It was difficult for Lindy to remember those days. She may have been fooled into thinking she was happy, but that contentment had been short-lived. She would never have been the right woman for Paul. Once again she thanked God he’d had enough foresight to have recognized as much.
"I married Rush Callaghan," Lindy told her.
A short, shocked silence followed. "You did? Why that’s wonderful – congratulations. I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for Rush."
The last person Lindy wanted to discuss was her husband, especially the way matters were between them now. "Steve isn’t here at the moment, but he’ll be back soon. I’ll tell him you called." Lindy hesitated and then decided she couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. "I don’t know what happened between you two – Steve never told me – but whatever it is, I hope you can patch it up. He misses you dreadfully." Lindy knew her brother would have her hide if he knew she’d told Carol that.
Carol laughed, but the mirth couldn’t disguise her pain. "He’s gotten along fine without me, and I’ve learned to manage without him, too. Leave a message for him, will you?"
"Of course."
"But tell him – " Carol added quickly, " – tell him it isn’t overly important."
"Sure. I’ll be happy to."
"It was nice talking to you again, Lindy. Really nice. I’m pleased for you and Rush. Be happy, you hear?"
Lindy nodded, although she knew Carol couldn’t see the action. "I will," she mumbled. "I will."
Rush stood at the bridge ready to be relieved of duty. The sky was a deep shade of pearl gray and he expected it to start raining any minute. The foul weather suited his mood. The Mitchell was home, and his friends had hurried off the carrier and down the gangway to a happy reunion with their wives and families, eager to spend the holidays with their loved ones.
Rush had stood on the bridge, hungrily scanning the crowds through his binoculars, hoping with everything in him that he’d find Lindy there. He would have given his retirement pay to have found her among the well-wishers, waiting for him.
But Lindy hadn’t been there, and a small part of Rush had died with the knowledge. Cheryl hadn’t been there for him, either. Rush shouldn’t have been surprised. Lindy had told him in Hawaii she had no intention of standing on the gangway, and she’d meant it. He was a fool to even have expected her.
His watchful gaze scanned the outline of the city of Bremerton and the Christmas decorations that hung from the streetlights. For the past six weeks of the cruise, he’d closed himself off from thoughts of Lindy, mentally chastising himself for exposing his heart a second time. Over and over again, he’d told himself women were too fickle to be trusted. But now that he was in port everything had changed and he knew he would eventually have to face her.
Marrying Lindy had been a gamble – he’d known it the day he slipped the wedding band on her finger. Her brother had had every reason to come down on him so hard. His friend was right. Rush had taken advantage of Lindy. He’d cashed in on her pain and insecurities, used her infatuation with him for his own purposes. It wasn’t any wonder Lindy was confused and miserably unhappy now. Everything that had happened between them was his fault and he accepted full responsibility. Lindy wasn’t ready to be a wife and she wanted out.
Rush didn’t blame her.
His relief arrived and, after making the necessary notations in the log, Rush picked up his seabag and headed down the steep gangway. A stiff, cold breeze hit him and he paused to raise the collar of his thick wool jacket. There was no reason to hurry, and his steps were heavy.
His left arm was free of the cast now, but he still hadn’t regained full use of it. His shoulder ached almost unbearably at times, but Rush had welcomed the pain. The physical throbbing somehow helped overshadow the mental agony of what had happened between him and Lindy.
Halfway down the gangway, something made him glance up. He stopped, his heart thundering against his rib cage, unable to believe his own eyes. There, alone at the end of the pier stood Lindy. The strong wind plastered her long coat to her torso and beat her thick dark hair roughly about her face. Her hands were buried in her coat pockets and she’d raised her chin, her loving eyes following his movements, patiently waiting.
Years of discipline, weeks of control, snapped within Rush as he dropped his seabag and started walking toward her. His chest felt as though he was on fire, he was fighting so hard to bury the emotion that pounded through him. His pulse started to beat in his temple. She’d come. His Lindy had come.
Rush quickened his pace and Lindy started running toward him, her arms outstretched. He caught her and pulled her into his embrace, burying his face in her soft hair, breathing in her delicate scent.
He tried to speak and found he couldn’t. His tongue might as well have been attached to the roof of his mouth, and after a half second, he gave up trying to voice his thoughts. It came to him then how unnecessary words really were.