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Too much? Frowning, she was done with the polite talk.
“Tell me what’s going on. What happened to him? He’s capable of just dropping in? Where is he? And how long have you known he’s alive?”
“We aren’t at liberty to answer all of that,” Hall said, his hat in his hands, literally. “I can assure you that physically, your husband is fine. In top shape. Mentally he’s as sharp as ever.”
Which left... “And emotionally?”
“He’s a changed man, Mrs. Hannigan. You need to be prepared.”
Suddenly she didn’t want to hear any more. Not from a team. Not from strangers. “Do his parents know?”
“No. He’s only been back in the States a short time. Because he was already declared dead, and because he’s of sound mind, and because everything about him right now, everything he’s been through, everything he knows, is of a sensitive nature, his wishes to remain as though dead were granted for a short time.”
“So now they’re being told as well?”
“Not yet. But soon.”
“So I’m to keep quiet about this?” Finally, a charge she could grasp hold of. Something she could be a part of.
“That’s up to you, Emily.” Chaplain Blaine spoke again. “Winston made it clear that if you needed to talk with your parents, or his, you were to be at liberty to do so. We’d only ask that you give the navy a chance to visit them first.”
She shook her head. Her husband obviously hadn’t wanted their families to know yet. He’d have reasons. “I’m fine to wait,” she said. “For as long as he needs.”
Forever, if that’s what it took him to be able to find his way back to her.
Because he would. She knew he would.
And when he did, she’d have a gift that would heal his hurting heart as only a miracle could do.
Chapter Five
He’d had no plan. Why hadn’t he seen it? He’d changed his mind, told them to tell her and then he’d had no immediate plan for what came next. Shaking his head, Winston tried not to notice the possible mirrored shaking in his hand on the wheel of yet another rental car on Sunday morning.
He could buy his own car.
On base, he didn’t really need one. Had been able to borrow a ride, or, for the trips to Marie Cove, rent a vehicle quite easily. Much cleaner. No loan. No mess. California was a “community property” state. If he bought something while married, his wife had joint ownership. And joint responsibility for any debt.
He had no right to land Emily with debt.
Renting a car, driving to Marie Cove, had been nowhere on Sunday’s agenda. He’d had a visit from Officer Hall on Saturday afternoon, letting him know that Emily was aware he was alive. And that she’d said she’d keep his being alive a secret until he wanted it otherwise.
That was it. Hall had given him nothing else. Not a word about how she looked. How she took the news. If she had another man in her life.
Not one damned thing.
How could he know how to proceed with her on nothing? He needed intel, for Chrissake. He’d worked out on the lifting machine. Then run. Had a late dinner. Tried to write a bit—doing as ordered and making notes of his time in Afghanistan, cataloging things that had happened as they came to him.
Eventually he’d slept—without the help of the sleep aid one of the doctors he’d seen over the past weeks had prescribed to him.
And woken to stare at the ceiling and wonder if Emily was doing the same. Staring at the ceiling. Trying to understand why the man who’d known her deepest fears—and her greatest desires and secret fantasies—didn’t want to see her.
Had she asked how he was? Where he was?
What must her mind be doing to her this day? He’d been at the car rental place before they opened, and was on the road before he’d had time to think about the plan. And realized there wasn’t one.
Was he just going to show up on the doorstep? Would it be kinder to call first? And how would that go? “Emily, this is Winston...”
She’d know his voice the second she heard it. Maybe. Unless tonal quality changed with loss of soul.
