Resting a hip against the counter by the nursery monitor, Tanner chugged back his drink and listened for sounds of his daughter breathing. A never-ending thrill.
Low static crackled from the receiver, then the slow creak of a rocking chair eased over the airwaves, followed by Kathleen's voice. "Hey, sweet baby, still not sleepy, huh? That's okay. There's nothing I'd rather do right now than hang out with you."
Her whiskey-warm tones dive-bombed his senses with just as much power as they had thirteen years ago—a predictable, yet undeniably exciting rush, even after a year of marriage. The date marked a year exactly. As well as exactly six weeks after their daughter's birth. Definite cause for celebration.
Anticipation charged through him full throttle.
Tanner pitched his can into the recycling bin, eager to see Kathleen and the baby, but unable to resist eavesdropping just a little while longer.
"We're both gonna nap tomorrow with your daddy, since he has the day off. Deal? Deal." The steady creak of the rocking chair echoed its soothing song. "For now it's just us girls, Tara, baby. So let's talk. There're so many things to dream about, your first words, first day at school, first date."
He quirked a brow at the monitor. Nuns don't date.
"The world's wide open, my girl," Kathleen crooned. "You can be whatever you want. Doctor or circus clown. Your call. Of course, your daddy may have heart failure if you opt for the high-wire acrobat stint. But I have it on good authority he's a mighty fine spotter."
Smiling, Tanner scooped up the nursery monitor and clicked the two-way button to join in the late-night chat with his family.
Holding the monitor up to his mouth, he donned his best in-flight radio voice as he left the kitchen. "This is COHO two zero requesting a flight surgeon to meet me at the parking area. Do you read me, Athena? Over."
A husky chuckle sounded before she answered. "Affirmative, COHO, but I'm currently engaged in refueling operations with our little copilot. Request you reroute and meet me in the nursery."
"Roger that, Athena." Tanner rounded the corner, making tracks for the slim band of light peeking from the baby's room. "Changing course to join formation."
He closed the last ten steps in seconds, nudging the door with his toe. The open door framed Kathleen sitting in a white rocker. Her red hair fluffed, sleep-ruffled around her face, her green satin nightshirt unbuttoned. A tiny pink fist rested against the curve of her breast as Kathleen nursed their daughter. Contentment shone from her, warming the room, warming him.
How could she have ever doubted herself? Kathleen had tackled motherhood with all the study and perfection she did everything else. Those maternal instincts had kicked in the minute the stick turned blue. The woman was unconquerable.
Tara was one lucky little girl. And he was one lucky husband. "Happy Anniversary."
"It certainly is." Kathleen smiled, as at home in a nursery as she was on a flight line or in the operating room. No stereotyping for her daughter, Kathleen had insisted on pale-blue walls with puffy clouds. Tiny angels wearing pink ribbons grinned from those clouds, one looking remarkably like his sister.
An answering grin tugged at his face. Tanner pushed away from the door and crossed to Kathleen. Leaning, he dropped a kiss on Kathleen's mouth, then on Tara's tufts of red hair. "Hey, princess."
Tara turned to the sound of his voice. What an incredible rush, that sweet recognition. Better than outrunning a MIG fighter jet. He loved the way she knew him. He loved her. And her mama.>Tilting her face up to his, Kathleen squeezed his hand. "Yeah, I think I am."
The surprised lift of his brows pinched her with guilt, but she would make it up to him.
"Where do you want to go?" he asked.
Anywhere too private and they wouldn't talk. Sex would offer a too convenient distraction, an easy out she wouldn't take this time. "Let's just walk. See where our feet lead us."
"Fair enough."
Side by side they left the club. Stars and streetlights dappled bricked walkways. The temperate southern winter night carried a light chill, but not enough to pierce their uniform jackets.
Silently they strolled, keeping pace with each other until they came to the flight line. Kathleen wasn't sure who'd lead whom, but there they were, right back where they'd started almost three weeks ago. Standing on a windswept flight line.
An SP cruised by, checked them out, then continued down the flight line.
Kathleen let her hand drift up to finger one of Tanner's medals. "Thank you for what you did back there. That was really…"
She searched for the right word.
Tanner winced. "Sweet?"
"Special." She dropped the aerial achievement medal back in place, smoothed the rows of other medals flat against the broad chest that carried such a big heart.
"I'm glad it made you happy. You deserved it." He eyed her with uncertainty, as if gauging her next move.