The Captain's Lady (9 page)

Eric and the doctor both leaned against the counter, engrossed in earnest discussion. Her heart began pounding, its echo reverberating off her insides. A self-conscious wave washed over her as she wondered if, in fact, both men could hear it because they looked up.

Eric wore the usual uniform, with precisely pressed seams and gleaming buttons. Oh, how this man turned her insides to mush. He smiled and raised a finger for her to wait for him to escort her back to bed.

Then came the rude reminder of her mirrored reflection. It brought all her awkwardness and insecurities flooding back. Shyness made her consider turning around and walking back into the bathroom, to hide. Only, the instant the thought was out, anger bubbled up that she'd even considered it; a coward she was not. Besides, he'd already seen her.

Gathering her gumption, she met the intensity in his penetrating eyes, and was unable to stop the warm grin that widened across her face. A fiery tingle pulled in her stomach. This feeling was so new she was at a loss how to handle it. The way he focused his undivided attention, although arrogant, made her feel important. It was something so precious there were no words adequately created to describe the sensations.

He reached her side in a few long strides, grasped the crutch, planted a supportive arm around her waist, and guided her back to bed. He didn't speak until she was settled on the edge of the bed.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

At the reminder of the pitiful vision that had reflected back from the mirror, Abby's self-consciousness crept back, bringing with it a dizziness that made her blink to rid herself of it. She looked at the floor and stumbled awkwardly over her words. “Y-y-yes ... I slept great. Thanks."

The charm and charisma were real. So was the attempt to calm her growing nervousness. She didn't need to look to know he was looking down on her. His warm breath caressed the top of her head in a gentle wave.

The doctor, who'd remained writing notes in a chart at the counter by the bed, cast a sidelong glance at them. “So, how are you feeling this morning?"

She offered a shy smile, watching the doctor reach for the blood pressure cuff. He slung it over his forearm and walked on rubber-soled shoes to stand beside the bed. With a shaky hand, she swiped back the tangled hair, tucking it behind her ears. “A little sore. My ribs hurt if I breathe too deep or move to quick."

As the doctor checked her vitals, Abby was aware of the captain looming behind, actually towering over the doctor, studying every nuance of her. The solid arms crossed in front of him put her on notice: he was staking a claim, almost daring anyone to make him move or leave. The self-assurance was addicting, drawing her like a moth to a flame. Then mortification hit when she consciously realized the doctor would notice. She peeked at him. His face betrayed no emotion, as he seemed to be concentrating on the readings.

The feelings that continued to stir within were disconcerting. She felt like an awkward schoolgirl, flooded by all the old insecurities, the ones she'd struggled so long and hard to overcome. Hypnotized and unable to turn away, she was swallowing the rising lump when the doctor gruffly cleared his throat. Startled, she dropped her eyes, but not before catching the discreet knowing look from the doctor. She kept her eyes lowered, concentrating on the large, round belly to regain some control over her jumbled senses.

"Vitals are good Abby. How did you sleep last night?” He draped the stethoscope around his neck.

"Actually, I slept great. It's odd though, for the first time I don't even remember dreaming."

A smile widened on Larry's face. Turning away, he reached for the lone chart on the counter, and opened it while pulling the pen from his shirtfront pocket and proceeded to write some notes.

It was in that moment she realized the reason she slept so well. Before she found her voice, Larry turned to face her. “Actually, Abby, I gave you a mild sedative."

She placed a protective hand numbly over the baby, nestled securely inside her womb. Eric patted her shoulder and turned a wary eye on the doctor. “Is it safe for her to be taking sleeping pills when she's pregnant?"

"It was mild. And perfectly safe. It's important for the baby that Abby has a good night's sleep."

Eric nodded. The calmness and assurance in his words and the resulting reaction from Eric eased much of her worry. Sighing, she released a deep shaky breath.

Setting down the chart, Larry motioned for her to lie down. “I need to check the baby. Can you lie flat on your back for me, please?"

Nodding, she felt the heated sensation of Eric's hands as he helped her lie down. A deep physical pull made her meet the spark now lurking within the magnificence of his dark brown eyes. The unusual gold flecks were overpowering. No matter how many years passed, it would be impossible to get her fill of looking at this man. Then he winked and bestowed a wide smile upon her, exposing a beautiful set of white teeth. Before drawing back, he gave a gentle reassuring squeeze on her arm.

Then came the discomfort and overwhelming pressure of lying on her back while the doctor completed his exam. His steady, knowledgeable hands probed her belly for the position of the baby. “Any tenderness?"

"No."

"Have you felt the baby move this morning?"

She was unable to suppress the smile that tweaked at the edge of her mouth. “Yes, a little while ago he stuck his foot in my back."

Larry matched her smile with a wide, toothy grin. Reaching over he gave a gentle pat on the hand covering her swollen belly. Eric moved in, helping her ease up to a sitting position on the bed as Larry grabbed a couple of pillows, and firmly tucked them behind her back.

"A few more days in bed, Abby, then I'll let you get up and move around a bit. Until then you stay put and only get up to go the bathroom. Got it?” The sternness in Doc's voice left no room for argument.

"Yes,” she replied through gritted teeth then rolled her eyes and reached for the blanket crumpled beneath her. She sucked in a breath for courage, before clearing her throat. “Do you think I could maybe have a shower and wash my hair?"

Smiling, Larry nodded. “You bet.” He looked about the room. “I'll have Carruthers help you ... as soon as I find her."

At the mention of the woman's name, tension welled up in the room. Abby did not want her help and it blurted out with the rising agitation. “Oh, I don't need any help, I can shower myself, I just need to know how it turns on and—"

"Larry, don't bother with Gail, I'll have Petey get one of the other female crewmen in here to help her."

He reached for the phone beside him on the counter. From behind, she memorized every nuance of this magnificence in the khaki shirt and trousers. A self-conscious twinge made her take a quick glance over to see if the doctor was watching. Thankfully, he was rummaging through supplies in the medical locker across the room.

Eric was still on the phone and Abby felt almost sinful imagining what he looked like under his uniform. She could make out the broad shoulders, trim hips, and long legs. Extremely well built, like a Greek god. The solid muscle was a vision of perfection.

Eric hung up the phone, turned and noticed a deep crimson blush creep up her cheeks as she hurried to avert her gaze. For a moment, he was sure he caught something in her eyes, admiration maybe, but too quickly it was gone. Fortunately, the telltale blush was a giveaway. Her innocence displayed the open, fragile emotions. Amazing how refreshing she was, how little she knew of the ways of the world. He offered a silent prayer of thanks, for the pure, open innocence and honesty possessed by this woman.

"Okay, someone will be down to escort you to the shower."

Larry shut the locker and latched it.

"Are you done with Abby, Doc?"

"Yep, all done."

Smiling at Abby, Larry gathered up some papers on the counter and excused himself. Eric leaned against the counter beside the bed, crossing his arms and once again focusing that penetrating gaze her way. The intensity was unnerving; it was as if he had the ability to read her innermost thoughts. It became clear, the effect this must have on people, this ability to shake them up with a single glance. It was a rare gift, a need for him to understand them, know what they were up to and what made them tick, so he could always be one-step ahead.

For her it was the opposite. Instead of feeling unnerved, she felt special for the first time in her life. Being naïve and inexperienced, she could not help the feelings of awe for this man who made her feel so important. She felt an overpowering desire to bare her soul, trusting and believing for the first time ever that she had met an honorable and decent gentlemen in this modern day. He was a rare find; men like him just didn't exist anymore. Even if it ended up being for just a short time, she sent a prayer of thanks for bringing this man into her life.

He watched her, marveling at the beauty she exuded, not just the physical beauty buried beneath the bruises, but the inner radiance emanating from some place deep inside. It reached out to touch all those around. Unable to put it into words, he felt it was almost spiritual the way it latched on to him, offering a peace and solace unlike anything he'd ever experienced. He could not get enough of that smile. She was constantly in his thoughts. He was finding it hard to leave this major distraction sitting before him, let alone focus on his duties.

Mesmerized, he cleared his throat to break the silence. “You look rested; do you think you're up to having a talk?"

"Okay ... s-sure.” She stumbled over her words.

He grabbed the chair and pulled it over to face her. Sitting, he propped a foot up on the side rail. “I know you've been through hell, but we need to talk more about what happened."

There was a sudden change in her demeanor. Her shoulders slumped, tears sprouted. She appeared defeated, broken. “You don't believe what I've told you."

Her voice was just a whisper, but he could not mistake the sound of a deeply wounded spirit. Reaching over, he took the tiny hand in his. With a gentle squeeze, he moved his face closer and caressed the soft cheek with the other hand. He wiped away a tear that carved a lone path down her cheek.

He shook his head. “Stop right there, Abby. I do believe you. I just need more details. Please. Trust me, okay?"

Several minutes passed before either said a word. At long last she leaned into his hand that was caressing her cheek. “I don't know why, but I do trust you."

Just the way she said it made his heart catch. Leaning forward, he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, and then smoothed back the errant hair hiding the jeweled contours outlining her vulnerable face. The soul-baring gaze mixed with hero worship was displayed so openly. It was disturbing; a woman had never looked at him the way she was looking now. She made him feel more alive than he dreamed was possible, left him feeling things deep inside that he never expected to experience in this life. He wanted to tell her to stop, that he wasn't worth it, she'd only be hurt, but he couldn't say the words. All that came out was, “Ready?"

She nodded. “Where do you want me to start?” The strength and spirit dimmed in her voice.

"Abby, this time I'm going to walk you through it. I want to see what other details we can gleam from that memory of yours. Something that you overlooked or didn't realize was important."

Scrunching the unsure eyebrows together, she opened her mouth to ask what information she might've missed but he stopped her with a quick shake of his head. Before he could say anything else, a knock sounded at the door. “Enter,” he said in his loud commanding voice, and then reluctantly released her hand and turned in his chair to put a respectful distance between them.

The door briskly opened, admitting a young, black, female officer. “Petty Officer Mary-Jo Johnson as requested, sir.” The words were strong and confident. She saluted the captain.

Waving her hand down, the captain stood beside the bed, directing Mary-Jo's attention to Abby with a sweep of his hand. “Johnson, this is Abby. Did you receive instructions that you are to assist her to the shower?"

"Yes sir, Captain.” Not easing her stance, she stood with her arms at her sides while holding a secure bundle under her left arm.

Abby offered her a smile.

Eric gave a squeeze of reassurance on her shoulder. “Go have your shower. We'll talk when you're done."

Their eyes lingered with tenderness for just a few seconds. It took a moment to gather her wits, to remember there was a member of the crew standing just a few feet away. Although Mary-Jo showed not a flicker of surprise at the shared intimacy, Abby was still unable to fight the feelings of self-consciousness that spilled over.

Eric strode to the door giving a quick nod to Petty Officer Johnson. “Notify me when she's done; contact my ensign if you need anything."

"Yes sir, Captain."

Setting the bundle on the side counter, she returned Abby's smile. “Do you need help gettin’ to the shower?” The concern was genuine in the faint lilt of her southern accent.

"No, but thank you, I can hobble along pretty good on this thing now. I'm just not very fast.” Reaching over, she grabbed the crutch propped near the head of the bed.

Mary-Jo was cute, with a chubby round face, round dark eyes, and the thick tight curls cropped short. She presented an honest portrait of a dedicated, hardworking individual, someone who was dependable and forthright.

"No problem, you just take your time."

Eyeing the bundle with longing, Abby gestured with slight hesitation to the bag on the counter, wanting to ask if it was for her. Mary-Jo offered a kind smile, then opened it to show her soap, shampoo, clothes; everything she would need.

Pure joy gushed at such a simple, thoughtful gesture. “I had to guess your size, so if nothin’ fits, we'll scrounge up somethin’ that will."

Unable to hide the humble appreciation, her eyes lit up, matched by a wide smile that beamed across her face. It spoke without words what this simple gesture meant to her. “Thank you."

Mary-Jo cleared her throat then motioned to the bathroom door with her hand. “Shall we?"