitted it to Steve. She knew how important it was for him to believe in her strength and independence. But this past year had matured her. Now she was ready for the responsibility.



Naturally hindsight was twenty-twenty, and she regretted having put off Steve’s desire to start a family. The roots of their marriage might have been strong enough to withstand what had happened if there’d been children binding them together. But it did no good to second-guess fate.



Children. Carol hadn’t dared think beyond one baby. But if she and Steve were to get back together – something that was beginning to look like a distinct possibility – then they could plan on having a houseful of kids!



It was early afternoon by the time Steve made it to Carol’s house. A cold wind from the north whistled through the tops of the trees and the sky was darkening with a brewing storm.



Carol tossed aside her knitting and flew across the room the minute she heard a car door close, knowing it had to be Steve. By the time he was to the porch, she had the front door open for him.



He wore his uniform, which told her he hadn’t stopped off at his apartment to change. Obviously he was eager to see her again, Carol thought, immeasurably pleased.



"I’m glad to see you’re waiting for me," he said, and his words formed a soft fog around his mouth. He took the steps two at a time and rubbed his bare hands together.



"I can’t believe how cold it is." Carol pulled him inside the house and closed the door.



His gaze sought hers. "Warm me, then."



She didn’t require a second invitation, and stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him, leaning her weight into his. Steve wrapped her in his embrace, kissing her back greedily, as if they had been apart six weeks instead of a single day. When he finished, they were both breathless.



"It feels like you missed me."



"I did," she assured him. "Give me your coat and I’ll hang it up for you."



He gave her the thick wool jacket and strolled into the living room. "What’s this?" he asked, looking at her knitting.



Carol’s heart leaped to her throat. "A baby blanket."



"For who?"



"A… friend." She considered herself a friend, so that was at least a half-truth. She’d been working on the blanket in her spare time since before Christmas. It had helped her feel as if she was doing something constructive toward her goal.



Suddenly she felt as if she had a million things to tell him. "I got energetic and cleaned house. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately, but I don’t have the energy I used to have."



"Have you been sick?"



She loved him for the concern in his voice. "No, I’m in perfect health… I’ve just been tired lately… not getting enough vitamins, I suppose. But it doesn’t matter now because I feel fantastic, full of ambition – I even made you French pudding."



"Carol, I think you should see a doctor."



"And if he advises bed rest, do you promise to, er… rest with me?"



"Good heavens, woman, you’ve become insatiable."



"I know." She laughed and slipped her arm around his waist. "I was always that way around you."



"Always?" he teased. "I don’t seem to recall that."



"Then I’ll just have to remind you." She steered him toward the bedroom, crawled onto the mattress and knelt there. "If you want French pudding, fellow, you’re going to have to work for it."



The alarm went off at six. Carol blindly reached out and, after a couple of wide swipes, managed to hit the switch that would turn off the electronic beeping.



Steve stirred at her side. "It’s time," she said in a small, sad voice. This would he their last morning together for three months.



"It’s six already?" Steve moaned.



"I’m afraid so."



He reached for her and brought her close to his side. His hand found hers and he laced her fingers with his. "Carol, listen, we only have a little time left and there’s so much I should have said, so much I wanted to tell you."



"I wanted to talk to you, too." In all the years they were married, no parting had been less welcome. Carol yearned to wrap her arms around him and beg him not to leave her. It was times like this that she wished Steve had chosen a career outside the Navy. In a few hours he would sail out of Hood Canal, and she wouldn’t hear from him for the entire length of his deployment. Other than hearsay, Carol wasn’t even to know where he would be sailing. For reasons of national security, all submarine deployments were regarded as top secret.



"When I return from this tour, Carol, I’d like us to have a serious talk about getting back together. I know I’ve been a jerk, and you deserve someone better, but I’d like you to think about it while I’m away. Will you do that for me?"



She couldn’t believe how close she was to breaking into tears. "Yes," she whispered. "I’ll think about it very seriously. I want everything to be right… the second time."



"I do, too." He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "Another thing…make an appointment for a physical. I don’t remember you being this thin."



"I lost fifteen pounds when we were divorced; I can’t seem to gain it back." The tears broke through the surface and she sobbed out the words, ending in a hiccup. Embarrassed, she pressed her fingertips over her lips. "I’ve been a wreck without you, Steve Kyle… I suppose it makes you happy to know how miserable and lonely this past year has been."



"I was just as miserable and lonely," he admitted. "We can’t allow anything to do this to us again. I love you too damn much to spend another year like the last one." His touch was so tender, so loving that she melted into his embrace.



"You have to trust me, Steve. I can’t have you coming back and even suspecting I’d see another man."



"I know… I do trust you."



She closed her eyes at the relief his words gave her. "Thank you for that."



He kissed her then and, with a reluctance that tore at her heart, pulled away from her and started to dress.



She reached for her robe, not looking at him as she slipped her arms into the long sleeves. "If we do decide to make another go at marriage, I’d like to seriously think about starting a family right away. What would you say to that?"



Steve hesitated. Carol turned around to search out his gaze in the stirring light of early morning, and the tender look he wore melted any lingering doubts she harbored.



"Just picturing you with my child in your arms," he whispered hoarsely, "is enough to keep me going for the next three months."



Chapter Six



A week after Steve sailed, Carol began experiencing symptoms that again suggested she was pregnant. The early morning bouts of nausea returned. She found herself weeping over a rerun of Magnum, P.I. And she was continually tired, feeling worn-out at the end of the day. Everything she was going through seemed to point in one direction.



Self-diagnosis, however, had misled her a month earlier, and Carol feared her burning desire to bear a child was dictating her body’s response a second time.



Each morning she pressed a hand over her stomach and whispered a fervent prayer that her weekend of lovemaking with Steve had found fertile ground. If she wasn’t pregnant, then it would be April before they could try again, and that seemed like a thousand years away.



Carol was tempted to hurry out and buy another home pregnancy test. Then she would know almost immediately if her mind was playing tricks on her or if she really was pregnant. But she didn’t. She couldn’t explain – even to herself – why she was content to wait it out this time. If her monthly cycle was a week late, she decided, then and only then would she make an appointment with her doctor. But until that time she was determined to be strong – no matter what the test results said.



The one thing that astonished Carol the most was that in the time since Steve’s deployment she missed him dreadfully. For months she’d done her utmost to drive every memory of that man from her mind, and sometimes she’d succeeded. Since Christmas, however, thoughts of Steve had dominated every waking minute. Until their weekend, Carol had assumed that was only natural. Steve Kyle did play a major role in her scheme to get pregnant. But she considered having a baby more of a bonus now. The possibility of rebuilding her marriage – which she had once considered impossible to do – claimed precedence.



Missing Steve wasn’t a new experience. Carol had always felt at loose ends when he was aboard the Atlantis. But never had she felt quite like this. Nothing compared to the emotion that wrapped itself around her heart when she thought about Steve on this tour. She missed him so much that it frightened her. For more than a year she’d lived in the house alone; now it felt like an empty shell because he wasn’t there. In bed at night her longing for him grew even more intense. She lay with her eyes closed, savoring the memory of their last two nights together. A chill washed over her at how close they’d come to destroying the love between them. The only thing that seemed to lessen this terrible longing she felt for her ex-husband was constructing dreams that involved him to help ease the loneliness as she drifted off to sleep.



Friday morning Carol woke feeling rotten and couldn’t seem to force herself out of bed. She pulled into the huge Boeing parking lot at the Renton plant ten minutes later than usual and hurriedly locked her car. She was walking toward her building, trying to find the energy to rush when she heard someone call out her name.