No Surrender

by Lindsay McKenna

  He spotted Aly just coming out of the raft, and waited. Waited and prayed. When he saw her returning from the bluff area, he slowly rose off his haunches and walked toward her, his eyes never leaving her drawn features.

  Aly’s heart started a slow pound as she watched Clay walk with purpose toward her. Her fingers slowly knotted into a fist at her side. He hadn’t returned from the beach last night after their fight. She knew that, because once an hour she’d awakened to find him still missing from the spot in the raft where he normally slept.

  Searching his face, Aly saw that his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. There was a silver glimmer to the black gaze that he trained on her. A shiver ran up her spine, and she stood, torn between running and staying. She tensed when he reached out, capturing her right hand.

  “We have to talk, Aly. Come with me?”

  His voice was low and off-key, and it shook her badly. His mouth was compressed, but not in the hard line as before. Aly searched the rest of his face, and saw exhaustion present, not anger. Mutely, she nodded, trying to reclaim her icy fingers from his.

  Clay refused to give up her hand, leading her away from the raft and toward the rock where he’d sat all night. A lump formed in his throat, and he tried to swallow it away, to no avail. Aly was coming hesitantly, dragging each step. Clay couldn’t blame her.

  Fighting a gamut of emotions on tap just below her surface calm, Aly halted at the large, flat rock in front of them. It was scarred smooth by countless aeons of time, worn down by the ocean and the wind. That was how she felt—worn down and unable to fight any longer. Clay slowly turned and faced her. She felt his fingers tighten gently around her hand. His face was tortured-looking.

  “There’s no way my apology is going to undo the things I’ve said and done to you, Aly,” he began unsteadily, holding her shadowed blue eyes. “Last night—” Clay swallowed hard, forcing out the words. “I’ve damn near stripped you of yourself, Aly, by allowing my hatred of your brother to get in our way.”

  With a small cry, Aly tried to pull away.

  “No,” Clay pleaded, placing his other hand on her injured shoulder. “Stay, Aly. Stay and hear me out. Please?”

  Tears blinded her. “I—I can’t take any more, Clay,” she whispered hoarsely. “I hurt too much….”

  He groaned, his fingers tightening around her shoulder. Closing his eyes, he hung his head. “It’s my fault. This is all my fault. Listen to me, please.” He opened his eyes, holding her anguished gaze. “Ever since you came to Moffett, I’ve been gunning for you. Last night, I realized what I’d done. I was punishing you for your brother’s act. I wanted to lash out and hurt someone…anyone, for my family’s death.” His tone grew raw as he held her wavering eyes. “You don’t know how sorry I am, Aly. A-and I know there’s no way to make it up to you. I’m not going to ask for your forgiveness, even if you could find it somewhere in your heart to give it to me. I don’t deserve it. I promise, things are going to be different from here on out between you and me. God,” he whispered, reaching out, smoothing strands of hair away from her damp cheek, “I’m sorry.”

  Dizziness washed over Aly. She stood frozen, the brief touch of Clay’s fingers brushing across her cheek making her heart explode with grief, with loss.

  “I want you to stay here with Dan. You don’t have to go with me. Understand?” Clay’s voice grew urgent, his gray eyes burning with a fierce light. “I’m not going to question your honor or integrity in this matter, Aly. I won’t destroy what’s left of you.” Reluctantly, Clay released her and forced a bleak smile. She looked as if she were in shock.

  “I’m going to pack enough provisions to last five days. As soon as I get them together, I’ll take off. According to the map, the village is three days northeast of here.” Clay raised his hand to reach out and caress her hair, but thought better of it. He allowed his hand to fall back to his side. “No more fighting, Aly. I’m calling a permanent truce between us. It should have been done a long time ago. A war doesn’t determine who’s right or wrong, only who’s survived. I’m going to try and salvage what’s left of our relationship. Instead of creating more wounds for you, maybe I can help heal up some of the ones I’m responsible for…I don’t know…I’ll try, if you’ll let me…” He held her luminous gaze, which was filled with tears.

  Aly backed away from him, her hand pressed against her lips. “I—I never expected this. Let me…let me get over the shock.”

  He dug the toe of his boot into the sand, bowing his head. “I wouldn’t blame you if you never spoke to me again, Aly. But there’s something between us—I can feel it. Maybe it’s one last thread of trust.” He lifted his chin, staring over at her. “Follow your heart in this matter. I know you have good instincts; I’ve seen you use them on the missions. Use that same gut feeling with me to see that I’m honest about my apology to you.”

  Dizziness washed through Aly and she closed her eyes; Clay’s sudden change in attitude overwhelmed her. “All right,” she whispered unsteadily. “I’ll feel my way through this.”

  Clay nodded, hope burning in his charcoal-gray eyes. “It’s more than I should ask of you, Aly, but I can’t help myself anymore, where you’re concerned.” He walked on by her, heading back toward the raft, his shoulders slumped.

  Dan looked up from where he was sitting in the raft when Aly returned an hour later. He looked worried.

  “Miss Trayhern?”

  Wearily, Aly sat down, facing him. Dan looked better. He even had some color in his cheeks. “Yes?”

  “Look, I don’t mean to butt in where I don’t belong, but I really think you ought to reconsider your decision to stay here.”

  She sat down. Clay had left fifteen minutes ago, hiking toward the lower desert hills. A part of her had wanted to go with him, but another, more stubborn part, wanted to remain here. “About what, Dan?” Aly felt gutted, her feelings numbed by Clay’s halting apology.

  “You really ought to go with Mr. Cantrell.”

  “He said that?”

  “No, ma’am. He said you were staying, and he felt it was best that way.”

  “I see.”

  “I don’t think you do, ma’am.” Dan forced a weak smile. “Look, I know you two have had your problems with each other. And I know it wasn’t your fault. Mr. Cantrell got carried away, there’s no doubt. But he’s trying to make amends, Miss Trayhern.”

  Bleakly, Aly studied the engineer. “Then you heard our fight last night?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Dan held up his hand. “But I can promise you, I’m not Lieutenant Starbuck. What I hear stays with me.”

  “Thank you, Dan,” she murmured, meaning it.

  “That’s why it’s important you go with Mr. Cantrell.”

  Aly tried to busy herself by picking up the items in the raft and stowing them neatly here and there. “Oh?”

  Dan leaned forward, gripping her arm to get her attention. “Listen to me, Miss Trayhern, no one ought to be trekking that desert for days on end alone. It’s dangerous out there. What if Mr. Cantrell falls and twists an ankle? Worse, what if he slides off one of those rocky hills and breaks a leg? Where does that leave him? He’ll die out there alone. He’s only got enough water for five days. He has no way to signal for help. The radio’s here, not with him.”

  Aly blinked, assimilating the feeling behind Dan’s words. “My God,” she whispered, “I never thought about those things.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t,” Dan agreed, “because you were upset. You had a right to be. But you have to look at the bigger picture. I’ll be fine here by myself. I’ve got shelter, a radio, enough food for seven days and plenty of water.” His hand tightened on her arm. “Please, go with Mr. Cantrell. Swallow your pride. You don’t travel that kind of mountains without a teammate. You’re his copilot, you’re supposed to be with him. I know you’re raw and hurting right now, but be strong enough to put personal feelings aside.”

  He was right. Aly felt shame flow through her, and she hung
her head. “Okay, Dan, I’ll go.”

  “Whew! Boy, am I glad! There’s another pack. Take those extra five quarts of water and pack ’em in there. The MREs are in the corner. Hurry, and you can catch up with him.”

  The first hill was a killer, Clay decided, winded by the time he reached the top of the rocky summit. His boots and lower legs were coated with the yellow dust. Shifting the backpack across his shoulders, he sat down to rest. The sun was rising higher, and already he could feel the intense heat building around him. There were three series of hills, scalloped upward toward the jagged mountain range in the distance. Those peaks were close to eight thousand feet high. Somewhere on the other side was an Indian village.

  Checking the compass once again, Clay got to his feet to start across the nose of the ridge and head for the downward slope.

  “Clay!”

  He halted, frowning. That was Aly’s voice! Turning around in disbelief, he looked down. Aly was halfway up the hill, a small pack slung across her right shoulder, climbing toward him just as fast as she could. Scowling, Clay wondered what the hell she was up to. Twice, she slipped on the loose rocks and gravel because her arm was in the sling, throwing her off balance. She was going to injure herself more if she didn’t slow down! Cursing roundly, he met her three-quarters of the way up the hill.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he rasped, gripping her by her good arm to steady her. The flight suit she wore was coated with dust. Damp strands of red hair stuck to her brow and temples. And the sheer dark blue of her eyes, when she lifted her lashes to meet his, struck hard at his heart.

  “I—” Aly gasped for breath “—I had to come. Dan was right—” She took in another couple of breaths before continuing. Despite her daily five-mile runs, this kind of climbing left her unprepared. She defiantly held Clay’s dark scowl. “What if something happens to you? Who will take care of you? Dan’s right—I was wrong, okay?”

  Convinced she wasn’t going to fall, Clay released her. “Nothing’s going to happen to me, Aly. Now why don’t you turn around and get your rear back down there?”

  “You—you stubborn, mule headed idiot!” she shouted. “There’s no pleasing you, is there?”

  A grin leaked through his scowl. “Stubborn? Mule-headed? Me?”

  “Cantrell, you are the most contrary man I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet! And I’m not going to turn around and go back. You need a partner. We’re a team, remember? I’m your copilot. So just wipe that silly smile off your face and start walking. I’m not leaving!”

  Scratching his head, Clay muttered, “Damned if I can figure you out.”

  Aly glared at him. “Don’t bother trying.”

  “I always said women with red hair were complicated. I was right. Come on, get on up in front of me so I can catch you in case you decide to take a nosedive into these rocks.”

  Blinking, Aly looked up at him. “Then, I can stay?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  A tight grin crossed her mouth. “No, you don’t.” And she walked past him, taking the lead.

  The climbing, sweating and deep breathing sloughed off Aly’s pain, frustration and anxiety. By the end of the first hour, she’d relaxed. The rocky hills were dangerous to tread because of the loose stone and pebbles. She’d lost count of how many times she’d tripped or fallen. And every time Clay was there to help her back up. Once, he muttered, “You’re the liability on this trip, not me. It’s a damn good thing I came along.” There’d been amusement in his eyes and tone, so she hadn’t reacted except to give him a smile of thanks. His returning smile tore at her raw heart, sending joy through her.

  “Aly, let’s take a break,” Clay called.

  Gratefully, Aly sank to her knees. They were halfway up the second hill; the sun was scorchingly hot. Clay walked up and sat opposite her. Sweat was running freely down his face, dark splotches beneath each armpit of his flight suit.

  “This is hard work,” she confided, breathing raggedly.

  “Yeah. I don’t think we’re in shape for it.” He handed her a plastic bottle filled with water. “Drink just a little, and slosh it around in your mouth before swallowing.”

  “Right.” The water was warm, but heavenly. “Thanks,” she whispered and handed it back to him.

  Clay took a swallow. Afterward, he pointed toward the Pacific Ocean. “Beautiful view, isn’t it?”

  Aly nodded, savoring Clay’s closeness. She needed his gentleness after the storm that had broken between them last night. “Yes, very beautiful.”

  Quiet stole across the hill as they absorbed the spectacle of the dark blue ocean against bright yellow terrain. Clay had drawn up one knee, resting his chin on it. Peace flowed through Aly as she studied his profile beneath her half-closed eyes. There was almost a hint of a smile to the corner of his mouth, if she wasn’t mistaken.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  Clay closed his eyes. “I was thinking about beauty, what it means to each of us. How many of the pilots back at Moffett could find beauty in this desolate place?”

  “Probably not many,” Aly returned softly. She hungered for his thoughts, his feelings. Every small thing Clay shared with her, healed her a little more.

  “Right.” And then Clay opened one eye, looking over at her. “Like right now: you’re beautiful.”

  Aly gave him a startled look, and then she frowned. “Oh, get out of here, Clay!”

  “No, really.” He pointed lazily to her hair. “The sunlight makes your hair look like fire is dancing through the strands. That’s beauty. You’re beautiful….”

  The words, spoken so softly, caressed Aly. She looked away, unable to deal with his honesty. “Right now, I don’t feel very beautiful, Clay. Inside or out.”

  He nodded. “I did that to you.”

  She rubbed the perspiration from her face, feeling the grit beneath her fingertips. “I let you do it to me,” she corrected.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Aly drew her legs up, resting her cheek on them. She hesitantly admitted, “My father had a long talk with me right after I got to Moffett. I told him how much you hated me because my name was Trayhern, and the fact we were going to have to work together.” She closed her eyes, unable to stand the look of compassion in Clay’s features. “He counseled me to treat you like a wounded wild animal, to keep you from biting me.”

  “And so you chose not to confront me every time I attacked you?”

  “Sometimes retreat is the better part of valor.” And then Aly whispered, “I never wanted to fight with you, Clay. I understood some of your pain. There was nothing I could do to take away or change the past. All I could hope for, pray for, was that someday, you’d get past your hate and see me, judge me for who I was—not for my name or my family’s history.”

  Clay fought the urge to reach over and caress Aly. There was so much pain in her voice. “It took me a long time to realize that.”

  “It could have taken forever,” she reminded him. “I mean, I have another year in the cockpit with you. Maybe the second year will be better than the first.”

  Clay held her gaze. His voice was resonant and husky. “You can count on it, honey.” Rising to his feet, he held out his hands to her. “Come on, we’ve got another hill to climb—together.”

  Shaken by the intensity in his voice and eyes, Aly dumbly reached out, placing her hand in Clay’s. As he pulled her to her feet, she was mesmerized by his mouth. No longer was it pulled in at the corners or compressed. There was an ease to it, and she breathed deeply in relief. “This is all a dream,” Aly confessed unsteadily, standing inches from him.

  “What is?” Clay asked, holding on to her hand.

  “All of this. Do you know how many times I dreamed of us calling a truce?”

  “Believe it. It’s real, Aly. Ready?” If Clay didn’t move, he was going to lean those spare inches and kiss those luscious lips that were begging to be worshiped.

  “Y-yes. Let’s go.”

>   “You first.”

  At noon they found an overhanging ledge to hide beneath, out of the sun. The land had heated up like an oven with no thermostat to control it. Aly’s suit clung damply to her, and her hair was plastered to her skull. She wished for a hat of some kind to protect her head from the brutal rays.

  She sat down on one of the two rocks in the niche. Clay sat next to her, their bodies touching. He handed her the water, and she drank sparingly. Every swallow counted. Giving it back to him, she muttered, “What I’d do for a bath right now!”

  “Same goes for me.” Clay took a sip, capping the bottle. He looked over at Aly. “How are you doing?” Heat could be a killer if they weren’t careful. Not only could they become dehydrated, but a heatstroke or sunstroke was possible.

  “Okay.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand, grimacing. “I’ve never sweated like this before.”

  “We’ve never been in Baja before, either,” he pointed out dryly, opening two MREs for lunch. Mixing them with just a bit of water, he handed one plastic pouch to Aly along with a fork.

  Aly thanked him for the MRE. In spite of their discomforts, the past few hours with Clay had been heaven. She looked forward to each rest stop because it gave her a few minutes to simply talk and share with him. This was the real Clay Cantrell she’d met on the Bayshore on that day so long ago.

  They ate in silence, watching a buzzard flying around in lazy circles far above them.

  “If that buzzard had a boom on his tail, he could be mistaken for a P3,” Clay pointed out.

  Aly’s laughter echoed down through the series of hills. She saw Clay’s eyes burn with some unknown emotion as he stared over at her.

  “When you laugh,” he said, “I feel light inside. The way you laugh is free and uninhibited.”

  She blossomed beneath his praise. “Thank you.”

  “Your laughter reminds me of the alto mission bells at San Juan Capistrano. Ever been down there? It’s a little Spanish mission near San Diego.”

  “No, never been there.” Aly liked his comparing her to a lovely mission bell. “Is it pretty?”