Debbie Macomber's Navy Box Set: Navy Wife\Navy Blues\Navy Brat\Navy Woman\Navy Baby\Navy Husband

Debbie Macomber's Navy Box Set: Navy Wife\Navy Blues\Navy Brat\Navy Woman\Navy Baby\Navy Husband

Author:Debbie Macomber [Macomber, Debbie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781460340141
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-10-10T16:00:00+00:00


Chapter Two

Fresh from the shower, Catherine dressed in a warm robe, and wrapped her hair in a thick towel. She sat in the living room, her feet propped against the coffee table with Sambo nestled contentedly in her lap.

Sipping from a cup of herbal tea, Catherine mulled over the events of the day. A reluctant smile slowly eased its way across her face. Her dislike for Royce Nyland didn’t go quite as deep as it had before their small confrontation on the racetrack. The man wasn’t ever going to win any personality awards, that was for sure, but she felt a grudging respect for him.

Sambo purred and stretched his furry legs, his claws digging deep into the thick robe. Catherine stroked her pet, letting the long black tail slip through her fingers as she continued to mull over the time she and Royce had shared the track. The realization that she actually enjoyed their silent battle of wills warmed her from the inside out. For some unknown reason, she’d managed to amuse him. Because of the dark, Catherine hadn’t been able to witness his stern features relax into a smile. She would have liked to have seen that, taken a picture to remind her that the man could smile.

Her stomach growled, and Catherine briefly wondered what was stashed in her freezer. Hopefully something would magically appear that she could toss in the microwave. She definitely wasn’t in the mood to cook.

On her way into the kitchen, she paused in front of the photograph that rested on the fireplace mantel. The man staring back at her had deep brown eyes that were alive with warmth, wit and character.

Catherine’s eyes.

He was handsome, so handsome that she often stared at the picture, regretting the fact she had never been given the chance to know him. She’d been only three when her father had been shipped to Vietnam, five when he’d been listed as Missing in Action. Often she’d reached back as far as her memory would take her to snatch hold of something that would help her remember him, but each time she was left to deal with frustration and disappointment.

The man in the photo was young, far too young to have his life snuffed out. No one would ever know how he’d died or even when. All Catherine’s family had been told was that his Navy jet had gone down over a Vietcong infested jungle. They never were to know if he survived the crash or had been taken prisoner. Those, like so many other details of his life and death, had been left to her imagination.

Catherine’s mother, a corporate attorney, had never remarried. Marilyn Fredrickson wasn’t bitter, nor was she angry. She was far too practical to allow such negative emotions to taint her life.

Like a true Navy wife, she’d silently endured the long years of the cruel unknowns, refusing to be defeated by the helplessness of frustration. When her husband’s remains had been returned to the States, she’d stood proud and strong as he was laid to rest with full military honors.



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