The Astronaut's Wife (5 page)

“You did not say that,” said Jillian flatly. Al-though, knowing her husband as she did there was always the
possibility
that he had been less than respectful.
“But that’s not all,” Spencer continued.
“Really?”
Spencer nodded. “Then he said, as a way of showing his appreciation, he was going to send me a new car. A special new car, just for being a hero.”
“How special?” Jillian asked, playing along now.
“The special kind that brows up when I put the key in the ignition,” said Spencer deadpan.
Abruptly Jillian spun the wheelchair around until
they were face-to-face. “Spencer Armacost, did the President call you?”
Spencer nodded. “Yes, he did.”
“And what did you say to him?”
Spencer opened his mouth to reply, but his wife cut him off, holding up her hand like a cop stopping traffic. “Ah-ah-ah,” she cautioned. “Don’t you lie to me.”
“I wasn’t going to lie
_{. . .}
After he called me an American hero I said, ‘Thank you very much, sir.”
Jillian laughed leaned down and kissed him lightly, then turned the wheelchair back toward the door. “Now that’s a little more like
it,”
she said.
“Then I asked him what he was wearing and he hung up on me. Why do you think he did that? Can you imagine, me—an American hero and I get such disrespect.”
“Amazing,” said Jillian. “Some people just didn’t learn good manners.
_“
“My feelings exactly,” said Spencer. He climbed out of the wheelchair and stretched. “I’ll take it from here.”

NASA had the ability to turn a public relations disaster into public relations gold. No sooner had Alex Streck and Spencer Armacost been released from the hospital, allowed a couple of days at home for a little rest and rehabilitation, then the press department of the agency called them back to the Cape for a space shuttle
Victory
victory celebration. It was a perfect opportunity for a carefully staged
photo-op. And the icing on the cake was that the public had been invited.

Jillian Armacost and Natalie Streck sat with the wives of the astronauts on the mission on a bleacher erected on the lawn in front of the main administration building. Jammed in with them were dozens of tourists, curiosity seekers, and space buffs who ranged in age from eight to eighty.

The bleacher faced a huge American flag with the entire crew of the
Victory
posed in front of it. Over their heads flapping in the light breeze was a huge banner that read simply:
WELCOME BACK!

A phalanx of photographers fired roll after roll of film at the seven astronauts, calling out to them by name to look this way and that. And to smile— above all to smile. The danger had passed, the program was back on track, and if you didn’t believe it, here was photographic proof. The picture would appear around the world by that time tomorrow. The astronauts looked happy, the NASA officials looked happy. The spectators were delighted.

Only Natalie and Jillian looked concerned. They spoke in whispers, not daring to risk being over-heard.
“Jill,” Natalie asked. “Spencer
_{. . .}
does he ever talk about it? About what happened?”
Jillian looked from the photo shoot and then back at the very worried-looking Natalie.
“How do you mean?” she asked warily, trying to stave off a series of painful questions. Questions she had asked herself since the day it all happened.
“I mean
_{. . .}
does he ever say anything about
what it was like?” Natalie hissed. “Did Spencer ever tell you what it was like? About what happened when they were alone up there?”
Jillian shook her head and touched Natalie’s arm lightly. “It’s okay, Natalie. They’re back. Don’t beat yourself up over it. Try to forget. Try to put it behind you.” She spoke with a firm self-confidence she did not feel at all.
Natalie was not fooled by this show of certainty. She sensed that Jillian’s brave face was nothing more than a mask, a facade. “He doesn’t talk about it, does he?” She did not wait for a response, feeling that she knew the answer already. “I know he doesn’t talk about it,” she went on. “Neither does Alex. Never. Not a word.”
Jillian nodded. “It must have been horrible,” she said. “Why would they want to relive it?”
“How could they not?” Natalie said, her voice rising slightly above her discreet whisper. “You’re right, it must have been horrible. Those two minutes, they almost died, Jillian. I have thought of nothing else since it happened. So they must, too. It’s only natural.”
“But they didn’t die,” Jillian protested. “They didn’t die. They came back and they’re well again.” She looked over at the crew. All of them seemed genuinely happy. And why wouldn’t they? Alex and Spencer had cheated death. It must be an exhilarating feeling. At least, it should be, shouldn’t it?
Natalie could not leave it alone. The experience of the two men went around and around in her
brain. “But they almost did, and to go through that, and never mention it. Never.”
“Give them time, Natalie,” said Jillian. “You have to give them time to understand what happened. It’s not the sort of thing you can take in all at once, not something you can consume whole. It will take a long time for them to figure it all out. You have to believe that, Natalie. It makes sense, right?”
A look of pity came into Natalie’s brown eyes. She had the feeling that Jillian was speaking from the heart—but for different reasons. “I know this must be hard for you, Jill.”
“It’s hard for everyone, Natalie.”
“No,” Natalie persisted, “hard for you in particular. I remember how bad it got for you after your parents died. It must have been horrible. Just like this is.”
Natalie had crossed a line. Jillian’s face turned cold and her words were clipped. She looked right at Natalie. “This has absolutely nothing to do with that,” she said.
“It just scares me, Jillian,” said Natalie, oblivious to the stab of pain she had jabbed into her friend. “It just scares me that he acts like it never happened.”
Jillian looked from Natalie and then back to the photo shoot, which seemed to be coming to an end. Spencer and Alex were talking, their heads together as if they were whispering conspiratorially. Except for the cane that Alex Streck leaned against rather casually, neither men looked as if they had just survived a near miss with death in space followed by stays in the hospital. Spencer appeared to glow with health and Alex Streck seemed to have shed a few pounds and a few years, as if he had spent a week in a spa rather than having done excruciating time in a NASA intensive care unit.
As the photographers packed up their gear and the
Victory
crew dispersed. Jillian watched as two self-conscious kids edged into the scene. Both carried pictures of the
Victory
that the public relations guys had papered the visitors area with earlier that day. Spencer saw them looking longingly in his direction and he motioned to them, waving them over.
“Hey, kids,” he said. “You two want an autograph or something like that?”
The two boys could not believe their luck. They raced over to the two astronauts. Spencer and Alex signed the pictures with a flourish and the two kids took off with their trophies. Jillian had seen the whole exchange and beamed with pride in her husband. Now
that
was Spencer Armacost—the real Spencer Armacost that she knew.
Jillian left Natalie and walked down the bleachers to her husband’s side. He slid an arm around her slim waist and together they watched the kids run off.
“I know exactly what they’re feeling,” Spencer
said. “They’re going to grow up and be spacemen.
I was going to do that. All my friends laughed when
I told them
_{. . .“}
“But you did,” said Jillian. “You showed them.”
Spencer laughed a little. “Oh yeah
_{. . .}
I sure showed them all right. I’m the envy of every adult in the country.”
“You did what you set out to do,” Jillian insisted. “You left your mark. That’s more than some guy who works in a bank does. You became part of history. You did it
_{. . .“}
“I did it,” he said quietly. “And now it’s done.” He looked at her and smiled. “All done.”
Jillian returned his gaze but was also aware of Sherman Reese standing off to one side watching them. “What is done?” she asked. “What are you talking about”
“I’m resigning from the service,” said Spencer bluntly. “That’s what’s done.”
Jillian shook her head slightly, like a boxer shaking off a quick blow to the head. For a moment she was not entirely sure she had heard him correctly. She was completely taken aback by the announcement her husband had made in such a matter-of-fact manner.
“Is
_{. . .}
is this because of what happened to you up there, Spencer?” Maybe Natalie was right after all, maybe something terrible had happened up there. Something that would alter his life— and by extension her own—forever.
Spencer took a deep breath and suddenly looked
a little weary, as if he was not quite up to the task
of explaining his reasons to her. “I’m done up
there, Jillian,” he said. “I’m finished with up there.
I think I’ve just about had enough.”
“What will you do?” she asked. She could not
imagine her husband doing anything but being involved in aviation.
Spencer smiled. “Believe it or not I got an offer, a job offer. Out of the blue, as it were.
_“
“From who?” Jillian asked.
“An aerospace firm,” Spencer answered. “It’s an executive position. And it pays a lot of money, Jillian, bucket loads of money.” Being an astronaut did not pay anything close to a single bucket load of money and there were a lot of things they had done without over the years. But neither of the Armacosts were particularly interested in getting a lot of money. It was usually the furthest thing from Spencer’s mind.
“We don’t care about money, Spencer,” Jillian said. “We’ve always gotten by.”
“Well, maybe we should start caring about it,” he countered. “There’s something to be said for having a savings account. Or so I’m told. I wouldn’t know firsthand.” He flashed her a smile. “Come on, Jill. Let’s live a little.”
“I have no objection to living a little, Spencer
_{. . .}
But what do you know about being an executive? You are and always have been a flyer. I can’t see you flying a desk.”
“That’s the beauty part,” be said with another smile. “I don’t have to actually be an executive
_{. . .}
And as for flying a desk, after a few years that’s exactly what I’ll be doing around here. No one flies shuffle missions till the bitter end, you know.”
“That’s years off. Alex Streck didn’t command his first mission till he was ten years older than you
are now,” said Jillian hotly. “You’ve got years of flying left in you.
_“
“Sounds like you want me to go up there and take another crack at getting myself killed,” he said. “I’m sure it could be arranged.” He laughed when he said it, but she could sense that there was real hurt behind his words.
Jillian immediately felt like a complete heel and enfolded her husband in her arms. “You know that’s not what I want. I want you to do what you want to do, Spencer
_{. . .}
But why is this aerospace company hiring you? And why now?”
Spencer held her at arm’s length and looked at her as if she was a little crazy. “I guess you don’t read the papers, do you, dear? You are married to a true American hero. The President said so. So this company got to thinking that it might look nice to have the name of a true American hero on the letterhead.”
“And you’d go for that? For bucket loads of money?” This did not sound like her husband at all.
“Beats working,” he said with a grin. “Beats getting blown up in outer space
_{. . .“}
The grin left his face. “There is something I have to tellyou...”
“Oh boy,” said Jillian. “I don’t like the sound of this. Something nasty is headed this way.”
“Nothing all that nasty,” Spencer replied evenly. “Just New York City. The corporate headquarters
_{. . .}
they’re located up in New York City.”
Now that really blindsided Jillian, a fact that took
her completely by surprise. “You’re kidding!” she said. “You always said you hate New York City. What was it you always said: too many people living like that, it just isn’t human.”
Spencer sighed. “Things change. Now I want people. I want a lot of people. I wanted to be surrounded by people. Millions and millions of people.”
Jillian could not believe what she was hearing. “But, Spencer, think about it,” she protested. “We’ve made a life here, Spencer. Our friends are here, not to mention a job I love
_{. . .}
everything. This was our life and we were happy with it until—”
Spencer looked away. He wasn’t smiling or joking now. He raised his eyes to the sky. It wasn’t a pretty blue Florida sky anymore, but had gone a milky white color.
Jillian knew what he was thinking about. Natalie was right. They did think about it. Those few minutes still haunted him and would for a long time to come.
“Tell me what it was like, Spencer,” Jillian said gently. “Tell me about those two minutes
_{. . .}
tell
me...“
For a moment Spencer tried to speak, to put into the words the strange things that had happened to him, things that he himself did not understand. He had been unconscious so be had no idea what had transpired—he just knew that something had. And the words to describe it just would not come. Jillian could see the pain and distress on the face of her
husband and she moved quickly to soothe away the hurt and the terror of the recent past.
“I’m sorry, Spence
_{. . .“}
she whispered. “I’m so sorry. Don’t think about
it,
okay?”
Spencer turned her face to his and kissed her warmly and deeply. She felt herself going limp in his arms, holding him close, not wanting to let him go for anything.
Spencer spoke over her shoulder. “I know what I’m asking, Jill. I know how hard it will be for you. I know what this place means to you. I know what these people mean to you, too. I
_{. . .}
I just don’t think I can be here anymore. Can you do it? Can you come away with me and do this thing in New York? If it doesn’t work out, we will have tried and we can move on to something else
_{. . .}
I promise we won’t be caught—trapped—there. But I think I have to try it.”
Jillian pulled away and looked at her husband, tears in her eyes. “You came and took me away once, when I needed it,” she said softly. “I’ve always wanted to do the same for you.” She nodded decisively. “Let’s go to New York.”
“And be surrounded by people?”
Jillian nodded again. “And be surrounded by people.”
“Love me?” Spencer asked.
“forever,” Jillian replied.
“Really?” said Spencer slyly, coyly, a grin on his face. “How come you love me?” “Because you’re cute,” said Jillian.
“How cute?” Spencer demanded.
“Don’t push it,” Jillian replied, a touch of iron in her soft voice.
“As cute as a spaghetti-eatin’ dog?” he asked. Both of them were so engrossed in their little game that neither of them noticed that Sherman. Reese was watching them intently. And Reese was watching them so closely that he did not notice that Alex Streck was staring at Sherman Reese.
“Cute as a spaghetti-eating dog?” said Jillian laughing. “Let me think it over.”
“Come on, Jilly,” said Spencer. “Ain’t nothing cuter than a spaghetti-eatin’ dog...”