I chuckled and unlocked the door. Holding her to me while I climbed out, I set her down next the truck door. “Hold on.” In the back seat, I pulled out the pack and then slung it over my shoulder. Placing a hand at the small of her back, I ushered her into the shop.

“Sergeant Phillips,” Mrs. Bend cried out when we were inside. Sam had started to look at some yarn balls on a front table display but quickly abandoned them to look first at Mrs. Bend and then at me. I bent down so Mrs. Bend could give me an obligatory kiss in greeting. Holding out my hand to Sam, I drew her close to my side and introduced them.

“Mrs. Bend, this is my girlfriend, Sam, the one I told you about. Sam, this is Mrs. Bend. She and her daughter Dorothy have been helping me with something.” I let the pack drop to the floor and then knelt down on one knee to pull out the sad mat of yarn I’d created. Mrs. Bend had her hands up by her mouth, and I could see out of the periphery of my eyes that everyone in the store had turned toward us. Sam’s head was cocked to the side as if I were some strange bug she’d found on the floor and she wasn’t sure if she should crush it or sweep it outside with the trash.

Feeling embarrassed by my effort, I crushed the knitting in my hand and thought frantically of a way to get out of this. What had I been thinking? I started to stuff it back into the pack and stand, but Sam’s hands stopped me.

“What is it?” The caring in her voice had me dropping my head. While I was pissed off at myself for spending so many years avoiding relationships because of the number Carrie had done to me, I was grateful too, because otherwise I wouldn’t have met Sam, wouldn’t have fallen in love with her, and wouldn't have the gift of her love in return. She’d made every effort to keep me in her life and I had to show her how willing I was to make her part of my life, forever.

Pulling out the project, I held it out to her. That’s my heart in your hands, I thought. No one in the store said a word. It was as if we were all holding our collective breaths.

And then…then Sam started to sob. “Oh God, Sam, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I didn’t know what I’d done, but I was damn sorry for it. Actually I’d done so many shitty things that I probably couldn’t say those words enough. She allowed me to cradle her in my arms. Sound burst all around us. Mrs. Bend was trying to explain that I was a dear boy, and Dorothy was fluttering around looking for tissues.

I didn’t know if I should take Sam to the back where there was a sofa or out to my truck. What I did know was that I wasn’t letting go of her.

Pushing away from me slightly, Sam made the decision for me. Wiping her tears with the backs of her hand, she held the blue bit of yarn between us. “Did you make this for me?”

I nodded. “It’s the stars portion of your afghan. Mrs. Bend was trying to teach me your interstitial—no, intarsia—technique. See,” I pointed to a blotch of white, “that’s supposed to be a star.”

She started laughing and crying at the same time. “This is about the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.” Through her tears she beamed at me. “You really do love me, don’t you, Gray Phillips?”

“I really do, Samantha Anderson. More than the world has stars, I love you.”

I wasn’t an officer and not much of a gentleman, but I could carry the shit out of stuff. Scooping Sam into my arms, I carried her out the Knit Together shop.

“So much better than the Lion yarn trunk show, Margo.”

EPILOGUE

Samantha

"IF YOU AREN'T READY IN the next minute, I'm leaving without you," I yelled down the hall. My roommate Karen was still primping in the bathroom. We were both on our way to meet the boat down at the Dock. Karen's girlfriend was in the Navy. The Navy carried the Marines everywhere, or almost everywhere, so if a Navy guy comes over to the Marine base everyone thanks him for the "ride."

Pausing in front of the entryway mirror, I double-checked my appearance. Karen had used a flat iron to make big beach waves in my hair, and I'd applied eyeliner, mascara, and a little blush. I probably didn't need the blush. My cheeks were red with excitement. No lipstick, Karen counseled, because Gray would eat it all off in the first five seconds of getting off the boat. That made me more excited than it probably should have.

The six-month separation had been difficult because it came so soon, just a couple months after I’d arrived in San Diego. Gray had re-enlisted and then got sent to the Phillippines. His duties included drinking snake venom with the Philippine Army, at least according to one of his platoon members. Out of all the tall tales that his friends liked to joke about, that was actually one I believed.

Karen's girlfriend was a medic, and we’d met when I was looking for an apartment to rent. Gray said it made sense to room with someone to defray the apartment costs, particularly when I wasn't going to be spending a lot of time there. The military frowned upon single men cohabiting. It would've been easier for Karen and her girlfriend to get by together, but since Rose had come out, they’d decided not to push it.

It made for a perfect set up. Rose spent most of her time with Karen in our apartment, and I spent most of my time with Gray in his. None of us were "living" together in violation of the unwritten rules of the Corps, but I hadn’t slept one entire night in my apartment. Even with Gray gone, I liked to sleep in our bed, wrapped in his scent, surrounded by his things.

It was hard on Gray to be gone. He struggled with his issues of jealousy and trust, so I did what I could to allay those concerns. When we Skyped, which we could do regularly, I gave him a general rundown of my day, including who I might have seen or run into. He never once asked, trying hard to show me how much he trusted me and how much he'd grown, but why torment him, I thought. Besides I liked sharing what I'd been doing. It made us seem closer even though we were miles apart.

Today he was coming home, though, and I wanted to make his homecoming special. I waxed, shaved, plucked, and perfumed every inch of my body. Underneath his favorite dress—the red-and-white polka-dotted one I wore when I first returned to him—I had brand new panties and a red-and-white polka-dotted lace bra. My three-inch heels would make it easier for him to kiss me, I figured. I dabbed a bit of my favorite citrus perfume on the backs of my ears and a little in the small valley of my breasts. Over the top I added a white cardigan. It was colder now, and I needed it.

Karen finally charged out of her bedroom dressed in high-waisted grey checked slacks and a fire-engine-red poet's shirt with billowy sleeves. Her hair was styled Katherine Hepburn-esque with soft waves molded close to her head. She looked like the embodiment of a 1950s glamorous actress.

Karen said that she always felt the need to look more beautiful than any other woman standing on the dock because Rose, as a lesbian in the Navy, felt like she had to do and be better than anyone else just to be perceived the same. Times were changing though. Gray didn't care and many of his contemporaries didn't either, although there were definite disagreements about women in combat infantry. Gray acknowledged, after a heated argument with Rose, that it was the men who'd need to change their attitudes but thought that it wasn't something that could be done overnight or even in Gray’s lifetime. Rose and Gray agreed to disagree, but that they’d remained friends was an achievement for both.

"You look great," Karen said, giving me a once over. I smoothed back a lock of curled hair and she batted my hand down. "No mussing. That's for Gray to do."

"I'm nervous," I admitted as I drove my Rover toward the base. "I feel like we’re meeting for the first time. Like it's a crazy blind date."

"I know, isn't it great?" She laughed wildly. "Your relationship can never get old. He steps off the boat and the bloodlust surges through you like you were shot with a lightning bolt."

"Can't wait." It was the truth. Karen and I had argued over who would drive, and finally I told her that if I didn't then I'd probably have Gray undressed and in a compromising position within two minutes of him being in the Rover—and only Gray would appreciate that. She'd conceded that maybe my need was just slightly more elevated than hers. Although she did ask me if I didn't self-pleasure as she figured Gray had been doing.

"As if that's even the same thing," I had scoffed.

I'd masturbated plenty while Gray was gone. We'd actually bought a couple vibrators for me to use and, while I never would admit this to anyone—not Eve, not Karen, no one—I’d used the vibrator on myself a couple of times while Gray and I Skyped. Gray just sat there, his eyes burning like crazy, headphones on so no one could hear my pants and then my pleas for him to touch me and finally my cries when I came.

We did it only twice because during second time someone must have interrupted Gray and he’d slammed his laptop shut before I'd gotten myself off. That night had been a pisser. If guys got blue balls, then I’d had a blue clit or something because I felt like I ached for days afterwards. I'd refused to do it again no matter how sweetly Gray pleaded because I didn't like that feeling of unfulfilled emptiness. But the truth was that having Gray watch me use the vibe was better than using it alone. Anytime he was with me, it was better, even if he couldn't touch me, even if he couldn't use his voice to whisper all the filthy things he'd like to do to me. Because there were only rare moments of privacy, I didn't get to hear them, although he emailed me. Oh boy did he email me. I wondered if his superiors read his messages and hoped that they didn't, or I wouldn't be able to look at any of them ever again.