Riley was struck almost immediately by the changes that greeted him. The house had been living quarters before he was deployed; he returned to a home. It took him a few minutes to ascertain the differences. First he noticed a bright orange, gold and bronze afghan draped over the back of the sofa, with matching pillows tucked at the corners. A large oak rocking chair rested between his recliner and the end table. This, too, was new. But by far the most prominent addition was a large oil painting hanging on the wall above the fireplace. His gaze had been drawn to it almost immediately.
"I wondered if you'd notice that," Hannah said shyly.
"It's beautiful." Rolling hills of blooming blue and gold wildflowers waving in the wind beneath a blue summer sky. Fluffy clouds skirted the horizon. It must have cost a fortune, but Riley didn't care how much she'd spent on it. Wildflowers were damn special to him.
"I'm so pleased you think so," Hannah responded happily, looping her arm around his and pressing her head to his shoulder.
"Where'd you ever find it?"
She paused. "I didn't exactly find it."
"Oh?" He dropped his duffel bag and was removing his coat.
"I painted it myself."
Riley went still, stunned by the richness of her talent. "I didn't realize you painted."
"I didn't, either," she returned with a light, slightly embarrassed laugh. "It was something I'd always longed to do, but had never had the time. I signed up for classes while you were away. Come," she said, her voice bubbling with excitement, "there's something I want to show you." She took him by the hand and led him through the kitchen and down the hallway to the bedrooms.
She opened her door, stepped briefly inside to turn on the light, then stood back proudly for him to see.
Riley glanced inside and turned to his wife, awestruck. "You painted this?" She'd turned one entire wall into a mural for the baby. A long-necked giraffe nibbled foliage from a bright green apple tree heavy with luscious fruit. In the background two lambs frolicked along a hillside, chasing butterflies.
She nodded, smiling broadly. "Do you think Junior will like it?"
"He'll love it."
"Cheryl and I found this in a garage sale last weekend," she went on, excitement creeping into her voice as she moved across the room to the closet, opening the door and retrieving a bassinet. She looked up at him expectantly.
The white wicker bed seemed more suited to a little girl's dolls than an infant. "Junior will fit in there?"
"For about three months. Then we'll need a crib. I've been pricing them," she said as her eyes rose steadily to his. "Be prepared. I was shocked by how expensive they are, but," she added quickly, "we might be able to find a used one that's far more reasonable."