No Quarter Given (SSE 667) (20 page)

Relief, mixed with an incredible tenderness, flooded Griff, as he watched Dana wrestle with her feelings. "Everyone should have dreams," he said. The silence grew stilted. Softly, Griff added, "It doesn't sound as if you had a very happy childhood."

With a grimace, Dana lay back, closing her eyes. "Who did, Turcotte? I've never met anyone who had an apple-pie-in-the-sky time growing up."

"I can't disagree with you." Dana appeared positively worn-out. "I've overstayed my welcome," he murmured. "You need to rest."

Dana barely opened her eyes. "Griff?" He hesitated at the door, turning his head toward her. "Did you mean it? The war's over between us?"

"Be at the ready room at 0700 two weeks from now and find out," he challenged her softly. Griff saw her blue eyes lighten and her lips part, as if she were going to cry. "It's the least I can do for you," he whispered unsteadily. "I'll teach you how to fly, Dana."

***

"I've got some bad news, Dana." Maggie entered the hospital room several days later and gave her friend a slight smile of welcome. She had just come from Whiting Field and still wore her light blue uniform skirt and blouse.

Dana was in bed, several aeronautical books spread across her lap. "Hi. What's wrong?"

Bringing over a chair, Maggie sat down. She folded her garrison cap and placed it on the bed table. "It's about Molly." Her lips compressed. "She got Boarded today."

"No!" Dana cried. Sitting up in bed, she clenched her fists. "What happened?"

Maggie gave her a glance. "It's been coming for a while, Dana. I was hoping I was wrong, but—"

"You're talking in circles. What's wrong with Molly's flying? She seemed really happy—I thought she was taking the flights real well."

Maggie sighed. "She just doesn't have what it takes, Dana. You and I skirted this issue before we ever came to Whiting. Molly's different. She's... softer. Hell, I don't know. She doesn't have that steel backbone you and I have."

Quirking her lips, Dana lay back against her pillows. "Poor Molly. You know how much her father and brother have been pushing her."

"Dammit, I know!" Maggie got up, unable to sit still. "I wish to hell they'd leave her alone! So what if her father's an ex-Navy pilot? So what if her wheelchair-bound brother had the appointment to Annapolis in the first place? Molly took his place for
them."

"She's living her life for them," Dana concluded.

"Well, Molly's hit a brick wall," Maggie muttered angrily. "She's falling apart behind the stick."

Dana rubbed her face, her heart breaking for Molly. "I hate when bad things happen to good people. Molly's the best. She's got the most generous heart, the most giving—"

Maggie halted, staring at Dana. "Look, all we can do is support her the best we know how. I think this Board will break her. Once her family gets wind of it, the phone calls and letters will start. You know how that dramatic little scenario goes."

"Damn her family!" Dana laughed bitterly. "Of course, I'm one to talk."

"You came out of a different situation. Whatever happened made you tough and resilient, Dana. Molly's rich family coddled and protected her."

"Annapolis sure took off that veneer," Dana pointed out. She held Maggie's worried green gaze. "But no matter how much strength she's got, it can't help her win her wings."

"Well," Maggie muttered, "her grades are too high for the Navy to throw her to the wolves."

"When's her Board?"

"Friday."

Tomorrow.
"I wish I could get home. I hate staying here. I could be of more help to Molly if I were around."

"Just sit here and get well, Coulter, and quit your bitching. I'll take care of Molly until you get home. It's only four more days."

"If Molly feels up to it, bring her over later, will you?"

Maggie leaned over, giving Dana a hug. "Okay. I'll bring a box of Kleenex with me, too. We'll have a good, therapeutic, group cry."

The room grew quiet after Maggie left. Dana stared blackly at the aeronautical books she was studying in order to keep up with the schooling phase of her training while she recuperated. Loneliness stabbed at her. Although her friends visited her on a daily basis, something was missing.

Dana didn't look at why. When she closed her eyes, Griff's face appeared. When she wasn't studying, he inevitably filtered into her unguarded mind and heart. Since owning up to his lie, he hadn't visited her. Well, what had she expected? The need to talk to him about Molly overrode her cautious nature. She would call him Saturday, on his day off.

***

When the knock came at her hospital door, Dana's heart thumped hard in her chest.

"Come in," she called. She stood by the window, dressed in her pale pink velour robe, her feet bare.

Griff stepped into Dana's room. He gave her a warm, hesitant smile, unsure how she would receive him. Her phone call had been brisk and businesslike; she hadn't told him what she wanted to talk about. She nodded a greeting, and he noticed that she appeared to be equally nervous. It made him feel slightly better.

"Hi. How are you feeling?"

Griff wore charcoal-gray slacks with a white short-sleeved shirt. Dana stared at the huge bouquet of springtime flowers in his hand. His hair was recently washed; his face was free of the dark five-o'clock shadow he usually had at this time of day. Her mouth went dry, and she made a weak gesture with her hands.

"Better," she murmured. She reached hesitantly for the bouquet he offered her. He seemed so shy—it made her want to forget their past and start over. "They're beautiful. Thank you."

Griff glanced meaningfully around the room, finding his yellow roses still in the cut-crystal vase, the note he'd written, beside it. "I was hoping you'd keep the roses."

Dana moved around him, placing the bouquet on the tray next to her desk. "Why wouldn't I?" She sat down on the edge of the bed. Griff turned and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants. Despite his size and bulk, he seemed somehow vulnerable.

With a shrug, he muttered, "Oh, I don't know. I've been a real bastard to you, for starters. That's reason enough to throw them out."

"I hoped they were a peace offering," Dana said in a low tone, watching his shadowed face. When he lifted his chin, his gray eyes a smoky color, her heart expanded in a wild, giddy feeling.

"They were. Yellow roses are reserved to say, 'I'm sorry and can we start all over again?'"

Uncomfortable, Dana looked away. Griff's change was too much too soon for her. He'd offered the olive branch in more ways than one, but could she trust his gesture? "I needed to talk to you about something, Mr. Turcotte."

Griff's heart sank. It was back to military formality. He tried not to show his hurt. "Sure. What is it?" Didn't Dana believe that he wasn't going to Board her? He saw that she had a cardboard mock-up of the trainer cockpit in the corner of her room. Even while recovering, she was drilling herself on flight procedures. It showed her spunk and resolve, and he admired her fiercely for it.

Dana stared down at her tightly clasped hands. "I don't even know if it's proper to talk about this, or if you can...."

Griff walked nearer. He was careful to keep a comfortable distance between them, although it was the last thing
he
wanted. Dana was looking much better, with color in her cheeks and some of the old defiance in her blue eyes. He saw little evidence of the red jellyfish welts because the velour robe effectively covered the rest of her small form.

"You can talk to me about anything," he said, meaning it.

Lifting her chin, Dana held his warm gaze. How she wanted to believe him. Just being in his presence threatened to expose her carefully closeted emotions. The overwhelming need to throw herself into his arms and be held surprised her. Stumbling over her escaping emotions, Dana blurted, "It's about Molly. She was Boarded yesterday. One more, and she's out of flight school."

"Oh... that." Griff frowned, avoiding Dana's searching look. "I'm sorry, Dana, I can't discuss another student with you. It's against regulations. I know you understand."

Yes, she did. Frustration thrummed through her, and she stepped toward Griff. "Then tell me how we can help her."

Struggling, Griff turned and walked toward the window. Outside, the May afternoon was hot and humid. Pink and white oleanders framed the window. He'd heard about Molly's Board. She just didn't have the ability to fly well, according to her IP.

Dana read Griff's silence as serious. She walked up to him and placed her hand momentarily on his arm. "I know how you feel about wanting to wash students out, but Molly's my friend. She's like family. If you could tell me what Maggie and I could do at home to help her—"

"It's not that simple, Dana." Griff turned his head, staring down at her. He saw the pain his words caused in every feature of her face, and he hated himself once again for inflicting hurt upon her. "Listen to me." He turned, facing her. "We get a lot of people through here who would make great private pilots, even commercial pilots. But we're charged with finding those few who can take off and land on the deck of a damn carrier no matter what the weather. You don't have an understanding of what that means yet. Maybe Molly has good flight skills for private or commercial aviation, but not necessarily for combat flying."

Dana absorbed his emotion-laden words. Griff could have blown her off, as he'd done previously in her own case. Instead, he was being as gentle as possible with her while still being honest about Molly's chances. "I see," she whispered.

"Being a Navy pilot requires a combination of guts, steel backbone, lack of fear and an unknown quantity you can't teach or drill into a person, Dana. Molly may not have that unknown ingredient. It's the only thing we can't teach a fledgling pilot."

Her heart hurt for Molly. "I know what you're talking about," she said, and turned away.

Helpless, Griff stared at Dana's back. She always looked so small to him, pitted against him and the world he knew. Despite that, her back always remained ramrod straight, her small shoulders thrown back. There was nothing weak or apologetic about Dana. "Sometimes," he added, "a Board scares students into reaching down to see if they possess that unknown quantity inside themselves. Maybe this will do it for Molly. I hope it does."

Griff's sincerity shattered another wall around Dana's heart. She managed a small smile. "Thanks for coming over here and being honest."

"You're welcome. I don't like being the bearer of bad news. You've had enough lately." He didn't want to leave. The past few days had been hell on him. He'd wanted to call and visit Dana daily, but he knew better. She didn't trust him, and he wouldn't push himself on her.

"I was raised on bad news, Lieutenant. I've learned to roll with it, and still land on my feet."

"Maybe your luck's changed."

Dana smiled wryly. "I'm a realist. I don't think so."

Griff headed slowly toward the door, grasping for a reason to stay, or to see her again before she came back to the station. His hand on the doorknob, he suddenly had an idea.

"The doctor's releasing you two days from now, right?"

"Yes." Dana gave him a quizzical look.

"Great. How about if I pick you up and take you to your apartment?" He held up his hand, seeing shock register in her eyes. "I've already talked to the doc. They're releasing you at 1000. Your friends will be at the station, but I'm free at that time. I can pop over and get you, drop you off at home and be back at the station in time for my next class. How about it?"

Dana's first reaction was to say no. The look, the expectancy on Griff's face made her mutter, "I guess it's all right."

"I'll be here at 1000 on Monday morning." His pulse bounded unevenly, celebrating the bit of trust Dana had just placed in his hands.

"Wait!" Dana faced him. "Why are you doing this?"

Griff held the door open with the toe of his shoe. "Because I want to."

"Out of guilt?"

He refused to be drawn into an argument. Griff saw the confusion and fear in her eyes. "Never out of guilt," he said quietly.

Taking a shaky breath, Dana stared at his strong, dark features. His eyes were a soft dove gray, as they had been at the airport. The same kind of care exuded from them, making her feel as if she were being embraced in a warm, protective blanket. "I can't stand anyone doing anything for me out of guilt or pity," she warned.

His mouth curved into a slight smile. "I'll never do anything for you because of either of those feelings. Okay?"

"Okay."

Dana stood, watching the door close, the silence once again settling around her. The room seemed empty without Griff's larger-than-life presence. What was he up to? And why? Chaos reigned in her. Two days from now they'd meet again, square off again. Dana couldn't shake the feeling that Griff wanted something from her. But
what?

***

Griff tried to contain his surprise at seeing Dana waiting at the curbside outside the hospital doors for him at 1000 Monday morning. She wore a pair of light gray slacks and a blouse covered with pink, red and yellow hibiscus, which complemented the high color in her cheeks. Her hair was tousled, obviously freshly washed and dried. She held her cardboard mock-up of the trainer cockpit under her right arm. Her left hand grasped her purse. Beside her sat one piece of luggage.

Getting out of the Corvette, Griff smiled. "Looks like you're raring to get home," he teased, coming around and opening the trunk of his sports car.

Dana nodded and managed a brief smile. "I'm more than ready, believe me." Griff looked handsome in his tan slacks and short-sleeved shirt. His garrison cap, set at a jaunty angle on his head, shouted that he was, above all, a fighter pilot. Dana's gaze settled on the set of gold wings above his left breast pocket. In or out of uniform, Griff was definitely a head turner—and dangerous to her traitorous heart, which was picking up in sporadic beat every time he looked at her with his warm gray eyes.

"You look beautiful this morning." He took her cardboard cockpit and carefully stowed it in the rear of the Corvette with her luggage.