The final ending to 'Finding Love'. If you haven't read it you should before reading 'Finding Home'.
It was a cold and rainy day, typical for mid-winter in Gainesville. My mood was as dark and miserable as the day. I stood watching the sea of black umbrellas pass by from the covered entrance way to Mallory Hall waiting for my wife, Susan, to arrive. Finally, I spotted her bright orange and blue striped umbrella weaving its way toward me through the mass of students scurrying to their next class.
I had just finished teaching a class in calculus for my friend and mentor, Paul Jaeger, the Chairman of the Mathematics Department at the University of Florida. He had gone to Chicago with his wife to attend the christening of his second grandchild and had asked if I would take his place for a few days. I was only too happy to comply as I always enjoyed helping students with advanced mathematics.
As we met I stood under her umbrella and kissed her, saying, "I have some news for you sweetheart."
"And I have some news for you, too," she replied. "But let's get out of this rain first, I'm cold."
As we walked over to my car parked in the faculty lot I reflected on the past eighteen months of my life. I had been seriously wounded in the rescue of Susan's father from Taliban kidnapers in Afghanistan. My injuries were so serious that it would require a prolonged period of recuperation and physical therapy. John O'Hara and his wife Carol insisted I stay with them in gratitude for what I had done. It was in his home that I fell in love with his youngest daughter, Susan. After a series of rather bizarre events we were married on Christmas Day.
Since then I have been undergoing treatment and physical therapy at the Malcolm-Randall VA Hospital in preparation for return to active duty. My last evaluation revealed that I was fit to return to duty with my SEAL Team. I was dreading having to tell Susan this news.
When we were in the car heading home, Susan told me her news.
"You know I have been sick to my stomach every morning for the past week or so. This morning my sister took me in to see her doctor. Rick, you are going to be a daddy. From all indications I'm about six weeks pregnant," she said.
"Oh my God! That's wonderful. Me a father. I'm thrilled to death," I exclaimed.
The rest of the drive home was spent talking about what we needed to do to prepare for the baby. The house we were living in was in a western suburb of Gainesville about fifteen minutes from the university. It was a gift from Susan's parents for our wedding.
After pulling into the garage and entering our home we went into the living room and sat together on the sofa. Holding her in my arms and kissing her I, again, told her how happy I was with her news and asked if she knew when the baby was due. She told me the best guess was sometime in late August or early September.
Then she asked, "OK. Now what's your news?"
Sighing deeply I replied, "Sweetheart, I'm being called back to active duty. I have to report March the first."
She started crying, reached for me and hugged me tightly all the while whispering, "no . . no . . no."
The next six weeks flew by rapidly. Then it was time for me to leave. The night before as we were in bed together, she made me promise to come home in time for the birth of our son. On her last visit to the doctor the sonogram had revealed the baby was a male and we had decided to name him Frederick John Steiger (Fredrick for me and John for her father). But we both agreed we would always call him Ricky.
On March first I flew to Coronado, California to be reunited with my old SEAL team for extensive training. I had promised Susan I would call her every day to tell her what was happening. In the middle of July I was briefed on our mission.
When I called home that night I couldn't tell her what the mission was, where we were going or how long I would be gone. It was all top secret. I did promise her that after this was all over I was going to resign my commission, re-enter civilian life and never leave her again.
A week later our team was flown to a base in Israel to train with Israeli special forces. Our mission was to enter Iran and destroy a plant that was in the process of constructing a nuclear weapon.
Chapter Two
It was in late July when Rick called me and said he would be unable to get in touch with me by phone or email for quite some time. Don't worry, he told me. I'll be fine, I love you very much.
Monday, August nineteenth I received a telephone call from my mom telling me she and dad were coming over later that morning. Around eleven o'clock the bell rang at the front door and I went to answer it.
Standing at the front door was my mother and father and two men in uniform, a Navy Chaplin and a Captain.
I knew immediately that I was never going to see my husband again. He was missing and presumed dead on a mission deep in Iran. They couldn't give me any specific details on what had happened, but did tell me that according to all reports he had died a hero.
Mom and dad stayed with me for the next several days while I cried my eyes out. My sister, Patricia, and her two little girls came to the house to also help me grieve. The worst thing was I didn't even have his body to bury and to say good-bye.
On August thirtieth the telephone rang and my father answered it. After few minutes of conservation he summoned me to the phone saying, "It's the President of the United States and he wishes to speak with you."
Handing me the phone I answered, "Hello. This is Mrs, Steiger."