Night Flight Page 13

  “Try and keep Scotty Stang and Patty Merrill apart, or I’m afraid their fighting with one another will cause you embarrassment.”

  “I know. You’ll be there, won’t you?”

  “You bet. Gotta run! See you after school.” Going over to the sink, Megan rinsed her hands and dried them on a towel. Absorbing Linda’s advice, she centered her attention on her heart and instincts. Surprisingly, she felt calmer. Her plan to contact General Dalton was sound. Yes, she was making inroads here at Edwards and wrestling with the past. Sam Holt wasn’t supposed to be a part of that equation, but he was.

  9

  Old, disturbing memories hit Megan as soon as she entered the officers club with her class. It was 4:00 p.m., and time for the Halloween party. Her father always dragged her over here for every activity involving the children of officers. He wouldn’t think of missing any event, even if she was terribly shy and uncomfortable at them. Megan herded her twenty-five charges, all dressed in various costumes, into a side room far removed from the bar and dancing area. Her sensitive nose caught the stale smell of alcohol and cigarettes from the bar area at the other end of the hall. The interior of the O Club was prestigious, with dark-stained oak paneling and thick beams overhead. The walls were plastered with photo memorabilia of its world-famous test pilots and the planes they’d tamed.

  She avoided looking at the photographs, not wanting to see her father’s picture she knew was there. Scotty Stang, dressed in his silver astronaut costume, helmet cocked on his head, led the group proudly through the doors. Megan kept her hand on Patty’s shoulder. The Merrill girl was dressed in a gossamer fairy-tale outfit, replete with a pointed hat and veil. Megan thought Patty looked like a beautiful little princess. It was obvious that the costume had taken many hours to make, had beenpainstakingly hand-sewn. Becky Merrill was quite a seamstress in Megan’s opinion.

  Unfortunately, Patty wasn’t behaving like a well-heeled royal.

  Inside, Megan saw a number of O Club waitresses and waiters acting as supervisors to get the children seated by grade groups at specially assigned tables. Along the walls were groups of proud, expectant parents. Her heart fell when she saw Sam Holt standing with Curt and Becky Merrill at the far end of the long, rectangular room. Why was he here?

  Whether she wanted to or not, Megan quickly searched Holt’s face. Their talk must have helped him. He didn’t look as tired, the shadows beneath his eyes were fainter. Dressed in his dark blue uniform, she grudgingly admitted he looked devastatingly handsome in it. His gaze moved to her, and she quickly averted her eyes and focused on the task of getting her class served the orange-frosted cupcakes and red punch.

  “Look,” Becky whispered eagerly to Curt, and gripped his arm, “doesn’t our Patty look cute?”

  Curt grinned, watching his thin, gangly daughter lift the pale pink skirt with both hands in order to walk. “She does look cute,” he agreed, his heart swelling with pride. Becky had spent two weeks sewing late at night to make her costume. It had been a labor of love, the work worth it. His daughter was so careful in sitting down, arranging the transparent folds of her dress around her long, thin legs, in such a ladylike fashion.

  Lifting the camera, Becky took several photos. “These will look so good in our album, Curt. My daddy and mama will be tickled to get these. Why, they’ll dote on Patty’s pictures. Mama will be proud of me for the sewing job I done.”

  Worriedly, Curt looked down at his wife and gave her a reassuring smile. “Your parents will like the photos, Sparrow. I think you did a good job on the costume.” Becky was flighty today, dropping regularly into her hill accent. Tomorrow he’d fly a test, and that was why. Gently, Curt put his arm around her waist and tried to give her the unspoken support she needed. Official gatherings like this always made her nervous because she felt so terribly insecure among all the other well-groomed wives of officers.

  Holt leaned over, whispering, “Take a gander, Curt.” To their left, Sam watched Jack Stang and his wife Melody make their entrance. All the rest of the parents stood in small groups, chatting. He was sure the Stangs had timed their arrival to be the last couple through the doors. The entire room seemed to shift and focus on them. Stang, as always, looked impeccable in his blue uniform, every crease in place, every ribbon straight and flush to the next one on his chest, and not a speck of lint on his clothing. Melody was stunning, as always. Her black hair was coiffed into a feminine style, emphasizing the Grecian planes of her face.

  Holt leaned lazily against the wall and made a comparison between Megan, who wore a breezy, sleeveless gold sundress that complemented her red hair, and Melody. There was nothing but an air of business about the Stangs. Melody wore a carefully tailored designer suit of dark blue and white houndstooth made of light wool. The braid trim and frog closings complemented her husband’s uniform. Sam preferred to watch Megan. Her cheeks were flushed as she moved from one student to another, getting them settled down, ending squabbles and keeping them quiet for at least five minutes.

  Holt watched Megan caress a boy’s hair here, place her hand on the shoulder of a little girl crying there, and then crouch down to kiss her brow to stop the tears. Megan had done as much for him the other night, their kiss hovering hotly in his memory. Watching her lips move and form words, that smile haunting him, her eyes expressive with each feeling as she coaxed the little girl past the crisis, made him ache to make love with her.

  “She’s really something,” Becky said in a whisper to Sam, “isn’t she?”

  Sam nodded, thinking Becky looked awfully pale today. “Ms. Roberts has a nice touch with the kids,” he agreed. And a nice touch with me. Sam wanted her open and vulnerable to him in the same way she was with the children. Would that ever happen? God, he hoped so. Never had he wanted anything more in his life.

  “Patty just adores her,” Becky gushed. “She’s doing better at school since the teacher’s conference, too.”

  “Honey, Sam doesn’t want to hear about that.”

  Frowning, Becky looked up at her husband.

  “No, it’s okay,” Sam quickly assured him, giving Becky a smile. “After all, I’m her ‘uncle.’ I’m interested in how Patty’s doing at school, too.”

  Moving restively, Curt grimaced. “Thanks for coming. You didn’t have to.”

  “Becky invited me. How could I turn her—or Patty—down?” Sam had been surprised when Becky had called him over at Ops and begged him to be there at the party for the children. She was worried that Scotty and Patty would fight, and wasn’t sure she could control Patty. Realizing it would be another chance to meet with Megan, Holt enthusiastically accepted her invitation.

  Although Megan had given him a jaded, wary look when she saw him in the room, Sam felt being here was the right decision for Becky’s sake. Megan probably thinks I’m stalking her. He excused himself and went to retrieve Becky and Curt some red punch. Wasn’t he stalking Megan? Holt didn’t really want to answer his own question. There was such a driving need to be with her, explore her, know her, that it warred daily with his concentration on testing activities. As he poured the punch into the delicate cut-crystal glasses, he smiled to himself. At least he thought less about Russ since meeting Megan, and that was a good sign for his own peace of mind.

  Megan got a breather when the waitresses served the cupcakes and punch. The children immediately settled down to the task of eating. Nervously, she knew she must greet each set of parents, make small talk and say something nice about their child to them. They hadn’t taught this phase of interpersonal relationships in college, either. Perhaps, if she’d been an extrovert, it would have come easier, but she wasn’t. Linda Yarnell, who was across the large room, gave her a game smile. Rallying, Megan went about her expected duties.

  Holt waited patiently, watching Megan make the rounds. The Stangs glowed like proud parents when she talked to them. He watched Melody maneuver shortly thereafter, moving through the crowd to make small talk with each officer’s family. Probably collecti
ng grist for her mill, Holt ruminated.

  Megan grew nervous as she approached the Merrills. Sam stood next to Curt, a cup of punch in each hand, as if waiting for her. Mouth dry, she shook Becky’s hand, shocked at how cool it was, and how limp her handshake.

  “Mrs. Merrill, are you all right?” Megan searched her face, saw darkness in her eyes and a light film of sweat on her face. Memories of her mother looking exactly that way slammed into her. It took everything Megan had to stand there and pretend to be unaffected and calm.

  “Oh, I’m fine, fine, Miss Roberts. Don’t our Patty look> cute in her little princess costume?”

  “Honey…” Curt begged, and gave Megan a look of apology, his arm going around his wife’s shoulders.

  Cupping Becky’s hand between both of hers, Megan forced a smile. “She looks positively beautiful, Mrs. Merrill. I’ve never seen a prettier princess.” The scent of chocolate on Becky’s breath triggered another reaction in Megan. Many alcoholics ate chocolate or mint to cover the smell of liquor on their breath. And Becky had that same haunted look in her eyes her mother had had so often. Was Becky drinking? Was that part of Patty’s problem?

  “I think,” Sam said, stepping in to rescue Megan from Becky’s planned barrage, “that Ms. Roberts needs a recess. Here, have a glass of punch. Come over here and stand next to me.” Holt didn’t wait for Megan to protest. In fact, he saw relief in her eyes, a silent thank-you going to him for his insight. It made him feel good. Damn good.

  Taking the punch, Megan sipped it gratefully. Sam stood there, looking around, hovering protectively close, but not close enough to make her feel uncomfortable. The din of noise in the room was high, the children’s excited voices mingling with that of the parents talking to one another in cloistered groups. The captains flirted with the majors. The lieutenants all hung together, at the bottom rung of the officers’ ladder. A few brave ones worked their way over to speak with the captains, having the good sense to make their points with someone more powerful than themselves.

  “You have a nice touch with those kids,” Sam complimented her, meaning it. He inhaled her spicy perfume that was made warm and fragrant by her skin. He wanted to drown in her large green eyes. “And you’re prettier than any lady here.”

  Megan felt protection emanating from Holt. She heard the tremor in his husky voice, allowed it to cascade over her and stabilize her nerves. “Thanks, Sam.” She tried to make light of his sincere compliment. “But I’m afraid Melody Stang looks as if she walked straight out of Vogue magazine. She’s breathtakingly beautiful.”

  Holt shrugged. “I guess.”

  Megan stared up at him. “You guess? Don’t you think she’s pretty?”

  “If you like perfect women, I suppose she is.” Sam wanted to thread his fingers through that fiery mass of unruly red hair of hers like he’d done the night he’d kissed her. “I like a woman who doesn’t wear a lot of makeup and isn’t afraid if her hair is out of place, or if there’s a stain of red punch on her dress.’’ He had the good grace not to point out the stain, but it was on her skirt.

  “Oh, dear…” Megan laughed softly, giving him a wry look. “All part of being a second grade teacher, I’m afraid.”

  “Don’t apologize. On you, it looks becoming as hell.”

  His voice vibrated through her, lifted her and put her in touch with a new and vital part of herself. At a loss for words, Megan discreetly cleaned off the stain as best she could and then sipped her punch.

  “You’re far more beautiful than Mrs. Stang.”

  “Now you’re patronizing me, Sam.”

  He held up his hand. “No, honest, I’m not.”

  “She’s the most stunning woman here in this room.” Megan said it almost wistfully, wishing that she would look that elegant, but she knew she didn’t, and never would. Melody’s fingernails were polished a deep red. She looked down at hers: two nails had been broken, two others needed attention and the last one was long and perfect thus far. It would probably be broken before the day was over.

  “I like a woman who isn’t afraid to dress in a pair of jeans and forget that Vogue image,” Sam confided conspiratorially. His eyes glimmered with mirth. “You’re not afraid to wear your hair down, or get it blown by the wind. I lay you odds that Melody Stang has a ton of hair spray in hers to keep it looking like that.”

  Laughing, Megan relaxed. “You’re right.”

  “Not only that, you don’t see her over there with her son. She doesn’t want to get orange frosting on her suit, or—” Sam looked significantly down at the stain on Megan’s dress “—punch all over her. It would ruin her image.”

  “You’re impossible, Holt.”

  “But you like me anyway?”

  The smile died on her lips, and Megan looked away from him. She felt his hand on her arm briefly.

  “Just a little bit? Come on, it’s not going to kill you to admit it. I’m not the village idiot, I can see you like me.”

  His touch was fleeting, evocative. For an instant, Megan wondered what it would be like to he loved by Sam Holt. She was powerfully drawn to his tender, sensitive side he always displayed shamelessly and without apology with her. Swallowing hard, she croaked, “You are likable, Captain.”

  Sam snorted, watching the red flush sweep across her freckled cheeks. She was chewing nervously on her full lower lip, and he wanted to lean over, capture that luscious mouth and soothe her with a slow, thorough kiss. “But do you like me, Ms. Roberts?”

  Squirming, Megan said, “Excuse me, but I’ve got to get back to my children.”

  “Minx,” Holt said under his breath as she left his side. He grinned and watched her walk away. No one moved like Megan. There was such a refined grace to her, such fluidity. With a sigh, he leaned back against the wall and knew he was in heaven.

  Before Megan could reach her class, she heard Patty let out a shriek, get up and race down to where Scotty Stang was sitting. The girl raised her arm, hitting the boy on top of the helmet. Scotty immediately put up a wail that careened around the room. She heard Becky Merrill yell at Patty, and saw Captain Jack Stang form a soundless curse with his lips.

  “Patty,” Megan breathed softly, gripped the girl by her arm and hauled her off Scotty. “No, you can’t hit him!” Megan wanted to die of embarrassment. All the other teachers had their charges under control. Hers was the only table where problems had erupted.

  “He said I couldn’t fly!” Patty wailed, tears forming and falling down her cheeks. “And I can! I can!”

  Scotty’s small square face screwed up with renewed fury as he launched off his chair and hit Patty on the shoulder in a glancing blow. “I did not! I’m the astronaut! I’ll fly! Your stupid fairy wings won’t get you to the moon!”

  Megan crouched down, separating the children, but Scotty was big for his age, and he tore loose, trying to hit Patty again. The girl dodged his fist, lifted her skirts and kicked him in his shin. With a howl, Scotty hopped around on one foot. Desperate, needing help but afraid to ask, Megan tried to keep the children apart.

  Becky appeared out of nowhere, gently taking Patty out of her grasp. “Ya’ll grab Scotty,” she ordered her quietly, lifting the girl into her arms.

  “Settle down, Scotty,” Megan told him firmly, guiding him back to his chair. “You don’t hit girls. It’s not nice.”

  “I don’t care!” Scotty yelled. “She said I wouldn’t make it to the moon!” He punched his chest with his small thumb. “My father says I’ll be a test pilot just like him. I’ll fly to the moon, maybe Mars! Patty doesn’t know what she’s talking about! Dumb girl!”

  Megan saw Jack Stang and his wife coming around the table. They looked like a pair of eagles poised and ready to rip her throat out with their combined claws. She groaned to herself. Grateful that Becky had Patty soothed, Megan stood and tried to fix a smile that would tell the overprotective Stangs that everything was under control once again, But one look at the captain’s livid face, and she died inside.


  “Hey, Merrill,” Jack snapped, “why don’t you keep that wild animal of yours caged? Scotty wasn’t doing anything, and she deliberately got up and struck him.” He glared down at Megan. “We saw the whole thing, Ms. Roberts,” he growled. “Scotty is innocent. She had no right to hit him.”

  “That’s right,” Melody added smoothly, coming up behind Jack and wrapping her hand around his arm. “Ms. Roberts, I hope you weren’t scolding Scotty. He was sitting there eating his cupcake and minding his own business, when Patty got up and hit him.”

  Becky held Patty in her arms and stood next to Megan. “Captain Stang, this isn’t World War Three we have here. Just a little tussle between kids. Ya’ll don’t need to blow it out of proportion.”

  Stang seethed, glaring from Becky to her husband. “Captain, if I wasn’t among women and children, I’d tell you what I really felt.”

  “Tell me tomorrow morning,” Curt whispered tightly. He saw the redness creep into Stang’s face and enjoyed the pilot’s discomfort. “Now, why don’t you put your heavy artillery away and back off? Ms. Roberts has everything under control. She doesn’t need sidewalk superintendents.”

  “Please, everyone relax,” Megan begged. “The children are fine. Let’s get them back to their seats.”

  Becky took Curt’s handkerchief, gently wiping the tears off Patty’s face. “It’s all right, squirt. Let’s get you back to your chair. Miss Roberts wants you to sit down.”

  “I’m gonna get to the moon first!” Patty shouted, gesturing down at Scotty. “Girls can be astronauts, too!”

  “You can be anything you want to be,” Becky confirmed to Patty.

  “Girls can’t fly!” Scotty shouted. “They’re too stupid!”

  Megan drilled Stang with a cool look as she put Scotty back down and in his chair. “Is that what you teach your son? That women are stupid? That they’re second-class citizens compared to men?”

  Jack stiffened. He knew better than to create a scene. Melody’s hand tightened on his arm in warning to remain silent. The colonel’s wife, an ardent feminist type, was very much interested in their conversation.