Night Flight Page 2

  “Only a month. I arrived in August, rented an apartment in Lancaster and signed a one-year contract with the base.”

  “Brand-new, then.” That’s why he hadn’t seen her; it was only September 21.

  Megan nodded, trying to enjoy the ride—and Sam Holt. “Yes, it’s my first job. I’m excited about teaching the children on the base.” She managed a small laugh. “I’ll have quite a story to tell them Monday morning.” The charisma surrounding Sam was impossible to ignore. Discreetly, she noticed he wore no wedding ring. Although she wasn’t looking for a man, she was relieved he wasn’t married. Probably divorced. Someone as handsome and roguish as Holt couldn’t remain single for long.

  “You looked like you had a soft heart,” Sam teased, “and I was right. Any kids of your own?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Husband?”

  Megan smiled. “I’m single, if that’s what you want to know.”

  “My lucky day. So am I.”

  Giddy from the exuberant way he attacked life, Megan asked, “What are you?”

  “A guy who likes adventure, and red-haired women who aren’t afraid of a little excitement.”

  “What else?” she pressed, curious.

  Laughing, Sam held up his hand. “Now wait a minute. I abducted you, you didn’t abduct me. As the abductor, I should be able to question you at length about yourself without having to answer your questions. Right?”

  “You’re impossible,” Megan answered.

  “And you’re flexible under some incredible circumstances. How about if I tell you everything you want to know about me just after we cross the finish line? I’d like to win this race.” He glanced around, and then grinned. “Right now, we’re ahead. So, you tell me about yourself, I’ll listen, and then when we’re done, I’ll take you to lunch. How’s that sound?”

  How did it sound? Wonderful! Megan nodded. “Okay, Sam, you’ve got a deal.” She had come back to Edwards with trepidation, a lot of fear and anxiety. That was a month ago, and thus far, she had made few friends or even acquaintances until school recently started.

  Rallying beneath Holt’s infectious smile, Megan leaned against the wall of the gondola, absorbed the newborn day and Holt. Her fingers tightened momentarily on the woven basket. Was her plan to come back to Edwards a good one? After receiving her degree, she could have taught anywhere. All Edwards reminded her of was pain, sorrow and grief. Right now, she didn’t want to look at the answers to those questions too closely.

  Holt noticed Megan’s features growing thoughtful. He had to divide his time between the altimeter, adjusting the heat within the balloon and reading the wind current speed and direction. Her green eyes were suddenly shadowed; a haunted expression in them. And that luscious lower lip of hers was tucked between her teeth as she stared down at the deck.

  “Any regrets?” he asked.

  Megan snapped up her head. “What? Oh, I’m sorry. No…no regrets, Sam.”

  “You nosedived.”

  With a shrug, Megan whispered, “Just thinking…”

  He picked up the camera and handed it to her. Maybe if she had something to do, she wouldn’t remain uncomfortable. I’ll bet your kids will like the pictures you shoot from here.”

  Touched by his thoughtfulness, Megan accepted the camera. If she shot some photos, it would continue to keep the fear in some very small corner of herself. “You’re right. Thanks.”

  Enjoying her gracefulness, Sam saw her shoulders drop, indicating she was truly relaxing for the first time. The wind played with Megan’s red hair, moving it restlessly across her shoulders. The sun glinted through the strands, setting them on fire as she took her first photograph of the nearby mountains.

  “Up here,” Sam confided to her, “you can think. That’s why I like ballooning—it’s quiet, and you’re away from the things down below that create the problems in your life. In the sky, things just seem to become more black and white, you get more objectivity.”

  She liked his sensitivity. There was a lot to like about Sam Holt. “Have you always ballooned?”

  “Yeah, since I was twenty. I’m twenty-nine, now.”

  She forced herself to look upward into the balloon that was many stories high. “This is a beautiful one. I like her rainbow colors.”

  Sam looked up, studying the inside of the balloon that swirled with a multitude of colors. Then he looked back at her. “You remind me of a rainbow—red hair, green eyes, pink cheeks.”

  Lowering her lashes, Megan absorbed his husky compliment. “Thank you, Sam.”

  “It’s not blarney, although there is a drop of Irish blood in my background.”

  “Irishmen are always good with a line.”

  He adjusted the flame, sending more hot air into the balloon. “Yeah, but we’re poets of the heart when a woman captures our attention.”

  Heat suffused Megan’s cheeks. Sam had certainly captured her heart this day. She tried to look at him objectively.

  There was nothing to dislike about him. He seemed at ease in the sky, a bird without wings but able to fly anyway.

  “So, you’re a schoolteacher. I imagine that keeps you pretty busy on weeknights with grading papers and such.” Below them was nothing but Joshua trees sticking out their prickly arms across the desert. The Mojave was a merciless mistress: over a hundred degrees during the day, dropping to shivering temperatures at night. It was too bad Megan couldn’t enjoy the contrasts between the sky and earth, or the myriad colors and the gentle sway of the balloon.

  “I’m busier than I’d thought I’d be. I work over at the day-care center three evenings a week.”

  “Two jobs?”

  She shrugged. “I’m a workaholic by nature.” Since graduating with her teaching degree, there were plenty of bills and loans to pay off. Megan had found a small one-bedroom apartment in Lancaster that could help her remain within her meager budget.

  “Not me. One job’s plenty. I like my time off to pursue things like this.”

  “You appear competitive, not driven.”

  Sam liked her insight. “Bingo. That’s me all right.” He wondered why she was driven. “So, you’ve just moved out here. From where?”

  “Columbus, Ohio. I went to Ohio State for my degree.” Megan wrinkled her nose. “I miss the green grass, trees and flowers.”

  “I know what you mean.” She was honestly beginning to relax, and it made him feel better. Megan’s body language wasn’t as stiff, her knuckles no longer white. He grinned. “We’re arch enemies, you know.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, I graduated from Michigan, Ohio’s arch football rival.”

  Laughing, Megan clapped her hands. “So, you’re from Michigan?’’ He stood easily, feet spread far enough apart to compensate for the sway of the balloon. The wind ruffled his hair, several strands dipping to his brow. She enjoyed watching him brush them back into place with his long, large-knuckled fingers.

  “Born and raised there.”

  “What made you come out here to this godforsaken desert?”

  “I promised to answer all your questions after we win,” he teased. “Tell me more about yourself.”

  There wasn’t that much to tell in Megan’s opinion. “I was born in Oakland, California, moved around a lot with my family, and loved Ohio so much that I wanted to go back there for my degree.”

  “Then what drew you back out here?” Sam asked, watching that same darkness come back to haunt her green eyes.

  The question hit her squarely, and inwardly she flinched. Nervously, Megan moved around in the gondola and took more photos. “I’m kind of hungry. Do you have any food on board this thing?”

  Having the good grace to not pressure Megan, Sam nodded. Leaning down, he dragged out a small picnic basket. “Believe it or not, I have two croissants in there, two cherry tortes and orange juice. Help yourself.”

  Relieved that Sam wasn’t going to pursue her past too closely, Megan set to work getting them their breakfa
st. Sam’s questions had opened up old wounds, old hurts that Megan didn’t want to address right now. She had given herself a year to resolve those painful issues. As she stood there eating the food she didn’t taste, Megan wished the race was over so that she could shift the focus on Sam. He was, by far, more interesting than her agonizing past.

  “Well,” Sam said dryly, “second place isn’t bad.” Even now, after they had crossed the finish line, another crowd of thousands stood waiting to watch them land. He was elated with the finish. The race had been good, the company even better. Within the next fifteen minutes, they would be earthbound again. And then, he’d take this luscious redheaded woman to a long, enjoyable lunch. Megan intrigued him. She hid from him, he sensed. Not in a defensive way, but she was shy and introverted considering her blazing red hair. Megan wasn’t like most women her age. No, there was a refreshing vulnerability to her.

  “I think second place is great, considering you had a passenger who doesn’t know a thing about ballooning,” Megan pointed out. Slowly, they were beginning to descend toward an open area away from the thousands of onlookers. “Now, it’s your turn. Tell me about yourself.”

  “Born and raised in Michigan.” Sam deliberately left out the fact his father had been a struggling blue-collar union worker for the auto industry. Most pilots, especially test pilots, came from white-collar, upwardly mobile families. He was a black sheep at best among his professional friends. And it was something he kept to himself.

  “Single?”

  “Yes. And ladies with red hair have always interested me.”

  “Oh?”

  “They’re complex.” He motioned to her hair, the thick strands a frame around her features. “Your hair is a combination of gold, copper and burgundy colors. Not one color, but many. That indicates a lot of facets to you.”

  Her laugh was free, and she was delighted with how he saw her. “Complex isn’t a word I’d use on myself, Sam.”

  “Oh? What words would you use to describe yourself?” He was interested in how Megan saw herself.

  “Shy, responsible, a workaholic…” Megan hesitated. “I guess that says it all.”

  He had to divide his attention between Megan and the forthcoming landing. Below, he spotted his team at the outskirts of the crowd. Releasing the risers to allow ample amounts of hot air to escape would help them descend more rapidly.

  “What about you?” Megan challenged. “Are you in a business here in Lancaster?”

  Sam swung his attention back to her. There was pride in his voice. “I’m a captain in the Air Force and in the business of being a test pilot over at Edwards.”

  A gasp escaped Megan.

  “Hey, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Holt joked, watching all the color drain from her cheeks. He had to pay attention to the landing since the ground was coming up rapidly. Working the handle, sending more heat into the balloon, their descent was slowed dramatically, and they hovered ten feet above the desert. Below, his crew of three men had gathered, reaching out for the trail lines.

  No longer worried about the landing, Megan gripped the side of the gondola. She stared at his intent features as he steered the balloon closer and closer to the awaiting crew, who were reaching up to grab the ropes hanging over the side of the gondola. Her mind whirled with shock and then despair. Closing her eyes, Megan tried to draw in a breath, but couldn’t.

  “Prepare for landing,” Sam called. He knew Megan was afraid of heights. Figuring her reaction was due to that, he worked the handle, wanting to make the landing smooth and uneventful for her. Briefly, he saw his friend Curt Merrill at the edge of the crowd, an unhappy look on his face. Beside him were his wife, Becky, and their daughter, Patty. He managed a wave in their direction, feeling the gondola lightly scrape the desert floor. The crew ran outward, using their weight to anchor the balloon into the place. Holt threw them a thumbs-up, meaning: okay!

  Turning, Sam moved over to Megan, his hand resting on her shoulder. “Megan? You all right?” Her knuckles were white, fingers dug into the woven side of the gondola. Giving her a small shake to make her relax, Sam said, “It’s over. We’re down. You can open your eyes now.”

  It was agony for Megan to open them and stare up into Holt’s handsome face. She saw concern in his eyes. Pulling away from him, she moved to the opposite side of the gondola. The space was too small, and she felt confined and suffocated, needing to escape.

  Megan looked out across the crowd, which remained at a respectful distance. Her heart was pounding unrelentingly in her breast, and she felt nothing but pain and betrayal. “I have to go,” she croaked, gripping her camera. “How do I get out of this thing?”

  Sam scowled and lightly leaped out of the basket. Before Megan could protest, he placed his hands around her waist, lifting her up and out of the gondola. “There, you’re grounded again,” he teased, his hands lingering around her. “Hey, talk to me.”

  Swallowing back a lump, Megan stepped out of his dangerous embrace. Holt was too charismatic, too overwhelming to her senses as a woman. Somehow, he’d slipped inside her walls she swore would never come down if she ever met a man in the military, especially a pilot. “I—I have to go, Captain Holt. Please, excuse me….”

  Sam stood nonplussed, watching Megan turn and walk quickly toward the crowd. He saw Becky and Curt Merrill moving toward him from the opposite direction. “Megan!” he shouted. “Wait!” To his chagrin, he saw her quickly disappear among the hundreds of people pressing forward to watch the balloon deflate.

  “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. He couldn’t just take off and chase her down. What had he said to make her run off? Mulling over their conversation, Sam couldn’t find anything. Reluctantly, he turned toward his approaching friends. It didn’t matter; he knew where she worked, and that was enough. Megan Roberts was fair game, and he was intrigued by her. One way or another, he was going to see her again.

  “Hi, Curt and Becky.” Holt leaned down, watching little blond-haired Patty race toward him, her tiny, thin arms outstretched. “Come here, squirt!”

  “Uncle Sammy! Uncle Sammy!” Patty threw herself into his arms.

  Chuckling, Sam swung Patty upward, hearing her peal of laughter. Settling her into his arms, she hugged him fiercely. Sam pressed a kiss to her hair and gave a welcoming smile to her parents. Some of his happiness dissolved when he realized Becky had been crying. Curt looked grim.

  “Sorry you couldn’t make the race,” he told Curt.

  “Yeah…well, Becky didn’t want me to go up.”

  Sam suppressed his reaction. “I see.” Curt was the number-three-slotted test pilot. His light brown hair was cut short, his azure eyes intense and restless. Like most pilots, he possessed a deep chest and broad shoulders. He flew test flights a couple of times a week. A balloon was tame and safe in comparison.

  Sam gave her a game smile. “Becky, how are you?” She was a petite woman who reminded him of a bird. She had Patty’s thin blond hair and wore a simple but colorful cotton dress that emphasized her slender build.

  “Just fine,” she answered, forcing a smile, her voice barely above a whisper. Clasping her hands nervously in front of her, she glanced up at her husband. “I’m sorry, Sam, I just got the jitters about Curt going up in a balloon.’’

  He liked Becky’s soft Arkansas drawl. Since they’d come to the base three months ago, he’d reestablished a close relationship with the family. Off and on throughout the last six years, he’d flown with Curt in different fighter squadrons. Sam knew about Becky’s fear of Curt crashing. It was a common problem among some of the wives and girlfriends of pilots. “I understand, Becky.”

  “I tried to explain it to her,” Curt said in an aggravated tone. “It’s just a stupid balloon, Becky! Look at it! Does it look dangerous to you now?”

  The woman bowed her head, remaining silent.

  “Don’t pick on her,” Sam said, slipping his arm around Becky’s thin, slumped shoulders. “Not all people are birds, Merrill
.” He wanted to defuse the tension around the family. Sucking her thumb, Patty happily rested her head on his shoulder. “Come on, gang. What do you say we go back over to my house and have a barbecue? My crew will be coming along as soon as they get the balloon stowed. I can tell you all about the race. We took second, did you know that? And did you see that gorgeous redhead that was with me?”

  “That was Miss Roberts,” Becky said in awe. “I didn’t know you knew her.”

  Chuckling, Sam squeezed Becky, trying to give her some confidence. “We just met.” Becky was from the hills of Arkansas and had been married to Curt for eight years. In Sam’s opinion, she had never left the hills in some ways, always afraid of planes and respectful of most of the twentieth-century machinery. Becky was simple, but that didn’t take away from her warm, generous heart. Because she knew Sam was single, she had Curt invite him over for a delicious home-cooked meal at least twice a week. No, Becky had her priorities straight: things at home, family and children were important to her.

  Merrill stood there and grimaced, watching the balloon begin to fold and flow across the desert floor as the rest of the hot air escaped form the side vents. “Miss Roberts called Becky yesterday.”

  “Oh?” Sam raised his brows, quickly putting together the pieces. “About you-know-who,” he said, meaning Patty. The seven-year-old girl was precocious and Sam had seen her throw tantrums upon occasion.

  Unhappily, Curt nodded. “Yeah. She called Becky in for a parents’ conference this coming Monday. I can’t make it because I’m flying that day, so she’s going over by herself.”

  “Good news?”

  “No. I’ll tell you later, when you-know-who is out of earshot,” Curt told his friend.

  “Roger.” Sam nodded.

  Becky looked up at Holt. “Monday Curt flies.”

  Sam tensed inwardly. “Yes, that’s right, Becky.”

  She cast a nervous look up at her husband. “Every time gets harder. I worry so much about him. What could happen—”