Night Flight Page 14

  “Listen, Patty sweetheart,” Becky said, crouching down beside her daughter, “a girl can do anything a boy can. She may not be as physically strong, but she’s got just as much brains, and maybe more, than a man. So don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t go to the moon if that’s what you want to do.”

  “I’ll go,” Patty muttered defiantly, glaring down at Scotty. “And I’ll get there before he does!”

  “Crisis ended,” Megan told everyone with a forced laugh, easing the tension. She gave the two children an extra cupcake. Megan breathed a huge sigh of relief. She watched as Sam eased the Stangs back and toward a group of majors, wanting to thank him for his divine interference. At that moment, she wanted to throw her arms around him and give him a kiss as a reward for his help.

  Both sets of parents left the scene and went back to their respective walls to resume their desultory conversations within their chosen groups. Watching Megan closely, Holt decided to rejoin her. The situation had her rattled. “You did good,” he praised her.

  “I’m not so sure,” she replied softly.

  “Coming from a family of six, I was always the one who had to settle the squabbles among the younger kids.”

  “Maybe you ought to be a teacher instead,” Megan said with feeling. “You handled Stang and his wife well there at the end.”

  “Second nature.” Sam wanted to make Megan feel as if she hadn’t blown the situation, because she hadn’t. “You did fine.”

  “If I was a person who drank, I’d want one now. That was so embarrassing….”

  He cocked his head and held her unsure gaze. “There’s a real nice picnic area at the other end of the base. It’s private and quiet. How about if I grab us a couple of bottles of water, some sandwiches and drive you over there after the kids get on the bus?” He looked at his watch. “You’ve only got ten more minutes before the party’s over.”

  The invitation sounded heavenly. Megan needed to talk, to discuss how she might have handled the crisis differently, and Sam obviously had ways she could incorporate into her teaching agenda. “As a friend?” she asked, vividly recalling their kiss.

  He grinned. “Remember? I owe you one for the other night?”

  “You paid it back just now. You don’t owe me a thing, Sam.”

  “Chin up, Red.” He saw she was terribly defeated by what had occurred, probably thinking that everyone was looking at her as if she were an ineffective teacher. Nothing could be further from the truth, and Sam wanted the time to make her believe differently. “We’ll have a picnic, sit and talk. As friends. Deal?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment. “Deal,” she said.

  The picnic spot known as Shady Place, because of the grove of cottonwoods surrounding the five wooden tables, was ideal in Sam’s estimation. He’d put together sandwiches from the restaurant, found a cardboard box to put them in, along with the promised water. The evening air was still hot and dry, the sun hanging low in the sky. Nevertheless, the shade beneath the cottonwoods was considerably cooler.

  Spreading their meal out before them, Sam invited Megan to sit opposite him at the green-painted table. He’d gotten rid of his blouse, taken off his tie and opened the collar of his uniform. If someone saw him, they could write him up for being out of uniform, but he didn’t care. No one would, however, because Shady Place was known as the lovers’ spot. The only people who came here wanted privacy, to be alone. Sam wondered if Megan knew that and decided she didn’t. He wasn’t going to mention the spot’s infamous record, either.

  “Turkey sandwiches, slices of cheddar cheese, sweet pickles, and water with lemon. Not a bad dinner,” he said, congratulating himself.

  Megan smiled and sat down. “It’s so peaceful here,” she murmured, looking around. The six cottonwoods with their highly polished three-pointed leaves moved in the constant breeze across the Mojave. Much farther to the west, Megan could see the restricted area, the many hangars and Ops, where Sam worked. Indeed, the quiet was healing, except for the occasional jet taking off from the runway. Plane activity at the base went on twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

  “I find peace when I look at you,” Sam said, pouring the water into two plastic cups filled with ice and lemon wedges.

  Taking the cup from his hand, Megan held his sincere gaze. “That’s a beautiful compliment,” she admitted softly. “I only wish I could say the same.”

  Sam nodded. “I know. I’m a military pilot, and you don’t like them.” He raised his cup. “To a lady who knows how to successfully fight trench warfare with children and parents.”

  She grimaced, sipping the tart, lemony water. “You’re far too generous with the accolades.”

  Sam opened his sandwich and ate it slowly. Megan’s hands shook as she peeled back the plastic wrapper on her meal. He allowed the quiet to filter between them, aware that her shoulders finally dropped, the tension beginning to flow out of her. Finally, he asked, “How do you think the parents saw you handle that minicrisis?”

  Rolling her eyes, Megan said, “Poorly. I’m sure I looked like a young ingenue fresh out of college, unable to handle the situation hardly at all.”

  “No,” Sam said, “that’s not how they saw it at all.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”

  “Because after you left, I hung around and eavesdropped here and there on a group of captains and majors for a few minutes. There was admiration for you, Megan. One woman said you had the patience of Job. A major complimented your quick handling of the situation.”

  “Oh…”

  “Feel better now?”

  “I’m sure the Stangs are upset.”

  He grinned. “They live to be upset. It’s their number-one priority. You have a perverse attitude about looking at the negative, don’t you? Out of eighty sets of parents who praised your efforts, you want to zero in on the one set who didn’t.”

  Staring down at her half-eaten sandwich, Megan mulled over his observation. Holt hadn’t said it accusingly. Instead, it was a gently put statement designed for her to look at, mull over and use as an observation. She set the sandwich aside, holding his gaze. “You’re right.”

  “I didn’t say it to be right, Megan. I noted it because I don’t want you to become self-critical of what you did. You need someone around to build your confidence, not tear it down.” He frowned. “Maybe this is none of my business, but what the hell happened to you when you were a kid?” Even though Megan appeared strong and sure of herself, there was a touching vulnerability she tried to hide from him. He wanted to know why.

  “I’ve never really told anyone about my life with my parents,” she began hesitantly.

  “No one?” Sam found that hard to believe. “Why?”

  “Easy. My father was a famous test pilot. If I dared breathe a word of what was going on at home, it could have affected his military record, his goal to get his colonel’s rank, you know that.”

  Frowning, Sam asked, “Then you couldn’t confide in your friends at school, either.”

  “No. Kids always talk to their parents. The parents, the officers specifically, would spread it around the base, and my father’s career would have been affected by it.”

  “What a lousy situation,” he muttered angrily, looking off into the distance, watching a T-38 Talon jet take off.

  “It didn’t hurt me.”

  “Yes, it did.” Sam gestured to her. “Friends talk. They share the personal side of themselves, their good times, their bad ones. Most people have that outlet, but you didn’t.”

  Megan tried to lighten the intensity of his words. “Are you telling me that it’s like pulling teeth to get to know me?”

  “Yeah, I guess I am.” Sam studied Megan. The tension around her eyes and mouth had disappeared. “How about now? Do you have a woman friend you can confide in? Talk to?”

  “Yes. Linda Yarnell. She’s the wife of Major Yarnell over at NASA.”

  “Doug Yarnell. Yeah, I know him. He’s fair and a
boveboard.”

  “Unlike Captain Jack Stang?” Megan queried.

  “Him.” Sam said the word with obvious rancor.

  “It was obvious you two hated each other’s guts.”

  “Nah, I don’t hate anyone, Red. I think it’s in Stang’s genes to hate the competition, though.”

  “It doesn’t bother you he does?”

  “No. Should it?”

  “It would me.”

  “Why?”

  With a shrug, Megan said, “I’d feel uncomfortable if someone didn’t like me.”

  “I’m not spending my life groveling at that bastard’s feet getting him to try and like me. Besides, Red, not everyone in the world is going to like me. That’s reality.” And then Sam smiled. “Of course, I don’t see how everyone couldn’t help but like you. You’re sweet, kind, loving and trusting. Nice traits.”

  With a laugh, Megan felt her appetite returning. She nibbled on the sandwich. “I think, Captain Holt, you’re a tad prejudiced.”

  “Maybe,” Sam said, enjoying her husky laughter. Damn, but she was pretty in his eyes. The wind played with her hair, the sunlight lancing through the leaves brought out the gold and auburn highlights of it. And there was warmth in her green eyes, a warmth he wanted to bury himself within forever. “Your kids idolize you. I see it in their eyes. They’ve got good taste, too.”

  She allowed his compliments to sink in, lift her depression and make her feel better. “I love the kids,” Megan offered.

  “Why a second grade teacher? I’m sure you could have taught older kids. This is almost like being more a mother than a teacher at this grade level.”

  With a hint of a smile, she said, “In a way, I missed my own growing-up years. Now, I can recapture them, live them daily through the eyes of the children in the class. Someday, I want a family, maybe three kids or so…. The children are my teachers, too. I like the trade-off.”

  “It’s a positive way of looking at things,” Sam agreed. He finished off the sandwich and mulled over the questions he wanted to ask her. This time, Megan wasn’t tense or on the defensive. If anything, she was trusting, and it made his heart soar unaccountably. Their kiss, he was sure, had something to do with it. And Sam didn’t want to do anything to mess up the good vibes shared between them, so he stepped on eggshells when trying to find out more about her life.

  “Your mother, what kind of a woman was she?”

  Megan hesitated, then said quietly, “She had a degree in accounting, but you’d never know it. Her career was being an alcoholic.”

  With a grimace, Sam asked, “Did she ever get help?”

  “No. Looking back on it, I don’t think she wanted help.”

  “Why?”

  “I think my mother used her disease as a way to get even with my father for refusing to quit the Air Force and stop flying or having affairs on the side. If she went to Alcoholics Anonymous and got well, it wouldn’t change anything, so she had no reason to get well.”

  “When did this all start, Megan?”

  Rubbing her brow, she looked past where he sat, the bluish mountains partly hidden by the yellow dust raised from the winds that always swept across the Mojave. “I remember her having terrible fights with my father when I was three. She drank off and on until I was nine. One day, she called me into her room after I got home from school. Mother told me that from now on, I was going to have to make meals, clean the house and do the chores she normally did. If Father wanted something ironed or washed, I was to do it.” She shrugged. “From that day on, she drank continuously.”

  Eyes narrowing, Sam studied Megan for a long minute, digesting the information, the terrible impact it must have had on her innocent heart. “Your mother went to bed because she was angry and going to get even with your father? That was her way of handling the situation?”

  “Classic passive-aggressive tactics, Sam. I learned that in college when I started taking psychology courses. Becoming a teacher helped me see myself. It was a good thing.” Megan moved her gaze back to him. “At the time, I didn’t realize what she was doing. I do now.”

  “Jesus,” Holt whispered, wanting to crush the plastic cup between his hands, “didn’t she ever think what her decision was going to cost you?”

  “Don’t blame just her,” Megan said. “My father went along with it. To him, I was a shadow in his life. His real love, his real wife, if you will, were the planes he flew. He pretended nothing was wrong and gave me a list of things to do each day when I got home from school. As long as I got those tasks completed, he ignored me.”

  “And if you didn’t?” Sam held his breath, wondering if Colonel Roberts had abused her physically. Some military men believed that physical punishment was good for the children.

  “Don’t look so upset. My father never had to lift his hand in threat to me. I was too scared, wanting to please him too much, not to get that list done every day.”

  Roberts was a total jerk in Holt’s opinion, but he remained silent. That explained so much about Megan, and her distrust of military pilots. Rubbing his jaw, he said, “You were so starved for affection, for any kind of a positive stroke, that you worked hard to get that list done in hopes your father would praise you, right?”

  Sadly, she nodded. “Exactly. My dysfunctional family life became abundantly clear to me in college. That’s why…” Megan hesitated, unsure whether to confide in Sam. But the compassion in his dark blue eyes made her go on. “I came back to Edwards to put the ghosts from the past to rest. My past. I came here with a mission, and with priorities. I have to settle my own accounts, and I want to make the children’s lives better at the school. Better than what it was for me. I know I can do both.”

  “That took a lot of courage. Most of your growing-up years were spent here, weren’t they?” Roberts had been a test pilot at Edwards for fourteen years before he augered in.

  Toying with the glass, Megan poured herself more water, feeling some of the load she’d carried so long by herself slip off her shoulders. “Yes. My mother committed suicide when I was eighteen, a month before I was to graduate from high school here on base.” She didn’t taste the water. “My parents are buried over in Lancaster, at the cemetery. Since coming back here, I’ve been afraid to go over and visit their graves. I guess I’m not ready to face them. I hope I will be, someday.”

  Holt hurt for her. He couldn’t help himself, getting up and coming around the table. Sitting down, he took Megan’s hands and held her eyes that mirrored the pain she carried. “Look, promise me one thing?”

  His hands were warm and strong feeling on hers. “What?” The enormity of what Sam had done didn’t make her feel panic, only care from him, and hope sprang strongly in her heart for the first time since coming back to Edwards.

  “When and if you decide to go visit them, take me along?”

  Holt was serious. Megan searched his somber-looking features. This was no line, and he wasn’t playing a game with her. “Well—”

  “Megan, you could use a friend right now. How you ever had the guts to come back here, set up your life with no friends, no support, took more courage than you realize.” Holt shook his head and reached out, caressing her cheek. Her flesh was warm and damp from the hot afternoon. “I don’t think you know how much courage you already have in place. And you’re looking at what you think you’re not doing right, zeroing in on handling a few squabbles among the kids.” He wanted to gently shake her, to get her to see what he saw, but Sam realized that she was still mired in her past. Weren’t they both? But his past was different than hers. His was much happier growing up. Megan had lived in a cloistered hell, had her childhood stolen, and been forced to act like an adult. She was made to help keep a broken marriage together. “Well?” he goaded, squeezing her hands gently. “Ask me along when you decide to face them down?”

  With a nervous laugh, Megan tried to withdraw her hands, but he wouldn’t allow it. Holt was too close, too masculine and tender for her vulnerable emotions. “If and w
hen I do, I’ll let you know. Okay?”

  With a slight smile meant to buoy her spirits, he said, “Okay, Red.”

  It would be wonderful to simply lean forward, kiss Sam and find herself in his embrace once again. Megan realized Sam could help her salvage those scattered bits of her soul she was trying to find by coming back to Edwards. Still, he was a pilot, and her father’s brusque, cold treatment of her and her mother warred strongly within her. She wanted to trust Sam, to allow herself the privilege of admitting how much she liked him. How could she?

  Sam read the desire in her eyes, and he gave her a slight smile, sliding his hand against her cheek. “Come here,” he whispered, and drew her forward.

  Panic made Megan freeze momentarily, but his fingers caressed the nape of her neck, neither forcing or demanding to meet him halfway, to convince her that they should share another kiss. Megan found herself pulled into the smoky hue of his eyes, transfixed, the stroke of his fingers banishing her fear, and shutting off her mind that screamed out a warning to run away.

  Instead, Megan surrendered to the promise reflected in his tender gaze…a promise that simmered just beneath the surface and belonged to them alone. Her lashes swept downward, and automatically, Megan’s lips parted, yearning for contact with his strong, eliciting mouth upon hers once again.

  This time, his mouth was masterful as he captured her. There was nothing tentative or searching about his quest. Hungrily, Megan met and matched his heated assault, lost in a series of molten, liquid explosions that blossomed throughout her. His hands moved through her hair, and she tilted her head back a little more, feeling his lips trail a scalding path of kisses down the length of her throat. All she was aware of was the warmth of his hands, the soft fire of his mouth retracing the slender line of her jaw, finding and claiming her wet, waiting lips once again. His tongue traced the lower curve of her lip, inciting a blaze deep within her. Slowly, he lavished each corner of her mouth, and scalding fire erupted down through the center of her body.