"Catherine?"

"Hi," she answered cheerfully. "How are you? How's Kelly? Not much happening around here except that the strip turned blue." Catherine couldn't believe she'd blurted it out like that, although it was unlikely that Royce knew she was referring to the home pregnancy kit she'd picked up at the pharmacy.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, nothing. Just a bit of local humor. Are you missing me?"

"You know I am." His words were low and seductive.

They talked for a half hour, the longest thirty minutes of Catherine's life. The minute they were finished, she rushed into the bathroom and hung her head over the toilet. She was never going to be able to pull this off. Royce would guess by the end of the week. She didn't know what would infuriate him more,

the fact she hadn't told him right away or that she was pregnant in the first place.

Catherine gained two important lessons from her thirty-minute conversation with Royce. First, that she would need to confide in someone, and second, she wasn't going to be able to drink coffee for the next nine months.

"Hi, Mom," Catherine greeted.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"How did you know anything was?"

"You mean other than the fact you're phoning and it's past midnight? Don't worry, I wasn't asleep. Norman went to bed hours ago, but I'm up reading one of Mary Higgins Clark's mysteries."

"Midnight. I didn't realize it was that late."

"You always call late when you're upset."

Catherine didn't realize that, either. "Say, Mom, what would you say if I told you the strip turned blue?"

The pause was only slight. "Is this a trick question?"

"No...I'm dead serious."

"A strip turned blue. I don't know, sweetheart, probably that you should see a doctor."

"Right answer," she said on the tail of a breathy sigh. "Now comes the difficult part. Can you guess why

I need a doctor?"

Again there was a semi-lengthy pause. "I'd say it was because you were pregnant, but I know that's not the case."

"Wrong answer."

"You mean...Catherine, do you honestly mean to tell me you and Royce are... But you've only been married a short while, and he's in Virginia and you're in Washington state. Honey, how did it happen?"

"You want me to explain it to you?" Catherine asked incredulously.

"You know what I mean." Catherine could almost see her mother blushing.

"Christmas," Catherine whispered.

"You don't sound like you're sure you're pleased about this."

"I'm thrilled, Mom, honest I am."

"Are you going to leave the Navy?"

"No!"

"But, Catherine, can't you see how impossible it will be? You and Royce live two thousand miles apart.

A child deserves to know his father."

"Royce will see the baby."

Her mother must have sensed the argument brewing just below the surface of Catherine's stubborn pride, because she diplomatically changed the subject.

"I'm going to tell you something I never have before," Marilyn said softly, gently. "You, my darling daughter, were a surprise."

"I was?"

"Actually, you were more of a shock."

Catherine grinned. Her sense of timing never had gotten straightened out, it seemed.

"Your father and I were in college. Young. Idealistic. Foolish."

"Do you mean to tell me you and Dad had to get married?"

"No, but as best as I can figure you were born nine months and one day after our wedding. I didn't know how I was going to tell your father. As it turned out, he was delighted. I was crying—the hormones really did a trick on me. I'll never forget how gentle he was, how pleased. It was as though I were the only woman in the world who'd ever endured a pregnancy." Her mother paused, and Catherine could hear the slight quaver in her voice.

"In those days the father wasn't often allowed in the delivery room. But Andy refused to leave me. For a minute there I thought he and the doctor were going to come to blows."

Catherine enjoyed hearing these loving details about her father. Her gaze rested tenderly on the fading color photograph that rested atop her mantel.

"When you were born, I was afraid he would be disappointed with a daughter. But not Andy. The delivery room nurse placed you in his arms, and he sat beside me and wept for joy.

"After they wheeled me into the recovery room, I was exhausted and fell asleep. But Andy was too excited to stand still. The nurses told me he dragged everyone from the janitor to the hospital administrator up to the nursery to take a look at you. Not once did he regret that I'd become pregnant so soon." Her mother paused, and Catherine could hear her voice tremble with soft emotion.

"I love hearing stories about him," Catherine admitted, discovering she was close to tears herself, which probably meant this pregnancy was going to play havoc with her emotions.

"Royce doesn't know yet, does he?" her mother pried softly.

"No."

"When exactly do you plan to tell him?"

"Next year when it's time to figure our income taxes?"

Her mother's laughter echoed softly over the long-distance line. "Oh, Catherine, you remind me so much of myself, and so much of your father. Royce is a good man, I don't think you have a thing to worry about."

They spoke for a few minutes more, and then Catherine hung up. Slowly, thoughtfully, she walked over to the fireplace and gently ran her finger along the top of her father's picture. It was something she did often when she needed to feel close to him. She prayed her mother was right and that Royce would be thrilled. Her gaze rested on her father's handsome features. A lone tear streaked her face as she regretted once again her inability to remember him.

Royce was weary as he drove down the maple-lined street and pulled into his driveway. He missed Catherine. It had been nearly three months since he'd last seen her, and it could well be another three before he did again. He tried not to think about it.

They were close, as close as any two married people could be that were separated by the width of an entire country. If anything troubled him it was the fact she was so content with their arrangement. They talked two times a week and wrote nearly every day. Only on rare occasions did Catherine reveal any regrets on their being so far removed from each other.

Not so with Royce. He wanted his wife with him. If he was being selfish, inconsiderate, then so be it.

The nights were lonely. Friday nights were always the worst. Kelly usually spent it with a friend, which left him to fend for himself. He was pleased his daughter had such an active social life; his, however, was wrapped around a woman two thousand miles away.

He really knew how to pick them, he mused darkly. Career women. First Sandy and now Catherine, both so eager to make a place in their chosen profession.... No, he wasn't going to dwell on it. He'd done that too much lately. He'd gone into this marriage with his eyes wide open. From the first he'd known how important the Navy was to Catherine. He'd married her still, loving her enough to place a distant second in her life if that was all she was willing to give him.

His life was good. He had only a few complaints. He liked Virginia much better than he ever expected he would. He enjoyed his job, and over the past few months had developed several interests. He wasn't much into hobbies—at least he hadn't been until he married Catherine. Now he had to find something to fill the time or go crazy thinking about how much he missed her.

He just wished there was some way he could get her transferred out to the East Coast. Even if she were stationed in Florida, it would be a whole lot closer than Washington state.

The lights were on in the house, and Royce was trying to remember if Kelly was going to be home or not. Home, he guessed.

He opened the front door and removed his jacket and hung it in the hall closet. Someone was cooking in the kitchen. Whatever it was it smelled like heaven. Royce was going to have to say something to Kelly about fixing dinner. She was too young to be attempting it without adult supervision.

"Kelly?" He paused to sort through the mail.

"I'm in the kitchen, Dad." She sounded downright pleased about something. Probably that she'd managed to cook his dinner without burning down the house.

"What smells so good?"

"Yankee pot roast, mashed potatoes, steamed baby carrots and fresh-baked apple pie."

The mail dropped out of Royce's hands as he slowly turned around. He was dreaming. He had to be, because it was Catherine's honey-sweet voice that was talking to him and not Kelly's. She stood in the kitchen doorway, a towel tucked into the waistband of her jeans, holding a wooden spoon in one hand.

"Catherine?" He was almost afraid to reach for her for fear she'd vanish into thin air. Either real or imaginary, he had to hold her. Two steps later, and she was in his arms.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the warm, familiar fragrance of her, intoxicated within seconds. His arms were wrapped around her so tightly that he'd lifted her half off the floor without even realizing it.

"Are you surprised?" Kelly asked.

"You knew?" He couldn't believe that she'd managed to keep it a secret from him.

"Only since yesterday."

He kissed Catherine with a hunger that quickly stirred awake dormant fires. "How long can you stay?" Mentally he was tabulating how many times they could make love in three days.

"How long do you want me for?"

A lifetime! Fifty years or whichever came first. "How long have you got?" No use aiming for the stars. He'd take what he could get and be damned grateful.

"A while." She kissed him, tantalizing him with the tip of her tongue, and then casually sauntered back to the stove.

"A while," Royce repeated, not understanding.

"Now?" Kelly demanded, looking up at Catherine.

Catherine nodded mysteriously. Royce's daughter held up her two hands. "Ten minutes," she said. "That's all the time I'm giving you."

"It shouldn't even take that long," Catherine assured her.

Kelly was gone in a flash, racing up the stairs.

"Ten minutes," Royce repeated once Kelly was out of the room. "Honey, I don't know what you've got in mind, but I'd appreciate a bit more leeway than ten minutes."

"I want you to read something." She walked over to the table and handed him an official-looking envelope.

Royce stared at it for several moments, not knowing what to think.

"And while I've got your attention, I think you should know we killed a rabbit."

"What?" The woman had become loony. A three-month separation had driven her over the edge. He knew it had him, so it shouldn't come as any big surprise.

"Actually I don't think it's officially a rabbit these days."

"Woman, what are you talking about?"

"You mean you honestly don't know?" He clearly seemed to not know.

He wouldn't be standing there with his mouth open, looking like a fish out of water if he did. "I don't have a clue," he admitted reluctantly.

"We're pregnant."

Royce shook his head, convinced she was playing a practical joke on him.