Navy Baby

“Do you honestly think the congregation will believe me?” she asked him, the words tight in her throat. “I have to leave, Dad,” she said firmly, unwilling to compromise.

For her father’s sake she must leave Seattle. He’d been such a loving and kind parent, and there were sure to be those in the church who would malign him for her wrongdoings. There would be an equal number who would stand beside them both with loving support, but Hannah couldn’t bear to see her father suffer because of her mistakes.

“I’ll go live with Aunt Helen until after the baby’s born….”

“And then what?” her father demanded, sounding uncharacteristically alarmed.

“I…don’t know. I’ll cross that bridge when I reach it.” So many questions and concerns were coming at her, like a spray of rocks from a speeding car. Hannah didn’t feel capable of fending off a single one, at least not now.

“We don’t need to decide anything yet,” he assured her after a moment. But he wore a thoughtful frown as they walked back to the house, where Hannah had left dinner simmering.

The frown didn’t seem to leave her father’s features from that moment forward. Hannah had been in to see Doc Hanson, who confirmed what she already knew. He ran a series of tests and prescribed iron tablets and vitamins because she was anemic. He’d been gentle and kind and didn’t ply her with questions, for which she was grateful.

It was Friday afternoon nearly two weeks after Hannah had first told her father about the pregnancy. Exhausted from her day’s work as an underwriting assistant for a major insurance company, she walked into the house and discovered her father waiting for her in the living room. He sat in his favorite chair, his hands curved around the faded upholstered arms, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Hannah called it his “thinking chair.” To discover him resting in the middle of the afternoon was highly unusual.

“Good afternoon, Dad,” she greeted with a smile, and walked across the worn beige carpet to kiss his weathered cheek. “Is everything all right?”

“It’s just fine,” he said, returning her smile with an absent one of his own. “Keep your coat on. We’re going out.”

“We are?” Offhand, Hannah couldn’t think of any appointment she’d made. Only infrequently did she accompany her father on house calls, and those were generally scheduled for Tuesday and Thursday evenings. George Raymond made it a point to visit every family in his congregation at least once a year.

His hand protectively cupped her elbow as he led her out the front door and down the steps. The station wagon was parked in the driveway.

“Where are we going?” Hannah questioned. Rarely had she seen her father look more resolute. It was as if he were marching with Joshua, preparing to face the walls of Jericho.

When he didn’t answer, she assumed he hadn’t heard her and she repeated the question. That, too, was ignored.

He drove silently for several minutes before he reached the freeway, and then he headed south toward Tacoma. The car was warm, and although she was curious as to what was happening, Hannah soon found her eyes drifting closed. Her head bobbed a couple of times as she struggled to remain awake. If only she’d get over this depressing need for extra sleep. It seemed she couldn’t last through the day without napping. Lately she’d taken to heading for bed nearly as soon as she’d finished the dinner dishes. She shifted positions and opened her eyes when they crossed the Narrows Bridge and headed toward the Kitsap Peninsula.

She woke when her father made a sharp turn and eased to a stop in front of a guard house. He rolled down the window, and a blast of cold air alerted Hannah to the fact they’d arrived at their destination. She straightened and looked around. Although she’d never been on one before, she recognized immediately that they were entering a military compound.

“Dad?” she quizzed. “Where are we?”

“Bangor,” he announced a little too loudly. “We’re meeting Riley Murdock.”

In Chaplain Stewart’s office Riley sat, ramrod straight, across the room from Hannah Raymond and her stern-faced father. Riley’s gaze narrowed as he fired a look in her direction. Not once did she deign to glance his way. She sat, her back as rigid as his own, but although she held her head high, her gaze refused to meet his. Perhaps it was just as well.

First thing the previous morning, Riley had been called before his commanding officer. When he arrived, he’d discovered Chaplain Stewart and Lieutenant Commander Steven Kyle.

“Do you know a woman by the name of Hannah Raymond?” the chaplain had asked him.

Riley had reacted with surprise. For three months he’d been frantically searching for her, spending every available weekend combing the Seattle waterfront, asking if anyone had seen a woman of her description. He’d followed the leads, but each one had led to a frustrating dead end. He’d gone so far as to contact a detective agency, but they’d offered him little hope. All Riley knew about her was her first name and the fact she had shiny brown hair and dove-gray eyes. There simply hadn’t been enough information, and the agency had been discouraging.

“I know her,” Riley admitted.

“How well?”

Riley had stiffened. “Well enough.”

“Then you may be interested to learn she’s pregnant,” Chaplain Stewart stated abruptly, looking at Riley as though he were the spawn of the devil.

Riley felt as if someone had knocked his feet out from under him, and then, when he was laid low, viciously kicked him.

“Pregnant,” he repeated, stunned, as though he’d never heard the word before.

“She claims the child is yours,” his CO explained. “She maintains it happened during Seafair, which means she’d be about three months along. Does that time frame gel with you?”

Fury and outrage twisted inside Riley until he couldn’t speak. All he could manage was a sharp nod. He clenched his powerful fists at his sides until he was sure he’d cut off the blood supply to his fingers.

“At Seafair?” the commanding officer pressed.

Again Riley nodded. “That would be about right.” The woman had put him through three months of living hell, and he wouldn’t soon forget or forgive that. “When did she contact you?” he asked his CO.

It was Chaplain Stewart who answered. “She didn’t.”

“Then who did?” he demanded.

“George Raymond, Hannah’s father. He’s had an extensive investigation done on you, as well.”

Great. Wonderful. Now Riley was going to be left to deal with an irate father. That was exactly what he needed to start his day off on the wrong foot.

“George and I attended seminary together,” the chaplain had continued, and it was clear from the way he spoke that the two men had been good friends. “When Hannah confessed that the father of her unborn child was in the Navy, George contacted me, hoping I’d be able to help him locate you.”

Riley couldn’t believe this was happening. The desire to wring Hannah’s scrawny neck increased by the minute.

Hannah was pregnant! If he had any luck, Riley swore, it was all bad. Okay, so he was being mildly unreasonable. But she was the one who’d come on to him. He’d assumed, at least in the beginning, that she must be using protection. If he’d believed otherwise he would have taken care of the matter himself. It wasn’t until after he’d discovered she was a virgin that he had briefly wondered. And worried. He’d admit now that the deed was staring him in the face.

“What does she want?” Riley demanded. Support, medical bills, maybe even an allotment to cover her expenses while she was unable to work. Riley had no intention of sloughing off his duty. He was the one responsible and he’d own up to it.

Chaplain Stewart stood and walked across the room. He paused and then rubbed his hand along the back of his neck, as if he needed extra time to shepherd his thoughts.

“As I told you earlier, George Raymond is a minister. In his mind there’s only one thing to be done.”

“And that is?” Riley demanded, remembering he’d left his checkbook at his apartment.

“He wants you to marry his daughter.”

“What?” Riley was so shocked he nearly laughed out loud. “Marry her? Hell, I don’t even know her.”

“You know her well enough,” the chaplain reminded him, throwing Riley’s own words back in his face. “Listen, son,” he continued thoughtfully, “no one’s going to force you to marry the girl.”

“You’re damn right about that,” Riley returned heatedly, slightly amused that he’d gone from Satan’s spawn to “son” in a matter of a few minutes.

“Hannah’s not like other women.”

Riley didn’t need to be reminded of that, either. No one else he’d ever kissed tasted half as good as she had, or smelled so fresh and lovely. No other woman had loved him nearly as well, Riley reminded himself regretfully; her untutored responses haunted him still. He’d felt engulfed by her tenderness, awed by her beauty and jolted by her hungry need. She’d been so tight and so hot that even now, he couldn’t think about their night together without wanting her again.

“You have to understand,” Chaplain Stewart went on to say, “Hannah’s been raised in the church. Her mother died when she was in her early teens, and she took over the family responsibilities then. Her older brother’s in the mission field in India. This young woman comes from as traditional a background as you can imagine.”