by R. S. Kovach
Hank disappeared for the rest of the day after unloading his truck—not that it made any difference. Ali kept repeating the awful scene in her head, making her wonder why he bothered with her in the first place if he thought she was so flawed. She even considered backing out of Saturday’s party, but Liz’s growing excitement leading up to the final touches was infectious, despite everything.
“I got you a little something, but promise not to open it until after dinner,” Liz said as she met her by the reception desk the following evening, handing Ali a square, flat box. Liz usually stuck to plaid and jeans, but tonight she was barely recognizable in a floor-length maroon gown.
Tied with a silk ribbon, the box was small enough to fit into her palm, and she blushed at the unexpected gesture. “You’re so sweet—but why are you giving me this?”
Liz grinned mischievously. “You’ll see when you open it. But not before dinner,” she warned again.
“Okay.” Ali smiled, embracing her. “Thank you.” She tucked the gift into her clutch as Liz’s husband, whom she’d met earlier that day, entered the lobby.
“Ready, ladies?” Jason McGhee cut an impressive figure in his air force officer’s dress uniform. Similar to a tuxedo, the dark blue suit was decorated with colorful badges over the heart, rank insignia on shoulder boards, and silver braids at each sleeve, and finished off with a satin bow tie.
Ali mused that he was just as handsome as he was nice. “Holy cow.” She nudged Liz as they followed Jason out to the waiting car. “I feel like the evil stepsister attending the ball with Cinderella and her Prince Charming.”
“Oh, please.” Liz waved off the comment as she slipped into the passenger seat. “Your shoes probably cost more than my whole outfit.”
Ali frowned. Maybe it was possible, but it was irrelevant. “Seriously. You two are gorgeous.” She took the backseat.
Liz turned her head and smiled. “Well, these formal military events are the only times I get to look even fairly decent, so thank you.”
“I always think you’re beautiful.” Jason slid behind the wheel and gave his wife a peck on the cheek.
A twinge of jealousy ran through Ali at seeing the happy couple. Feeling like a third wheel, she attempted some light conversation to get her mind off Hank. “So, how’s Alaska?” She buckled her seat belt with a click.
“Quite lovely this time of year. October to March, though? Not so much.” Jason laughed, pulling away from the lodge and driving toward the city.
All she knew about Alaska fit into the tidy “last great frontier” archetype: breathtaking landscapes mixed with exotic wildlife and a rugged existence. “What exactly do you do there?”
“I turn already-great pilots into the world’s best combat aviators through realistic threat replication.” He kept his eyes on the road but glanced at his wife when Liz put her hand on his knee in a subtle display of pride.
Ali was reminded again of Hank’s struggle with his inability to fulfill his potential since his accident, and she was unexpectedly overcome with emotion as she realized how much harder it must have been for him with a brother-in-law who had no such hindrances. Biting her lip, she looked at the passing scenery, where the tall pines melted into a blur in the approaching darkness. “That sounds dangerous.”
Jason shrugged. “It has its risks, but someone has to do it.”
“I suppose,” she whispered before remaining quiet for the rest of the ride.
Hank continued to occupy her thoughts. She’d forgiven his outburst but wondered if he’d have any lingering animosity toward her from the day before. As they pulled onto the academy’s premises, she got a good look at the chapel building she’d seen on her first taxi ride to Pebble Creek. Lit from within, its triangular spires stretched toward the ink-colored sky like multiple jets soaring horizontally toward the heavens.
“That’s where we got married.” Liz caught Ali gazing at the structure before glancing at her watch. “Shoot, we’re going to be late.”
They rushed into the modern, glass-encased building labeled CONFERENCE AND EVENT CENTER located across a broad expanse of manicured lawn from the chapel. They only had to take a few steps before reaching their destination. Twenty or so round tables were set up in the open, multistory atrium lavishly decorated in a silver and blue color scheme. Men and women in uniform, as well as those in civilian clothes, took most of the seats, but Liz led the group to a prime spot in front where half of the eight chairs were still empty.
After Liz greeted both of the older couples already at the table with hugs, Jason took his turn shaking hands with the men and kissing the women on the cheek. Ali stood quietly in the background, searching for the Mathis siblings’ physical traits in their parents’ appearances. It wasn’t hard. Hank definitely had their mother’s luminous smile, while Liz appeared to have inherited their father’s piercing gaze. The siblings’ equally tall stature, however, must have come from a more distant relative, because neither parent even reached their children’s eye level.
“Ali, if you could come over here, please.” Liz motioned for her to step closer once the group was done with pleasantries. “I’d like to introduce you to my parents.”
Ali rounded a chair and used the cover to wipe her sweaty palms on her dress. Taking a deep breath, she smiled and offered her hand. “Alejandra Barros. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Mr. Mathis had three shiny stars on the shoulder board of his dress uniform. He squeezed her fingers vigorously. “Alejandra, is it? You can call me Henry,” he replied in an authoritative yet laid-back drawl.
“Thank you, Henry.” There was something she already liked about this man, and Ali felt relaxed enough to continue. “And congratulations on your retirement. I’m honored to be part of the celebrations.”
Henry nodded. “It was all this little lady’s doing.” He put an arm around his wife’s shoulder and shook her playfully. “I just wanted to quietly leave the force, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Insisted on having a big shindig, isn’t that right?”
“Thirty-five years in the air force is quite a milestone, wouldn’t you agree, Alejandra?” The woman pursed her lips and extended her hand.
“Oh—absolutely,” she stammered, surprised by not only the question but the slight Eastern European—Slavic, maybe—accent with which Mrs. Mathis spoke. “But Ali’s fine, Mrs. Mathis,” she said.
“Pleasure to meet you, Ali.” She noticed that Hank’s mother didn’t offer her first name. Instead, she introduced the other couple at the table, taking care to point out that he was head of the academy and she was a state senator. By the time they had all taken their seats, Ali was positive her own mother would have gotten along perfectly with Mrs. Mathis, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
Looking at the lone empty chair next to her, she was just about to ask if anyone knew why Hank was so late when the main lights dimmed. The crowd’s conversations decreased to a low murmur as they turned their attention to the head of the room and the podium was illuminated by a lone spotlight. After a few seconds, a man in uniform stepped out from the shadows and stopped in front of the microphone. Ali couldn’t quite focus on his face through the harsh glare of the spotlight, and she leaned forward, trying to get a better look.
“My father was an airman even before I was born,” he began, and Ali’s breath caught in her throat as she recognized the voice. Hank continued with what was most likely a speech honoring his father—it was the elder Mathis’s night, after all—but Ali couldn’t concentrate on his words. She couldn’t even think coherently and, instead, sat with her fingers balled in her lap, staring in confusion at the man she’d thought she was beginning to finally know.
By the time Hank had left the spotlight amid a round of applause, Ali was ready to confront him with a multitude of questions. She scooted her chair next to his empty one, but she still had to wait for him to greet everyone else at the table bef
ore getting to her. He avoided her gaze as he gave her a quick peck on the cheek before sitting.
“What’s going on?” she whispered, placing her hand on his arm.
He forced a smile at his mother across the table, who had turned in their direction with a disapproving look after sensing something was amiss. Leaning toward Ali, he was about to reply when a plate filled with salad appeared between them.
“Excuse me, sir,” the bored-sounding waiter halfheartedly apologized as he set the dish on the table in front of Hank. Then he plopped a salad in front of Ali.
She gritted her teeth and gave the man the evil eye, but he had already moved on to serve the rest of the table. Hank took advantage of the interruption and dug into the salad, no doubt to delay the inevitable. With a main course, dessert, and coffee—along with the half dozen speeches from attendees including senior civic leaders and former colleagues of the soon-to-be-retired lieutenant general—Ali had to wait much longer than she wanted for her answer. The delay did give her more time to think, which wasn’t necessarily a benefit in her situation.
Hank was in the air force; that was certainly clear. His participation in the challenge course, expertise at lifesaving first aid, and levelheadedness during an emergency situation now all had a reasonable explanation. It also made sense that he frequented a roadside bar with a predominantly airmen clientele—although growing up in a military family and living near the home to the official training school for air force officers could have also easily resulted in the company he kept.
Still, none of this explained why he had hidden this pretty big piece of info from her. He was obviously proud of both his father and brother-in-law and made no efforts to conceal his knowledge or skills. If he’d been discharged, he wouldn’t have been wearing the uniform tonight, so why did he spend most of his time at Pebble Creek mucking out horse stalls and mending corrals? She thought back to the last clue he’d given about his past. He’d been in an accident. Was that it? Did that and the resulting vertigo somehow derail his career? Was he ashamed of taking a lesser role than what he may have had before? But surely he should have known by now that if anyone would understand his situation, she would.
Pushing her barely touched salmon aside, Ali glanced at the man next to her. Without knowing what exactly had happened to him, it didn’t make sense to speculate. His omission continued to gnaw at her as she attempted to listen to—and occasionally join in—the surrounding conversation. But if she’d felt like an outsider during her last three weeks in Colorado, that role was definitely cemented in the present company.
Given the nature of the evening, many anecdotes about the elder Henry Mathis came up. Everyone at the table either knew the stories or had something relevant to contribute except for her. And with Hank continuing to ignore her, she would have liked nothing more than to get up and leave, but she couldn’t bear to do so out of respect for his family.
Ali was torn. She had liked him so much, but if he couldn’t trust her with the whole truth when she’d laid all her own vulnerabilities on the table, then where did that leave them? But, on the other hand, he didn’t really owe her anything. Their relationship was based on chance and mutual convenience. Maybe she should have just been thankful for his support and affection during their brief time together.
Swirling the dregs of her cold coffee in the bottom of her cup, Ali looked up when someone stepped up next to her chair. “Dance with me, little brother,” Liz said, placing a hand on Hank’s shoulder before addressing her husband on his other side. “You go ask Mom.”
Jason nodded, but Hank looked at Ali for the first time since dessert, when they had both inadvertently reached for the same pastry fork. “Go ahead.” She forced a smile. Who was she to stop him from dancing with his sister? “I’ll be fine.”
“He’s a handful, that boy,” Henry lamented with a wink as the duo headed for the dance floor.
Ali sighed and, instead of replying, reached for the remnants of her wine.
“Trouble in paradise, is it?” he observed after she downed the amber liquid.
She drew her fingertip slowly along the rim of the glass and shook her head. “Not at all.”
Henry rose from his chair and moved to the seat next to her. “My dear, I’m a career soldier who knows how to spot an enemy’s weakness. Now, I don’t want to pry, but are you sure you don’t want to rethink your answer?”
She scoffed. “Am I the enemy?”
He smiled and patted her hand. “Quite the opposite. From what Hank’s told me, you may be just what he needs in his life right now.”
“He’s talked to you about me?” She straightened in her chair.
He cocked a graying eyebrow. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
Ali laughed bitterly. “Let’s just say your son’s not very verbose when it comes to his past. Up until an hour ago, I didn’t even know he was in the military.”
“Is that right? Well, I’m sure he had his reasons.” He shrugged. “And I hope you’ll be able to accept them. After all, you’re both smart, ambitious, and a little too headstrong for your own good, no?”
Ali looked at the dancing couples, finding Liz and Hank near the perimeter. She couldn’t argue with his father, but Henry was being much too naïve in assuming the solution was so easy.
He must have sensed her doubt, because he continued. “Hank doesn’t take kindly to being told that he can’t do something. Unfortunately, he’s heard it a lot lately from doctors, commanding officers, and even his mother and myself.”
Ali looked back at him and nodded politely. “I get it. I really do. It’s complicated.”
The older man sighed. “Love usually is.”
Ali laughed bitterly. Before she was able to stop herself, she blurted, “Love? Please. There needs to be a basic level of trust and respect for love. And honestly? Hank has demonstrated neither. At least not toward me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but I can’t say I’m surprised.” Henry shifted in his seat. “Since the accident, he hasn’t been making the best choices.”
Ali looked him in the eye and squared her shoulders. Taking a deep breath, she admitted what she had known in her head but had denied in her heart. “I won’t pretend to understand his motivations, but he can’t be selfish with my feelings.”
“That works both ways, you know.” Henry pursed his lips and nodded authoritatively, and Ali blushed at what he was implying.
“Excuse me,” she said, bolting up from her chair and heading for the nearest exit.
The path took her by the dance floor and before she could sneak out, Hank grabbed her arm. “What’s wrong?”
Ali smirked at the question’s absurdity and waited until Liz had discreetly stepped away before she said, “Do you mean besides you lying to me?” She pulled herself free.
He shifted from one foot to another. “I left things out, but I didn’t lie.”
“Semantics. I need to get some air.” She began to move away, but he blocked her path.
“If you go out there, I know you won’t come back.” He sighed, and a muscle in his jaw twitched under the tension. “Can we pretend just for one dance that everything is fine? Afterward, I’ll walk out with you and tell you everything you want to know.”
A slow instrumental piece began to play, and Ali’s resolve wavered. He was right. Leaving now would mean there was no turning back. She deserved an explanation, and with what was coming, this was probably the last chance they’d have to feel anything remotely like before. Looking into his sad eyes—darker than usual thanks to the color of his attire—she couldn’t say no to the request.
Ali raised her hands in a dancer’s pose, signaling her readiness. “All right.”
“Where’s your cast?” Hank glared at her right wrist, absent of the pink monstrosity and now wrapped in a less conspicuous beige pressure bandage.
“It was driving
me nuts.” She looked past him at a blue streamer swinging from the ceiling. “I went to urgent care and had it taken off this morning.”
He gently took hold of her fingers in one hand while putting his other hand on her hip. “Was that a good idea?”
“Are you here to give me medical advice or to dance?” She turned her head and looked him in the eyes.
He cleared his throat and nodded. “Fine.”
They began the dance stiff and formal. Each movement was by the book, matching the rhythmic melody of the soft piano. When the smell of Hank’s cologne hit her nose, Ali momentarily shifted her gaze from studying the far wall to his clean-shaven jaw. Noticing her subtle movement, he also turned toward her, but she avoided his eyes by looking downward to the colorful decorations over his breast.
“Are you a pilot?” Sliding her hand down from his shoulder, she touched a wing-shaped pin on his breast. Jason wore the same silver insignia.
He didn’t look down. “Technically.”
Damn. “Do you still fly?” she asked more quietly, already guessing the answer.
“Once you’ve crashed a twenty-million-dollar F-16, the US government becomes surprisingly reluctant to put you into another one until you can show that you won’t do it again,” he replied drily.
Double damn. Ali closed her eyes and her grip on Hank’s fingers tightened. She remembered a previous conversation where he’d denounced Jason’s assignment in Alaska and referred to it as being sidelined. At the time, he had exalted the airmen who actually participated in combat instead of just trained those who’d have the honor, but was he really talking about his brother-in-law? Not knowing all the facts, she’d assumed so, but hearing all this now, Ali knew she’d been wrong. Although he’d been cryptic, Hank had tried to tell her as far back as the state fair how much he missed flying in a war zone. That realization added exponentially to her conflicted emotions, but at least they still had this last dance.
