merchants, stating, “I’m sorry, but this card was declined.” As quickly as the words rolled off the merchant’s lips, she would produce a second card—a third if necessary. With each confrontation, she appeared shocked the card’s limit had been reached. His momentary waves of embarrassment would quickly vanish when she wrapped him in one of her playful hugs.
Overall, her many attractive qualities outweighed his few concerns, allowing him to compromise his worries. Once married, he could teach her about money, and together they would build a solid financial life.
However, something in his core haunted him. He remembered his numerous Sunday morning talks with his mother. When the subject of qualifying a woman as a potential wife came up, she would say, “Now Ryan, you can always tell what kind of wife a woman will make by the relationship she has with her father. Often, a woman’s idea of men is synonymous with her image of her father.”
The distant relationship Emily had with her alcoholic father concerned him. The few occasions he had seen them together they barely talked. And her mother, a shy, quiet woman seemed to live in fear, as if a prisoner sentenced to a life of solitary confinement. Although a part of him was suspicious, he believed that once they were married, these issues would not present any long-term threats.
After talking with several major airlines, they all seemed very interested in offering him a job after he separated from the Navy.
He wondered if he could support a wife on the first-year airline probationary salary. If Emily worked, they might be able to squeeze out enough to afford a cheap one-bedroom apartment in Texas. Then he remembered the time he asked Emily how she felt about working after they married. She’d scrunched-up her nose and said, “I don’t mind waiting a few months.”
He knew it would be more like a year—probably longer. A year was a long time, and she was a beautiful woman. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together; the second part of the equation being a never-ending batch of fresh, young, fighter-pilots, most of them like Rex, combing the beaches for hot girls. One look at her in her bikini and they would be all over her.
He remembered his mom telling him, “Learn to listen to your heart.” Well, his heart was crying out for Emily, and he didn’t want to lose her. Time was running out. He would soon be leaving the Navy and California. He needed to know if she was willing to give up everything to go with him. He planned to find out today. Every detail had been meticulously planned. The ring was in his pocket. Today was the day he hoped to ask Emily Anderson to be his wife.
CHAPTER 13
Two o’clock in the afternoon
Ryan pressed the small white button mounted on the wall beside her apartment door. A faint chime sounded inside. In his arms he cradled a long white box wrapped with a wide red ribbon and a large red bow.
The sound of steps grew louder. The peephole in the center of the door flickered dark seconds before the door opened. “Happy Anniversary!” he said, offering the white box to Emily.
“You are so sweet!”
Her look of excitement was priceless. Wrapped in a white bathrobe, no makeup, and her hair in a towel, she was still gorgeous.
“Come in.” She took his hand and guided him into the apartment, closing the door behind him. “Am I late?” She turned his arm slightly to get a better look at his wristwatch.
“No. You’re fine. I wanted to surprise you.” He’d planned a night filled with surprises. He only hoped she would be as excited later when he presented her with the biggest surprise of them all.
“What did you bring me?” She carefully removed the red bow and ribbon from the box then slipped the top off. “Oh!” She folded the thin paper away. “Roses! They’re beautiful.”
She leaned down and breathed-in the mesmerizing fragrance. A small white card caught her eye. She placed the box of flowers on the
Overall, her many attractive qualities outweighed his few concerns, allowing him to compromise his worries. Once married, he could teach her about money, and together they would build a solid financial life.
However, something in his core haunted him. He remembered his numerous Sunday morning talks with his mother. When the subject of qualifying a woman as a potential wife came up, she would say, “Now Ryan, you can always tell what kind of wife a woman will make by the relationship she has with her father. Often, a woman’s idea of men is synonymous with her image of her father.”
The distant relationship Emily had with her alcoholic father concerned him. The few occasions he had seen them together they barely talked. And her mother, a shy, quiet woman seemed to live in fear, as if a prisoner sentenced to a life of solitary confinement. Although a part of him was suspicious, he believed that once they were married, these issues would not present any long-term threats.
After talking with several major airlines, they all seemed very interested in offering him a job after he separated from the Navy.
He wondered if he could support a wife on the first-year airline probationary salary. If Emily worked, they might be able to squeeze out enough to afford a cheap one-bedroom apartment in Texas. Then he remembered the time he asked Emily how she felt about working after they married. She’d scrunched-up her nose and said, “I don’t mind waiting a few months.”
He knew it would be more like a year—probably longer. A year was a long time, and she was a beautiful woman. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together; the second part of the equation being a never-ending batch of fresh, young, fighter-pilots, most of them like Rex, combing the beaches for hot girls. One look at her in her bikini and they would be all over her.
He remembered his mom telling him, “Learn to listen to your heart.” Well, his heart was crying out for Emily, and he didn’t want to lose her. Time was running out. He would soon be leaving the Navy and California. He needed to know if she was willing to give up everything to go with him. He planned to find out today. Every detail had been meticulously planned. The ring was in his pocket. Today was the day he hoped to ask Emily Anderson to be his wife.
CHAPTER 13
Two o’clock in the afternoon
Ryan pressed the small white button mounted on the wall beside her apartment door. A faint chime sounded inside. In his arms he cradled a long white box wrapped with a wide red ribbon and a large red bow.
The sound of steps grew louder. The peephole in the center of the door flickered dark seconds before the door opened. “Happy Anniversary!” he said, offering the white box to Emily.
“You are so sweet!”
Her look of excitement was priceless. Wrapped in a white bathrobe, no makeup, and her hair in a towel, she was still gorgeous.
“Come in.” She took his hand and guided him into the apartment, closing the door behind him. “Am I late?” She turned his arm slightly to get a better look at his wristwatch.
“No. You’re fine. I wanted to surprise you.” He’d planned a night filled with surprises. He only hoped she would be as excited later when he presented her with the biggest surprise of them all.
“What did you bring me?” She carefully removed the red bow and ribbon from the box then slipped the top off. “Oh!” She folded the thin paper away. “Roses! They’re beautiful.”
She leaned down and breathed-in the mesmerizing fragrance. A small white card caught her eye. She placed the box of flowers on the
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