“It would be unfortunate.” There was a pause, and then she added, “I’m bunking with the nurses from the hospital. I suspect the Colonel is also concerned about the safety of his men.”
“That would be this way,” Jack said, touching her arm only long enough to steer her in the right direction. And that almost undermined his resolve. He wanted to curse the war, but what good would that do? You could only work with the hand you’re dealt. It might be a good idea to keep his distance, though. He needed to keep his focus, to remember why he was here.
Chapter Eight
Jack waited outside until he saw a light go on in one of the rooms. Only then did he start toward his own quarters. Like Mel, he felt disinclined for company.
“I thought you’d gotten lost,” Norm said, walking out of the shadows to meet him. “Where’s Mel?”
“She spun off.” Automatically he patted his pockets for his cigs, until he remembered what he’d done with them. “She’s tired.”
“She’s ruined cigs for me, too” Norm confessed ruefully. “She’s an odd one, but likable. Interesting.”
Jack grinned. “She’s going with us.” He had to tell someone and he knew Norm was a safe repository. “I don’t know how she did it, but the Colonel gave her permission.”
“For a practice run?”
“No, our next mission.”
“No.” Norm’s eyes opened wide. “He wouldn’t.”
“Well, he did. Said the orders came from Washington. That it was good PR for the group and the daylight bombing.”
“Well,” Norm cleared his throat a couple of times. “Well.”
“I know.” What else was there to say? They walked a few minutes in silence. “Good news in your sugar report?”
Norm’s face lit up. “Yeah, the baby’s gaining weight and Elaine’s happy she’s losing it.”
“Good, good.” Jack was quiet a bit longer. “When did you know, you know, that she was the one?”
If Norm knew why Jack was asking, he didn’t let on. “I knew right away and it scared the crap out of me. It was like she knew me, inside and out. I felt all exposed and awkward. I wanted to hide. But…”
Jack waited for him to go on, and when he didn’t, gave him a verbal nudge. “But what?”
“Well, I got over it.”
“How?”
“After a while I realized that it didn’t matter if she knew me. She liked me. And she wouldn’t hurt me, at least not deliberately. See, I knew her, too.” He grinned. “Balance restored, I guess.” He hesitated. “It was well worth it. Ric thinks he’s got it made, but he’s got nothing worth having, Jack. He’ll never be satisfied and will never know why.”
Jack’s first instinct was to defend Ric, a habit he needed to get over. He’d always known Ric was weak and selfish. He’d gotten so used to it, he’d quit seeing it. He had so much and made so little of it. His easy charm hid it for now, but he couldn’t hide behind it forever. Not here, not now. This place stripped away pretence and left you facing who you really were. He’d stayed with Ric, Jack realized, to protect him from that moment, but he couldn’t protect him and he shouldn’t. Jack was denying him a rite of passage into manhood, if he had the guts and wits to take it.
“I know.” Jack sighed.
Norm’s eyes were kind. “If you’d had a wife, she’d have helped you figure it out sooner. They’re good at peeling off undesirable friends.”
“Don’t tell me you ever had anything but good judgment?”
Norm chuckled. “We all start out young and then our wives raise us—if we’re lucky.” Norm hesitated. “You going to the concert?”
Jack shook his head. “I think I’ll turn in.”
At least Ric had gone on the liberty bus. Jack wanted to punch him, which wasn’t fair. It wasn’t Ric’s fault that Jack had been stupid about him. But if they were flying practice drills tomorrow, well, he knew a way to begin the education of Ric.
* * * * *
Mel looked around the spare room she’d been assigned. It didn’t look any better in the dim light of the single naked bulb hanging from the ceiling than it had in daytime. Resolutely cold, the predominant odor was stale body smell, with stale perfume coming in a close second. The only color besides drab was the red dress she’d bought for the dance she shouldn’t attend. Looking around her, Mel wondered if she’d have the guts to put it on. Against the wall, it looked like a blood stain.
Mel poked the bed experimentally. Her finger bent. The bed didn’t. Great. It wasn’t that she couldn’t deal with an uncomfortable bed. None of her gigs had provided one star accommodations. Most hadn’t provided half star. Sleeping rough went with the gig more often than not. It was just that this time she hadn’t had enough down time, she was years from home, and had no clue if she would make it back. Ahead were dark and dangerous days. It would have been nice to wind down with some HGTV or Food Channel. Now, with the feel of Jack’s kiss lingering on her mouth, would not be a good time for a vintage romance on TCM.
She rubbed a finger across her lips and sighed. Jack really, really should have told her about this. She was reluctant to give it a name and elevate its importance even more. How involved had they been the last time? Had he hoped to keep it from happening? If he had, it wasn’t working.
She’d never met anyone like him except him, of course—which made her head hurt just thinking about it—and was amazing, because she’d met a lot of men in her various adventures in not crying uncle. And these weren’t your average run-of-the-mill men. These were the risk-takers and heroes of her generation, the ones not afraid to put themselves between the world and danger. And still, Jack was the only who made her heart speed up and her knees go soft. Maybe it was some commitment phobia that had her panting for the one man she could never, ever have? And if that wasn’t a freaking, depressing thought, she didn’t know what was.
She sank onto the unforgiving bed and bent to remove her shoes. The flight boots were slightly better than Gran’s shoes, but still firmly in the clunky zone. She wriggled her toes inside the thick socks and sighed with relief. She tried to plump up the pillow. That didn’t work. She tried doubling it, and then again. She studied its lumpy indifference. She could be wrong, but it seemed flatter than before. She tried to focus on her fluffy feather pillows, but Jack’s face kept getting in the way. Face it, he’d been in the way since her hormones started kicking up a fuss.
And he thought she was the mystery, with all the secrets rattling in his closet? She traced the vortex pattern on the rough surface of the blanket. He’d looked uneasy when she’d said the “flux capacitor” was a time machine. Did that mean he knew, here and now, how to do it? It was rather mind boggling—even to a brain pretty boggled already. She’d just assumed that he’d believed in time travel and pursued it out of guilt, but the vortex seemed to indicate he’d known how to do it now. Of course, knowing how to do something and doing it were two different things. But, wow, he must be some kind of genius and the military, in its infinite wisdom had thrown him into the meat grinder over the skies of Europe. And lost him. It was interesting to contemplate what might have been different if they’d realized his potential. Maybe Jack didn’t know how smart he was? In any case, it wasn’t her job to enlighten them. Her job was to restore the timeline, not further corrupt it.
She rubbed her lips again, studying the red dress. Jack had left the dance out of the briefing. If she were smart, she’d leave her dress hanging there and avoid the dance—and Jack. Of course, if she were smart…she wouldn’t be sitting in 1942 with no HGTV.
* * * * *
December 19, 1942
To Jack’s relief, weather conditions had improved enough for practice flights. It got them out of ground school and gave him a chance to prove he could command his crew—all of it. When Jack came face to face with Mel waiting by The Time Machine, he almost didn’t recognize her. She was geared up like the rest of the crew, her flyaway hair hidden beneath a standard issue flying hat. Jack almost objec
ted but stopped himself. If she was going to fly into battle with them, she needed to know enough to stay out of the way.
Ric had staggered in late last night and now looked hung over as he joined them. As they clambered into the Fort and made their way to the cockpit, he grumbled about the practice and his headache and Mel, in between bragging about his evening. He settled into his seat and closed his eyes, clearly preparing to sleep through the run.
“You take the controls,” Jack said.
“I’ve got a hell of a head, Jack—“ Ric began, in his easy, careless way.
“You need the practice,” Jack cut him off.
“Jack…” Now Ric brought out his surprised, slightly hurt voice.
It surprised Jack how he recognized all of Ric’s dodges, now that the blinders were off. Jack turned at met his gaze directly. “Do you have a problem with flying this plane, Captain? Because if you don’t take off, fly this plane in formation and land her, I will ground you. This crew needs a co they can count on in an emergency. Either get eager or get off my plane.”
Ric didn’t have an expression for this situation. It had never happened before. He stared at Jack, the veins in his eyes so red, they looked like a map of the London underground. But Jack knew he wouldn’t want to lose his wings. The ladies loved them.
“You’re serious?”
“You will address me as, sir, when we’re in this cockpit. And you will follow my orders.”
Ric’s jaw dropped. He closed his mouth. Opened it. Finally he shrugged.
“Yes, sir,” he said. He turned to the controls, looking at them like he’d never seen them before.
Jack had a feeling Ric had tried to sound bitter, but he just sounded whiny. The silence over the intercom was deafening.
“Take us through pre-flight,” Jack ordered.
Ric managed to stumble his way through the checklist. He got them in the air, but his formation flying earned them some scathing rebukes from the Colonel over the radio. By the time they were back on the ground, Ric’s face was sweat soaked and his arms trembled from the workout. The Colonel was waiting for them on the ground. He glared at Ric.
“Get some food and report back here. You’ll fly again until you get it right.”
When Ric had left, his bravado dragging, the Colonel turned to Jack. Jack braced for a trimming, but all he said was, “Eat. You’re going back up again in an hour.” His gaze tracked past Jack to the crew. “Don’t need a full complement. Your crew can practice on the ground.”
“Yes, sir.” Jack hesitated. “Sorry, sir.”
“Took you long enough.” Without another word, the Colonel strode away.
Jack turned to his crew and Mel, waiting by a jeep. Two of the guys were playing craps in the meager shelter the jeep offered them, while the rest watched. Jack knew some of them would be making side bets on the players. He joined them, feeling a bit awkward after his exchange with Ric.
They all looked up at him, and then started to get up. He shook his head. “Finish your game.” He leaned against the jeep and almost reached for a cigarette until he remembered. Lours offered one of his, but Jack shook his head. Only then did he allow himself to glance at Mel. He hadn’t spoken to her, except to exchange greetings before take off. “So, ma’am, what did you think of your first flight?”
Mel appeared to consider. She pulled off the cap and ruffled her hair. She shook her head. She sighed once, and then said in a sexy drawl, “Dang.”
Jack was surprised into a chuckle. The wind swept through her hair, ruffling it even more. Her face was scrubbed clean and the color in her cheeks was from the cold. She didn’t even have lipstick on, he realized. What was even more amazing, she didn’t appear to mind. She seemed happy to be as nature made her and why shouldn’t she? Nature had done a fine job.
“Are we going up again, Jack?” Ram asked, holding the dice lightly.
“Just Ric and I. Colonel wants you all to practice your stuff, though.” Jack looked at Mel. “You should probably get some instruction in bailing out.”
He could tell she was thinking about this and wondered why.
“I already know how to bail,” she finally admitted.
What reporter gets that kind of training? Nothing about her seemed to add up to a sum he recognized. Nor could he see what possible end game she might have. What was the point of going on a dangerous mission with them? The Colonel had assured him that she wasn’t there to expose or spy on them. She was just to observe. He was used to collecting data and being able to organize it, but even taking into account she was a woman—and therefore resistant to neat cataloging—there was something just wrong about her.
“Do I have a smut on my nose, Captain?” Mel asked, with a meekness Jack suspected was assumed. There was nothing meek in the purple depths of her eyes.
“Your nose is fine, ma’am,” Jack said. “I’m going to go eat. Unlike the rest of you, I have to go up again.” And possibly again.
Gaby produced the jeep’s keys, but Jack shook his head. “I’ll walk. Need to stretch my legs.”
“Mind if I join you, Captain?” Mel asked.
He should mind, but he didn’t. Even with the guys watching him, clearly amused, he didn’t mind. He shook his head. He started to turn and stopped.
“You should all eat.” He looked up. Felt the chill of someone walking across his grave. “I have a feeling we’ll soon be going out again.”
To his relief, Mel didn’t talk as they walked down the flight line toward the mess. The wind was steady and cold, but not so stiff they couldn’t fly. As they walked, the ground under them rumbled as the next group took off for their practice run.
He watched the Group rise into the air and had that feeling again. Some of the guys had claimed they felt it coming, that they knew when they wouldn’t be coming back. Evidence suggested they were right, but did they cause it because they felt it? Or did they feel it because it was true? Either way, he didn’t want Mel there.
“Mel, please don’t fly with…us,” Jack said. “Wait for the next mission. Or go with someone else.”
Mel was quiet for several paces.
“Jack, you have to do your duty and I have to do mine. Please believe me, please trust me when I say, it’s important I be on your plane to—when you fly again.”
He hadn’t missed that small hesitation or the correction.
“What if we get shot down?” Or worse, he wanted to add.
“I know you don’t believe me, but I can take care of myself.”
Jack had the feeling she’d meant to say more, but stopped herself. It wasn’t his imagination. She was hiding something or holding back. The Colonel had assured him she wasn’t a threat to their Group, but her so-called mission was a joke—or a smoke screen for something else. But what? What could she need to do that was worth risking her life for? It was like trying to see through a London fog. Everything kept shifting and changing. He’d think he saw something and then it was gone again. So why did he feel like he should know? She was giving off clues, if only he could assemble them into something recognizable and logical.
It wasn’t hard to figure out what the interrupted word should be. To—morrow. She believed they would be flying tomorrow. It was a good guess, but it was almost as if she weren’t guessing. It sounded as if she knew. But that wasn’t possible.
When you rule out the possible, you’re left with the impossible.
He’d heard that somewhere. What was the possible? She could be a reporter. She could have some hidden mission that made sense to someone. She had inside info on the upcoming mission. Okay, if she were getting it from Command, why? Someone high level had gotten her on his Fort, but again he came back to, why? What possible purpose could it serve to put a reporter, if she was a reporter, on his plane and send her over Europe with them?
And even if she did have inside information, even Command didn’t know they’d be flying tomorrow. Until they left the ground, no mission was a sure thing. So, did she know or did
she know? Just what question was he asking? And did he really want to know the answer to that question?
“Are you all right?” Mel’s voice broke into his thoughts.
It was a welcome interruption. He felt uneasy with the direction his thoughts were—or was it his instinct that was—trying to take him?
Jack gave himself a shake. “I’m fine.” He sounded curt. He hesitated. “If you could, would you tell me why you’re doing this?”
Mel’s whole body seemed to hesitate. “Yes.”
She looked at him. There was an odd look in her eyes as she met his gaze. There was nothing flirtatious about her or the situation, but Jack felt tension begin to build between them again. There was a connection between them. He admitted it with some reluctance. His mind told him not to trust her, but his instincts ignored reason and logic. He wasn’t ready to admit that some other body part might be involved. In the midst of a war, what good did it do?
“Don’t give up hope, Jack,” Mel said, not looking at him now. “You’re out manned, out gunned…out…almost everything, but the tide will turn.”
“How do you know?” Jack watched her, but all he saw was the wind lifting the soft strands of her hair, then releasing them to brush against her skin.
She didn’t speak for a moment. She stopped and turned back to the flight line. She shivered, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her flight jacket.
“I know because of who and what you all are. You’d rather be home, but you’re here, pitting your hope and determination against a war machine fueled by fear and Hitler’s lust for power. It may take a while, but hope will prevail.” She turned to face him and the wind whipped her hair off her face, leaving each line and curve exposed. “What you’re doing here, it matters—” Her eyes filled with sadness. “—it matters more than anything else you could be doing right now.”
More than their lives, that’s what she meant. “I know.”
Even as Jack felt the truth of her words isolate him and harden his resolve, he wondered what it was about it that seemed odd. It was like trying to look through a lens that wouldn’t focus. It wasn’t the best analogy, when she stood there outlined and back lit by the pale winter sun straining for supremacy over the cloud cover. He was aware of how the wind smelled, how cold the air was, and the warmth spreading from his gut because she was there. Because of her he wanted to live and he was probably going to die tomorrow. It was a…pity.
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