Always and Forever (5 page)

Halting, Gale lifted her chin and looked out the windows into the gloomy darkness. The landing apron in front of the building had very few jets parked on it. No one flew during the holidays unless they were on alert duty. It was raining. The gusting wind sent sheets of water across the tarmac. Gale prayed Kyle would be strong enough for both of them. The waiting...the wondering had taken their toll. She was too emotionally drained to be strong any longer.

She moved to the front desk and stood watching the double doors, and she wondered when Kyle would arrive. His letters had been filled with anecdotes about his military life, funny stories about things that had happened to him, stories meant to make her laugh, to pull her out of her depression. During the past year, there had been a wonderful shift in
his letters—they were more personal, more about the man, Kyle Anderson, and not the pilot. Those letters were special to her.

Kyle's phone calls weren't frequent. He called on her birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas, just to check in on her. Kyle knew what it was like to be in the service and alone on holidays. She ached to hear his voice, to listen to him laugh and tell his jokes. There was nothing but good in Kyle Anderson. His loyalty to Mike was unswerving.

The doors opened.

* * *

Kyle stepped into the dimly lit Ops area and shook water off his olive-drab flight suit. In one hand he had his helmet bag, in the other, a small traveling bag with two sets of clean civilian clothes inside, including the sweater Gale had made for him. His F-4 Phantom was parked at the hangar, the crew chief having given him a ride over to Ops.

Sensing Gale's presence, he looked up. He hadn't seen her in five years; he hadn't dared. Her heart-shaped face was the same, and so were those haunting green eyes, that full mouth and slender build. Her hair was longer, and he was pleased about that for no discernible reason. The strands were pulled into a French twist behind her head, with feathery bangs barely touching her eyebrows.

It was the look of utter devastation on Gale's pale features that forced him to remain strong, because he could see that she wasn't. This wasn't the Gale he'd met five years ago, the woman who had courage under incredible duress. Five years without Mike had ravaged her in many ways. And still, she was the most beautiful woman Kyle had ever seen. The years hadn't dimmed his memory of her. Like a miser, Kyle had hoarded that precious, sweet memory, pulling it out from time to time to savor it, knowing that it could never be anything more.

Putting a smile of welcome on his face, he strode toward the counter where she stood. He noticed the airman sitting at the control desk, reading a magazine, not even bothering to look up.

“Hi, stranger,” Kyle said, setting his helmet bag on the counter and the traveling bag on the floor. An ache seized him, and he wanted to walk around that desk, pull Gale into his arms and simply hold her. The urge was overwhelming. Kyle didn't let his smile slip, being very careful to keep the look of devilry he was famous for in his eyes—and to hide a look of yearning.

Gale stared up at Kyle not believing he was really with her. She moved without realizing what she was doing, coming around the end of the counter. The smile on Kyle's face changed, became nakedly vulnerable, and she saw him open his arms to her. Tears blinded her, and she couldn't stop herself. In moments, his arms closed around her. He dragged her against him and held her tightly.

“Oh, Kyle,” she said, her voice muffled by his flight suit, her arms going around his waist. She needed to lean against someone for just a little while, to seek protection against the final seventy-two hours of a five-year marathon that she'd run alone. Then the words she had refused to say to herself started pouring out of her. “I'm so afraid...so afraid....”

“It's going to be okay, Gale,” Kyle whispered, shutting his eyes and absorbing the feeling of her against him. “Mike's coming home. I can feel it. Everything's going to be okay.” Every muscle in his body screamed out for further contact with her warm, pliant body, but he kept his embrace that of a friend. “Just hang in there,” he told her, pressing a chaste kiss to her hair. The clean, faintly fragrant scent of her body sent a painful surge through him. Kyle
dragged in a deep breath, rocked her gently in his arms and fought his personal need of her as a woman.

Now beyond words, Gale collapsed into Kyle's arms. The moment his hand stroked her hair, a small sob caught in her throat. She felt his arms tighten around her momentarily. It was as if Kyle knew exactly what she needed, and beyond exhaustion, she capitulated to him. Each stroke of his hand on her hair took away a little more anxiety, a little more pain and suffering. Finally, after a full five minutes, she was able to ease out of his arms and step away.

Wiping her cheeks dry, Gale managed a shy, broken smile. “Thanks for coming, for being here....”

Kyle shrugged self-consciously. “I'm glad you called. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way, Gale.”

“Your parents—”

“They understand,” he whispered, reaching out, barely caressing her hair. “I
want
to be here.”

“It's been so long since I last saw you.”

Too long.
The words begged to be said, but Kyle held on to them. He managed a strained smile meant to buoy her flagging spirits. “I know.”

Gale sniffed and found a tissue in the pocket of her dark blue slacks. “I'm just glad you're here.”

“Hell of a thing,” he muttered, forcing himself not to reach out to smooth back several strands of hair clinging to her reddened cheek.

“What is?” She stuffed the tissue back into her pocket, then raised her head and met his blue eyes smoldering with dark intensity.

“The Pentagon springing this on you at Christmastime. I wish they'd waited...or something.”

With a shake of her head, Gale whispered, “At least I'll know.”

The haunted look in her eyes tore at him. Kyle had to
stand there, not touching her, trying not to comfort her beyond the province of an old friend. “Buck up,” he coaxed huskily, trying to sound positive. “It'll be good news. Mike will be back in no time.”

Rubbing her arm because she was suddenly chilled, Gale forced a slight smile. “I hope you're right, Kyle. So many prayers, so many hopes dashed so many times and ways.”

“The kind of suffering the wives and families of the men who went over there is a special kind of hell. I can't really know what it's like for you, except that I know it's agony.” How could he tell her he hurt for Mike almost as much as she did? Kyle didn't want to dwell on negatives with Gale.

“Despite everything, you look pretty as ever,” he said, meaning it.

Gale touched her cheek, feeling the heat of a blush sweeping onto her face. “Thank you.”

“Going to say the same for me?” he asked, beginning to grin.

“You look more mature.” The war had carved and etched deeper lines into his face. She saw the pain he carried in those lines.

“Have I changed
that
much?”

Managing a wobbly smile, Gale shook her head.
You look wonderful.
She longed to reach out and touch the hand that rested on the counter. A long, spare hand like the rest of him. Kyle was built whipcord lean, with a deep, broad chest and shoulders. His face was narrow, his smile warm with welcome, his eyes hooded by some undefinable emotion.

“Whew, that was close.”

“You're such a clown, Anderson,” she joked weakly, trying to get a handle on her escaping emotions and to pick up on his effort to lighten the mood of their vigil. Tears had come, but just the way Kyle was behaving helped her
to stabilize. The tears went away and in their place, Gale felt an overwhelming lightness sweep through her. “You haven't changed a bit.”

His boyish grin broadened. “The same? Usually, at my age, people say I look a bit more suave or some such thing.”

She laughed, a terrible burden sliding off her shoulders. “All pilots know they're handsome devils. You don't need me to add to that confident ego you already own.” If anything, Kyle had grown more handsome with age. The crow's feet at the corners of his eyes were deeply embedded, and the laugh lines around his mouth were pronounced. A few errant strands of black hair dipped over his wrinkled brow and Gale yearned to push them back into place.

“Touché, Major Taylor.” He forced himself to look around because if he didn't, he was going to stare deeply into her eyes, bare his soul and then destroy the fragile truce between them. “Got a cup of coffee for this tired old jet jock?”

“I'm forgetting my manners. You bet I do. Come on around the end of the counter.”

“I'm allowed to tread on sacred meteorology territory?”

“Of course. While I get you coffee, why don't you call the B.O.Q. and tell them you've arrived. I made reservations and they've got a room ready. They'll send over a driver to pick you up whenever you want to hit the rack. The number is 920.”

With a nod, Kyle rounded the counter. “Thanks, I'll do that.” His eyes narrowed when she turned away and went to the Teletype room, where the coffee pot was kept. Gale was terribly thin. Damn! The uniform hung on her. A deep, startling anger coursed through him. War did terrible things to all people, not just the people who fought it, but the
wives and family left at home were equally injured by it. No one was left untouched or unscarred. But surely Gale had suffered more than most.

Gale tried not to let her hand tremble when she placed the mug in front of Kyle, but it did. Tucking her lip between her teeth, she looked away, aware of his sharpened gaze. She leaned against the counter, opposite him, listening to the rich timbre of his voice, a healing balm across her taut, screaming nerves. He automatically allowed her to relax, to feel as if everything would be fine.

Kyle hung up the phone. “Thanks for making the reservations,” he said, picking up the mug.

“At Christmastime, the B.O.Q. is empty.”

“All the bases are deserted. Only the poor schmuck stuck with the duty is around.” Kyle glanced at her critically. “Which reminds me, why are you on duty at a time like this?”

Gale shrugged, crossing her arms against her chest. “Why shouldn't I be? If I wasn't, I'd be going stir crazy over at the house. I couldn't just wait, Kyle. I have to be doing something—anything—to keep my mind off the what-ifs.”

The coffee was hot and strong. Kyle nodded, understanding. “When do you get off duty?”

“Christmas morning at 0700. Then, I come back at 1900 tomorrow evening for twelve hours and then get the next seventy-two hours off.”

He glanced around. “So you're here holding down the fort by yourself?”

“Do you see a crowd of pilots standing around needing weather?”

“Not a one.”

Gale smiled. “In about half an hour, I've got to plot a weather map, is all.”

“And you have to take a weather observation from the roof of Ops once an hour?” Kyle guessed. He watch her nod, thinking how the lights gave her hair a golden cast, like a halo around her head. “How long is your hair?”
Damn!
He hadn't meant to get so personal.

“Believe it or not, almost halfway down my back. Isn't that something?”

Swallowing hard, Kyle agreed. The very thought of sifting his fingers through that thick brown mass was too much. He forced himself to think of Mike and his ordeal.

Mustering a smile, Kyle said, “In three days or less, we'll know Mike's fine and coming home to you.”

“I wish I had your optimism.”

“My stock and trade.”

It felt good to laugh—freely and with happiness. Gale shook her head. “You're good medicine, Kyle. You take away my pain and make me laugh when I never thought I would again. Thanks.”

You take away my pain.
Kyle looked away from her green eyes which were sparkling with life once again. When he'd arrived, Gale's eyes had been flat with pain, dull with fear. Her words tormented him. Well, maybe he could take some of her worry and anxiety away—if only for the next few days. Sitting up, he took a good look around the office.

“What, no Christmas tree? What kind of place do you run here, Major?”

Gale grimaced. “Want to know the worst of it?”

“What?”

“I don't have a Christmas tree at home, either.”

He studied her, hearing the underlying strain in her voice. “Probably haven't had one in years, right?”

“How did you know? Never mind, don't answer that.”
Gale gave him an exasperated look. “Do you know how disconcerting it is to have someone know me that well?”

Kyle grinned and stood up, stretching fully. Flying in a cramped combat jet from New York to California wasn't his idea of pleasure. “I promise, your secrets are safe with me.”

With a smile, Gale reached for his emptied mug. “I don't know how you've put up with me through the years, Major Anderson. I've been a royal pain at times.” Some of the depressing letters she'd written to him, in which she'd let her fear for Mike and the real possibility he was dead surface, weren't her idea of chatty letters to a friend. Kyle had fielded her tough, hard questions and issues addressing her trepidation for Mike. He'd counseled her on how to stay sane and try to lead a normal life while she remained in a painful limbo of not knowing.

“Never a pain,” Kyle told her, working at keeping his tone light and teasing when it was the last thing he wanted to be with her.

“More coffee?”

“Yeah, please. Hey, you got an old cardboard box sitting around here somewhere?”

She gave him a strange look. “Yes. Why?”

With a shrug, Kyle pointed to the main desk. “I think we ought to put a Christmas tree up, don't you?”

Kyle's enthusiasm was contagious and just what Gale needed. “I think you're right. But cardboard...?”