Flying High (20 page)

“What’s going on, girl?” Pam asked as soon as Audrey stepped in the door. “You look washed out.”

If she had remembered that Pam could read Winifred and her like a book, she would have gone straight home. Having played the role of mother to them after their mother died, Pam was as sensitive to their needs as their mother had been. She didn’t bother to answer Pam’s inquiry, because that had merely been a part of her sister’s greeting. When she got down to the business of asking questions, Pam could put a prosecuting attorney to shame.

“Want some tea?”

She shook her head. “No, thanks.” Pam believed in curing the blahs with tea, but it would take more than those little black leaves from Myramar to brighten Audrey’s blues. She sat down on a stool in the kitchen because Pam had strewn the table and half the counter space with material for her lesson plans.

Pam dropped a paperweight on top of a pile of papers, pulled a chair from the table, sat down facing Audrey and crossed her knees. “Does this have anything to do with Nelson Wainwright?”

Good old Pam. Always cut right to the chase. “Indirectly, yes.”

“Want to tell me about it? I know he’s the reason you’re in the dumps, because you’ve been moon-faced for the last four or five weeks. Flying. I’ve been tempted to ask what’s holding you up there. Never saw a woman do such a complete turnaround.”

Suddenly, Pam’s face contorted into a frown. “Honey, has he hurt you? I know what’s happened between you two. Wasn’t hard to figure it out because you’ve been a different person ever since. If he’s hurt you, I’ll never forgive Aunt Lena for setting it up. Talk to me.”

“Maybe I’m jumping the gun, Pam, but...I just don’t know. He’s a loving, caring man, but... Well...maybe he thinks he’s gone too far.”

Pam leaned forward. “Stop talking in riddles. I can’t read a person’s mind.
What did he do?
”

She told her about the two conversations she’d had with Nelson that afternoon and added, “He’s not an indecisive person, and he spoke as if he hated to change our plans. But he’s even busy working tonight. I know I have no right to penalize him for Gerald’s dishonesty and treachery, but I can’t pretend I don’t know men are capable of such deceit.”

“You and Winifred fall in love and anything goes.”

“Not so, Pam. I’ve never let a guy think that.”

“All right. I won’t preach, but if you don’t trust Nelson, why would you consider getting into bed with him?”

She sighed in resignation. Nothing was as simple as Pam represented it to be. “I love him. Gerald was a product of my youthful inexperience. Not so with Nelson. I’ve looked at him from all sides and angles, and if he’s got a trait that I can’t tolerate, I’d like to know what it is because I haven’t found it.”

“Then why don’t you trust him?”

“In my heart, I do. My head says never trust another man.”

“I see. Does he love you?”

“He loves me. Look, Pam, I’d better be going. I need to do some work in my garden before it gets dark. Thanks for your ear.”

“Anytime. I suppose you know Ryan took our little sister to Cape May for the weekend. One more virgin bites the dust.”

At times, Pam’s pontificating got on her nerves. “You wouldn’t want her to live for twenty-eight years and maybe die without knowing what it is to share her body with the man she loves and who loves her, would you?”

Pam threw up her hands. “You two know it best. Stop fretting about Nelson. Mama always said that if you give a man enough rope, he’ll hang himself. If he doesn’t, you’ve got solid gold.”

“Give my love to Hendren. Bye.”

She loved her sister, but Pam’s straitlaced attitude toward men and sex belonged back in the 1930s or thereabouts. Still, that conservatism worked for Pam, who had been happily married to Hendren for ten years, so one shouldn’t expect her to abandon her views on such matters.

As she drove home, she wondered what she’d gained by stopping to see Pam. She nursed the question until she drove into her garage and was about to get out of her car. Pam had fingered the problem. Trust. Could it be that Nelson didn’t trust her or didn’t have faith in a life with her?

She opened the kitchen door, went in and sat in the nearest chair. Was he uncertain about her? Had she done anything to lessen his faith in her?

* * *

Nelson’s thoughts didn’t venture in that direction, however. His focus was on the plans he had drafted for guerilla warfare in differing settings. He had to defend them the next morning in what could be the biggest challenge of his career. Well past midnight, he remembered that he had planned to telephone Audrey, mostly to make up for disappointing her about the weekend. But he didn’t think it proper to call her at a quarter of one in the morning. He hoped she would understand.

At a few minutes past three Saturday morning, still wet from the shower, he dropped his nude body into bed, not even bothering to slide between the sheets. Exhaustion was an inadequate expression for the way he felt. But five hours later, he threw his briefcase on his desk and savored his first swallow of coffee for the day. Fifteen minutes after that, he locked his desk and headed for the Commandant’s office.

“You’ve done a fine job, Wainwright,” the Commandant said after Nelson presented his report. “First-class, and I’ll see that you get the recognition you deserve.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said. “I’m glad you’re pleased.”

As the words left his mouth, his gaze caught the narrowed eyes of Lieutenant Colonel Rupert Holden, and the smirk, unmistakable, on the man’s face. Holden would make trouble for him. Ratting on a senior officer was not condoned, but the man was slick enough to engineer an investigation. The slightest hint of malfeasance could ruin him, and his failure to report an infraction as serious as sleeping on guard duty wouldn’t be treated lightly. Holden knew Nelson’s failure to report the marine was an act of compassion. Nonetheless, he would use the information to abort the career of an officer he regarded as a rival. Holden had no scruples.

He saluted the Commandant and was on his way to his office when Holden stopped him. “Thinking of going back to Afghanistan, Wainwright?”

“I’ll go wherever my travel orders send me.” He was in no mood to tangle with Holden.

“I guess you’re hoping your little plan lands you a promotion to Brig General.” The man showed his teeth in what passed for a grin. “Doesn’t always work that way. See you around.”

So Holden was declaring war, was he? Ready to ruin the career of a fellow officer in order to further his own goals. A man as ruthless as he was reputed to be always had a crack in his armor. Nelson was not going to worry about what he couldn’t control.

He looked at his watch. Two-thirty and he hadn’t had lunch, but food wasn’t his priority right then. Although flush from his successful presentation to those who mattered in the United States armed forces, the top brass, his thoughts weren’t on his accomplishments or what his performance might net him. He had to get his personal life on track, and that meant a final decision as to where he was going with Audrey Powers.

He didn’t believe she’d ever lied to him, but she’d told him so little that saying she was truthful really wasn’t saying much. He loved her, that wasn’t in question. But could he share with her the pain in his heart, his dreams, fears, imperfections and nonsensical habits? Did she need Mr. Perfect, and was that her reason for not allowing him to know her?

* * *

At home, he found a note from Lena. “Sure is good to be able to take off and go just like I please. Ricky and I are going to see
Snow White.
I want him to know there’s screens other than those on the back door and the TV. We’ll be back at five-thirty.”

He made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, got a glass of milk and climbed the stairs to his room feeling much as he did when he was eight years old and that was his favorite meal. He kicked off his shoes, sat on the edge of the bed and dialed Audrey’s home phone number.

“How did it go?” she asked after they greeted each other. “Are you satisfied with what you did?”

“Very much so. I couldn’t ask for better. The Commandant and his cohorts thought I gave them what was needed. Are you busy this evening?”

“Gee, I’m sorry. I’m going to Wolf Trap. The Preservation Hall Band will be there, and I’ve never seen them. You said we’d see each other tomorrow, so I figured you’d be busy.”

“Lena and Ricky went to a movie. Damn. I wish you were here with me.”

“Me, too. How does your neck feel?”

“Not too bad, though it gave me some anxious moments this morning when I nearly grabbed it two or three times, but then the pain subsided. It hurts sporadically.”

“I know. It pains me just to think of what you’re going through, but from what I’ve learned of you, I don’t suppose it has occurred to you that your dad would understand if you couldn’t keep that promise.”

“Unless the matter is beyond my control, I don’t welsh on a promise. My word is my bond.” He bit into the sandwich. “’Scuse me, but I’m just eating my lunch, a peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich.”

“Didn’t Aunt Lena leave anything for your lunch?”

“She didn’t know I’d need lunch. Anyhow, I’m capable of feeding myself. Of course, if you suddenly materialized with another sandwich and some more milk, I’d dance for you.”

“While holding a knife blade in your teeth?”

“Sure, if that would make you sweet and mellow. In fact, if I could get a kiss right now, I’d dance for you holding a knife blade in my teeth and wearing nothing but my birthday suit.”

“You’re making my mouth water.”

“I can do a better job of that.”

“My goodness, you’re getting naughty.”

He swallowed the last of his milk. “To paraphrase Mae West, goodness doesn’t have a damned thing to do with that. What time can we see each other tomorrow? I want us to spend the day getting to know one another.”

“Where?”

“Back where it all started. Mount Vernon. We can walk, sit among the trees and shrubs, take a boat ride, have lunch, and dinner, too, if you like. Plenty to do. And there’s a riding farm not too far away, so if you like horseback riding, we could do that, too.”

“I’d better go buy some Levi’s. I love to ride.”

“What about me? Do you love me?”

“I haven’t changed since we last discussed this particular matter.”

He couldn’t help laughing. “Audrey, how do you come up with these clinically clean statements? A great big mouthful of words that don’t say a thing. That’s an art, believe me. Do you or don’t you? I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to hear it.”

Her laughter reached him through the wire, warming him and fanning the flames of his desire. “You don’t need to know that right now, asking me cold like that.” A feeling he recognized as happiness rumbled in the form of laughter out of his throat when she went on. “Is there a hot way to ask you? Uh...don’t answer that.”

He let the laughter pour out of him. “Oh, I don’t mind answering that. Not one bit. Not only is there a hot way, honey, but you have demonstrated it to perfection. Fortunately, we’ve got roughly fifteen miles between us and you can’t sock me right now. Meet me tomorrow, and I’ll let you do anything to me that suits your fancy.”

“Are you nuts? My imagination is already off and running. Wow!”

Was he loco? Could be. At times he wasn’t sure, especially not when he was with her or talking with her. “Kiss me.” He heard the sound of a kiss. “You’re a sweet woman, you know that? Have a good time at Wolf Trap, and tell that Joe you’re already taken.”

“Hmm. I don’t think I could do that, not even with the taste of your kiss still on my lips. You have to realize that I reject control even when it’s in my interest.”

“Yeah. Tell me about it. Didn’t security lecture me about your antics? Once I know you’re mine, I won’t need to control you, I’ll just keep you so happy that you’ll control yourself.”

“Promises, promises. Show me some action.”

“I will, lady, and see that you’re prepared for it. Till tomorrow around nine?”

“Okay.”

He hung up and started down to the kitchen for another sandwich. She had the capacity to dare him into thinking dangerous thoughts and doing dangerous things. But if he did something foolish, it would be well calculated and he’d be prepared for the consequences. And yet he’d love to see how far she could drive him, and how mercilessly she would exploit his passion for her.

Chapter 10

N
elson loped down the stairs early that Sunday morning and found Lena and Ricky laughing as though they shared a private joke. He lifted the boy, twirled him around a time or two and set him on his feet.

“What are you two laughing about?”

“He tried to trick me into cooking waffles
and
pancakes, claiming you don’t eat waffles. I’m onto him,” Lena said. “He likes to have both on his plate so he can mess around with first one and then the other. Getting to be a prankster already.”

“I happen to love waffles, Ricky. How was the movie?”

“I had a good time, Unca Nelson. Can I go back today and see the end? I got sleepy.”

“I doubt Lena wants to see it twice. Oh, yes. Lena, I’ll be away most of the day, and I’d appreciate it if you’d keep Ricky for me.”

She looked at him, then at the forkful of waffle an inch from her mouth. “Don’t I always keep him?” She shook her head as if in wonder, and put the waffle into her mouth. After she chewed it, she asked him, “What’s so special about today? You planning to elope?”

He supposed his face had the appearance of a caricature, for he could feel his bottom lip drop and his eyes widen. When he reclaimed himself, he said, “Lena, if you’re going to get fanciful, be careful about where and in front of whom you express your thoughts. I’m way past the age where that would apply anyway.”

She sipped her coffee. “I don’t remember hearing you deny it.”

He finished eating and took his soiled dishes to the dishwasher. “I think I’ll let you stew over that one,” he said when he walked back into the breakfast room. “Can’t you just see me getting married in a pair of jeans? Be a good boy, Ricky.” He hugged the child and within minutes was aiming the BMW toward Bethesda.

Feeling as if his insides had rearranged themselves, his fingers gripped the steering wheel. So much depended on the day. He needed to spend a few minutes collecting his thoughts and calming his emotions, so he pulled off Jefferson Highway just before he reached Francis Scott Key Bridge. So much was riding on what he would say and how he acted, yet he didn’t want to plan his words or even his thoughts. What he wanted for them was the truth, and he hoped it would emerge naturally, that it would be a binding force for their relationship. But he knew he might be asking for more than she could or would give. He leaned against the back of the seat with his right hand supporting his neck.

“Get it together, man, otherwise you won’t accomplish a thing.”

But he couldn’t let their relationship remain as it was. He needed more, and he knew she could give more. If only it didn’t mean so much to him! He could stand before enemy fire without the slightest hesitation; fear didn’t control him in the face of danger. So why was he so anxious about what he could achieve with one woman when he had a whole day in which to do it?

I’ll do my best, and what will be will be. If we split up, it definitely will not kill me.
He got back on the highway and headed for 68 Hickory Lane.

* * *

Audrey shimmied into a brand-new pair of stretch jeans, tucked her yellow crew-neck T-shirt into the jeans and zipped them up. She could think of a hundred ways to be this uncomfortable and look better, but after searching for a pair that fit her small waist
and
her hips, she had settled on those. She put on a pair of walking shoes, combed her hair down and ran down the stairs. The doorbell rang as she reached the bottom step.

She opened the door, looked up at him and lost her resolve to play it cool. “Hi.”

He stared down at her. “Hi. Every time I see you, I’m looking at a different Audrey.”

“I aim to please,” she said, ignoring his seemingly serious mien and feeling the need to hold on to something solid.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure,” she said, stepping back to allow him entrance, or at least meaning to. For her life’s sake, she didn’t know how or when her arms went around him and her head came to rest against his chest. He clutched her close, and she looked up, waiting for his kiss, but he squeezed her to him and released her.

“If my mouth touches yours, I won’t want to leave this house today, and that isn’t what I’d like for us. Understand?”

She nodded, but she didn’t understand her profound need for reassurance. Was it because Pam’s question whether she trusted Nelson still worried her? She smiled to lighten the situation and flicked on the nightlight, sensing that they would return well after dark.

“Come on. Let’s go,” she said and, feeling him out, added, “I feel as though something of great moment is waiting for me.”

Not a smile settled on his face. “Could be. None of us can see the future, close though it may be.” His fingers stroked the back of her neck. “If I have contentment at the end of this day, I won’t ask for more. The price of happiness is usually too high.”

She didn’t want to encourage his philosophical mood, so she asked him to show her some historical places while they drove through Alexandria on the way to Mount Vernon.

“If you’ve got a strong stomach, we can drive along Duke Street. Some of the most notoriously vicious slave practices took place on Duke between Payne and Reinekers.”

Later he pointed out the site of the Franklin & Armfield Slave Office and Pen, a headquarters for slave trading from 1828 until around the time of the Civil War. “The slave-pen walls within which slaves were herded while awaiting sale were torn down in 1870,” he said, proving knowledge of the town in which he lived. “The building is known now as Freedom House and is in the National Register of Historic Buildings.”

“If you ask me, there’s no need to preserve that evidence of national maleficence. Thirty million human beings certify that bit of history every day.”

“Want to see some more?” he asked her.

“I... Yes. I’ve lived this close to it and never known it was here. Ignorance is not a trait I admire.”

He drove past Bruin “Negro Jail,” explaining its history as the place where enslaved people were housed and from which two sisters escaped into the arms of abolitionists Reverend Henry Ward and Harriet Beecher Stowe, author of
Uncle Tom’s Cabin.

“I don’t want to see any more of this,” she said in a voice laced with tremors.

“Oh, it isn’t all bad. Some noble African-Americans contributed to the growth and development of Alexandria, including Benjamin Banneker, a mathematician and astronomer whose 1792 almanac was lauded by Thomas Jefferson. The man was a genius. Self-educated. He’d worked on the survey of the capitol and re-created from memory the entire plan for the city of Washington, D.C., after the original planner quit and took the plans with him.”

“I always thought he lived in Maryland, over near Frederick.”

“Right. He was born over that way.” Nelson looked at his watch. “Think I’d better head for Mount Vernon. That okay with you?”

It wasn’t as safe for her emotional state as was that excursion through history, but she didn’t intend to put a damper on their day. “I’m at your command.”

He let out a soft whistle. “Good thing I’ve got sense enough not to take that too seriously.”

* * *

At Mount Vernon, they strolled through the formal gardens, and though he held her hand, he seemed content to walk in silence. After a time, he released her hand and slipped his arm around her waist. She looked around to see that they were alone among the groves and some distance from the mansion.

“I’d like us to get some food from the cafeteria, drive down to Riverside Park and have a picnic. Okay?”

What was it that this man did to her merely by standing still and looking into her eyes? Frissons of heat shot through her veins, and she lowered her gaze.

“Would you like that?” His voice had an urgency, deep and powerful.

“I told you I’m at your command, didn’t I? If you think I’ll enjoy it, I will.”

His big hands gripped her arms. “Don’t say anything you don’t mean.”

She tried to get her voice, but failed. “I mean it,” she whispered.

His groan sent excitement ricocheting throughout her body. She needed him, wanted him. She had to have him. “Kiss me right now,” she said. “I want your tongue in my mouth. I want to feel you inside of me.”

She thrilled to the sounds of his groans and the turbulence of his shudders as he thrust his tongue between her parted lips. With one hand gripping her shoulders and the other locked to her buttocks, he lifted her to fit him and plunged in and out of her mouth with a promise she couldn’t misinterpret.

She fought to control the kiss, pulling him deeper into her until he abruptly set her away from him, heaving short breaths, his nostrils flaring. Standing about two feet from her, he braced both hands against her shoulders and gaze intently into her eyes.

“When your passion gets a grip on you, does anything else matter? I want my woman to want me, but you just about tied me into knots there.”

“Are you saying I displeased you?”

He wiped his damp forehead with the back of his hand. “No, I’m not. Far from it. I just don’t want you to forget that you have to help me control this thing. Baby, you pack one hell of a wallop, and I don’t want to be guilty of an indiscretion with you. Not now or ever.”

If he only knew how proud she was of her ability to be free when she was in his arms! Until she fell for him, she was locked as tight as a Brinks truck. She hadn’t achieved that freedom with Gerald. Far from it.

She looked at him, open, and to her amazement, unconcerned about self-image. “If I focus on control you may as well not be here. I spent most of my adult life keeping a tight lid on myself. I dropped my guard and regretted it, and I vowed never to do that again. But for some reason I shed those inhibitions when I’m with you. I don’t—”

“Is that what you mean, or is the fact that you let go whenever I get my hands on you more accurate? When your mind rules, those inhibitions are squarely in place—even when you’re with me. Right?”

He was pushing her, and she was doggoned if she’d let him put her on the defensive. “What you see is what you get. I don’t pretend with you. If my behavior puzzles you sometimes, I understand because when it to comes to you, I often surprise myself.”

He looked into the distance for a few seconds before his features softened into an almost-smile. “I believe what you said, but I hope you won’t mind if I remind you of Shakespeare’s words in
Hamlet
. ‘This above all: To thine own self be true, and it shall follow as night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.’”

He brushed his fingers through his hair. “It’s a problem for me that I feel I don’t know you, but it looks as if you’re only now getting to know some things about yourself.”

“It’s possible that...oh, what the heck. Let’s go eat,” she said.

This man is stubborn,
she thought, watching him stand there making up his mind as to whether he would pursue that line of conversation. Either good judgment or compassion prevailed, for at last he said, “If you’re hungry, of course we’ll eat. Let me get the picnic basket from the trunk of my car. We’ll take it to the cafeteria and have some food put in it.”

* * *

In the park on the banks of the Potomac River, they ate a simple lunch and washed it down with iced tea. “I’m not letting you near any Virginia Blush wine, not to speak of champagne.” He grasped her left hand in his right one. “Next time you decide to drink that stuff, I want to be looking forward to a long, quiet evening with you.”

“You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?”

“No indeed. I have that night to thank for some of my most cherished memories of you.” He sat on the grass near her, stretched out and lay his head in her lap. “I’d give anything to know if the woman I saw that night was the real you.”

He looked up at her with eyes that were dark, that gave him a look of vulnerableness. For a moment, she resisted stroking his face and then gave in to the tenderness that welled up in her.

“You wouldn’t bend over and give me a little kiss, would you?” His words came to her in a whisper. “Would you?” he asked again.

Quickly, she brushed his lips with hers. “Sometimes, like right now,” she whispered, “you...you captivate me.”

He closed his eyes and smiled, a peaceful, secretive kind of smile. “And sometimes, like right now, with your fingers running through my hair and tracing the side of my face, you seduce me to putty.”

She could hardly believe he meant it, though she knew he did. “Funny how we meld so smoothly when we’re...together this way, and the minute we start talking serious—”

He interrupted her, sitting up as he did so. “Precisely. And that’s because the chemistry between us is so strong. Some couples never have it. I know I’ve never had this with anyone else. And that’s our problem. We mate as man and woman, but not as a man and a woman who understand and accept each others foibles, warts and all. Who need each other on a deeper level. You understand what I’m saying?”

She did, and she also knew their fun time was over, at least for the day. “Yes. I do understand. You need to see the recesses of my soul. Is that it?”

“No. I want to know who you are when you’re with your sisters, when you’re alone. What hurts you, cheers you up, saddens you. What you need in life that you don’t have, aren’t getting. I want to know who you are. I’m in deep with you, but you seem content not to know those things about me. I tell you something that’s important to me, but you don’t probe. Don’t you want to know who I am?”

She released a deep sigh. “Of course I do. But Nelson, you’re the older of two children, and you had to have a special place in your family. I’m the middle of three. I suppose you’ve heard about the middle child syndrome. Well, it’s most evident when all three children are of the same sex, as in my family. Our parents loved all of us. Indeed, I can’t recall a time when they didn’t try to treat us equally. But the fact remained that I was out of step with the other two.

“My sisters love me, but they’re closer to each other than they are to me. My older sister, Pam, always coddled Winifred. Winifred comes to me with her personal problems because I’m not as rigid as Pam, but it’s Pam she looks up to. I was a loner from the time I remember anything about myself. When I was eleven, our father gave me a little plate with this engraving, ‘Little cat, little cat, walking all alone; whose are you, whose are you; I’m my very own.’”