"I can't look up whether it's against regs for us to climb into that plane over there so you can jump me."
A slow smile kicked that dimple into his face again, a grin guaranteed to flutter her heart for at least another fifty years. "The way I understand that reg, Captain O'Connell, we're in the clear, since we're just taking cover from an imminent rainstorm."
Kathleen stared up into the cloudless night sky, but didn't bother contradicting him. After all, rain was always imminent in Charleston. Tanner had taught her she could bend the rules on occasion without compromising her principles. "Come on, hotshot. I'll race you to the airplane. Winner gets to jump the loser."
Tanner clasped her hand in his. "Athena, the way I read that one, it's a team effort where we're both going to come out winners."
Epilogue
Tanner slung his helmet bag on the counter and opened the refrigerator. Light sliced through the darkened kitchen, adding just enough illumination for him to find a postflight snack. No need to turn on the overhead and risk waking Kathleen.
Sleep was a precious commodity with a newborn in the house.
Rummaging through the shelves, he opted for a soda before bumping the door shut with his hip. Leftover adrenaline had him too pumped for sleep just yet. Even on a routine training mission, he still enjoyed every damn minute in that left seat. Thanks to the tender—and diligent—care of his resident flight surgeon, Tanner's back problems were a thing of the past.
As were any ghosts. Kathleen had laid those to rest for him, as well. He liked to think he'd done the same for her. The birth of their daughter a few weeks ago had solidified an already strong marriage.
Yeah, they made a top-notch team.
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.
Sinking to the floor beside Kathleen, Tanner let his head fall to rest on her knee. Best seat in the house.
Kathleen feathered gentle fingers over his brow. "Good flight?"