Night Flight (19 page)

Going to her small office, Megan had to get her lesson plans done. As she sat down at her desk, her mind moved ahead to this coming week. Sam flew Monday and Friday.

Oh, God, those days would crawl by for her. Rubbing her brow, Megan closed her eyes and experienced a sense of helplessness she never knew existed. Right now, she wished her mother were alive, so that she could ask her if this is what she felt before her father would go up to test fly. How was she going to handle her worry? How?

Megan’s mind refused to stay centered on the lesson plans. Inevitably, it swung back to Sam, to their kiss, their searching, poignant conversation with one another. With a stubborn shake of her head, Megan forced him out of her thoughts. But she had no way to remove him from her heart. She wondered how Becky was handling her husband’s flying, aware that she worried a great deal, too.

Curt tossed his garrison cap on the couch in disgust. Becky looked out from the kitchen.

“You look tired. Curt.”

He picked up Patty, giving her a kiss, and then set her down. Entering the kitchen, he kissed Becky. “It was a bad day, Sparrow.” Curt poured himself coffee and sat down at the table.

Becky watched him covertly, putting the finishing touches on the nightly salad. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just not getting the breaks I should over at Ops,” he growled, rubbing his face tiredly. “Stang and Holt are in solid. Promotion for early major is coming up. I need those oak leaves.” And then, he leaned back in the chair and tipped it back, staring blankly up at the ceiling. “I wish to hell my sponsor would kick in. Right now, I need his help. I’m not getting as much flying in as the other two pilots. If only he could schedule me in for more testing, I could raise my percentile and get out of third place.”

Risking Curt’s anger, Becky said, “Maybe you don’t have a sponsor like you thought.” Right now, she’d do anything to get Curt away from Edwards. If he couldn’t make the cut as a test pilot, he would be put back into a fighter squadron. That was something she could deal with better than his testing planes.

“I’d better have. How could I have gotten this far without one?”

She shrugged, pretending innocence. “Other officers have gone a long way without a sponsor, Curt.”

“Christ, what would I do if I didn’t have one? I’m dead in the water.”

Becky sat at the table. After a few minutes she asked, “There’s no shame in being a pilot in a fighter squadron,” she said softly.

The chair thunked down on the floor. Curt grimaced. “My father expects great things from me. He brags to everybody I’m a test pilot, now. How can I let him down?”

Wincing inwardly, Becky turned and said nothing, going to the silver drawer. Didn’t Curt ever think that he was letting her and Patty down by fighting so hard to remain a test pilot?

“Did you know that the Stangs got an invitation to eat with General Dalton? We didn’t get one. Why them and not me?”

“Because Jack has a sponsor, that’s why,” Becky boldly offered. Perhaps, if she could pick away at Curt’s belief that he had a sponsor, he might seriously think of transferring back to a fighter squadron.

Megan dressed carefully for the dinner with the Daltons and Jake Hamilton. She arrived at the general’s sprawling residence on Edwards at exactly 7:00 p.m., Friday night. She wore a stylish lavender silk shirt and a long skirt of the same color. The sash was hot pink, her white silk scarf simple but elegant. A pair of low-heeled shoes rounded out her wardrobe. Megan wanted to be casual and relaxed. With her possible firing from the school still hanging over her head, she felt unsure of the dinner, or of Hamilton’s reception to her presence, much less making a pitch for her proposal.

The single-story stucco home was yellow with a red tile roof, and many well-manicured bushes surrounded the residence. Pushing the doorbell, Megan tried to calm her hammering heart. This was one time when Sam’s presence would be wonderful, but this was something she had to do on her own. Guilt niggled at her because she had withheld so much information from Sam despite his concern for her welfare the past week. When it was all over—one way or another—she’d tell him everything.

A black man dressed in a starched white jacket and black pants opened the door. Megan smiled and handed him the invitation. “Right this way, Ms. Roberts,” he invited.

Megan had been in this home a number of times before as a teenager, when her father had been invited over for dinner by other commanding generals. The rich interior was distinctively Persian, with rare and expensive rugs covering the highly polished oak floors. However, a military veneer still pervaded, the antique swords on the wall reminding everyone a warrior lived here. She heard voices, snapping her attention back to the reason why she’d come.

In the dining room, Megan halted. Her mouth nearly dropped opened. There, standing next to George Dalton, were Jack and Melody Stang. Swallowing hard, Megan saw Melody’s eyes widen enormously. Captain Stang was in his dark blue uniform, and Melody was dressed in a black cocktail gown that emphasized her Raphael-like figure. She looked stunning. Megan felt underdressed, but shoved away the feeling.

“My dear,” Grace said, coming over to her, “how long it’s been since we last saw you. Come in, come in.”

Megan gave Grace a quick hug, liking the trim fifty-five-year-old woman with steel-gray hair. She wore a bright yellow silk dress that spoke of her station on the base; understated, and yet expensive. “Thanks for having me, Mrs. Dalton.”

“Oh, pooh! You always called me Gracie when you were a teenager. Why change now, Megan?” She smiled and gripped her shoulders. “My, you’ve turned into a lovely young lady. George, come and meet Megan!”

Megan watched the Stangs’ as well as Hamilton’s reactions to the general’s enthusiastic welcome for her. She knew Hamilton was ex-Air Force, so her warm reception by the most powerful man on base wasn’t wasted on him, either. Normally, a general shook hands with his guests, but George gave Megan a huge bear hug.

Smiling at the short, squat general, Megan returned the hug. “Thanks for having me, General.”

“It’s an honor to have you dine with us, Megan,” he assured her heartily, and he turned to his other guests. “You know that Megan is the daughter of Colonel Steven Roberts?” He frowned. “I miss him, Megan. I’m sure you do, too.”

She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “Yes, I do.” If her father had only lived after her graduation. Megan had planned to have many long, serious talks with him once she arrived back at Edwards. Now, it was too late.

When the general introduced her to the Stangs, Megan pretended nothing was wrong, greeting them warmly. The panic in Melody’s eyes, coupled with Jack’s anxious look, told her they were just as shocked that she was here with them. It was obvious the Daltons, and perhaps Hamilton, knew nothing of what was going on with Scotty or her job. The Stangs probably were worried that she’d tell Dalton about the infighting going on over their son. Were they stupid enough to bring it up in dinner conversation? Megan prayed they were going to be as discreet about the topic, as she was, and say nothing. She had larger fish to fry tonight.

The dinner bell rang and Megan found herself seated to the left of Dalton, a place of honor. Hamilton was on his right. Grace sat at the other end of the Queen Anne cherry table with the Stangs. Through the first course of broccoli-and-cheese soup, Megan kept a low profile. Hamilton appeared to be in good graces with Dalton, the two men exchanging old Air Force stories. The salad arrived, and Megan watched as Melody adroitly entered the decidedly male conversation, turning it instead to banking and her father’s massive holdings in California. Megan admired Melody’s assertiveness and confidence. There weren’t many Air Force wives who would interrupt and deftly manipulate the situation as she had. Dalton appeared suitably impressed with Melody’s wit, charm and intelligence. So was Megan.

When the beef Wellington arrived, Dalton turned his attention to Megan.

“So, what have you been up to, young lady? I know Steve was terribly proud of your grades at Ohio State.”

“What kind of grades did you get?” Melody inquired sweetly with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I graduated with a 4.0, Mrs. Stang.”

“Oh…I see.”

Chuckling, Dalton cut into his thick, juicy portion of beef Wellington with relish. “Melody, this little red-haired gal is the spitting image of her father. She’s feisty, goal-oriented and knows what she wants out of life. Don’t let those freckles she wears fool you.”

Jack smiled sickly, losing his appetite. Melody meekly pushed the meat around on the china plate trimmed in gold.

“Speaking of goals, General,” Megan said, waiting for just the right opening, “I do have one in mind that I’d like to share with you and Mr. Hamilton. I’d like your feedback on it.”

Dalton’s thick gray brows rose. “Oh? I know how devoted you are to teaching, so this must be something special, Megan.”

“It is, sir.” Megan glanced across at Hamilton’s round face. At sixty, he was plump and flaccid, but that didn’t take away from his alert dark eyes. “I want you to know that teaching is more than just a job to me. It’s a mission.”

Dalton grinned. “I hear Steve Roberts talking.”

“And like him, I crusade for what I believe in.” Megan took a deep breath, her hands still over her plate of barely eaten food. For the next five minutes, she outlined her plan to the two men. Internally, she held her breath, and watched their faces carefully for reaction after the explanation.

“I like the idea, don’t you, Jake?”

Hamilton nodded. “It sounds refreshing. How long ago was this proposal submitted, Megan?”

“Over a month ago, Mr. Hamilton.” Megan wondered if he were aware that Jamison was trying to get her fired. He certainly didn’t act as if he knew. Some principals let the running of school be handled by their assistant, while they handled more political matters. She wasn’t going to bring it up.

“You know how antsy those children get at that age, Jake,” Grace said, enthused. “Why, I think Megan’s plan has merit, don’t you?”

Jake nodded. “Yes, yes, I do. I’ll see that Brad has a copy of it on my desk tomorrow morning.”

Megan smiled. “Wonderful, Mr. Hamilton.”

“Now, I can’t promise you anything.”

“I understand that.”

Dalton snorted. “With Megan’s credentials and her father’s name behind her, I’m sure the people in the Pentagon won’t disapprove of her idea. At least, for a trial run.”

Inwardly, Megan wanted to jump up and down for joy. She knew Dalton was going to back her, and that Hamilton wasn’t going to dispute his decision. “Well,” she said breathlessly, “we could use my class for a model this year. I’m sure we’d get enough data to see if it warranted further exploration.”

“Not only is Megan bright,” George told Hamilton conspiratorially, “but she’s reasonable. A good combination. You’re just like your father, Megan. Damn, but he’d be proud of you…. And I am, too. I think your influence here at Edwards will reap nothing but positive benefits for our men.”

“I’m doing it for the children,” Megan said quietly.

On the way out the door later that night, Melody caught up with Megan and gripped her arm. She managed a slight smile.

“Are we still on for next Saturday’s luncheon, Megan?”

Megan saw the worry in the woman’s eyes. “Yes, of course.”

Melody released her. “Good…”

Hamilton came up along side of Megan. “I was impressed with your presentation on the outdoor education idea, Megan. You have my promise that it will take priority.”

“Thanks,” she said, suddenly wanting to get away from all of them. Power games were something she didn’t enjoy participating in. Her father had drilled it into her early on, that it was a way of life in the Air Force. She was now seeing it firsthand. As she got in her Toyota, her hand shook as she placed the key in the ignition. Her stomach was knotted like a huge fist, but more than anything else, she wanted to talk to Sam.

No, it was more than just talking with him. She’d ran the gauntlet this evening by herself. If Sam had been here, his silent support, his belief in her, would have helped her feel more secure about her actions. Pulling away from the house, Megan glanced up at the starry night.

“Eject, Eject, Eject!” The words were torn from Holt as he jerked upright in his bed. With a groan, he realized the same nightmare had stalked him again. Rubbing his sweaty face, he glanced over at the luminous dials of the clock on the bed, stand: 3:00 a.m. Same time, same dream. The crash had occurred at that time.

Trembling, he sat on the edge of the bed, fingers dug into the mattress, and stared at the darkened wall. Bits and pieces of the killing crash that took Russ’s life fled before his eyes. On purpose, Holt centered on Megan, and his breathing began to steady. It was Monday morning, and he’d be flying the Eagle at 8:00 a.m. Less than five hours away. At least it wasn’t raining.

“Dammit,” Holt muttered, getting to his feet. He needed the cooling effect of a shower to bring him back into the present. The fear sitting in his belly was real, and he rubbed his hand across that area, trying to erase it. The fear remained. Ever since he’d blown the test with Lauren during the rain, Sam had felt that knot of fear growing larger each time he flew. Nothing got rid of it except to focus entirely on Megan, her face, her soft, willing lips and his need for her in all ways.

Turning on the bathroom light, Holt winced, cursing because it hurt his eyes. Turning on the shower, he remembered the fear he’d seen in Megan’s eyes when he told her he’d be flying today and Friday. Maybe she’d picked up on his fear. Unsure, Sam stripped out of the drawstring pajamas and stepped into the icy cold water. As he savagely rubbed his face, Holt hoped that Stang wasn’t going to needle him this morning. He wasn’t up for it.

Jack lay in wait for Holt, idly drumming his fingers on his desk. Melody did the same thing when she was getting ready to launch an offensive at someone, he mused. Originally, it had been her habit, but over the years he’d picked it up from her by osmosis. Funny how in a good marriage, both partners traded little idiosyncrasies with one another, each becoming more like the other.

Design was quiet and intense this morning. At 6:00 a.m., everyone was here, civilian and military alike, except for Sam. He was late—again. A good sign. The flight today had the new brake system installed on the F-15. Dammit, he should have gotten this test today, not Holt. Anything new ought to be flown by the chief test pilot first, not by a rookie backup. Stang contained his frustration and anger and waited for Holt to enter the room. Today, he’d brought doughnuts for everyone. Jack wasn’t about to be upstaged by him again.

Merrill looked grouchy, speaking in monosyllables to those who dared go over to his desk to consult him on the upcoming test. Unusual for him, Jack thought, making a note to jot that observation down, before the end of the day. Something was definitely going wrong at home for him. He was glad Becky had called Melody weeks before, letting the cat out of the bag about how she feared Curt flying. From then on, those weekly phone calls from Melody to Merrill’s wife were keeping things on edge between husband and wife. Good. He didn’t need Curt at a hundred percent, or he’d be just as good as Holt. And Holt posed enough of a problem in the ratings for him.

Major Porter was more tense than usual, too. Stang smiled broadly to himself. Melody had gotten one of the cocktail waitresses at the O Club to spread word that her fiancé was having a hot and heavy affair with a groupie. Lauren had obviously gotten wind of it. Restless because Holt still hadn’t shown up, Jack got to his feet, sauntering over to her desk, where she was working at the computer terminal.

“Hey, I heard on the grapevine last night that your fiancé was making eyes at Liza Cooper,” he remarked, coming to a halt and leaning negligently against the desk. Stang grinned to himself when Lauren’s head jerked up, her eyes blazing.

“Captain, I don’t indulge in gossip. And, I’m busy. Now if you don’t mind—”

“Easy, Major. It’s just that this Liza is a blond bombshell. I heard she’s got every jock in the place drooling over her hot, luscious body.”

Lauren glared up at the pilot. “Stow it, Captain. You can’t bait me.”

“Aren’t you worried about your boyfriend? Major Malone’s a damn good-looking man. Way I heard it, Liza made a pass at him over at the NASA cafeteria yesterday afternoon.”

Brows dipping, Lauren punched more figures into the computer. “I heard no such thing.”

“Hmmm,” Jack said, crossing his arms, “maybe you ought to check it out. Melody was over there yesterday for lunch and saw it happen.”

“Sometimes,” Lauren growled, refusing to look up at Stang, and knowing exactly what he was trying to do to her, “your wife gets names, dates, faces and locations mixed up, too.”

Digging into the breast pocket of his light blue shirt, Jack produced a photo, dropping it nonchalantly on her desk. “Want to bet?”

Lauren looked at the photo. In it was, a model like woman in a tight and very revealing leather miniskirt leaning over Ryan at the NASA cafeteria. He was smiling up at the blond, younger woman. She Clenched her teeth. “Where did you get this?”

“My wife saw someone shooting the picture of Liza Cooper and your fiancé. She rushed over to retrieve it, to save you embarrassment. She thought you might want this. If someone else got hold of it, it might cause you some uncomfortable moments.”