Flying High Read online

  A delighted Ricky opened gifts from each child, a covered wagon train set from Audrey, and a wigwam from Lena.

  “You not supposed to overlook your Indian side, son,” Lena said. Ricky thanked her, running in and out of it, laughing and bubbling with joy.

  “You’re right, Lena. My maternal grandmother was a Seminole, and my mother was proud of that heritage.”

  He looked at the wealth of gifts surrounding Ricky and decided to give him his present after the children left; he didn’t know their financial circumstances and didn’t want them to feel as if they lacked something.

  Ice cream, cake, lemonade, the tooting of horns and the strumming of little fingers on his precious baby grand gave him a strange, unfamiliar high, something beyond contentment and a desire to share his blessings. He would take any risk to protect his country’s children, to provide a safe haven for their innocence and their development into mature individuals. He wondered if his fellow Marines knew why they wore the uniform, if they had a personal reason—as he did—for wanting to defend their country. He hoped so. He hoped that every one of them knew the love he witnessed in the children and in Lena and Audrey as they showered each child with affection.

  After an hour and a half, Audrey told him she had to take the children home. “I promised their parents I’d get them home by seven, and it’s six-thirty.”

  So much that was inside of him wanted to spill out, words that would let her know his feelings and, because of their power, would demand that he know hers. But it wasn’t the time. Too soon. Maybe ill-conceived. Maybe just not appropriate. Maybe it was only the moment, seeing what she did for Ricky and, by extension, for him. He hoped she couldn’t read his thoughts, but it seemed to him that if a discerning woman looked at him right then, as careful as she was, that woman could see the pattern of his soul. He settled for thanking her for helping to make Ricky’s birthday so splendid.

  Instead of holding her as he wanted to, he knotted his left hand into a fist and caressed her cheek with it. Her eyes sparkled, and he wasn’t sure, but it seemed as if her head tilted toward his fist returning his gesture. He stepped away from her and jammed his hands into his pockets. Yet he didn’t doubt that his eyes mirrored both his desire and his ambivalence, his feelings as well as the effort he was making to control them.

  “We’ll talk,” he said, not trusting himself to say more. She nodded, hugged Ricky and left after the children got Ricky’s promise to come and play with them.

  Ricky hugged his leg in loving tribute. “Do I have to eat dinner, Unca Nelson? Can’t I just have some more ice cream and cake?”

  Nelson couldn’t help grinning as he looked down into the child’s face. Five years old and already aware that if you had things going your way, that was the time to make demands.

  “You’ve got one more present coming after you eat your dinner.”

  The child’s face bloomed into a smile. “Okay. What is it, Unca Nelson?”

  “You’ll know after you eat you dinner.”

  He needed a few minutes to himself, some time to sort out his feelings, to understand what was happening to him. He ran up the stairs, went into his room and closed the door. He had always been honest with himself and with others. In his head, he meant to avoid emotional involvements and to see to it that no other woman made him the butt of a painful joke. Swearing eternal love and fidelity, accepting his ring and letting him find her in his bed with the guy who would be best man at their wedding. Oh, no. He let the closet door have the brunt of his fist. Oh, no. I’m not going there. Period.

  After dinner, he gave Ricky his first bicycle and watched him master it within five minutes. Observing the child’s happiness reminded him of the birthday party, and he had to struggle to keep his feelings about that and about Audrey in abeyance.

  “I think I’ll turn in,” he said to Lena.

  “Yes, sir. I expect you got a lot to think about.”

  He stared down at her. “What do you mean?”

  “It was Ricky’s party, but you the one that got the message. Your life ain’t normal, and now you know it. Y’all sleep well.” She walked off singing her favorite hymn, and he wondered if she had some magical powers that let her see inside of him.

  His steps fell heavily on the stairs, and when he reached the landing his body sagged as if he’d just run miles. He still thought of himself as an unattached man, free to do as he willed, to go and come as he pleased. But he could no longer lock the door, throw his duffel bag into the trunk of his or a USMC car, and go off without a care or a thought as to when or whether he would return. He was father to Ricky and responsible for Lena’s well-being, neither of which he minded, and he didn’t shirk responsibility. He wanted to watch Ricky grow and to shape him into a man, but how could he do that while fighting for peace in first one part of the globe and then another? He was the delight of Ricky’s life, his anchor. What would happen to the boy in his absence? He doubted that Lena would be able to comfort him. One more stumbling block in his path toward the top. But he’d get there.

  * * *

  “I’m developing backward,” Audrey said to herself that evening, in a moment of self-reprimand for her failure to discourage Nelson’s gestures signifying the existence of more than a platonic relationship between them. The tenderness with which he’d stroked her face while his eyes told her things that reduced her to a pile of mush... A long breath, more a wish than a sigh, seeped out of her. She had to stop thinking about Nelson. Hadn’t she daydreamed herself into what had proved to be the most devastating experience of her life? What was it about Nelson Wainwright that she seemed unable to resist?

  She answered the phone praying that it wasn’t Nelson, but she didn’t want to speak with her Aunt Lena, either.

  “You still refusing to mind Ricky for me day after tomorrow?” Lena asked her.

  “Aunt Lena, I’d do most anything for you. You know that. But I am not going to let you make a mat of me for Nelson Wainwright. Left to you, I’d be in his path so much he’d have to step over me. No thanks. I’m not doing it.”

  “Suit yourself. If it doesn’t happen one way, it’ll happen another. You can’t do a thing about the Lord’s will.”

  “Come on, Aunt Lena. Just because you want it doesn’t mean the Lord has any such plans.”

  “You’ll see.”

  * * *

  Nelson opened his front door at twenty minutes before eight that Saturday morning to see a woman’s finger reaching toward the doorbell. Attired in a loose T-shirt and shorts, he was on his way out for a sprint around the block. Looking down at the woman, he saw at once a resemblance to Audrey. He told himself not to get mad, but he knew that was useless when he began to grind his teeth, a sure sign that he was about to show his irritation.

  “Who are you?” he asked her, knowing the answer before she opened her mouth. To her credit, she gazed up at him, seemingly unflappable.

  “I’m Winifred Powers. Nice people call me Wendy. I’m helping my aunt out today. She said—”

  He held up his right hand, palm out. “Don’t tell me what she said. I already know. She has an emergency that she can afford to take a day off to attend to because she has these nieces who have nothing to do with their Saturdays but babysit.” He allowed himself a smile; at least he hoped it looked like a smile since the shape of his mouth was the same as when he sneered. “Are you a doctor, too?”

  She didn’t bat an eyelash, but ignored the taunt as one would excuse a child. “Nope. I’m a teacher. Can’t stand the sight of blood. What do you do when you’re not cross?”

  “I do my best to avoid sharp-tongued females.”

  She let her gaze travel from his feet to his head and back, then she pursed her lips as if in thought. “I don’t imagine you have much success. Not unless the women you meet are afflicted with extreme shortsightedness. Mind if I come i
n?”

  She brushed by him, turned and asked, “Where’s Ricky?”

  “That’s a good question. I’ve got two floors and a family room in the basement. Have fun.” Lena would be wise to have left before he got back; he had a few things to tell her, and he didn’t expect her to like any of them. She had promised to give him notice when she wanted to take an extra day off so that he could choose the person who would take care of Ricky. But she hadn’t done that, and no one had to tell him she had deliberately forgotten her promise. He ran down the steps. Lena could bring all of her nieces and throw in her sisters for good measure, but he wasn’t going to a doctor and he wasn’t going to get married. If she didn’t already know that, she soon would.

  * * *

  The next morning, Sunday, Audrey accompanied Wendy for breakfast at the home of their older sister, Pamela, as they did at least once a month. The three sisters enjoyed a close, loving relationship, but that morning Audrey joined them with reluctance. She didn’t feel like being joshed about Nelson Wainwright, and she knew she could expect it. Her mind seemed to have glued itself to him, for she could hardly think of anything or anyone else.

  The nation’s Capitol was most beautiful in spring, and they ate outside on the deck shaded by the elms and the willow tree that Pam’s husband, Hendren, had brought as a sapling from south Florida. Pam’s garden of roses released a delicious perfume, adding to the loveliness of the morning.

  “Did you make grits and sausage?” Wendy asked Pam.

  “I wanted waffles and strawberries,” Audrey said. “Nobody’s waffles taste as good as yours.” It was the Saturday morning breakfast their mother always made for them when they were growing up. Pam had assumed the parental role after their mother passed and, after she married, had continued the Saturday morning breakfast ritual. But Wendy had refused to eat waffles anymore, and switched to the Southern soul breakfast that their late father had preferred.

  “I cooked all of that,” Pam said, “and I’ll have it over there on the sideboard in a minute. I hope you’ve got room in those pants you’re wearing, Wendy.”

  Wendy sipped her coffee. “I didn’t buy these pants for comfort, girl. These things are man-tamers.”

  “Yeah,” Audrey said. “If you crossed Pennsylvania Avenue and Fourteenth at noon on a Friday, there’d be a ten-car collision.”

  “You said it,” Pam put in. “Speaking of man-taming, what did Nelson say about your visit yesterday?”

  “Nelson?” Wendy let out a sharp whistle. “Girl, you gotta go over there and get a load of Nelson Wainwright. The man oozes sex. I took one look at that brother and decided that I’ve been right all these years.”

  She turned to Audrey. “You need your brain cells repaired.” She let herself contemplate the grits, sausage and scrambled eggs on her plate, then she smiled. “Maybe you don’t. Any woman with sense would stay out of that guy’s way. Now of course, if he came on to her, showed a little interest...now that’s another matter.” She savored the food. “Pam, I eat grits every day, but they never taste like yours.”

  “That’s because you’re the one who’s cooking,” Pam said, referring to Wendy’s piddling culinary skills. But Audrey knew her older sister’s thoughts had not left the subject of Nelson Wainwright. Pam was one of those people who could wring a topic bone-dry.

  “Why are you avoiding him, Audrey?” Pam asked. “Didn’t the two of you get on?”

  No point in lying about it. “We got on fine, but I’ve had it with these good-looking men who ooze charm and charisma and know it. One of ’em is plenty for me.”

  Wendy put her fork down and stared at her sister. “Bull. I saw him, remember? I’ll bet anything your problem is you fell for him like a rocket hurtling through space, and you’re scared to death. Seen him since the day you took care of Ricky? Huh?”

  “You know I was at Ricky’s birthday party.”

  “That’s not what I meant. You gave yourself away. Ever kissed him?”

  Now what did she say to that? She wasn’t about to tell anybody that she’d kissed Nelson Wainwright on the cheek when she was tipsy and didn’t remember doing so.

  “Get off my case, will you, Wendy? I didn’t come over here this morning to get the third degree.”

  “Okay,” Wendy said. “Just drawing a few things to your attention. Incidentally, Ricky talked about you nonstop, and his doting uncle did not discourage him. I got the impression that you’re evening shade and morning sunrise in that house.” She slapped her hand over her lips. “Oops! There I go running my mouth.”

  “Did Nelson complain about Aunt Lena getting you to replace her without his permission or even telling him in advance?” Audrey asked Wendy.

  “After he got over the shock of seeing me there that time of day, he was cordial to me. I don’t know what he said to Auntie after I left. The problem wasn’t Wainwright; it was Ricky. That child could hardly stand the sight of me. He looked up at me, poked out his bottom lip and walked off. The Colonel apologized. Said Ricky wanted you. Let me tell you, it was a long day.”

  Pam put a bowl of mixed fresh fruit on the table and sat down. “This is very interesting, Wendy. You say the Colonel is the epitome of sin itself, and yet you were not affected by all that masculinity?”

  “Not a crumb. I knew right off he was disappointed that I wasn’t Audrey. Besides, I learned long ago to like who likes me. We haven’t talked about anything this morning but the Colonel. The man’s ears must be burning like wildfire. Give him a try, Audrey. He’s worth it.”

  * * *

  Sunday evening, Nelson ruminated about Lena’s strange behavior. He could not understand why Lena thought he might not accept a professional woman, especially a teacher, to babysit for Ricky. He couldn’t figure out her agenda. And surely, if she wanted him to get involved with Audrey, she wouldn’t toss Audrey’s sexy younger sister at him. He waited until after Ricky was asleep and knocked on her door.

  “Why?” she asked him. “I had to get Wendy because Audrey refused to come. She full of notions, that one.”

  “What kind of notions?”

  “She thinks I’m trying to palm her off on you.”

  “You aren’t playing matchmaker? I sure thought you were.”

  She placed her left hand on her hip and looked up at him in a way that emphasized the differences in their height. “Would I do a thing like that, Colonel?”

  He couldn’t help laughing at her antics. “Lena, you would and you are. But listen to this, and I am serious. The next time you have to be away, let me know in advance. I have a right to decide who takes care of Ricky. Got that?”

  “My goodness, sir. I feel like I’m back in grade school. I know how to obey orders. Uh...you speak to Audrey since she was here last?”

  “No. Why?”

  “That girl hasn’t said one single solitary word to me since that night. I declare.”

  He wasn’t going to let her change the subject. “I meant what I said, Lena. Your nieces are fine women, but I am the one who decides who takes care of Ricky.”

  “Yes, sir. You sure are.”

  He left her, thinking he hadn’t accomplished one thing. Later, sitting on the deck with his feet propped against the railing, he observed the rolling clouds and the moon that flickered in and out of them. In two weeks, he would have to go to Camp Pendleton for five days and he wasn’t looking forward to it. He knew the material and was confident that they could work out a program that Congress would approve. If he did his job, a recommendation for promotion was as good as his.

  So he couldn’t understand his reluctance. He ought to be waiting impatiently for the day, his engines revved and ready. Admittedly, he would rather not leave Ricky at a time when the child delighted so much in their bonding. A warm wind blew over him, warm and light like Audrey’s kiss on his cheek. He put his hands behind his he
ad, leaned back in the chaise longue and let the memory of her mouth on him torture him until he felt it in the pit of his gut.

  “I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t,” he said as he left the deck, went up to his room and dialed Audrey’s number.

  Chapter 4

  “Hello, Audrey, this is Nelson,” he said when she answered. “How are you?”

  “Oh! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. I don’t know why. I just wasn’t.”

  That rambling suggested that her nerves matched his. “I wasn’t expecting to call.”

  “Then why did you? Call, I mean.”

  “Because you won’t stop fooling around in my brain. I want to talk with you.”

  “Gosh, I’m sorry. If you’d show me the way out of your head, I’d leave.”

  “Clever. But I don’t want that tonight. Anything but that.”

  Her voice, soft and feminine as if she had dropped a mask, a personality cloak, and revealed her own self, came to him over the wires sweet and tender. “What is it, Nelson? What’s the matter?”

  If he could only hold her, bury himself in her and let himself live! “I need a resolution to whatever it is that’s happening between us. And something is. If you tell me I’m mistaken, I won’t believe you.”

  “Nelson—”

  “Don’t say it. Talk to me, Audrey. If you don’t have anything to say, recite a poem. Anything. Just stay on the line and talk to me.”

  “Something is wrong. Can’t you tell me?”

  He was beginning to question the wisdom of calling her. Letting his emotions overflow was not his style; indeed it was contrary to his character. He had to come to grips with this thing he had for her and deal with his indecisiveness about her. Irresoluteness wasn’t a part of his makeup. He meant to take charge of his next career move, and he’d begin to plan for Ricky and Lena in case he went on a mission and didn’t return. But he couldn’t focus, because Audrey was in the way. There. Everywhere. A light in the distance promising to illumine his life if only he would come close. He shook his head the way a bird releases water from its feathers.