He turned from her and started walking again. He was tired of thinking, tired of feeling. He just wanted to get on with it.
* * * * *
Mel was getting some strange vibes from Jack. His gaze was penetrating, while giving nothing away. She’d had him off balance, which gave her the edge, but the balance had shifted, removing what edge she’d had in what was turning out to be a battle of wills. Or was it a battle of the sexes? Maybe anything else wasn’t possible between a gal and guy, and truth be told, she was enjoying striking sparks off Jack. Seeing him now, knowing the man he was to become…Mel pushed a piece of unidentified meat around the metal edges of her plate…dang.
Norm dropped into the seat next to her and across from Jack, his bright gaze scanning each, before turning his attention to his food.
“What do we have here?” he asked, breaking the silence, to Mel’s relief.
Mel loved a good romance novel, but sometimes she wondered about all those intense emotions. Why couldn’t they just control themselves, she’d wondered? She was starting to understand both the intensity of attraction and the discomfort. And despite that, she kind of liked it. Way weird.
Mel smiled at him. She was finding she could enjoy this dance with Jack, but didn’t mind a break either.
“I think it’s mystery meat, with a side of anonymous veggies. This,” she poked at something orange in one of the smaller dividers, “might be fruit, but if it is, I expect it’s too humiliated to admit it.” She looked at Norm. “I thought the fliers got the best food?”
Norm’s eyes widened. “If this is the best…”He grinned. “Dang.”
Mel chuckled, looked at her food and sighed. “Yeah.”
“You’ll save me a dance tonight, won’t you?” Norm’s gaze flicked Jack’s way, full of mischief. “All the guys want one. I told them I’d put in our reservation.”
“My feet just flinched, but consider them reserved.”
“I guess Jack’s already got the first one lined up?”
Mel shook her head. “My dance card is wide open. I think he’s afraid I’ll step on his toes—or toss him on his tush.”
“Is that true? Is the big bad captain afraid of the little bitty girl?” Norm asked.
Did Jack sigh? It wasn’t flattering, but for some reason Mel wasn’t offended.
“The Captain would very much like to reserve a couple of dances with you ma’am, if that would be agreeable to you?”
“Should I give the big bad captain two whole dances, Norm?”
Norm pretended to think about it, as annoyance did a slow build in Jack’s eyes.
“It would be an act of kindness, ma’am,” he said. “He needs the practice.”
“Oh.” Mel looked at Jack. “Despite a dissenting vote from my toes, I’ll add you to my dance card, kind sir.”
“Make sure you save the last dance for him, Mel,” Norm said. “The slow ones are safe.”
“Are they?” She shook her head. “Well, I’ll save a later dance for him. If you get alerted, there won’t be a last dance.”
“Have you heard something?” Norm asked, turning serious.
Mel shook her head. “Just a feeling.”
“Well, I hope you’re right. I’m ready for something besides ground school and drills. Even getting shot at is starting to look good.”
Mel met Jack’s gaze across the table. He held it for a moment, and then pushed away from the table. “I’ve got to meet Ric for round two. If he doesn’t get it together, we may not have a plane to be shot at.”
“Not going up this time?” Norm asked.
Mel smiled. “I’m still waiting for my bones to quit vibrating from this morning. How do you do that without teeth guards?” Mel poked at the food. “Is that why the food is so soggy? Because they know you all have to gum it?”
Norm laughed. “You kind of remind me of Elaine, my wife. I never know what she’s going to say either.”
Mel felt a secret delight at the thought of being like Gran. Gran had told her ways she was like Norm, but there wasn’t anyone to compare her to Gran. Mel leaned her elbows on the gnarly table. “Tell me about her. How did you meet? When did you know she was the one?”
Mel had heard Gran’s side of the story, read it in her autobiography, too, but she wanted a peek inside his head now.
Norm smiled ruefully. “I saw her before she saw me. She was sitting in front of me at the movies. I knew the seat she was in was broken, so I put my foot under it and tipped it forward just enough so that she kept sliding forward all through the movie. My foot finally got tired and I had to let it drop back. She realized it and, oh, was she mad at me.” He grinned at the memory. “Tore a strip off me and almost slapped my face when I asked her out.”
Gran had left this part out of her story.
“And then?” Mel prompted him. When she got back she was so going to—Mel stopped the thought and examined it. She’d thought when, not if. Interesting.
“She started to leave, then turned and ordered me to pick her up at seven the next day. Said I owed her a movie.”
Mel laughed. “She…” Mel pulled herself up. She’d almost let out something she shouldn’t. “She sounds spunky.”
“Oh yeah. She’s got spunk. In spades” He sobered. “She’ll be all right.”
“And she’ll cry when you come home to her and never let you leave her again.”
Norm looked up. “Yeah, sure.”
“Norm.” Mel held his gaze. “You are going home. Believe it.” She smiled. “I’ll bet Elaine believes it.”
Norm grinned. “She is that stubborn.” He looked thoughtful. “It’s odd…”
“What?”
He looked uncomfortable. “Nothing.”
“I like you, too, Norm, as a…friend. I’m not threat to your Elaine, I promise.”
He looked at her. “I know. It’s just different. Oh well.” He grabbed his plate. “Ground school waits.”
Mel watched him walk away, moving easily between the tables and people. She knew what he found strange. Gran used to say that blood spoke to blood. Perhaps their mutual blood was trying to talk. If he’d lived, what would she have called him? Gramps? Grandpa? Neither seemed quite right. Gran had done a great job raising her, but it would have been nice to have Norm there, too.
Someone blocked her view, taking the seat Norm had left. It was Ric.
“I suppose you think you’re pretty smart?”
Mel thought of, and discarded, several replies before settling on a neutral, “Aren’t you supposed to be airborne?”
“Oh, I’m going. A word of advice first. Don’t mess with me. I make a bad enemy.”
“You’re a bad friend, too.”
He jumped up, his fists clenched. Mel wasn’t sure if it was a remnant of decency or his very real fear she could take him that kept him from hitting her.
“Just stay out of my way.” He stalked off.
Dale Carnegie wouldn’t be happy with her. She hadn’t made a friend, though she might be able to make a case for influencing him—into a really pissy mood. She only hoped it wouldn’t have an adverse effect on the time line she was supposed to be fixing.
Chapter Nine
Mel almost didn’t wear the red dress, but one of the off-duty nurses who was also going to the dance persuaded her—not by words, but by her open envy. It was the only thing about Mel that had engendered envy in this time, she realized rather ruefully. Their barely disguised contempt for her hair, lack of make-up and clothes swept Mel back to the days of high school peer pressure. Mel couldn’t help but feel some satisfaction about the dress envy. Judging by their clothes, her dress was conservative in cut, but oh, the color. The war had turned the fashion world a bit drab, so it wasn’t their fault, but…Mel smiled, she was just glad that for tonight she got to be the windshield and not the bug. And she wished she could see herself in a mirror. A pity there was only the warped and spotted mirror above the sink in the bathroom. In that, she looked like a speckled-faced, s
carlet blob.
She wasn’t used to feeling this separated from other women. She’d always played well with others. It wasn’t just the surface stuff, it was her century and the way she looked at the world and interacted with it. And she hadn’t even started walking on these heels yet. Or dancing. In this day and time, couples actually moved their feet. And they did twirly things while wearing pointy-toed stiletto heels that were harder to walk in than stilts.
It was ironic. She could flip a man three times her size on his tush or kill him with her feet or hands, but she didn’t know how to dance. She tried a couple of steps with the heels. Okay, how was she going to walk in these shoes, let alone dance? This could get embarrassing.
She walked around the room until she was dizzy—and could do it without her ankles wobbling. Though how they made her walk explained a great deal about why women walked the way they did in this time zone. They forced her hips into that side to side thing, whether they wanted to or not. Maybe that’s where the walk started?
The covetous nurse poked her head in the room. “You coming, ma’am?”
Mel hid a grin. It was probably meant to make her feel old. At twenty-seven, she probably was old in their eyes—though technically she was younger than all of them. In fact, her age was in the negative digits at the moment, so if she decided to cry like a baby, she was perfectly justified. Mel quit hiding the grin.
“Sure.” Mel slipped on her vintage coat. It didn’t go with her dress, but it was all she had, unless she wanted to wear her flight jacket, and she had no intention of freezing for fashion. She followed the nurse down the hall, glad the girl wasn’t looking back at her. Running an obstacle course had been easier than these stupid shoes.
“You want to borrow some lipstick?” One of the other nurses asked her, looking doubtfully at her face.
“Thanks, but I think the dress is enough red for one night.” It might have been better to blend into the background, but it was too late for that now—unless she wanted to further humiliate herself by turning tail and wobbling back the way she’d come.
The wind caught them in a cold embrace as they exited the building. With a touch of the smug, Mel noticed the wind wreaked havoc on their stylized hair-dos, despite an armored coating of hair spray. Jeeps were waiting for them, which caused further acts of aggression to be visited on their hair. Upon arrival at the senior officer’s club, the disheveled nurses peeled off to the ladies’ room to effect repairs and bond. Mel felt a bit bereft, knowing she wasn’t welcome at the session. She’d learned the truly important female things in the ladies room and she could have used some pointers tonight. Oh well. She ran her hand through her hair, so that ruffling was in several directions and not just the one, and then looked around her.
The music was straight out of a thirties movie, or so it seemed to her. It was dreamy and smooth, with lots of orchestra and a bit of singing. It reminded her of some of the stuff Gran used to play while she worked on Norm’s biography. She wondered if the tempo would pick up later. Her toe almost tapped, but her arches told her, don’t even think about it. A cough called her attention to an NCO waiting to take her coat.
Mel’s first reaction was to pull said coat tighter around her. Under the coat she could feel the dress hugging her curves like they hadn’t been hugged for a long time. She’d worn swim suits and briefer clothes than this decade’s fashion. So why did she feel more self-conscious?
She undid the buttons slowly, hoping for an air raid or something to save her. It was silly. She’d been on freaking television covered in mud and humiliation and jumped out of a plane at thirty thousand feet and wet her pants, even if it wasn’t known. And here she was, afraid of a red dress and a dance with a bunch of horny fliers.
Okay, put that way, her fear made a lot of sense.
The last button separated from the hole. Mel pulled on one sleeve, then the other. The NCO grabbed the lapels and eased it back. The air felt chill as it hit her arms, bare to just below the elbows. Cool air took full advantage of the boat neckline, also seeking out any other exposed skin, setting off waves of goose bumps and shivers. Marilyn always smoothed her dress down, but Mel couldn’t do it. It didn’t come natural. She turned, managing to face the NCO without falling on her face, and found him staring at her with what might have been a look of admiration slackening his jaw.
“Do I get a check or something?” Mel asked him, after a short pause.
He blinked twice. Finally he nodded. More seconds ticked by until he produced a check stub and handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She took a deep, steadying breath and realized that didn’t help his situation. But it was nice to know she could breathe. She was, she realized, used to being cute, but not sexy. Maybe it was the heels? She felt taller and more fragile. Actually, in one sense, she was fragile. If she fell off these heels, something would break and what price her mission then?
It didn’t look like the NCO was going to move away from her, so Mel left him. There was only one way to do this shindig—she had to go in like she went out of the SEAL plane, with her chin up and her bravado flying—only minus the pants wetting part.
She followed the sound of the music and the smell of food and drink. Mel recalled from the dailies that this party was a mix of locals, nurses and military personnel. A good—though somewhat sedate—time had been had…would be had, she corrected herself, until the alert.
Colonel Wray saw her and indicated she should join him. He introduced her to his group. The mayor of a nearby town gallantly asked her to dance. Mel smiled her assent and let him lead her out onto the floor, hoping she wouldn’t be a blight to continued positive diplomatic relations—and that her superior height wouldn’t be a problem in this partnership.
Mel quickly realized what it meant to be lead in a dance. It wasn’t as hard as she’d thought. Her partner seemed to prefer stately progress to the energetic, perhaps because of his girth. He made gentle, British-accented small talk and even twirled her once. When the music ended, Mel felt a cautious optimism. She thanked him demurely and turned, hoping for a break. But behind her back a line had formed. The only up side, the presence of the dignitaries seemed to be keeping the music well inside the sedate zone.
An eager lieutenant stepped forward, his hand reaching for hers.
“I’m not sure—” Mel began. She never got to tell him what she wasn’t sure about. It was her last, semi-coherent, albeit incomplete, sentence until the band took a break. Now she thanked her partner and tried not to limp toward the refreshments. Norm intercepted her with a glass of punch. Mel took the cup and drained it. “More,” she croaked.
“We thought you might say that,” Ram said, handing her two more.
Mel drained those, too. As she lowered her arm, Norm caught it, turning the wrist up and exposing her Uncle Sam.
“What’s that?” He looked surprised. Nice girls probably didn’t have tattoos in this decade.
“It’s a temporary tat,” Mel said, hoping it would at least partially restore her niceness.
“Tat?” Ram looked less than enlightened. “What’s a temporary tat?”
“Tattoo. A temporary tattoo. It’s already faded quite a bit from when I applied it.”
“Oh.” Norm appeared to ponder this. “I’ve never heard of that. Where did you get it?”
“From a box of breakfast cereal. It’s just a piece of waxy paper with ink in the pattern and you rub it on…” If they bought that one, they’d be easy targets for a Brooklyn Bridge salesman. And if they asked her what brand cereal, she’d be in huge trouble, because she didn’t know what brands were available here and now. A distraction seemed in order. “Do you think anyone would notice if I took off my shoes?”
Mel looked at the other women, some with shoes that looked higher and pointier than hers. If their feet hurt, they weren’t showing it. How did they manage it? It was interesting studying them. Some of them looked more like tableau participants, than moving, breathing people. Mel mentally compared the sce
ne to the cocktail parties of her time. No surprise that there were significant differences. For one thing, their postures were better. Mel straightened her back and put one hand on her hip, trying to duplicate the standard issue provocative stance. She raised her glass to shoulder height and lifted her chin, giving her hair a sort of toss. It wasn’t quite right. Maybe a little more arch to the back…okay, that hurt. And it was unnatural.
“What are you doing, ma’am?” Norm asked. He sounded amused.
Mel looked at him. “Oh, just some research.”
Ram and Norm turned to look at the object of Mel’s study. The young woman was a pretty little thing, so it probably wasn’t that painful for them.
“What is it you are researching, ma’am?” Ram asked. He sounded amused.
“Body language.” Mel rubbed the small of her back. “But I think I’ll stop. I don’t think this body was meant to speak hers.”
Ram’s gaze swept her, down and then up. “I don’t see why you feel the need, ma’am. Your language is just fine.”
Mel chuckled, but before she could respond, Ric popped up at her side, his arm snaked around the cinched in waist of a pretty, young nurse. His looked at Mel, then to either side of her.
“Jack stand you up?” His voice had a slight slur to it. Clearly he had access to more than the resolutely bland punch.
Mel sighed. “If we were dating,” Mel used her fingers to make quotes in the air. “—I’d probably be upset, but we’re not dating. I’m not even sure we’re friends yet.” She enunciated slowly and carefully, as if he were stupid, which she kind of thought he was.
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