Flying High (8 page)

He set her feet on the floor, put both arms around her, and locked her to him. “I suppose you’re right. Recently, I’ve known we’d be like this together. I’ve also known that with you and me, it will be all or nothing. And that makes it look kind of bleak.”

He stroked her hair and her cheek and then rubbed her back, as if substituting those gestures for what he wanted and needed. “But, baby, you move me like no woman I ever knew!”

With her hand in his, she walked down the steps to the living room. “Let’s sit in here. Why were you so angry with me?”

“I don’t think I was ever really angry, although I certainly reacted as if I were. Emotions can play tricks on us. I acceded to your request that we not see each other. If I’m honest, I’ll tell you that anger was an excuse to see you and to get to you any way I could.”

“But you still don’t want a relationship with me, and I’m not willing to risk one with you or any other man.”

He took her hand, turned it over and looked at her palm. “You know, when I was at the Naval Academy, I was the hit of every party because I read palms and predicted great things for my friends.” He pressed her palm flat. “What I see in here...” He folded her palm. “Either we stay away from each other, or we give in to it and accept the consequences. This is nothing to play with.”

“Do you believe in palmistry?”

His right eyelid lowered in a half-wink. “Did I tell you I read that in your palm? I didn’t have to look into your hand to know that.”

He continued holding her hand, his face softened with a smile so sweet and loving that her heart seemed to turn cartwheels in her chest. When he squeezed her fingers, rivulets of heat cascaded through her body, and as quickly as the speed of sound, desire gripped her, nearly strangling her. She wanted to lower her lashes to protect from him what she could not hide from herself—the overwhelming, rampaging need to have him deep inside her, loving her.

But she couldn’t stop looking at him; his gaze bore into her, reading her and possessing her until, with a hoarse groan, he capitulated and a second later she felt his tongue in her mouth, this time possessively, claiming, demanding, knocking her senses out of order, destroying her willpower. Her nipples begged for his attention, and, as if he understood her need, he pinched and caressed them until she grabbed his hand and pressed it to her breast. She didn’t care if he thought her brazen, wanton; she arched her back and, with her hand at the back of his head, led his lips to her breast.

The male heat in him jumped out at her as he suckled her until she wanted to stop thinking, stop breathing. Stop everything but the feeling of what he was doing to her. Then his fingers stroked her beaded breast, while his marauding tongue slipped in and out of her mouth. Like a well drill seeking an underground spring, he laid waste to her inhibitions and fears. She thought she would die with her need of him, and her legs spread of their own will as moans streamed from her throat.

Shock waves snaked through her when suddenly he was not touching her. Her eyelids flew open to read the question on his face.
What had she done?

“Nelson, I...”

His head moved from side to side. “It’s all right. But you believe me now when I say it’s nothing to play with. The next time, we’ll make love. You understand what I’m saying?”

“I do. I should have stopped before it went so far.”

“It wasn’t your responsibility alone. It was ours. I wanted to stop, but if you needed something as badly and as long as I’ve needed to make love with you, you’d understand that wanting to wasn’t sufficient. It was almost like asking an eagle to give up his wings. Audrey, if I ever love you...I mean, if I
ever
love you...!” He stood. “I’d better get moving.”

She walked with him to the door, her hands locked behind her back, symbolic of her struggle for control. “If I had the guts where you’re concerned that I have with the rest of my life, I’d tell you not to leave.”

“When you’re ready, you won’t have to say a word, and we’ll both know.”

He ran the back of his hand across her nose, barely touching her skin. “See you.”

She didn’t reply but, like a robot, closed the door behind him, locked it, and trudged back up the stairs.
Thank God I don’t drink to escape.

She tiptoed into the guest room and looked down at Ricky, hugging his bunny as he slept. “Somebody should have told me that I have a maternal instinct,” she said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I always thought I wanted no part of it. Maybe it’s just Ricky.”

Or maybe it’s Nelson, and your desire for him brings out this maternal feeling in you,
an inner voice whispered.
Nelson! Nelson!
It would be a long night.

* * *

Lena returned four days later with a black band around her arm. “What’s that for?” Nelson asked, pointing to the badge of bereavement.

“I thought everybody knew what it was for. People don’t go around wearing black bands for nothing. Where’s Ricky?”

“Where you left him. School’s out and I couldn’t take him with me to the Pentagon. Lena, I don’t want to go over this again. I thought we agreed that if you had to be off, you’d let me know in advance, and
I
would choose someone to stay with Ricky.”

She pulled off her hat and her hands went to her sides. “I didn’t get no notice, sir, and neither did my uncle. Otherwise, I don’t think he’d a gone to sleep that night.”

“You mean he—”

“Right. He didn’t wake up the next morning.”

He put an arm across her shoulder as he looked down at her. “Lena, why didn’t you try to get in touch with me? You had my cell phone number. Is there anything I can do? Are you out of pocket? I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

He didn’t remember having seen her so lacking in aplomb and, for once, she appeared to be speechless.

“I was real upset, sir. Uncle Claude was a father to me from the time I was ten and my own father passed. Uncle Claude was the youngest of the six brothers and the last to go.” Moisture accumulated in her eyes, but she didn’t let herself shed tears. “Now my generation is out there in the front.”

“Don’t dwell on that, Lena. Ricky and I are you family. I’m here for you.”

“You know I thank you, sir.” She pulled off her hat and looked around and smiled. “Place is nice and neat. You know, Colonel, you got a lot to offer.” She walked over and faced him. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but your generation is right after mine. You done any thinking about a mother for Ricky? He loves me, but, Colonel, you don’t call your mother ‘Miss,’ and he’ll soon know the difference.”

He wanted to glare at her, but considering what she’d just been through, he thought it prudent to indulge her.

“It may upset you to know this, but my sense of obligation to Ricky doesn’t extend to marrying for his sake, and while my appreciation for you is considerable, neither in breadth nor depth does it cover you meddlesomeness. Understand?” He patted her shoulder to soften the remark.

“Pshaw!” she said, placing her hands at her hips. “With your parents and your brother gone and no women hanging around you—least not any that I know about—that leaves me the only person who can tell it to you exactly like it is.”

“And you’re bound to do your duty. Right?”

“Well, sir, duty ain’t something I ever shirked.”

“Getting you to mind your business is like getting roosters to lay eggs.” Walking away from her, he glanced over his shoulder before she had time to wipe the grin off her face and realized that she enjoyed joshing him. “Would you call Audrey and ask her to bring Ricky home?”

“Yes sir-ree. Right now.”

He went to his room and closed the door. He wasn’t in the mood to do battle with his emotions, and he didn’t feel like going to bed hard and aching.

About an hour later, he had reason to question his sanity. Ricky’s squeals made the house come alive, and an insane kind of madness skated through him. He jumped up from his desk chair, flung open his room door and dashed to the stairs, where he saw Ricky tugging at Audrey’s hand as if urging her to climb the stairs with him.

“Unca Nelson. Unca Nelson,” Ricky yelled, dropping Audrey’s hand and running up the stairs to meet him. He held out his arms and the child sailed into them, giggling and hugging him—and teaching him the wonder and purity of a child’s love. As he held Ricky—his only living blood relative—to his chest, the measure of his love for the boy startled him, and he closed his eyes as he dealt with the moment.

Ricky’s tugging at his necktie triggered a change in his mood, and he opened his eyes only to have his heart lurch when his gaze fell on Audrey, who watched them from where she stood several steps below them. His right hand gripped the bannister. All that she felt, needed and desired of him blanketed her face.
If only he could know for certain that she wouldn’t let him down!

“Hello, Audrey,” he managed at last. “Thanks for bringing Ricky home and for taking care of him.” He put Ricky on his feet.

“Unca Nelson, I wanna show Audie my room.”

“She’s seen your room, Ricky.”

“But she didn’t see my harp.”

“Yes, I did,” Audrey said. “Hello, Nelson. Keeping Ricky was a pleasure.”

He looked down at the anxious expression on Ricky’s face. “I don’t see why Audrey can’t have a look at your harp. Ask her to come up.” He looked at Audrey, making sure that they understood each other. “I’ll be in my room. Got some work to do.”

Pain shot through his neck and shoulders and, without thinking, he grabbed the top of his right shoulder, grimacing as he did so. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand it, but he didn’t see an alternative. Days would pass when he felt like a normal man, and then the gnawing ache, the piercing, stabbing, and pricking like hot arrows into his flesh would set in and torment him for a time. As soon as Audrey left the house, he’d take a hot shower and enjoy some relief.

Unable to work as the pain intensified, he waited for Audrey to leave, for he didn’t want to meet her in the hall while only wearing a towel around his hips. The light tap on his door startled him; Ricky didn’t knock on his room door, but called out instead. He got up and went to open it.

“Mind if I come in?”

“It isn’t wise, Audrey.”

“I know, but you’re in pain, and I can give you some relief even if it’s only temporary.”

He didn’t know how he would react if she put her hands on him. “It’s not a good idea.”

“Are you telling me you’d rather suffer than use a little self-control?”

She had to know he wouldn’t shy away from that kind of challenge. With a shrug of his right shoulder, he stared down at her. “Okay. Shoot your best shot. What do you want me to do?”

He could see her professionalism asserting itself. “Pull off your shirt and stretch out on that bed facedown.”

He walked toward the bed and began pulling off his shirt. Then, for some unfathomable reason, he began to laugh.

“What amuses you?” she asked, obviously nettled.

“I was thinking about the legion of non-commissioned Marines who at one time or another would have liked to say that or something similar to me.” He stretched out. “Darling, please be gentle.” The words barely escaped his lips before he sat upright, shaking with laughter.

“It never occurred to me that you’re a nut,” she said. “Lie down.”

He thought he would fly out of his skin when she straddled his hips. Her fingers began their magic, kneading, pressing and massaging until the tension and pain began to ease and he had to fight off the urge to sleep.

“It’s okay to sleep,” she said. “It means you’ve relaxed. You’ll feel better now.” She moved from him, leaving him bereft of her warmth and nearness.

“I can’t thank you enough. I feel like a different man.”

“Stay there for a while and rest.” Her voice seemed to drift away, and he realized that she was leaving the room. “I’m going to call you this evening, because I have something important to say to you. Bye.”

He heard Ricky at the door, got up, and opened it. “Unca Nelson, Audie said I can learn how to play my harp. I want to.”

“I’ll get a teacher for you, but you may be too young. That harp is big. Why don’t we start with the piano? I’ll teach you.”

Ricky’s eyes, so like those of his brother Joel, beseeched him. “Then can I learn the harp?”

“Yes.”

“One of my friends at day school wants to come play with me. Can she, Unca Nelson? Can she?”

A girl, huh? “Of course. Where does she live?”

“Down the street.” Ricky rubbed the side of his head. “Her daddy works in Washington. She gave me her phone number.”

“You know it?”

“It’s 287-6199, and her name’s Stacey.”

He nodded. This business with females must be a Wainwright curse. “All right. We’ll call her later,” he said, wondering what he’d do when Ricky reached puberty.”

“What’s her last name, Ricky?” He wanted to know something about the girl’s family. Not that he was a snob, but given his high-security work, he couldn’t be too careful.

“I don’t know, Unca Nelson.”

Down the street, huh? He believed in walking carefully and, if he could manage it, leaving nothing to chance.

“Come on, son,” he said. “Let’s go for a ride. We’ll be back shortly,” he called to Lena.

Nelson headed his black BMW in the direction Ricky indicated. “You know Stacey’s house?”

“Yes, sir. It’s big and red, and it’s got a white lion in the grass. That’s it right there, Unca Nelson.”

He noted the number, about three good blocks from his home, made a U-turn and drove past it at greatly reduced speed so as to read the name on the door. Petin. Hmm. He thought of the World War II French general and traitor, Marshall Henri Pétain, and wondered about the spelling of the two names. Maybe it was nothing, but that name didn’t fit with Stacey.

“You sure that’s the house?”

“Yes, sir.”

Hoping to divert Ricky’s thoughts from Stacey, he drove to the Old Town and bought them each double cones of strawberry ice cream. Caught up in Ricky’s delight in sitting at an open air-café, eating ice cream and watching a Ferris wheel in the distance, his mind settled on them as a family.