Turbulence (12 page)

Micky nearly choked. “Where did you hear that?”

“I don’t remember. But do you?”

“Do you know what the Mile High Club is?”

“Sure. It’s a club for people who’ve flown a mile above ground. Right?” Will glanced over at his father for confirmation.

Clay sat up on his cot and chuckled. “Not quite.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“But I want to know, too,” Eddie begged.

Eddie’s attitude painfully reminded Micky of Sam once again…and of Micky’s broken promise. Granted, it wasn’t as
though he purposely hadn’t returned to Turning Point, but he’d given his word and he knew Sam was counting on it.

Feeling the need to escape, however briefly, Micky stood. “While Clay’s explaining, I’m going to see what’s happening outside.”

Before anyone had time to protest, he fled the room, wishing he could escape his thoughts as easily.

D
ANA HAD SEEN SOMETHING
painful cross Micky’s face. For whatever reason, he’d rather risk his safety than sit here a minute longer. Hating for him to be alone to fight whatever demons had suddenly attacked, she rose.

“I’m sure you guys would rather discuss this without me, so I’ll step outside.” Before anyone could protest, she slipped out the door and found Micky staring through the small kitchen window.

“What’s the verdict?” she asked above the wind’s racket.

“It’s a night not fit for man or beast.” He motioned toward the game room and grinned. “Was the topic getting a little too hot for you?”

“It seemed appropriate to leave.”

He nodded. “I’m going to take another turn through the house before I go back.”

“I’ll tag along.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Afraid I’ll get lost?”

She shrugged. “Two pairs of eyes are better than one. And if I’m going to be sitting in there for the next however many hours, I’d like to stretch my legs as much as I can.”

“Suit yourself.”

She accompanied him as he walked through the house, training his flashlight beam on the windows and doors before he stopped for one final sweep of the picture window. He clicked off the switch, then glanced outside.

Dana peered over his shoulder, but darkness and rain made it impossible to see past the porch. “You’re probably not standing in the safest place.”

“I suppose not.”

“Does everything seem okay out there?”

He nodded.

“You’re worried, aren’t you?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “We’re about to feel winds that can carry a truck into the next county or drive a piece of hay into a two-by-four. Anyone who isn’t worried right now is a darn fool.”

“True,” she agreed. “But there’s something else…. Something more specific. Your plane?”

He appeared taken aback by her insight. “What makes you say that?”

“I work with men,” she said simply. “I know how they hide their feelings behind smiles and teasing banter.”

“You’re incredible.” He shook his head as if in disbelief. “No one’s ever—”

“No one’s ever what?” she prompted.

“Looked past the surface.”

“They won’t if you don’t let them,” she said softly.

“It’s easier that way.”

“How?”

“They won’t expect more than I’m willing to give,” he said simply.

She sensed that he was not only explaining himself, but warning her in the process. His plane was his life, just as her job was hers. But Dana had recently recognized that she wanted a special place with a special person outside of her career. Micky had not reached that point yet.

“So what are you worried about?” she asked, focusing on the immediate.

He stared across the yard with unseeing eyes. “Let me count the ways.” Suddenly, as if he’d opened the floodgates, his frustration poured out.

“First, I feel like I let Sam down by not getting back like I’d promised. Second, I’m responsible for a group of people, mostly kids, that I didn’t bargain for in any way, shape or form. It was supposed to be a quick flight. In and out, fly them to Alice and be back by noon at the latest. Instead it’s turned into a two-day or longer affair.

“Third, I parked my million-dollar plane, my entire business future, in a hangar that isn’t exactly hurricane-proof. And fourth—”

She held up her hands. “Wait a minute. Let’s tackle things one by one. Have you ever broken a promise to Sam before?”

“No.”

“Then he’ll know you’d have returned if it was possible. He’ll understand that.” She moved on to his second point. “You’re worried because you’re responsible for six extra people. I’m sorry, but in case you haven’t noticed, you’re not the only able-bodied adult on this pleasure trip. I’m just as accountable for what happens to them as you are.

“And even if I weren’t, I don’t understand why taking six people under your wing for a few days is so awful. When you flew in the military, you were responsible for millions of dollars of equipment, not to mention the troops you carried. If you could do that, then why are a handful of people a problem for you now?”

“Because these are kids.”

Dana hadn’t suspected he felt this way and at first she was at a loss. For heaven’s sake, she was a firefighter, not a psychologist. In a way, though, she could empathize. Firefighters, herself included, hated accidents involving kids.
Somehow, the carnage always seemed worse when a defenseless child was involved.

Although she would have preferred taking their conversation to a safer place, if she didn’t make the most of this opportunity, she’d lose it. The storm within Micky raged as fiercely as the one outside, so she pushed her personal concerns into the background, prayed that nothing would come sailing through the window, and focused on choosing the right words.

“People are still people, regardless of their age. As for being kids, didn’t you befriend Sam through your flight program? What was it called?” She snapped her fingers, trying to remember.

“The Young Eagles.”

“See? You have to be a responsible person to do something like that. How many pilots would put up with endless questions from an eleven-year-old, much less allow him to be underfoot day after day?”

“I never said I wasn’t responsible. I just don’t
want
the responsibility of looking after five people. For God’s sake, Dana, one has a concussion, one a broken collarbone, and another had ripped something in his knee. Those are a little more serious than a sprained wrist or a cut.”

Now he was making sense. It wasn’t the boys he was afraid of, but their injuries.

“Are you angry because we had to land here?”

“I’d hoped to get to Beeville,” he reminded her. “We would all have been better off. Those guys belong in a hospital or a clinic with doctors and nurses and X rays. None of them, not even Eddie, should be in an isolated cabin without electricity or phone service!”

She glanced around the room and saw only shadows of familiar objects. “I don’t deny that, but we’re not sitting as bad
as you might think. In fact, I’d say we’re pretty comfortable. I know it’s been an imposition for six uninvited people to invade your privacy, but we couldn’t go on.”

She paused. “Or did you feel pressured to land when I said that Clay needed to be on the ground?”

“Darlin’,” he drawled with a lazy smile. “You didn’t make me do anything I wasn’t willing to do. Keeping everyone safe was my prime concern and it still is. How is Clay, by the way?”

“A headache, some nausea, but his pupils are reacting to light more normally and I haven’t seen any signs of internal bleeding. All in all, he’s in good shape. So are the others. Their conditions shouldn’t get any worse.” She hoped.

Another question popped in her head. “But again,” she asked, “if you flew troops, didn’t you fly with a wounded soldier or two?”

“There was always a doctor on board. And even then, we lost a few.”

His grim tone suggested that those few had hit him hard. A lot of baggage rested behind Micky Flynn’s closed doors. “And you felt responsible.”

“Not always, but in one case—”

He paused, and Dana caught herself before she reached out and hugged him. She wasn’t sure if he’d accept her comfort when haunted by his memories.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I was flying some soldiers who were supposedly in stable condition to the air base in Germany. There was a storm, so I went around it, like any good pilot would. It added about an extra hour to our flight, but I wasn’t worried. What could go wrong?”

“But something did.”

“Yeah. I found out when I landed that one of them didn’t make it. Even with a doctor on board, that hour’s delay cost a good man his life.”

“You don’t know that. What was wrong?”

He shrugged. “Something about his aorta. I didn’t ask for details. Why bother? Dead was dead. The reasons didn’t matter.”

“But they did, didn’t they?”

“Yeah. I asked the doc why he didn’t tell me the guy was going sour. I could have done something differently. Changed my course.
Something.
”

“And what did he answer?”

“It was his job to keep the guys alive and mine to fly the plane. He was afraid I’d try something heroic and risk everyone else to save one soldier who might not make it anyway.”

“There you go,” she said. “His death wasn’t your fault.”

“Dave was my friend,” he said simply. “He was counting on me.”

And in Micky’s eyes, he’d failed him.

“You were part of a group effort,” she insisted. “You did your part by flying the plane, like the physician said. Although medicine has come a long way, there are still some conditions that an entire team of specialists can’t fix.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” he asked impatiently. “After a while, I started to think of the men as just cargo. They weren’t any different than a pallet of ammunition or a tank. I stopped talking to them before the flight, but I could hear them discussing their families, what they would do when they got home, that sort of thing.”

And his defense mechanism didn’t work, she thought to herself.

“I realized that regardless of how I classified them, they were guys with hopes and dreams and families. I didn’t care if I brought back empty ammo crates, but I hated the thought of hauling even one man back in a pine box.”

Dana rubbed his back reassuringly and wondered if this ex
plained why he seemed to want the same freedom in his personal life that he found in the air.

“So you started your own charter service, where you could make your own rules.”

“That’s part of the reason, yes.”

Curiosity about the other part nibbled at her, but she sensed that he wasn’t willing to completely share his secrets. As for his charter service, it was a logical career move and clearly what he needed, but for a man who supposedly didn’t want responsibility, he did a fine job at hoisting it on his shoulders when the chips were down.

Building a business from scratch wasn’t easy and probably cost more money than she could imagine, which made his second concern understandable. And yet, she doubted that he would leave something so important as his livelihood to chance. Micky might take risks, but she’d bet her newest pair of boots that he only chose those that gave him the best odds of success.

“As for your plane,” she began, “protecting your investment is important. One can’t take it too lightly.”

“Damn straight I can’t.”

“Your hangar looked new, or is it?”

“Put it up myself last summer,” he said proudly.

“I see. If you’re worried about your plane’s safety, then are you afraid you didn’t do a good job?”

He stared at her, clearly affronted. “Of course not. You won’t find anyone who could do better.”

She shrugged. “Or do you think you might have scrimped on materials? Used a poor quality that wouldn’t hold up in a fierce storm?”

“I used the best that was available. I flew extra charters to pay for every bolt and every panel, too.”

“Really?”

A knowing light suddenly gleamed in his eyes. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What?” she asked innocently.

“Just come out and say it. I’m worrying for nothing.”

“I wouldn’t say for nothing. As you said, anyone who doesn’t worry while they’re waiting out a hurricane is a fool. I simply think that those issues aren’t making you nervous or worried, because deep down you know they aren’t real issues.”

“You’re right. They aren’t.” He paused.

“Well?” she demanded.

“Do you really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t,” she pointed out.

“It’s you.”

Of all the things he could have said, she hadn’t expected to hear that. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” He stepped close enough for her to feel his breath brush across her cheekbones as he spoke directly in her ear. “You certainly know how to frustrate a fellow.”

“What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything,” she protested. “Considering how we started off on the wrong foot, we’ve gotten along remarkably well.”

“That’s the problem,” he growled. “We’ve gotten along
too
well. Now, when I’d like to take things one step further, I can’t get to first base because we have five blasted chaperones!”

He drew back, and his eyes blazed with a fiery passion in the flashlight’s glow. She’d always dreamed of seeing such passion directed toward her and never had, even in Alex’s eyes. Now it was both disconcerting and thrilling, flattering and frightening.

Eddie appeared out of the shadows. “Are you guys okay? You didn’t come back and we thought maybe something had happened.”

What rotten timing! There were things she would like to say and to explain, but they’d have to wait.

Perhaps a delay was for the best. She needed to pull her thoughts together and decide what, if anything, she should do with this information.

“We’re fine,” Dana answered, still feeling a little shell-shocked by his revelation. It was one thing to imagine a man’s interest and another to hear it stated so baldly.

Deep in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Micky had left her in the shadows until he spoke from the kitchen. “Are you coming, Red?”

She started forward, wondering how she’d manage the next few hours being trapped in the same room with Micky. He might not want chaperones, but it was probably a good thing they had them.