Читать книгу Navy Baby - Debbie Macomber - Страница 6

On her knees on the bathroom floor, Hannah Raymond viewed parts of the toilet that were never meant to be seen at such short range. Her stomach rolled and heaved like a tiny canoe being swept down a raging river. The tile felt icy against her knees, yet beads of perspiration moistened her brow. Closing her eyes in an effort to hold back the waves of nausea, Hannah drew in several deep, even breaths. That seemed to help a little, but not enough.

“Oh, God,” she prayed silently, “please, oh, please, don’t let me be pregnant.” No sooner had the words crossed her lips when she lost what little breakfast she’d managed to down that morning.

Her monthly period was late. Over two months late. But that could be attributed to the stress she’d been under these past several weeks. The stress and the grief. It had been nearly four months since Jerry’s death. She ached to the bottom of her soul for him, and would, she was convinced, until the end of her life. She’d loved Jerry for six years, had planned her entire life around him. They were to have married soon after the first of the year.

Now there would be no wedding because there was no Jerry. Grief caught her once more in a stranglehold of pain and she squeezed her eyes closed, battling the tears, as well as the nausea. Adding to her torment was the knowledge that if she was pregnant, the child she carried wouldn’t be Jerry’s.

The face of the sailor had imprinted itself onto her mind, bold as could be. He was tall, powerfully built and strong featured. With a sense of dismay she pushed his image away, refusing to think about that July night or dwell on her folly.

Once again her stomach heaved, and Hannah brushed the thick folds of shiny brown hair away from her face and leaned over the porcelain toilet.

“Hannah?” Her father knocked politely against the bathroom door. “Honey, you’d best hurry or you’ll be late for Sunday school.”

“I…I’m not feeling very well this morning, Dad.” Her words were immediately followed by another bout of vomiting.

“It sounds like you’ve got the flu.”

Bless his heart for offering her an excuse. “Yes, I think I must.” She prayed with everything in her being that this was some intestinal virus. If living a good life, following the Golden Rule and being the best preacher’s kid she knew how to be were ever to work on her behalf, the time was now.

“Go back to bed and if you feel up to it later, come over for the service. I’m preaching from the Epistle to the Romans this morning and I’d like your opinion.”

“Sure, Dad.” But from the way she was feeling now, she wouldn’t be out of bed any time within the next week.

“You’ll be all right here by yourself?” Her father’s voice echoed with concern.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” Once again she felt her stomach pitch. She gripped the sides of the toilet and her head fell forward, the effort of holding it up too much for her.

Her father hesitated. “You’re sure?”

“I’ll be all right in a little bit,” she managed in a reed-thin voice.

“If you need me,” George Raymond insisted, “just call the church.”

“Dad, please, don’t worry about me. I’ll be much better soon. I’m sure of it.”

Her father’s retreating footsteps echoed in the hallway, and Hannah sighed with relief. She didn’t know what she was going to do if she was pregnant. Briefly she toyed with the idea of disappearing until after the baby was born. Going into hiding was preferable to facing her father with the truth.

George Raymond had dedicated his life to serving God and others, and having to confess what she’d done didn’t bear contemplating. Hannah loved her father deeply, and the thought of disgracing him, the thought of hurting him, brought a pain so strong and so sharp that tears instantly pooled in her eyes.

“Please God,” she prayed once more, “don’t let me be pregnant.” Slowly rising from the floor, she swayed and placed her hand against the wall as an attack of dizziness sent the room spinning.

She staggered into her bedroom and fell on top of the mattress. Kicking off her shoes, she sat up long enough to reach for the afghan neatly folded at the foot of the bed. Spreading it over her shivering shoulders, she gratefully closed her eyes.

Sleep came over her in swells as though the ocean tide had shifted, lapping warm, assuring waves over her distraught soul. She welcomed each one, eager for something, anything that would help her escape the reality of her situation.

It had happened in mid-July, only three short weeks after the tragic accident that had claimed her fiancé’s life. Her father had been out of town, officiating at a wedding in Yakima. He was staying over and wasn’t scheduled to arrive back in Seattle until late Saturday afternoon. Hannah had been invited, too, but she couldn’t have borne sitting through the happy event when her own life was filled with such anguish. How grateful she’d been that her father hadn’t asked her to travel with him, although she knew he would have welcomed her company.

Before he left, George Raymond had asked if she’d take a load of boxes to the Mission House in downtown Seattle. He’d done it, Hannah knew, in an effort to draw her out of the lethargy that had claimed her in the weeks following Jerry’s funeral.

She waited until late in the afternoon, putting off the errand as long as she could, then loaded up the back of her father’s old Ford station wagon without much enthusiasm.

Hannah had driven into the city, surprised by the heavy flow of traffic. It wasn’t until she’d found a parking spot in the alley in back of the Mission House that she remembered that Seafair, the Seattle summertime festival celebrating ethnic heritages and community, was being held that weekend. The whole town was festive. Enthusiasm and good cheer rang through the streets like bells from a church steeple. Several Navy ships were docked in Elliott Bay and the famed torchlight parade was scheduled for that evening. The city sidewalks and streets were crammed.

None of the excitement rubbed off on Hannah, however. The sooner she delivered the goods, the faster she could return to the safe haven of home. She’d been on her way out the door when she was waylaid by the mission director. Reverend Parker seemed genuinely concerned about how she was doing and insisted she sit and have a cup of coffee with him. Hannah had chatted politely, trying not to be impatient, and when he pressed her, she adamantly claimed she was doing well. It was a lie, but a small one. She didn’t want to talk about how angry she was. How bitterly disillusioned. Others had borne even greater losses. In time she’d heal. In time she’d forget. But not for a while; the pain was too fresh, too sharp.

Hannah knew her friends were worried about her, but she’d managed to put on a facade that fooled most everyone. Everyone, that was, except her father, who knew her so well.

“God works in mysterious ways,” Reverend Parker had told her on her way out the door. He’d paused and gently patted her back in a gesture of love.

Until Jerry’s death, Hannah had never questioned her role in life. When others grieved, she’d sat at their sides, comforted them with the knowledge that whatever had befallen them was part of God’s will. The words came back to haunt her now, slapping a cold hand of reality across her face. Several had issued the trite platitude to her, and Hannah had quickly grown to hate such meaningless clichés.

God’s will. Hannah had given up believing all the religious jargon she’d been raised to embrace. If God was so loving and so good, then why had He allowed Jerry to die? It made no sense to her. Jerry was a rare man, good and godly. They’d been so much in love and even though they were engaged to marry, they’d never gone beyond kissing and a little petting. They’d hungered for each other the way all couples deeply in love do, and yet Jerry had always managed to keep them from succumbing to temptation. Now, with everything in her, Hannah wished that once, just once, she could have lain in his arms. She’d give everything she would ever have in this life to have known his touch, to have surrendered her virginity to him.

But it was never meant to be.

Stirring, Hannah woke, rolled over and stared blankly at the wall. Her hands rested on her stomach, which seemed to have quieted. A glance at her watch told her that even if she rushed and dressed she’d still be late for the church service. She didn’t feel like listening to her father’s sermon. It wouldn’t do her any good now. Huge tears brimmed in her eyes and slipped unheeded down her cheeks, soaking into her pillow.

Sleep beckoned her once more, and she closed her eyes. Once again the sailor’s face returned, his dark eyes glaring down on her as they had the night he’d taken her to the hotel room. She’d never forget his shocked, distressed look when he’d realized she was a virgin. The torment she’d read in his gaze would haunt her all the way to the grave. His eyes had rounded with incredulity and disbelief. For one wild second Hannah had feared he would push himself away from her, but she’d reached up and brushed his mouth with her own and then…

She groaned and with a determined effort banished him from her mind once more. She didn’t want to think about Riley Murdock. Didn’t want to remember anything about him. Certainly not the gentle way he’d comforted her afterward or the stark questions in his eyes as he’d pulled her close and held her until she’d slept.

Go away, she cried silently. Leave me in peace. Her strength was depleted, and without effort she drifted into a restless slumber.

Riley was there waiting for her.

Following her conversation with Reverend Parker, Hannah had gone out to the alley where she’d parked the station wagon. To her dismay she discovered that while she’d been inside the Mission House, several cars had blocked her way out of the alley. By all rights, she should have contacted the police and had the vehicles towed away at the owners’ expense, but it would have been uncharacteristically mean.

Since the parade was scheduled to begin within the next hour, Hannah decided to stay in the downtown area and view it herself. There wasn’t any reason to hurry home.

The waterfront was teeming with tourists. Sailors were everywhere, their white uniforms standing out in the crowd, their bucket hats bobbing up and down in the multitude.

Sea gulls lazily circled overhead, casting giant shadows along the piers. The fresh scent of the sea, carried on the warm wind off Elliott Bay, mingled with the aroma of fried fish and simmering pots of clam chowder. The smell of food reminded Hannah that she hadn’t eaten since early that morning. Buying a cup of chowder was tempting, but the lines were long and it was simply too much bother.

Life was too much of a bother. How different all this would be if only Jerry were at her side. She recalled the many good times they’d spent with each other. A year earlier, Jerry had run in the Seafair race and they’d stayed for the parade, laughing and joking, their arms wrapped around each other. What a difference a year could make.

The climb up the steep flight of steps that led from the waterfront to the Pike Place Market exhausted Hannah. Soon, however, she found herself standing along the parade route, where people were crowded against the curbs. Several had brought lawn chairs and blankets, and it looked as if they’d been camped there a good long while.

Vendors strolled the street, selling their wares to children who danced in and out of the waiting crowd like court jesters.

Hannah was amused by their antics when little managed to cheer her those days. She was so caught up in the activities going on around her that she wasn’t watching where she was walking. Before she realized what she was doing, she stumbled headlong into a solid male chest. For an instant she assumed she’d blundered into a brick wall. The pair of strong hands that caught her shoulders convinced her otherwise. His grip tightened to keep her from stumbling backward.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, once she’d found her voice. He was a sailor. One tall and muscular sailor. As nonsensical as it seemed, he had the look of a pirate about him—bold and daring. His hair was as dark as his eyes. He wasn’t strikingly handsome; his features were too sharp, too craggy for that. Then his finely shaped mouth curved into a faint smile, flashing white, even teeth.

“I’m…sorry,” she stammered again, staring up at him, embarrassed at the way she’d been openly appraising him. She couldn’t help being curious. He seemed so aloof, so withdrawn that she felt forced to embellish. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” She offered him a feeble smile, and when he dropped his hands, she blushed and looked away.

“You weren’t hurt?”

“No…no, I’m fine. What about you?”

“No problem.” His gaze swept over her, and he moved on without saying another word.

Following the brief encounter, Hannah decided it would be best if she stood in one place. She selected a vantage point that offered her a good view of the parade, which was just beginning.

With mild interest she viewed the mayor and several other public officials as they rode by, sitting atop polished convertibles. She lost count of the number of bands and performing drill teams that passed. A fire-flashing baton twirler was followed by a variety of enchanting floats.

Enthralled almost against her will, Hannah stayed until the very end, when it was well past dark. The crowds had started to disperse, and hoping the station wagon was no longer blocked, she headed down the steep hills toward the Mission House. Since there were still people about, she didn’t think there’d be a problem of being alone in a bad section of town. But as she neared the Mission House, she discovered there were only a few cars left parked in the area. Soon there was no one else in sight.

When she first noticed the twin shadows following her she was pleased, naively thinking there was safety in numbers. But when she turned and noted the way the two were closing in on her, with menacing looks and walks, she knew she was in trouble.

As she approached the street on which the Mission House was located, she noted that the pair was still advancing. Quickening her pace, she clenched her purse to her side. An eerie sensation ran up and down her spine, and the taste of dread mingled with a growing sense of alarm filled her mouth.

Although she was moving as fast as she could without breaking into a run, the pair was gaining. She’d been a fool to separate herself from the crowds. She hadn’t been thinking right. Again and again her father had warned her about such foolishness. Maybe she had a death wish. But if that were the case, then why was she so terribly afraid? She trembled, her heart was pounding like a storm trooper’s.

The instant she saw the lights of a waterfront bar, Hannah breathed a little easier. She rushed forward and slipped inside grimacing as she walked straight into a thick wall of cigarette smoke.

Men lined the bar, and it seemed that every one of them had turned to stare at her. Beer bottles were clenched in their hands, some raised halfway to their mouths, frozen in motion. A pool table at the back of the room captured her attention, as did the handful of men dressed in black leather who stood around it holding on to cue sticks. One glance told Hannah they were probably members of a motorcycle gang.

Wonderful. She’d leaped out of the frying pan directly into the roaring flames. Hannah sucked in her breath and tried to behave naturally, as though she often wandered into waterfront bars. It seemed, however, that she’d become the center of attention.

It was then that she saw him—the sailor she’d bumped into earlier that evening. He was sitting at a table, nursing a drink, his gaze centered on the glass. He seemed to be the only one in the room unaware of her.

Where she found the courage to approach him, Hannah never questioned. Squaring her shoulders, she moved across the room and placed her hand on the chair opposite him. “Is this seat taken?”

He looked up, and his eyes lit with surprise before a frown darkened his piratical features. The only thing that made him less threatening than the others in the room was the fact he wore a sailor’s uniform.

Not waiting for his reply, Hannah pulled out the chair and promptly sat down. Her knees were shaking so badly she didn’t know if she could stand upright much longer.

“Two men were following me,” she explained. Her hands continued to tremble, and she pushed the hair away from her face. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it made sense to scoot in here.” She hesitated and looked around her, noting once again the menacing-looking men at the bar. “At least it did at the time.”

“Why’d you choose to sit with me?” He seemed to find the fact somewhat amusing. The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile, but she wasn’t sure it was one of welcome.

Why had she chosen him? “You were the only one not wearing leather and spikes,” she said, but in retrospect she’d wondered what it was that had caused her to approach him. The fact she recognized him from earlier in the evening was part of the answer, she was convinced of that. Yet there was something more. He was so intense, so compelling, and she’d sensed integrity in him.

A half grin had widened into a full one at her comment about him being the only one there not wearing leather and chains.

He raised his hand, and the waitress appeared. “Two of the same.”

“I don’t know if that would be a good idea,” Hannah said. She intended to stay only long enough to discourage the pair waiting for her outside.

“You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Hannah didn’t argue with him. It would do little good, and he was right. She continued to tremble, but she wasn’t completely convinced fear was the reason. Even then, something deep inside her had known. Not consciously, of course. It was as though some deep inner part of herself had reached out to this stranger. Intuitively she’d known he would never harm her. The waitress delivered two amber-colored drinks. Hannah didn’t have a clue what she was tasting. All she did know was that a small sip of it was potent enough to burn all the way down her throat and settle in her stomach like a ball of fire. The taste wasn’t unpleasant, just potent.

“Do you have a name?” the sailor asked her.

“Hannah. What about you?”

“Riley Murdock.”

She grinned, intrigued by the name. “Riley Murdock,” she repeated slowly. She watched as he raised the glass to his lips and was struck by how sensuous his mouth was. With some folks, Hannah had noted over the years, the eyes were the most expressive feature. One look at her father’s eyes and she could easily read his mood. Riley was different. His eyes were blank. Impersonal. But his mouth competently telegraphed his thoughts. He was intrigued with her, amused. The way the corners turned up just slightly told her as much.

“Are you here for Seafair?” she asked, making polite conversation. A second sip burned a path down the back of her throat.

He nodded. “We’re only in port for the next few days.”

“So, how do you like Seattle?” She was beginning to grow warm. It was a good feeling that radiated out from the pit of her stomach, and it had the most peculiar effect on her. It relaxed Hannah. The tension eased from between her shoulder blades and the stiffness left her arms. She was a little dizzy, but that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, either.

“Seattle’s all right.” Murdock sounded like a man who’d been in too many ports to appreciate one over another. He finished the last of the his drink and, not wanting him to think she was unappreciative, Hannah sipped from her own. Actually, once she grew accustomed to the flavor, the taste was mellow and smooth. It still burned, but the fire was warm and gentle. Welcome.

“Finish your drink and I’ll walk you to your car,” Murdock offered.

Hannah was grateful. It took her several minutes to down the potent liquor, but he was patient. He didn’t seem to be the talkative sort and that suited her. She wasn’t interested in conversation any more than he was.

If the two men who’d followed her were waiting for her outside, Hannah didn’t see them. She was glad. A confrontation was something she wanted to avoid, although she was surprised by how formidable Riley Murdock looked when he stood. He was easily six feet if not an inch or two taller. And rock solid. His arms weren’t bulging with muscles, but there was a strength in him that Hannah had sensed from the moment she’d first seen him. A physical strength, yes, but a substantial emotional fortitude, as well. Although she wasn’t good at judging ages, she guessed him to be somewhere in his early thirties. Light-years beyond her twenty-three.

Moonlight cascaded over the street as they started walking. The sky was filled with stars as though someone had scattered diamond dust across endless yards of black satin. Riley rested his hand on her shoulder in a protective, possessive gesture that Hannah found comforting. If she were to shut her eyes, she could almost pretend it was Jerry at her side and not some sailor she barely knew. He was so near, so strong, and being with him, standing this close, blocked out the sharp edges of the pain that had dominated her life these past few weeks.

For the first time since her father had come to break the news to her about Jerry, the dull ache was gone. It felt so good not to hurt, so pleasant that she didn’t want this time to end. Not so soon. Not yet.

An unexplainable comfort radiated from her shoulder where Riley had placed his hand. His touch was light, gentle, nonthreatening. Hannah had to force herself to lean into him and absorb his strength. It felt so good to have him at her side, so strong and reassuring.

They paused at a street corner and Hannah glanced up at him; her gaze slid warmly into his. She smiled briefly, feeling a little shy and awkward, yet at the same time more bold than she could ever remember being. It was the drink, she told herself, that had lent her the courage to behave the way she had.

From the corner of her eye she noticed the light change, but neither moved. He was openly studying her, reading her. Hannah boldly met his gaze. Gently his hand slid up the side of her neck. She closed her eyes and slowly, seductively, rubbed her chin across the tops of his fingers in a catlike motion. Warm sensations enveloped her and she smiled contentedly. This was what she’d had before and lost. Heaven help her, she needed something to hold on to through the years, something that could never be taken away from her the way Jerry had been. If she were to be damned for seizing the moment, then so be it. Without thinking, without calculating her actions, she turned and placed her arms around Riley’s neck, stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him. She knew from his reaction that she’d taken him by surprise. Hannah had never done anything more brazen in her life. She guessed there were subtler ways of letting him know what she wanted, but she was a novice at this and was reacting to impulse and not reason.

Kissing a stranger was completely out of character for Hannah. Everything had taken on an unreal quality. At least when she was in Riley’s arms she was feeling again. And it was so good to experience something other than pain, something more than the agony that stampeded her heart and soul.

Riley slipped his hands over her hips and held on to her waist as if he weren’t sure what he wanted. His gaze pierced hers, and Hannah smiled shyly back. He plunged his fingers through her hair and stared down on her for several breath-stopping moments before he kissed her. Sighing, Hannah leaned toward him. Together they made warm, moist kisses, each one increasing in intensity. His tongue edged apart the seam of her lips and then traced the roundness of her mouth.

When they reluctantly parted, neither spoke. Hannah could feel him assessing her, but what conclusions he drew, she could only speculate. She didn’t want him to ponder her boldness too much, because then she’d be forced into thinking herself, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Leaning her weight against him, she stroked her long fingers against his nape, sliding them into his hair. Soon she was directing his mouth back to hers.

If there had been a sensible thought left in her head, Hannah banished it as she sought his kiss. He didn’t disappoint her, displaying an eagerness, a willingness that made her stomach warm. Gradually the sensation plummeted to the lower half of her body. The delicious, delightful excitement seemed to increase with each sweet foray of his tongue and mouth. Wanting to squeeze out every inch of feeling, she started to rotate her hips, pressing against him where she ached the most.

He caught her by the waist, forcing her to still.

“Hannah—” he breathed her name in a soft sexy way that sent chills scooting down her spine “—do you know what you’re asking for?”

She bit into her lower lip and nodded.

“Then let’s get a hotel room. A decent one.”

She should have stopped him, called a halt at that very moment. She might have if he hadn’t kissed her again. It should be Jerry she was loving; but he was gone and Riley was very much alive, and she needed him. The havoc his touch created within her was too powerful to resist. It was as if she were wading in floodwaters, struggling to remain upright against a raging storm of need. Sensation abounded, so full, so abundant, her inhibitions toppled over one another like tumbling dominos.

Hannah remembered little of anything else until they were inside the rented room. She recalled that Riley had stopped every now and again on the moonlit sidewalk to kiss her as if he feared she might change her mind.

The fact they didn’t have any luggage wasn’t a concern to the clerk who handed them the key and pointed the way toward the elevator. The minute they were inside the antique contraption, Riley pulled her back into his arms.

Hannah was convinced that if the room had been on the tenth floor instead of the third, he would have made love to her then and there.

He unlocked the door but didn’t bother to turn on the light switch. The drapes were open, and the moonlight spilled softly across the bed. With his arm around her waist, he guided her inside and closed the door, leaning her against it.

His hands, pressed on either side of her face, imprisoned her against the hard door. His eyes found hers, as if he needed some form of reassurance.

Hannah smiled and, raising her fingertips to his mouth, unhurriedly traced his lower lip. His mouth was warm and moist, soft to the touch. Enticing. Leaning forward, she kissed him, shyly using her tongue as he’d done with her.

Riley moaned, and catching the back of her head, deepened the kiss until they were both breathless with need. Even in the dark, Hannah could see how intense his eyes were, filled with a desire so powerful that just looking at him caused her skin to tingle.

Then slowly, purposefully, he unfastened the buttons of her blouse—one by one, starting at the bottom and working his way up. It was as though he expected her to stop him, and he seemed mildly surprised when she didn’t. He removed her shirt and then her bra, dropping both to the floor. Once she was bare, he seemed to let an inordinate amount of time pass before he removed his own shirt.

Gently, as though he sensed he was frightening her, he caught the lush fullness of her breasts in his palms, lifting them. “You’re very beautiful.”

She blinked, not knowing what to say. “So-o are you.”

He smiled as if she’d amused him and, leaning down, caught her nipple in his mouth, closing over the fullness of her soft, feminine mound before lavishing it with greedy attention. His tongue laved the tightening hardness and then he sucked fiercely. Hannah whimpered at the startling wave of pleasure it gave her. Gradually she grew accustomed to his attentions and relaxed, closing her eyes as she delved her fingers into his hair. He repeated the process with her other breast, and Hannah felt a stirring sense of wonder at each powerful tug of his mouth. The warm, heavy feeling she’d experienced earlier in the lower half of her body returned a hundredfold, and she moved instinctively against the hard bulge in his loins.

“That’s right, baby,” he murmured as his hand found the snap on her jeans.

Once they were both free of their clothes, Riley picked her up in his arms and effortlessly carried her to the bed.

He was eager then; too eager to go slowly. He mounted her, settling himself between her open thighs. Not sure how much pain to expect, Hannah tensed, gritted her teeth and turned her head to the side. He caught her by the chin, however, and kissed her deeply, causing the heat to rise to the exploding point. Not knowing how else to ask for him to make love to her, Hannah raised her hips.

It seemed to be what he was waiting for as he settled between her legs, his heated shaft nudging apart the creamy folds of her womanhood. Once again Hannah tightened her jaw as he relentlessly entered her, pausing only when he met the restrictive barrier of her virginity.

He stopped then, frozen. Hannah’s gaze found his, and she read his confusion. He pulled back his head, gritting his teeth, his look tense and confused.

“It’s all right,” she whispered softly. Fearing he might leave her, she looped her arms around his neck and drew his mouth to her own. The kiss was wild, tempestuous, a battle of wills.

Hannah wasn’t sure who won. In the end it didn’t matter. Slowly, determined to bring her whatever pleasure he could, Riley continued forward, tiny increment by tiny increment until he was buried so deep inside her, she was convinced he could go no deeper.

She was panting with pain, panting with pleasure. He gave her a moment to adjust to him, to allow her senses to recover. She felt his heat, his strength, his hardness envelop her, and she felt as though her heart reached out to him, bonding them in ways she never expected. Twinges of pleasure gradually overcame those that had brought her pain.

Slowly he began to move within her, in long easy strokes that lingered and then opulently replenished the pleasure.

Heat encompassed her, and when it became too much, she moaned and bit into her lip, breathlessly searching, striving for what she didn’t know. In the end, release came, making her senses explode in shattering waves so strong they lifted the upper portion of her body off the bed.

He held her for a long time afterward; he kissed the crown of her head gently, then rolled onto his side, taking her with him. His arms continued to hold her as he brushed the hair from her face with gentle fingers and wiped the moisture from her eyes. He was full of questions—Hannah sensed them as profoundly as if they were spoken—yet he left them unasked. For a long time he did nothing but hold her, and for then it was more than enough.

She fell asleep, and woke chilled. Riley was awake still, and when he saw her tremble, he pulled up the covers, then gathered her close into his arms once again.

“Why?” he asked her, his voice deep and impatient.

Hannah could think of no way to explain. At least not with words. Tilting back her head, she brushed her lips over his, loving the velvet feel of his mouth and tongue.

“That doesn’t explain a whole lot.”

“I know.” She had no answers for him. The emptiness was back—reality so harsh and brutal that she couldn’t bear it a moment longer. Not knowing any other way to ease it, she raised her arms and brought his mouth down to hers and kissed him once more. He wanted answers, not kisses, but soon his physical need overpowered everything else and he made love to her a second time.

Hannah woke at dawn, sick with guilt and self-recrimination, and quietly slipped from the room. It was the last time she’d seen Riley Murdock.

She lay in bed, eyes open wide as she stared at the ceiling. The time had come for her to quit fooling herself. The week before, she’d bought a home pregnancy test at the local drugstore, hiding it under a magazine until she’d reached the checkout stand. It was in her underwear drawer now.

Reading the instructions carefully, she did as they said and waited the longest fifteen minutes of her life for the results.

Positive.

She was pregnant. By her best calculations, almost three months. Dear God, what was she going to do? Hannah had no answers. None. If her mother had been alive she might have been able to confide in her, seek her advice. But her mother had died when she was thirteen.

By rote Hannah set a roast in the oven and waited for her father to return from the church service. At twelve-thirty he walked in the back door, and his gentle eyes brightened when he saw her sitting at the kitchen table.

“So you’re feeling better?”

She offered him a feeble smile and clenched her hands together in her lap. “Daddy,” she whispered, her eyes avoiding his, “I…I have something to tell you.”