Chapter Ten

Riley couldn’t be more pleased at this turn of events. His own father-in-law had inadvertently laid the groundwork Riley had been impatiently waiting weeks to arrange. Hannah and he would be sharing a bed for the first time since their marriage nearly three months past. It was all Riley could do not to wear a silly grin.

“Will you be joining us for the candlelight service?” George Raymond asked Riley once he was back downstairs.

Personally, Riley hadn’t given the matter much thought. He’d been attending services with Hannah for the past few Sundays and was surprised to find church wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d assumed. The sermons had practical applications to everyday life. He listened carefully, hoping to gain insight into Hannah’s personality. And into his own.

“Hannah told me you’d been going to church with her lately,” George added, wearing a proud look, as though he’d always known his daughter would turn Riley’s life around. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

Riley nodded, swallowing down a sarcastic reply; but one good turn deserved another, and his father-in-law had gotten Hannah into his bed—a feat Riley had been attempting for weeks. Christmas Eve candlelight service, however, seemed above and beyond the call of duty.

It wasn’t until they walked the short distance from the parsonage to the white steepled church that Riley understood why George had made an issue of inviting him to the service. It would be the first time Hannah had been home since their wedding. With them married short of three months and her pregnancy apparent, there was sure to be stares and a few harsh questions.

Riley’s arm tightened around Hannah’s shoulders; he wanted to shield her from gossip and candid looks. He was grateful when they sat toward the front of the church, away from discerning eyes.

Once they were situated in the polished wooden pew, Riley’s gaze found the manger scene. The baby nestled in the straw captured his attention, and he couldn’t help wondering how Joseph must have felt the night Mary had been in labor. At least he hadn’t been out to sea, worrying about his wife, wishing he could be with her. The scene hit too close to home, and drawing a heavy breath, he looked away.

The service started shortly after they arrived. One thing Riley appreciated about church was the music. When they stood and sang Christmas carols, his loud baritone voice boomed through the building, bringing several stares and a few appreciative nods.

Hannah glanced up at him and smiled so sweetly that for a few measures, Riley had trouble singing. Love did funny things to a man, he realized meaningfully. Last Christmas Eve he’d been sitting in a bar, hitting on the waitress. Twelve months later, he was standing in a church singing “Silent Night” at the top of his lungs.

George Raymond moved toward the altar and lit a candle, using it to ignite others. Two men stepped forward and accepted the lighted candles. Protecting the flame by cupping their hands behind the wick, they moved down the center aisle, lighting the candle of the parishoner sitting at the end of the pew. That person shared the flame with the one sitting next to him, who turned to share it with the next person, until the light had been passed all the way down the row. Soon every candle in the church was burning.

There were a few more rousing Christmas carols. George might not have intended them to be sung boisterously, but Riley was in a spirited mood and it felt good to sing loud and strong as if he’d been doing it every Christmas of his life. At least he knew the tunes of these hymns. Some of the others he’d heard in church the past few weeks sounded as though they’d come straight out of the Middle Ages.

The sermon was short and sweet, just the way Riley liked them. He’d wondered what kind of preacher his father-in-law would be, suspecting George Raymond would be the fire-and-brimstone type, but Riley was pleasantly surprised.

There was another carol, and Riley was thinking the service would soon be over. He was mentally calculating how early he could pretend to be tired and urge Hannah to go up to bed. Since it was barely eight, he figured it would take another hour or so.

“This has been a painful year for our church family,” George announced, stepping close to the podium microphone. “A year of change and transition. A year of pain and renewal. There seems no better time than Christmas to honor Jerry Sanders.”

Hannah went still beside Riley. Still and rigid. She reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly, but Riley had the impression she would have held on to anyone’s hand. Her breathing went shallow, and he was left to wonder at her strange behavior. It took a few moments to understand what was happening, to realize the man his father-in-law had chosen to honor was the Jerry Hannah had been engaged to marry.

Once he’d figured it out, it was all Riley could do to remain in the pew. To be forced to sit and listen to the tribute to Hannah’s former fiancé was like holding Riley’s face underwater and asking him to try to breathe.

“Are you all right?” he whispered to Hannah, wishing there was something he could do to spare her this. To spare himself this.

“Are you?” Her gaze—ripe with meaning, ripe with memories—slid to his.

He nodded, taken aback by her question. No man enjoys being trapped into listening to the limitless virtues of the man his wife loved…loved still; but the choice had been taken away from Riley. He tried to relax and let his mind wander.

“I doubt there is a life in this church that Jerry Sanders didn’t touch,” George continued, his low voice vibrating with grief. “From the time he was in his teens, Jerry felt God’s call to the ministry, but he wasn’t pious or overly devout. He was a man who loved others and reached out when he saw a need. Once, when Jerry was twelve, he brought a young mother to the church door, explaining that he’d met her outside a gas station. Her husband had abandoned her with a three-month-old child and she had nowhere to turn. Jerry couldn’t leave her and do nothing, so he did the only thing he knew how. He brought her to his church.”

Hannah’s fingers tightened around Riley’s. Her features had gone pale, and Riley hedged, debating how much attention they’d garner if he picked her up and carried her out of the church. Too damn much, he decided reluctantly.

“It wasn’t only strangers Jerry helped—he touched all our lives,” George continued, and stepped away from the podium. One by one, three men and one woman moved forward, sharing incidents that involved Jerry Sanders.

Riley didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to hear any of this, but he had no choice. Each story revealed the other man’s generosity and love in a new light. As the tales were recounted, Riley realized he’d never known anyone as generous or as kindhearted as Jerry Sanders. What George had said earlier about Jerry not being a goody-two-shoes was right. He’d been real, reacting with indignation to the wrongs committed around him, reaching out to help others even when he faced impossible odds. He was the type of man Riley would have liked to count as a friend.

The realization struck a sharp cord within him. It wasn’t an easy thing to admit, even to himself.

No wonder Hannah had loved him, and grieved still. Jerry’s death had dealt her a crippling blow. How unfair it must have seemed to her. How wrong that Jerry should be taken from her. He glanced over at her and noticed the tears streaking her face. She struggled to hide them, but it did little good.

Leaning forward, Riley reached into his back pocket and handed her a handkerchief. Slowly, as though she feared what she’d find, her gaze sought his.

Riley hurt. What man wouldn’t? But his concern at the moment was more for Hannah. For the loss she’d suffered, for the pain she experienced being forced to rip open the half-healed wounds of her grief.

By the time the testimonials were finished and the plaque unveiled in Jerry’s honor, Riley was ready to weep himself. Weep with frustration and anger. Weep because the comparison of his life and Jerry’s was so striking. It was all he could do not to haul Hannah out of the church. And escape himself.

He wanted to make a quick getaway, but as soon as the service was over, several friendly folks crowded around them, looking for an introduction. Their eyes were curious as they noticed Hannah’s stomach, but no one said anything.

Hannah amazed him with the warm way in which she handled the potentially disastrous situation. She looped her arm around Riley’s, smiled adoringly up at him and introduced him with such pride and devotion that she fooled even him. Anyone listening would have thought their marriage was the love match of the century. It was left to him to complete the picture, and for her sake, he did the best he could.

How well he succeeded remained to be seen.

It seemed to take forever before they could escape. Riley turned his back on his father-in-law who stood in the vestibule, bidding the last well-wishers a joyous Christmas.

“I’m going to kill him,” Riley muttered under his breath as they walked out the side door of the church. “How could he do that to you?” The tracks of her tears had left glistening streaks down her cheek.

“I’m sorry, Riley. So sorry.”

“What have you got to apologize for?” he demanded brusquely.

“For Dad. He’d never do anything to intentionally hurt one of us. He simply wasn’t thinking. I’m married to you now, and he doesn’t realize you even know about Jerry. Dad loved and misses him still. Jerry was as much a son to him as my brother, and he’s still grieving.”

“He might have warned you.”

“Yes. I’m sure he intended to, then simply forgot.”

Hannah could offer a hundred excuses, but it did damn little good. Riley claimed a few minutes to himself, making the excuse that he wanted to check the car. He did that, then walked around the block until the sharp tip of his anger had worn off. Then and only then, did he return to the house.

George Raymond, his look apologetic, was waiting for him when Riley stepped in the front door. “Hannah’s upstairs.”

Riley didn’t trust himself to say one word. He bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Tapping lightly against the bedroom door, he waited until Hannah answered before letting himself in.

She was sitting on top of the bed, in a sexless flannel nightgown, brushing her hair. She cast her gaze self-consciously downward as he walked into the room and started unbuttoning his shirt after pulling it free from his waist.

He wished she’d say something. She didn’t.

Riley sat on the side of the mattress, his back to his wife, and removed his shoes and socks. When he stood to unbuckle his pants, Hannah peeled back the bedspread.

“I…generally read for a while before I turn out the light,” she said softly. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No.”

With a maddening lack of haste, she walked around the end of the bed and rooted through the suitcase for her book. Bending over the way she did offered Riley a tantalizing view of her long, slim legs. It wasn’t more than a fleeting glimpse, but then it didn’t take much to get his juices flowing. Riley wondered how the hell he was going to lie next to her all night and not touch her.

* * *

Hannah was worried about Riley. In her heart, she knew her father hadn’t meant to hurt her. Or Riley. Even now, George Raymond seemed oblivious to what he’d done. Rather than cause a strain in their close relationship, she’d silently gone up the stairs following the candlelight service to wait for Riley. He seemed to take forever to join her. Not everything her father did was thoughtless or ill-advised; by chance he’d managed to get her and Riley into bed together, which was a feat she’d been working toward for weeks.

Had she realized they’d be sharing a bed when she packed, Hannah realized sadly, she would have brought her silky peach gown. Pregnancy or no pregnancy, she wanted to view Riley’s reaction when she wore it.

Riley was under the covers, lying back, his hands tucked behind his head, staring at the ceiling when she returned with the book she intended to read. He was so far over on his side of the bed it was a wonder he didn’t slide onto the floor. He continued to stare straight ahead at the light fixture while she hurried under the blankets, shivering with the cold. Still he remained where he was.

Hannah read for no more than fifteen minutes, then hurried out of bed, turned off the light and rushed back. She rolled onto her side, tucking her knees under her breasts in order to get warm again.

“You all right?” Riley asked in the darkness.

“Yes…I’m just a little cold.” She hoped he’d snuggle up against her and share his body’s heat, but he didn’t. The silence was strained, but she didn’t know what to say to make it better. Feeling helpless and inadequate, and like the world’s worst wife, she buried her face in the pillow to hide the ever-ready flow of tears.

“Hannah?”

“Yes.”

“Are you crying?”

“No.”

He gave an abrupt, hollow laugh. “You never could lie worth a damn. What’s wrong?”

If he wouldn’t come to her, then she’d go to him. Once the decision was made, she rolled onto her other side and aligned her body with Riley’s, pressing her head to his shoulder. He felt hard and muscular, warm and whole.

Slowly, as though he were going against his better judgment, he brought his arm out from beneath his head and wrapped it around her shoulder. It felt so good to have him hold her, to have him touch her, that she closed her eyes on a deep sigh.

“You have nothing to fear from him, you know,” she whispered, once her throat was clear enough to talk evenly, unemotionally. The love she felt for Jerry was far removed from the life she had now.

“You love him.”

Hannah couldn’t deny it. “A small part of me always will. He was a special man.”

Riley grew silent, but she could tell from the even rise and fall of his chest and the steady beat of his heart that he hadn’t taken offense, but was mulling over her words.

“When I was little, I can remember my father telling me that when God closes a door he always opens a window. This time he opened two. I don’t regret being married to you, Riley. I feel honored to be your wife.”

His hand gently stroked her shoulders. The day had been long and emotion packed. Hannah yawned and, nestling her face near Riley’s neck, closed her eyes.

A smile curved her lips as she felt his mouth brush a soft kiss at her temple. Within minutes she could feel herself drifting off to sleep.

* * *

Until he’d met Hannah, Riley hadn’t realized how full of irony everyday life could be. He’d dreamed, plotted, schemed to get her into his bed, and once she was there, he found he was afraid to touch her. Afraid and unworthy. He, Riley Murdock, actually feared her moving close to him, tempting him beyond endurance, snuggling her lush breasts against him. He trembled at the thought of his body, so hard and powerful, filling Hannah’s delicate softness. The problem, he recognized, was one of his own making. Knowing that didn’t alter the situation, however.

Hannah openly admitted her love for her dead fiancé, and after learning what he had that evening, Riley didn’t blame her. Jerry Sanders had been one hell of a man.

A far better man than he’d ever be. Riley had been born on the wrong side of the blanket. By the time he was in junior high, he’d been labeled a troublemaker and a rabble-rouser. His headstrong, rebellious ways had repeatedly gotten him into trouble throughout high school. He was lucky to have escaped reform school, not to mention prison. Actually, he had the Navy to thank for rescuing him from a life of crime.

He’d enlisted the day after he graduated from high school, at the bottom of his class. His cocky attitude hadn’t lasted long; by the end of boot camp he’d realized the Navy could well be his one chance to turn himself around. It was up to him to decide.

It had taken him fifteen years to make the transformation from a street-smart, foulmouthed kid with a chip on his shoulder the size of a California redwood to a responsible Navy chief. A few of the rough edges of his personality had been rounded off over the years, but he’d never be the educated, cultured husband Jerry Sanders would have been to Hannah.

Riley would like to hate Hannah’s fiancé, challenge him face-to-face for her heart. But everything he’d heard that night in church convinced Riley that, had he known Jerry, he would have liked him. Jerry Sanders had been the kind of man everyone looked up to and admired. A natural leader, a lover and defender of justice. Hell, the man had been near perfect. There wasn’t anything to fault him with. He’d been a saint. He must have been, to be engaged to a woman as beautiful as Hannah and restrain from making love to her.

Hannah, who’d been sheltered and protected all her life, was the perfect match for such a man as Jerry. She was generous and sweet, a delicate rose; and by God, she deserved a better husband, someone far more decent than he’d ever be.

The problem was, what would Riley do about it now? Even if he found the courage to leave her for her own good, he couldn’t turn away from her now. Not with her six months pregnant with his child.

What was a man to do in such a situation? The hell if Riley knew. He wasn’t even close to being good enough to deserve Hannah. She’d crashed into his life when he least expected to meet a woman like her. One night with her had left him frantic with worry, furious and baffled. He hadn’t known who she was or where she’d come from; all he had known was that he had to find her again.

He was getting too old, Riley decided. Too tired. Too weary. He was losing his cutting edge. His emotional resilience was gone. He’d like to blame Hannah for that, as well, but he couldn’t. The problem was his own. The stark truth of the matter was he’d never been in love before and he’d lost his heart to her that night in Seattle.

His heart and his mind.

All his life he’d been waiting to meet someone like her. He just never expected it to happen in a waterfront bar. He’d seen her and wanted her immediately, not recognizing himself what it was he found so damned appealing about her. After three months of marriage, he knew. He’d been attracted to her innocence, her generosity of spirit and her awesome ability to love. For once in his life, Riley needed a woman to love him. Someone who belonged to him. Someone not bound to a memory.

He couldn’t, he wouldn’t share her.

But he did already.

As he lay next to Hannah, her measured, even breathing echoing in his ear, the implications of his situation pounded at his temples with the sharpness of a hangover.

He could fight her love for Jerry, do everything he could to wipe out the other man’s memory. In essence Riley could shadow-box with a dead man. Or he could accept her love for the seminary student and go on, doing his utmost to be the best husband he knew how to be—always knowing, always conscious that he was a damn poor second choice.

The choice, however, had already been made. The gold wedding band on his finger was reminder enough of that. The child growing in Hannah’s womb convinced him there could be no turning back now. That being the situation, the best Riley could hope for was that, in time, she’d be able to look past the hard outer crust he wore like battle armor and come to love him, too.

Love.

No one had told him it was such a painful emotion. Powerful enough to break a man, topple him from his prideful perch and leave him shaken and unsure. Riley loved Hannah and their unborn child beyond reason. Enough to cast all pride aside.

She stirred and rolled closer to him, draping her arm across his stomach. Her bare legs scooted next to his as she drew in a deep, even breath. Lying as she was, her stomach nestled against his side, reminded him how grateful he was that she hadn’t lost Junior. He’d never experienced such panic as he had the night he’d driven her to the hospital.

It happened then, and Riley’s eyes flew open. The baby kicked, and he’d felt it as strongly as if Hannah herself had poked him. An involuntary grin grew and grew.

“Riley,” she whispered, “did you feel him?”

“Yes.”

“I told you he was going to be a soccer player.”

“He’s so strong.”

Her smile was evident even in the dark. “Tell me about it.” She yawned, holding her hand in front of her mouth. “What time is it?”

Riley read the illuminated dial of his wristwatch. “A little after two.”

“Did Junior wake you?”

“No. I was lying here thinking.”

“About what?” she quizzed.

She sounded worried, and he sought to reassure her. “About what we should name Junior. I was thinking…that if you wanted, we could name him after Jerry.”

Her silence confused him. He turned his head toward her, hoping there’d be enough moonlight in the bedroom to judge her expression.

“That’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said to me,” she murmured, her voice breaking with emotion. She pressed her hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. “Actually, I’ve been giving some thought to a name myself.”

“And?” he pressed.

She hesitated, as though she expected him to disapprove of her choice. “There’s a Hannah in the Bible. I didn’t know if you were aware of that or not.”

Riley wasn’t, but that shouldn’t come as any shock. Now that he thought it over, it made sense that a godly man like George Raymond would give his only daughter a scriptural name.

“She was married and desperately wanted children. She tried for years and years to become pregnant, but was barren.”

“So far I don’t see any similarities between the two of you,” he teased, and was rewarded with an elbow in his ribs.

“Might I continue?”

“By all means.”

“Hannah went to the temple to pray, asking God for a child, and soon afterward she found herself pregnant. When her son was born, she named him Samuel.”

“Samuel,” Riley repeated slowly, testing the name. It had a nice solid sound to it. Samuel Murdock. “I like it, but aren’t you taking a lot for granted? We could very well be having a daughter.”

“Samantha, then.”

“All right,” Riley said, gathering her close in his arms, pressing his chin against the crown of her head. “Samuel or Samantha it is.”

“Samuel Riley Murdock.”

Riley felt his throat thicken. “Or Samantha Hannah Murdock.”

“But Riley, that’s too awkward a name for a little girl. Samantha Lynn or Samantha Anne would be better.”

“It’s Samantha Hannah, so don’t argue with me.”

“In that case I certainly hope we have a son,” she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear. She tugged the blankets more securely around her shoulders and continued to use his chest for a pillow. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, with her breasts brushing against him and her thighs rubbing his own, but Riley hadn’t the strength to ask her to move.

“Good night, Hannah,” he said, closing his eyes, content for the first time in hours. “Good night, Sam,” he added, and nearly laughed out loud when a tiny foot or arm jabbed him in the side.

* * *

“Oh, Riley!” Hannah cried as she pried open the lid to the large rectangular box he’d squirreled away beneath the tree. “Oh, Riley,” she repeated, tears brimming in her eyes as her gaze shot over to him. With infinite care, she removed a soft pink maternity dress from the tissue wrapping and held it against her waist. “How’d you know?”

“You mean other than the fact you went back to the clothes rack four times to look at it?”

“But it’s much too expensive…. I could probably sew one like it for half the price. But I’m so pleased I don’t have to! I’ve only got a couple of things I can wear to work as it is. Oh, Riley, I love it so much. Thank you.” She rushed to his side, threw her arms around his neck and hugged him hard.

“Tears, Hannah,” her father teased.

“Don’t worry, I get emotional so easily now. Dr. Underwood said it was to be expected.”

“Your mother was the same way. She’d start to weep over television commercials when she was carrying your brother and you.” His eyes grew warm at the memory as he leaned back in his chair and smiled down on his daughter.

“Riley, open my gift next,” she said, breaking away long enough to pull a purple and blue gift-wrapped box from beneath the tree. “I made it myself while you were away.”

Riley examined the box, shaking it.

“Careful, it might break.” The blue wool sweater, complete with matching hat and scarf would do no such thing, but she enjoyed baiting him.

Riley took his time unwrapping the gift, and it was all Hannah could do not to rush to his side and help him tear away the paper. She watched closely as he lifted the lid. No emotion registered in his eyes as he carefully unfolded the garments one by one and brought them out of the box.

“I hope it fits,” Hannah said in a rush, her words blending together.

Riley stood and tried on the sweater, slipping his long arms into the sleeves and then tugging them up past his elbow. He glanced over to her, and appreciation gleamed from his deep blue eyes. “I’ve never owned anything finer.” With a flair that delighted Hannah, he wrapped the scarf several times around his neck and set the hat upon his head. His eyes met hers, and a surge of warm emotion filled her heart. His look penetrated the very core of her being and communicated to her a feeling of love so strong, she wondered why she’d never noticed it before.

Riley did love her, and yet…and yet, he’d barely touched her all night. It seemed he went out of his way to avoid doing so. Hannah strongly suspected he would have stayed on his side of the bed the entire night and made no contact whatsoever if she hadn’t moved over to him.

Perhaps having her father so near had intimidated him and he hadn’t wanted to consummate their marriage while in his father-in-law’s home. But her father’s bedroom was downstairs and he slept like a brick. She’d made a point of telling Riley so, although she’d wondered at the time if he was listening.

“Do I get a turn here?” her father asked, effectively cutting off Hannah’s train of thought.

“Of course,” she answered, pleased he’d chosen the gift she’d made for him. It was a small painting, one of a small loaf of french bread and a chalice of wine set on a rough-hewn wooden table. Although the entire focus of the painting was the bread and wine, she’d worked hard to depict the symbolic nature of the simple elements that had been part of the Last Supper.

“Hannah,” her father said, awed as he held up the painting, “this is fabulous. Where did you ever find it?”

She beamed with pride and joy as she told him.

Hannah couldn’t remember a Christmas she’d enjoyed more. The meal was excellent, and they ate early in the afternoon. She sat at the old upright piano and played Christmas music for her father and Riley, who seemed to thoroughly enjoy singing the timeless carols. Afterward she took a nap and woke to discover that Riley and her father had done the dishes. While she’d been resting, Riley had loaded the car and seemed anxious to return to the base.

They bade their farewells while it was still light outside. Riley was quiet during the long ride home, but when she asked if there was anything bothering him, he smiled, assuring her there wasn’t.

As they approached the base, she realized he was speeding. Riley was a responsible driver, and she couldn’t understand why he seemed in such a hurry.

Once they pulled up in front of the house, her husband made an excuse about unloading the trunk and insisted she go inside ahead of him. She offered to help him carry something, but he wouldn’t let her.

Not knowing his thoughts, she did as he said, pondering his strange mood. She inserted the key into the front door and pushed it open. Turning on the light switch, she was halfway through the living room before she saw it.

There, against the wall, was a beautiful mahogany piano decorated with a huge red bow.