Love on Call (8 page)

Mallory continued heating the air for some time. Then she gave control to Greg and went back to where Brad pulled on his crown line.

“How long does it take to fully inflate?” he shouted into her ear.

“Twenty to thirty minutes,” she screamed back.

As the sun began to rise the two of them got in the basket. Mallory took over working the burner, blasting hot air into the envelope's cavity, while Greg got out. The balloon began to rise.

“We'll be airborne in a few minutes.”

Mallory glanced at Brad. He looked nervous. She turned her head so he couldn't see her smiling.

Brad smiled and nodded. “Why do people like to do this?” Brad asked, between blasts of hot air.

“Why do people swim or play pick-up basketball?” she countered.

Holding on to one of the secured posts that held up the burner, he looked at her.

“Everyone in the hospital talks, Doctor,” Mallory explained. “It's no secret that you like to play basketball.”

“Do they know you do this?” He waved a hand, encompassing the balloon and the air around them.

She shook her head. “I don't think it's come up in conversation. And until now I haven't had much time for it.” She gave him a knowing look. “But people like the freedom of the air. In a plane, it's not the same. From the beginning man has wanted to soar with the birds. Ballooning satisfies that need. It frees the body from the earth and the mind from things that worry it.”

“So you brought me for my therapy?”

“Only partly.” She looked at him seriously. “The other part is for the sheer beauty of the flight. Look.” She pointed at the horizon. Brad followed her finger. The mountains, emerald-green in the morning sun provided a magnificent backdrop for the multicolored balloons rising all around them. No two had the same pattern or combination of hues. Mallory's balloon had slanted stripes ranging from lavender to deep purple, which from the ground made the balloon look as if it
was spinning in the air. Nearby a giant red-and-silver one was shaped like a Hershey's Kiss, and another huge yellow one was shaped like a lion with a golden mane.

Mallory noticed Brad hadn't moved from the spot he'd claimed when he climbed onboard. Ballooning took some getting used to. It was like being at sea for the first time. You had to adjust to the swaying of the basket and the fact that the ground beneath your feet moved. She wondered if he was afraid of heights.

“I never knew so many people did this. I've only seen an isolated balloon now and then,” Brad commented in wonder.

“This is a small number. Everyone else is in Albuquerque.”

“Albuquerque?”

“They have a huge balloon festival this time of year. Thousands of balloons that take off at one time. It's a real sight.” Mallory had been there once for the races. She wished she could go back someday.

“Why Albuquerque? It's flat and brown, nothing like this.” He looked at the evergreens blanketing the Pennsylvania mountainsides.

“It has perfect airflow. You can't imagine the feel of the wind sweeping the balloon upward, or the warm currents carrying the basket along. The balloons whirl around like spinning tops and except for the bursts of hot air, all you hear is absolute silence.”

“You wish you were there?”

“Every flyer wishes she were there. But some of us have other obligations.”

“You're on vacation. You could have gone.”

“It's not that easy to leave, Brad. Just because I'm on vacation doesn't mean I don't have things to do.” Mallory pulled the lever and hot air lifted the balloon. She hadn't meant to give Brad an opening into her personal life. She headed him off by rushing into speech. “It's flat over the city, but the Rocky Mountains provide a spectacular view.”

“This is a pretty sight, too.” He was looking directly at her. Mallory felt her body heat under her clothing. There was a look on his face that could only be described as wicked.

“Dr. Clayton, you're smiling.” She spoke despite the dryness in her throat. Brad's smile widened even more. “Does that mean your fears of ballooning have been laid to rest?”

“Was I that obvious?”

Mallory shook her head. “Let's just say your heartbeat was visible through your jacket.”

Brad Clayton often hid his feelings. He'd probably become so adept that he didn't even realize he was doing so. His scowl was a perpetual expression, except with children. Mallory wondered if she could break through his mask to find the real Brad Clayton.

A pang of guilt shot through her. She had her own masks securely in place. Behind them she helped people, helped them out of their fears, brought them back from the brink of nothingness, helped them to continue living.

Though conscious and mobile, Brad was in a kind of coma. And she needed to talk him out of it as she
did the sleeping coma patients. His unique situation was that he could talk back, react, explain. She could watch his body language and interpret his actions.

“It's beautiful up here,” he said. He glanced down at the ground. “I've been in many airplanes, but I've never seen the ground from this height. This is so much better.”

“You feel freer,” Mallory stated. She pulled the burner valve, and a burst of fire shot into the balloon's envelope. Brad had to wait for the sound to die down to speak.

“It is liberating,” he said. “I can see why you like it.”

He took over the burner then, keeping the balloon at a constant level. Mallory watched him gazing out at the hundred or so other balloons. They reminded her of confetti during a parade.

“When I was a little girl I wanted to be an airline pilot and fly every day,” she murmured. Brad turned to her. Mallory thought of her father, her time with him and their mutual love of the sky. That's what had made her want to fly—the hours they'd spent together, just the two of them. Her sister was too young and her mother wasn't adventurous. In the truck, the two of them—Mallory and her dad—would talk for hours on the way to parade grounds and festivals. She still had his old balloon, although it was no longer airworthy.

“What changed your mind?” Brad asked. “Why'd you decide to become a doctor?”

Mallory looked down for a moment. “This is going
to sound very clichéd but I wanted to help people. Being a doctor was the best way.” She watched his features, wondering if he believed her.

“I became a doctor because of my adoptive father,” Brad volunteered.

“Was he a doctor?”

He shook his head. “This is going to sound clichéd, too, but he was there for me when I needed him most.”

Mallory didn't understand what he was referring to, but hoped to learn more in the future. She partially understood, though, because someone had been there for her when she'd needed it most and been unable to ask for help.

“I know my father never amassed the riches that most people equate with success, but he was the most successful man I have ever met,” Brad stated.

“You said
was.
”

“He died when I was in my teens.”

“My parents died in a car accident,” Mallory volunteered. “I was seventeen.” She rarely talked about her parents. The accident still made her feel raw, mainly because so much of it was a blur in her memory.

An updraft of wind suddenly caught the balloon and pushed it and the basket upward. Mallory's stomach dropped. Brad grabbed one of the braces holding the burners and caught Mallory in a protective hold as she stumbled across the space toward him. She breathed hard as she came up against his chest.

Mallory temporarily forgot about the balloon,
something she'd never done before. She was always conscious of controlling the burners, reading the airspeed, checking her altimeter and generally keeping things on an even keel. But Brad had broken her concentration and she saw only him—his piercing dark eyes, the strong arms holding her against him. She imagined his mouth lowering to touch hers, his tongue feathering against her lips. Mallory felt her body melting. Almost instantly she was swept up in the haze that surrounded them whenever they were together. It was invisible, but as strong and confining as titanium wire.

Pushing herself away, she stood up straight and reached for the burner control. She was suddenly hot and needed something to concentrate on, something other than the tall, dark and gorgeous doctor standing two feet away from her. There had to be a hundred balloons in the air, yet she felt utterly alone with Brad.

Mallory's heart rate returned to normal and she glanced at him, only to find his back was to her. He was looking down. She wondered if he was as affected by her presence as she was by his. The two seemed to come together at the oddest times, yet there was something between them. As much as she gave herself excuses to see him, she silently admitted that she wanted to be with him.

“Are we over the Raritan River?” he asked.

Mallory looked down, then out at the mountains. She nodded.

“I have a cabin down there. It's…” Brad stopped
and appeared to be checking directions. “There it is,” he shouted, as if he'd discovered the cure for cancer.

Mallory saw the small building he pointed to. It was on a bend of the river near the mountains in the distance. She fixed it in her mind as a landmark to look for when she flew again.

“I didn't know you had a cabin.”

He smiled. “So there are some secrets that are not known by everyone in the hospital.”

“Only those you tell to people who can keep a secret.”

Both of them understood her meaning.

 

By the time they set down, Keith and the folding crew were waiting. Five men joined Brad and Mallory to gather and store the balloon and basket. They worked well together and made the work look easy, with no groaning from any of them. Mallory knew her arms and shoulders would be sore in the morning from all the work, but it was worth it. She wished she could fly more often. This unplanned vacation had given her the opportunity, but time off came infrequently.

As the crew started the deflating process, the odor of sauerkraut filled her nostrils. She looked at Brad, then around at the crew. They'd stopped and were all staring at Brad. She knew they'd been waiting for him to say it, to gag on the overwhelming odor that surprised every newcomer after his first flight. It was part of the test, part of the initiation for a new balloonist.
But Brad surprised them. He did nothing, said nothing. He didn't even let on that the odor existed.

“What?” he asked, looking much like the greenhorn he was. One by one the guys slapped him on the back and returned to their tasks. It was a gesture of comraderie. He'd joined their ranks by being here and working through the day. None of them, however, answered his question.

Mallory pushed air out of the balloon, flattening the giant strips of nylon fabric into manageable yards of cloth. “That was the final first-timer's test,” she told him. “Now you're a veteran.”

Brad smiled at her. “You mean it doesn't get any scarier than this?”

“It can get downright horrific, but if you keep your head…” She trailed off. “Anyway, they accept you.” She glanced toward the guys.

“I didn't know I was being tested.”

“There's always a test when you do something you've never done before.” Mallory remembered her first day at Philadelphia General—a test to see if the nurses would accept her. Would the doctors treat her as one of them or one of the nurses? Would she be criticized for her diagnoses, for everything she said or ordered? She'd run through a gauntlet that day.

Brad had taken the learning process very well. The men had ribbed him from the beginning over his lack of knowledge. Most guys would have clammed up or gotten angry. Brad had taken it in stride, not at all like the doctor she saw in the hospital—the one who had an attitude and rarely smiled. Brad was extremely
good-looking, especially when his face wasn't wearing a perpetual frown.

They worked quickly. He didn't make any more comments. Mallory watched him from across the wide balloon. She liked the way he moved. He pulled the fabric up and folded it as competently as the others. Mallory remembered him arms around her and how he'd folded her body into his.

Keith drove them back to the parking area where Mallory had left the pickup. She sat next to Brad, wedged close to his body in the crowded front seat. Mallory tried to keep her eyes straight ahead, but the furnace going off in her body made her want to turn toward him and melt into his flesh. Brad's arm lay across the back of the seat, causing the hairs on her neck to rise as if in anticipation of his fingers caressing them. The drive was short, but it felt like it took forever.

Finally Keith pulled into the parking area. With practiced ease, the crew unloaded and reloaded the balloon and equipment from one truck to the other. When everything was stored and ready, Mallory and Brad joined the others for lunch and champagne. The meal was ready and waiting for them.

Brad stopped and viewed the spread of food and drink that sat on tables with white linen tablecloths.

“Tradition,” Mallory stated. She picked up two champagne glasses. “After every trip there's a champagne toast. If there is time we have a meal, too. Today we'll have lunch.”

“Is one of those for me?” Brad indicated the glasses in her hand.

“Are you going into the hospital?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I'm covered for the day.”

Satisfied, she handed him the glass. Their fingers touched for a moment and Mallory felt the smoothness of his skin. He had a doctor's hands, soft and strong, yet incredibly sexy. She wanted to hold on to them, feel them massaging her neck and back. She wanted to stare into the depths of his dark eyes and know what he was thinking.

Mallory took his arm and led him toward the crowd of other pilots. Several parties were arriving and they waited for them before the toast. Mallory looked at the ground to keep Brad from seeing the flush on her face.