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glasses. Then we made love, of course, late into the night and again in the morning with the sun falling across the bed. These are the moments that define us, not the grand gestures or anniversaries, but the small things we hold in our hearts. I knew I’d always cherish memories of the kindness of Steve’s smile and the way he held me as though I were precious and breakable.
    When we drove back to Naples, replete with great sex, good food and sunshine, I didn’t think anything could mar the perfection of our life together.
    I was wrong, of course.

Chapter Fourteen
    When we returned home from our time on the Amalfi Coast, Steve showed me a thick folder stuffed with documents.
    “We’ve got orders,” he said.
    Just like that, our time in Italy was done.
    Over the next two decades, I would hear “We’ve got orders” nearly a dozen times, often without warning.
    Sometimes it happened like that. Plans changed, orders came quickly. It was an adventure, I told myself, and tried not to feel overwhelmed and frustrated as we settled in Norfolk. This was my way of life now. It was strange and mostly wonderful for a small-town Texas girl. Like diving into the cold, clear water of Eagle Lake back home, I plunged into the unfamiliar culture of military life. I tried not to dwell on the uncertainties and usually succeeded.
    That’s what love did for me. Come what may, I knew I was blessed because I had a husband who was my lover, my best friend, my whole world. I learned to read his moods, to know whether the lines in his face appeared there from laughter or fatigue.
    Then one day, I sensed a difference in him. A strange tension hung in the air of our small apartment, and that night I discovered the reason.
    He held me and kissed me, and then spoke the word that would make all the difference in the years to come.
    Deployment.
    It’s not in most people’s vocabulary and if it is, it’s an abstract concept. But to a Navy wife, the word is chillingly real. It means she is being left by her husband. Instead of being a married woman, she’ll exist in some strange limbo, married but alone. As a Navy wife, I knew I’d take pride in the crisp uniforms, the ceremonies, the powerful sense of duty that drove my husband. I also knew there would be times of loneliness and uncertainty, and perhaps a heady sense of being completely on my own.
    Gossip was rampant around the base, as it always is before a big deployment. So much secrecy surrounded the mission of Steve’s battle group that I imagined the worst—that his duties would put him in harm’s way. What I eventually came to understand was that in carrier aviation, personnel were always in harm’s way. The very nature of the work was perilous.
    Whenever I confessed those worries, Steve would tell me how rigorously the Navy trains its personnel in every operation, for every eventuality.
    “Promise me something,” he said the night before he left. “Promise you’ll still be here when I get back.”
    I thought he was joking, so I laughed. “Where else would I be?”
    “I mean it, Gracie.”
    I caught a note in his voice I’d never heard before. Some of the more experienced Navy wives I’d met had told me that predeployment was a tense time in a marriage. Tempers wore thin, stressed by the upheaval of preparation and unspoken fears about separation. Perhaps that was why he seemed so intense, I thought.
    “Of course I’ll be here,” I said. “It’s what we signed up for, and we’ll get through it.” I hugged him, pressing my cheek to his chest. Ah, it was such luxury to love this man, to feel his body close to mine. I would miss him every moment. “I swear I’ll be here waiting for you, Steve.”
    And with that, the moment passed. I never thought of it again.
    As Steve packed his gear and laid out his crisply pressed dress uniform for the next morning’s farewell ceremonies, I felt such love and pride that my chest ached. It was terrible and strange and exhilarating all