Night Flight (13 page)

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.

“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 aboveboard.”

“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.”