Geri Krotow - Navy Rules

“Yes, I did, but, Mom, you’ve got to remember to dry things right away or they’ll be wrinkled.”

“Good morning, sunshine.” Winnie ignored Krista’s adolescent rant and took in every second of Maeve’s tiny-toothed grin. The eighteen-month-old clung to the side of her crib and looked up at Winnie as though she were seeing a deity.

“Hi, baby sis.” Even Krista was under Maeve’s spell, talking to the baby while Winnie changed the soggy diaper.

Winnie put on Maeve’s pants, picked up the baby and turned to Krista. “Let’s go get breakfast before you start in on me about the laundry, okay?”

This was like the beginning of any other day in the Armstrong household. Except that today Maeve’s father was going to find out he had a daughter.

Winnie was going to tell him.

No more excuses.

“Sorry, Mom.” Krista was immediately apologetic and her sincerity made Winnie want to pull her close and squeeze hard. Krista had been through so much, not the least of which was accepting that her mother was having a baby two years ago. A baby by a man Winnie had told her “once meant a lot to our family, but can’t be with us right now.”

“I know you are, honey.”

A few moments later, as Winnie prepared Maeve’s breakfast, Krista suddenly asked, “Mom, are you ever going to tell me who Maeve’s father is?”

Winnie dropped the knife she was using to spread peanut butter on a whole-wheat English muffin. It splattered peanut butter all over her slipper.

“Whoops! Thank goodness the baby’s in her high chair!” Her voice was high and brittle as she struggled with an honest answer for Krista.

“Mom?”

“I heard you, Krista. As a matter of fact, Maeve’s dad is back in town. And I plan to tell him about her soon. I’ll fill you in after I do, okay? I can’t thank you enough for being such a loving sister to Maeve through all of this, Krista.”

Krista shrugged as she ate her toasted muffin.

“It’s okay, Mom. You’ve had a hard time.”

Winnie sighed. They’d both had hard times when Tom died. But that was more than five years ago. And then the unexpected pregnancy—by a man with whom she’d shared an unexpected attraction. That was something she could beat herself up about, but what was the point? She had a beautiful baby daughter and Krista had a baby sister. They were a family.

Still, living by her motto of being open with her children, unlike the way her mother had been with her, was growing more difficult as Krista matured. She’d already been wise beyond her years, but the addition of Maeve to their family had catapulted Krista from preteen to teenage older sister.

“Honey, life isn’t all hard times. We’ve had more than our share, I admit, but there are people with problems so much bigger than ours. You do understand that, don’t you?”

“Not many kids I know lost their dad in a Navy plane crash, Mom.”

“No, but trust me, there are a lot of kids your age who have lost a parent to war.”

“I know that, Mom.” Krista drank down the rest of her milk. “I can’t miss the bus and I still need to get my jeans on.”

Winnie smiled. “You mean, you don’t want to go to school wearing your airplane pajamas?”

Krista flashed her a grin before she disappeared into the laundry room. She was open with Winnie about her lifelong love of airplanes and flying, but at her sensitive middle-school age, she wasn’t so quick to share all her dreams with her friends.

“Give me a hug.”

A few minutes later, Krista allowed Winnie to kiss the top of her head before she bent down to pick up her overstuffed backpack.

“Bye, bye!” She wiggled her fingers at Maeve, who was in the step-down living room in full view of the kitchen, playing with her soft blocks. Sam sat near her, as if babysitting.

“Ba ba, sisseee!” Maeve was just like Krista had been at the same age. A busy chatterbox.

The front door closed behind Krista and Winnie looked at Maeve, who’d decided to return to the kitchen.

“Let’s get you moving, too, girlfriend. Mommy’s got a lot of work to do today.”

* * *

THE REFRAIN OF “MY Girl” came from her cell phone and she smiled when saw her sister’s ID.

“Hey, Robyn.”

“Hey, wait a minute, Winn. Brendan, put the hammer down right now!” Robyn said in her stern “Mommy” voice. Ten years older than Winnie, Robyn and her husband had undergone in vitro fertilization, which had produced the two-year-old who ruled his parents’ lives.

“How did he get the hammer?”

“Doug and Brendan made a birdhouse yesterday and the tools are still on the workbench.” Robyn’s voice reflected impatience—at Winnie’s constant nagging to be more mindful of safety or at Brendan’s morning antics, Winnie couldn’t be sure.

“So how did he get into the garage?” Winnie loved her sister but they raised their kids very differently. Winnie had been an organized parent from the start; it had seemed like a prerequisite for a Navy wife. Not to mention her sanity, which relied on tidiness. Even as a child Winnie liked to have all her toys and books organized.

Not Robyn.

“He’s figured out how to open the doors.”

“Ouch. Time for some sliding bolts, up high.”

Robyn sighed.

“Yeah, I think I’m headed to Home Depot with the little guy today. What are you up to?”

“The usual. I don’t have any orders going out until next week,” she said, referring to her fiber orders. Sales would pick up over the next several weeks, as retailers were beginning to order for the following season. She’d started the business from scratch four years ago when she’d discovered, by accident, that there were a number of private farms on the island that raised fiber-producing animals, including sheep, alpaca and llamas.

Winnie’s lifelong love of knitting had led her to the few knitting and crochet groups in the area, where she met the farm-owners and listened to their wistful dreams of being able to market their own fiber. Winnie had dreamed with them until Tom’s death—and the realization that she needed a means to provide for her and Krista. The insurance they’d received was more than generous, but Winnie never looked at it as anything other than a means to pay for Krista’s future education.

Winnie had founded Whidbey Fibers with only three sheep farmers. Today she had almost two dozen clients not just on Whidbey but on a few of the outlying islands like San Juan and Orcas, too. Her fibers included merino, alpaca, llama and angora.

Robyn chuckled.

“You always say you don’t have a lot going on, Winn, but you’ve got tons to do every day or you wouldn’t be the famous businesswoman you are.”

“Yeah, right.” Winnie brushed off Robyn’s compliment. Robyn was talking about the attention Winnie had received last season for taking her business to the international level by procuring a client in Victoria, British Columbia.

“I do have one important appointment today—an assignment with Sam, up in Dugualla.”

“When? Can you meet me for lunch?”

Winnie bit her lip. Despite her praise of Winnie’s success, Robyn didn’t really understand how much work her fiber production business was, on top of two kids, her volunteer work and no husband.

Robyn had always been there for her. Sometimes she just forgot Winnie’s extra burden.

“I’d love to meet you but I have no idea how long this one will take. I’m driving Sam out to a residence—the client wants to be able to spend time with Sam but not at the base hospital or even on the base.”

Please don’t ask any more questions.

“You’re a good soul, Winnie.” Robyn didn’t ask for more details—she knew that Winnie’s canine therapy work was confidential.