Night Flight (4 page)

“I would hope that Mr. Hamilton hired me because I was a good teacher, not necessarily a ‘special lady.’”

Brad’s smile broadened. He liked her spirit and spunk, her chin raised at an imperious angle, her green eyes flashing with a hint of anger. “Do I hear feminism talking?” he teased, walking over to her desk.

Megan sized him up. “I’m sure you do. But that shouldn’t come as any surprise. It’s 1990, and feminism started in 1970. Everyone’s had twenty years to adjust to the fact that a woman is an equal.” She smiled slightly. “I see you have my curriculum suggestion in hand. Is that what you’ve come to talk about?”

“Ah, yes. Your suggestions.” Brad made himself comfortable on the corner of her desk, no more than a foot separating them. Megan was dressed in a bright kelly-green shirt-dress, the brass buttons and belt showing off her figure and complexion.

“I wasn’t sure who should receive my proposal,” Megan said, holding her breath. Would admin go for it? Would they allow her to change the education model to help the children?

“I’m the curriculum coordinator, Megan. I know you’re new here, so all’s forgiven.”

“And what did you think?”

He held the file in both hands, tapping it lazily against his knee. “I think it’s rather radical—”

“Wait a minute, Mr. Jamison—”

“Call me Brad.”

Megan frowned. Was he making a pass at her? He couldn’t be. Still, her instincts warned her that Jamison wanted something from her. “All right…Brad. If you’ve read my file, you know I’m an Air Force brat. I grew up on bases, and as a matter of fact, I graduated from this very high school five years ago. I feel that my insider’s knowledge of what these children need is worthy of attention.”

Brad smiled. Like any new teacher, Megan was enthusiastic and out to change the world. She’d find out very quickly that admin and the union didn’t operate that way. “You are in the position to know more than most of our teachers about the children of military parents.”

“It’s more than that, Brad.” Megan walked around and faced him. “My second grade class has a couple of disruptive children, arid I feel my education model will help them integrate so that I can get on with the job of teaching all the children in the class.”

“Who are they?”

Taken aback by his unexpected and almost wolfish interest, Megan hesitated. And then, she reasoned that he was the assistant principal. Jamison would know sooner or later about her reports on the children, anyway. “Patty Merrill and Scotty Stang. Both are children of test pilots.”

“I hope you’ve been sensitive enough not to report this, Megan.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“Reporting their behavior to the front office will make it look bad for the fathers. You know how officers’ fitness reports will make or break them career-wise. Even school reports on their children can adversely affect their careers.”

Placing her hands on her hips, Megan shook her head. “I would think, Mr. Jamison, that your first priority, indeed, your only one, would be the children of the schools. Patty and Scotty are borderline dysfunctional. Patty’s problems are different from Scotty’s, but they need attention and quick action.”

Placing the folder on the desk, Brad stood up. “You know, with that red hair, I figured you’d be a fighter, Megan.” He reached out, brushing her scarlet cheek. She gasped, her eyes going wide with shock, and she quickly stepped out of his reach.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Megan railed.

“You’re a very beautiful lady. I think,” Brad went on softly, “that we ought to discuss this over dinner tonight in Lancaster. What do you say?”

Trying to steady her breathing, Megan stared over at Jamison. “I don’t like what you’re suggesting. And even more, you had no right to touch me.”

“First-year teachers have a lot to learn.” He pointed to her folder. “Stay friendly with me, Megan, and maybe I’ll seriously consider your outdoor education proposal.”

Anger vibrated through her. Jamison had no right to do this. “In other words, if I don’t play along with what you want, or give you what you want, you’ll ignore my proposal?”

“I always said redheads were particularly astute and canny. Yes, that’s the deal, Megan.”

“Don’t call me Megan. I’m Miss Roberts to you. And I’ll take my proposal to my union and get backing for it.”

With a laugh, Brad turned and walked away. “You’re going to find out the hard way that if you don’t deal with me, your proposal isn’t going to take off.”

Megan stood there shaking with anger after Jamison had left. The bastard! Who did he think he was? He was parading around like king of the jungle, inspecting her, making a pass at her and then expecting her to fall into his arms. With shaking hands, she put the rest of her lesson plan into her briefcase.

“Are you still here?”

Megan heard Linda Yarnell’s friendly voice. She looked up and snapped the briefcase shut. “The perils of being a first-year teacher,” she joked. Linda was a bit overweight, but at forty, she looked much younger than her age. Her square face was almost free of wrinkles, and Megan wondered how she did it while working with Jamison around.

“I just saw Jamison coming like a steam engine down the hall. Was he in here?” Linda placed her worn cowhide briefcase on a desk.

With a grimace, Megan told her what had transpired. Her heart sank when she saw Linda’s brow furrow. “What does that scowl mean?”

“Tread lightly, Megan. Your status as a teacher isn’t firmed up, yet.”

“Does Jamison go around fondling all the other teachers?”

“He’s never tried it on me.” She laughed. “I’m too old for him. Seriously, I haven’t heard anything from the other teachers.”

“Can’t the union do something about it?”

“Do you have a witness so that you could slap him with a sexual harassment charge?”

With a groan, Megan muttered, “No.”

“He’s smart, so watch it.”

“He’s stupid if he thinks he can stalk me.”

“You rebuffed him. I doubt he’ll try again. More than likely, you’ve made an enemy.”

Setting her jaw, Megan glanced down at Linda. “I know you have eighteen years as a base teacher, and I’d like to sit down sometime with you and have you fill me in on what the union can do to help me get this proposal before the school board.”

“Why not have dinner with us tonight? You’re new in Lancaster, and I’m sure going back to a lonely apartment isn’t a whole lot of fun.”

It wasn’t. Megan managed a tentative smile. She knew Linda’s husband was a lieutenant colonel and flew the space shuttle plane to and from Florida. It was a dangerous job in her opinion, but Linda’s kindly face didn’t show the effects of it as her mother’s had. “Yes, I’d like that. Thanks.”

Linda pointed to the balloon she’d drawn on the board. “How was the balloon rally?”

Sam Holt’s image wavered before Megan. An incredible feeling momentarily overwhelmed her. He was more than likable, but she had to fight his effect upon her. “Uh…it was okay. I’m going to have the children make and color their own balloons tomorrow. I got the photos developed today.” She patted her briefcase. “I’ll pass them around to the children so they can get some ideas of colors and designs.”

“I like what you’re doing,” Linda said, walking out with her. “Hands-on teaching is something we’re in dire need of, Megan. I’m glad you’re here. You’ve just got to be careful how you butt heads with admin and still keep your job.”

Megan agreed. More than anything, she didn’t want to lose her job, but changes had to come about. These children had special pressures and demands made on them that civilian children did not. She knew from her own experience. And somehow, she was going to make it better for them. “You know,” she told Linda softly as she locked the door to her room, “I had some wonderful teachers in the third, fourth and fifth grades. If I hadn’t, I don’t think I’d be whole today.” And then she laughed, embarrassed. “They gave me direction, love and care when I wasn’t getting any at home. I want to be there for these children, Linda. But I want to improve their world at school. I know it can be done. And I know I can do it.”

“Just be aware of how you do it, Megan. Getting any changes in this school system is like pulling teeth.”

“Then, I’ll become a dentist. I’m not taking no for an answer. These children’s lives are too important not to fight for.”

Sam was more careful the second time around making conversation with Megan Roberts. He’d wrangled some time off so that he could meet her at the school. Still dressed in his one-piece, green flight suit, he took off his garrison hat as he walked through the opened door of her classroom. The secretary at the principal’s office had given him directions. Megan was at her desk, working. Behind her, on the chalkboard, was a colorful balloon. And on three other walls were large, multicolored balloons obviously made and cut out by her children. It looked like a flower garden in her room, a place where creativity abounded and was encouraged. He grinned and gave a light knock at the door so as not to startle her.

Megan lifted her head. Her lips parted. “You…” The word escaped softly, underscored with disbelief. She was unhappy with her response: her heart thudded powerfully in her breast as if to underscore his unexpected presence.

“Hi. I thought I’d drop by and try a different introduction so you wouldn’t run away from me again.” He eased into the room, acutely aware of the distrust in her glorious green eyes. Megan wore a loose cotton blouse of pink, a colorful scarf and white cotton skirt. Her small feet were encased in a pair of sensible sandals. Megan leaned back in her chair, trying to assemble her scattered thoughts. Holt was more than handsome, but the flight suit brought back terrible, searing memories. She put her pen down.

“Why are you here?”

Ignoring her defensiveness and the tone of her voice, he dug into one of the large pockets of his flight suit. “Remember those pictures I’d shot from the balloon?”

“Yes,” she answered warily.

Sam wanted to defuse the brittle tension he heard in Megan’s voice.

“I thought you might like to share these with your kids,” he said, handing her the pictures he’d shot from the balloon.

Surprised that any pilot would be so unselfish, Megan hesitantly took the photos and looked through them. “They’re beautiful….” She looked up at him, noticing that lazy grin on his face, and managed a smile. “My children will love them. That was thoughtful of you, Captain Holt. Thank you.”

“Can’t we make it Sam and Megan?”

Just the way he asked melted Megan’s initial distrust of why he was here. Still, she couldn’t afford to encourage him, even though a part of her liked him.

“No, I’m afraid not, Captain.”

Hard to catch, Sam decided, not at all deterred. Pointing to her knapsack on her desk he asked, “Going somewhere?”

“I was about to go out and scout out a route to take my children on a hike later this week.”

“Great. Mind if I tag along?”

She glanced at him. “Since when is a test pilot interested in anything earthbound like rocks or plants?” The bitterness had leaked through in her voice, and she was sorry, not meaning to take her past out on Sam. His eyes sparkled with devilry, and Megan realized he hadn’t taken her reaction personally.

“When I got assigned to Edwards six months ago, I didn’t like the desert very much. Being raised in Michigan, I was used to water, trees and green lawns. There were six kids in the family, and we were raised near a lake.” He glanced at her to see what kind of effect his conversation had on her. Maybe, if he shifted the focus to him, she wouldn’t withdraw as much.

Megan gave a short, derisive laugh. “You’re way out of your element, then.”

Good, at least she was talking with him. He grinned, noticing that her lashes had lifted enough to reveal those heart-stopping emerald eyes. “I’m letting the Mojave grow on me.”

“The desert reminds me of a skeleton,” Megan said more to herself than him, and looked out the window. “It’s a bleached-bone color, and nothing much survives out here.” Not even the test pilots.

Sam digested her statement. “I never thought of the desert as a skeleton.”

“The Mojave takes lives, Captain.”

“That’s a pretty macabre way of looking at it,” Sam said, seeing her point. A number of test planes and pilots had augered into the unforgiving floor of the white desert.

Megan closed her eyes. “I don’t see much that’s positive about any military base.”

“Except the children?”

“Yes, the wives and children are the casualties. They’re worth being here for, fighting for….”

Megan had plenty of nice qualities, Sam decided early on. There was just this one streak in her about the military that was like a raw, seeping wound that hadn’t healed yet. He could forgive her for that. God knew, he had some open and bleeding wounds himself, and remembered the death of his best friend, Russ Davis. Five months ago, Russ flew a night test with him, and everything went wrong. Sam broke out in a light sweat over those hellish memories, and he wiped his brow. He’d walked away from the crash, but Russ had died with the plane. Megan was right: the Mojave held a lot of skeletons.

Quirking his mouth, Sam realized Megan had picked up her jeans and hiking boots and was heading for the door. As if sensing his unasked question, she turned.

“I’m going to change and be back in a minute.”

“I’ll wait.”

Her heart sank. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

“I need the exercise.”

“I’ve never met a pilot who liked to hike.”

“Until I came along, Red. Maybe I can be of help. Who knows?”

With a shake of her head, Megan disappeared. In the teachers’ lounge, which was empty, she changed clothes, unhappy. Whether she liked it or not, his endearment touched her deeply. No one had called her “Red.” Maybe “Carrot Top” when she was a kid, but not Red.

Returning to the room, Megan picked up her knapsack, notebook and pen. Sam stood expectantly, giving her a smile that sent her heart skittering.

Megan felt heat crawling up her neck and into her face. Sam Holt was entirely too confident about himself as a man and realized his effect on her. Mouth dry, she croaked, “Follow me.”

Sam fell in at Megan’s side and noticed the easy way she walked. They left the school and headed out back toward the desert, which wasn’t far from the asphalt parking lot. The sun was low on the horizon, the sky a light blue above and a dark gold ribbon of color along the horizon. As usual, it was a cloudless day. Edwards offered some of the finest flying conditions in the world because of the dry desert environment.

“So what kind of hike is this going to be for your kids?”

“A rock-hunting trip.” Megan took several samples of different stones and put them in her knapsack. “I’m interested in creating a classroom where their five senses are stimulated. Nowadays, kids are glued to their classroom computers. They lose so much that way.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. “Less boring if you get them outside, too. It gets them involved.”

“Yes.” Megan tried to ignore Holt’s closeness. He picked up a few other pebbles and handed them to her. His fingers barely brushed her palm, but it sent a delightful sensation up through her arm.

Sam studied her. He saw her subtle, feminine response to his touch in her lustrous eyes. “I don’t have any kids, but is that kind of teaching done here at Edwards?”

“No, and I’m going to fight to get outdoor education included as part of the curriculum.” Hesitating, Megan wondered if she should talk to Sam about her problems with Jamison. Just the interest he displayed coupled with the care exuding from him made her add, “I’m already meeting resistance over my proposal.”

Sam responded to her contralto voice lined with conviction. When she sat down in the sand and crossed her legs, the notebook balanced on her knee, he smiled openly. There was an incredible naturalness to Megan. One he applauded. He couldn’t imagine Melody Stang, the wife of chief test pilot Jack Stang, out here, much less sitting in the sand. Melody remained well-dressed and spotless no matter what the occasion. He crouched down opposite Megan. “You’re bucking the system.” In the military, that wasn’t a wise thing to do. There was chain of command, and no one in his right mind ever challenged it. Not if they wanted a continued career in the service.

“I know, I’m biting off a lot, but I don’t care. The children are worth defending, Sam. They need time out of the classroom. They need to touch, feel, taste and smell the world around them, not just have their noses buried in a book or riveted to a computer screen.”

“Could this fight to get the proposal accepted affect your job?”

“Maybe.”

“What’s that mean?” Sam didn’t want to lose her now that he’d found her. If Megan got fired for pushing too hard, he had a personal interest in this battle of hers. If she got fired, she’d move away, and that was the last thing he wanted her to do.

Glancing up from studying some rocks, Megan held his serious gaze. “It means I’ve got to be careful. I didn’t come back here for nothing….” And then she bit back the rest of what she was going to say.

“A lady with a mission,” Sam said softly. He waited for her to respond to his baited statement, but she refused to add anything else.

“I like you. You’re different.” And pretty.

Megan halted and turned to him. She challenged his blue eyes that were dark with undeniable warmth toward her. “I’m not interested, Captain.”

“Sam.”

“I’m not interested in a relationship with a man right now. This is my first year of teaching, and I have other, more important priorities.” That wasn’t quite true. It just couldn’t be a man in the military, and especially not a pilot. The pain from the past was too much for Megan to overcome. She would never date a pilot.

“At least I’m not in competition with another man,” he joked, realizing she was serious. Megan almost seemed afraid of his uniform. At his age, Sam knew not to push her too far. Giving her a mock salute, he said, “I’ll let you get on with your rock collecting. Maybe we’ll run into one another some time.”

Megan stood there watching him turn and leave. Disgruntled, she forced herself to concentrate on the rocks. Holt was chasing her, and she knew it. Right now, all she wanted to do was get home, take a bath and then do her weekly shopping. Anything to take her mind and heart off Sam Holt.

The forty-minute trip to Lancaster from Edwards put Megan in touch with just how tired she really was. Once at her second-story apartment, the air conditioning was cooling and welcoming.

Megan looked around the quiet, peaceful apartment, badly needing what it offered her tattered emotions after the run-in with Holt. In one corner, near the ivory drapes, was a floor-to-ceiling dark green bamboo plant. Anything green did well under her coaxing hands. There was a huge peace lily in a brass container spreading its many leafy arms out from the opposite corner near the door. A green-and-white spider plant hung from a ceiling fixture above the color television hidden in the intricately carved mahogany cabinet.

The light scent of orange citrus came from the potpourri in her bedroom. Megan inhaled deeply and pushed the flats off her feet, digging her nylon-clad toes into the thick, plush carpet. The tiny pink roses in the ivory wallpaper gave her a sense of being in another era, another time. A gentler one, that was for sure, than the one she lived in presently.

Her Friday night shopping had to be done. With a groan, Megan prepared the bath and sprinkled orange-scented crystals into the water. Padding to the adjoining bedroom, Megan undressed and took the white chenille robe from the closet. She gave her Victorian canopied bed a look of longing. The pale blue canopy had thin chiffon veils that could be drawn about the bed, making it look highly romantic and ethereal.

Sam Holt unexpectedly came to mind as she stepped into the fragrant bathwater. He was a man of many facets, too. Most of the time, he was his jet-jockey side. But when he displayed an interest in children by bringing over the photos, she felt surprise and then, longing. The look in Sam’s eyes when he spoke briefly about his family made her want to know him better even if he was a pilot.

The humidity in the bath made her hair curl. Anchoring her abundant hair on top of her head with a green plastic clip, she slid into the water. Why on earth would she want Sam’s attention at all? It was a foolish, romantic thought that had no grounding in reality, Megan decided. None at all.

Sam Holt’s shock turned to utter delight as he wheeled his cart into the vegetable section of Basha’s Market. There, standing over the corn, carefully choosing cobs, was Megan Roberts! He halted, absorbing her beauty. She was dressed in a pair of burnt sienna slacks, comfortable shoes and an extra long pale pink shirt, the panels hiding her nicely shaped rear and curved thighs. It was her riot of red hair around her shoulders that glinted with copper, burgundy and wine highlights that mesmerized him.

What were the odds of both of them shopping at the same market at the same time? Fate had intervened, and happily, he intended to take advantage of the situation, wheeling his cart down in her direction. He savored her forthcoming reaction.

“Well,” Sam drawled, leaning lazily against his cart, “I said I’d be seeing you again. I just didn’t realize it would be this soon.”

Megan’s head snapped up. Sam Holt stood only a foot away from her, brazenly male and completely confident. He wore a blue plaid cowboy shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The jeans were faded, but perfectly molded to his narrow hips and long, powerful legs. His cowboy boots were old although highly polished. Her lips parted and she dropped the ear that was in her hand. It thunked to the tile floor.

Both crouched down to pick it up at the same time. Their heads slammed together.

“Ouch!” Megan rocked back on her heels.

“Roger that,” Sam said ruefully, and gently rubbed his brow. He gave her an embarrassed look. “Great minds run in the same direction. We have great timing, too.”

Miffed, Megan stared at him. She touched her forehead. “You’ve got a hard head, Captain!”

“I thought you did.”

Grabbing the fallen corn on the floor between them, she straightened. “You followed me here!”

Sam got up. “No…I didn’t. Honest.”

Jerking a plastic bag off the roll above the counter, Megan muttered, “Do you know the odds of us meeting at the same market at the same time, Captain? Come on!” She stuffed the errant ear into the bag and tried to concentrate on choosing several more. Her hand trembled imperceptibly as she randomly selected the corn.