The Gauntlet (8 page)

“I will not raise my voice and act like a three-year-old child to get my way, Captain Sinclair.”

The anger in her eyes was real, but it didn’t transfer to her voice. What had stoved Molly up so badly that her anger was short-circuited against herself? “So you played martyr instead, and took the fall whether it belonged to you or not.”

Molly’s mouth dropped open. “How dare you!” She leaped to her feet. She wasn’t fast enough. Cam unwound like a tightly coiled spring, straightening and reaching out, his fingers wrapping around her arm.

“Running—again?” he taunted close to her ear.

“Let me go!”

“Or what?” Her flesh was firm and supple, and Cam longed to open his arms and give her the safety she needed. But to do so would weaken her, not help her.

Glaring up at him, Molly whispered, “Or nothing. Please let me go.”

“Will you stay and talk, not run?”

His fingers felt like a hot brand against her arm. Impatiently she said, “Yes, I’ll stay!”

“Good.”

The gentleness of just that one word shook Molly. His face was still hard, but his voice had turned warm and coaxing. She stared up at him, not knowing what to make of him.

“Now, come on. Let’s sit down and talk.”

“About what?” Molly demanded petulantly, sitting cross-legged on the sand. Cam positioned himself a foot away, opposite her.

“You.”

“Look, if you’re going to sit there and rip me up—”

“Ensign Rutledge—” Oh, to hell with it. “Molly, give me a chance. You’re behaving like I’ve got a report card or something to deliver. I don’t,” he said softly.

When he whispered her name, Molly sat very still. She tried to wrestle with her fear that he was going to expertly dissect her performance today. Her entire life since leaving home had been exactly that: a report card. She was held accountable for every minute of her life. She feared that he’d point to her mistakes just as her father and Scott did.

“Look, I can’t take a dressing-down right now. I’ve had about all I can take.”

“I understand.” Cam didn’t, but he was going to try. Opening his hands in a gesture of peace, he urged, “Tell me about your father. I know your mother died when you were ten. What’s he like?”

Completely taken off guard by his questions, Molly hesitated.

“I know this is personal, but what we share stays with me. I won’t use it against you, Molly. I promise.”

Although Sinclair was still in his flight uniform and looked very much the warrior, Molly responded to the softened grate of his voice. The sensation was almost tangible, as if a cat were licking her with its roughened tongue. Needing to confide in someone, she nodded.

“I miss my friends, Dana and Maggie. I used to be able to talk to them when things got tough. They’re still at Whiting Field and—”

“You’re up here all alone without any friends or family?” Cam guessed, trying to keep his voice low and warm. He saw his effort work a minor miracle with Molly. She placed her hands on her knees and opened up to him.

“I’m so lonely without a friend here. The last two weeks have been pure hell. Martin’s trying to sink me before I even get a chance to prove myself and—”

“Whoa! Slow down, gal.” Cam held up his hand. “Let’s backtrack. I want to know about your father. What’s he like?”

With a sigh, Molly told him. At one point, she thought she saw his eyes soften for just an instant. Or had it been her imagination? Maybe it was the evening light, the way the sun was slanting across the bay. She talked about her father for a good ten minutes.

“So, to sum it up, you report in to your father
and
your brother on a weekly basis?” Cam asked. He struggled mightily to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

“Yes, sir.”

“When we’re alone like this, let’s drop the military formality, okay? Call me Cam, and I’ll call you Molly. Fair enough?” Cam wondered where that had come from. Well, it was too late to take it back. Molly’s face lit up with such gratefulness that it didn’t matter.

“Okay…Cam. Scott, my older brother, hangs on my every word. It really makes his week to get my letters and phone call.”

“Doesn’t he have his own life? A job?”

Molly shrugged, making geometric designs in the sand in front of her crossed legs. “No.”

“Tell me about your friends, Dana and Maggie.”

Eagerly Molly filled him in on the two women, who were really more like sisters to her. Cam’s face remained stoic and without expression. She hesitated halfway through her explanation.

“Why am I telling you all of this?”

“Because I want to know.”

“Why?”

“I care what happens to you, Molly.” God help him, he shouldn’t, but he did. Cam felt himself falling apart inwardly when he saw her eyes fill with tears. Gruffly, because he knew he couldn’t stand to see Molly cry without taking her into his arms, he told her, “I care enough to help you learn how to help yourself. What else did Maggie and Dana do for you?”

The harsh edge in his voice halted her tears. Molly blinked them away and continued with her story of how they’d met and become the closest of friends at Annapolis. By the time she’d finished, the sun had set and the sky was a bold apricot laced with the pink trim of the clouds that hung over the bay.

Cam said nothing for a long time, digesting her story and trying to put the pieces together. Molly looked so alone sitting there in front of him. He was amazed that she genuinely trusted him with all this personal information. Yet, without it, he’d be helpless to understand her actions and reactions at TPS.

“When you’re angry or upset, do you always retreat?”

Molly stiffened. “I don’t retreat.”

“I sat in that debrief room this afternoon and watched you crawl deep inside yourself, Molly.”

“Martin had no business verbally abusing me the way he did!”

“He was defending his territory. What were you doing?”

“What? What territory? That test was supposed to be us working as a team.”

“Every test pilot maps out his territory, and then he defends it, Molly. Do you think Martin is going to say ‘Yeah, I screwed up the flight’?”

“I expect him to be honest!”

“Because you are?”

“Of course.”

“Who taught you that?”

She glared at him. “My mother.”

“Test pilots by nature are self-protective, Molly. They’ve got egos as big as the Chesapeake Bay. Martin’s record is impeccable. He’s a hotshot jet jock and knows it.”

“I don’t care if he thinks he’s God. He’s not! He made mistakes up there in the air today, Cam. I was there. I saw it happen!”

“Prove it to me,” he goaded her softly.

“I tried today.”

“By acting like a cream puff in debrief? Give me a break, Molly. Why didn’t you demand that Norton view the video? I haven’t seen it, either, and it may or may not prove a thing, but at least it would put Martin on notice that you’re going to start protecting
your
territory.”

Molly scrambled to her feet. “I will not play these little-boy games, Cam! We’re supposed to be mature adults.”

“Martin was a six-year-old squalling like a scalded cat in there this afternoon,” Cam drawled, holding her furious gaze. “Who do you think won that battle in your personal war with him? Who did Norton believe? Who got the better grade?”

“You gave him an eighty-five!” Molly flung heatedly. “I didn’t!”

“You didn’t give me a choice.”

“I what?”

“Come on, sit back down. We’re not done talking.”

Breathing hard, Molly sank back to the sand, her fists clenched in her lap. “I wasn’t aware I had anything to do with Martin’s grade. You do.”

“You’re wrong. I assess my student in three areas. First, how he presents his report of the flight. Second, through the video analysis. Third,” Cam drilled her, “the flight engineer’s report. You think Martin’s the only one who’s going to try and make you look bad when he blows a test? Every man in there will do it, Molly. And if you don’t want to get washed out in the first month, you’d better start defending yourself.”

Molly felt at a loss. Hanging her head, she mulled over Cam’s suggestions. “I won’t become like them,” she said finally. “I refuse to lower myself to their level of infantile behavior to get some notice or a better grade.”

Without meaning to, Cam reached out, his hand settling on hers. “Who taught you not to fight for yourself, Molly?”

His hand was firm yet comforting on hers. A lump formed in her throat. “My mother never raised her voice to my father.”

“You don’t have to be exactly like her.” Cam ached to lean closer, frame her face and kiss her pursed lips. Her face was filled with such pain that he felt tears come to his eyes. Tears! He hadn’t cried in nearly six months. Reluctantly, Cam removed his hand, realizing he was becoming too involved with Molly. If he was going to help her, he had to remain distant and objective. There was danger in allowing her to affect him.

With a shrug, Molly whispered, “You think I’m a wimp.”

“No. I don’t think your family gave you the support or the tools for learning to stand up for yourself.” His voice became lined with emotion. “Molly, if you really want to make the grade at TPS, you’re going to have to start defending yourself.”

“I’m not going to yell or curse to achieve it.”

“You don’t have to.”

Lifting her chin, Molly looked at him miserably. “Isn’t this sad? Why can’t the world get along without all this ridiculous drama and clash of egos? Why can’t everyone behave like well-mannered adults?”

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean everyone else does.”

“You never raise your voice. At least, not that I’ve heard.”

Cam’s mouth curved into a slight smile. “Wait and see. Some of these jet jocks have to be brought down a peg or two when they start trying to run over the flight engineers.”

His smile sent a sheet of warmth and hope straight to her injured heart. The entire shape of his face changed, and Molly’s breath snagged. How handsome, how approachable Cam looked when he smiled, even if it was just a sliver of a smile tugging at one corner of his well-shaped mouth. Her trust in him doubled. “I thought you said flight engineers had to stand on their own two feet.”

“They do. Once that’s done, and I view the video and put it all together, I may end up dressing down one of my students in private for trying to blame the engineer instead of owning up to pilot error. But I can’t do that unless the engineer has the confidence and belief in his program in the first place. If you don’t have faith in it, how can I?”

“I see your point. I’ll admit you’ve got a scary reputation here at TPS.”

Cam’s smile broadened. “Yeah?”

“Do you know what they call you?”

“Probably a lot of unkind expletives that you’d never repeat because you’re too sweet and kind, Molly Rutledge.”

It was her turn to smile. She wanted to reach out and touch his hand, to thank him, but she stopped herself. He was an instructor; she, a student. “I don’t know about ‘sweet and kind,’ but you’re right, cursing’s for the birds. When I arrived at TPS, I found out they called you ‘the Glacier.’”

Cam nodded, familiar with the nickname. His smile faded, and his face became implacable once again. “I earned it” was all he’d say. When Molly tilted her head and gave him that probing look, Cam moved uncomfortably. Dusk was upon them, and more than anything in the world, he wanted to stay here with Molly and talk. Simply talk. He was starved to find out everything he could about her. That realization startled him, haunted him. He got to his feet, brushing the sand off his uniform.

“I’ve got to get going.”

“Sure…” Molly stood uncertainly. She hadn’t realized how tall Cam Sinclair was until he stood only inches away from her. The need, the desire to turn and walk into his arms was there. How could that be? It dawned on Molly that she knew absolutely nothing about this enigma of a pilot. He knew everything about her. Everything! Could she really trust him?

“I never expected this.”

“What?” Cam wanted to reach over and tame several strands of her hair wafting against her flushed cheek. He throttled the urge.

“Your helping me.” She studied him in the dusk, his face shadowed and harsh looking. “You didn’t have to come out here.”

Cam thrust his hands on his hips. “Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a sucker for the underdog, that’s why.”

“For a loser.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Molly, you’ve never been a loser. But you’re no longer in an academic environment. You’re out in the big, cold, cruel world of life. Things are different out here. You need to learn to adjust.” He managed a tight smile. “My money’s on you to do just that. I think beneath that cream-puff face and those soft words is a backbone of steel.”

She shoved the sand around with the toe of her polished boot. “I’ve never met a cream puff with a spine.”

“Well, I have. Come on, chin up. Get through this weekend and start Monday on a new note. Let those guys, and in particular, your instructor, know you’re going to defend your territory.”

She smiled tentatively. “Thanks, Cam. For everything.”

He found himself wanting to kiss her. When Molly’s lips parted as she lifted her head to meet and hold his gaze, it nearly unstrung him. Cam took a step back, digesting the urge. Since his wife had died, he’d not felt anything. With Molly around, he suddenly was feeling so much, so fast, that it created havoc within him.

“I haven’t done anything. Come on. Let’s get back. I’ve got things to do tonight.” That was a bald-faced lie. All he had to do was bring Miracle down to the beach for her run and then spend another quiet, lonely night at home with only the television for company.

Molly nodded and fell into step next to Cam. Of course he had a girlfriend, people to see and places to go. After all, it was Friday night, and that was party time. There was no ring on Cam’s left hand, and she felt a bit of envy. Whoever the lucky woman was, Molly hoped she appreciated Cam’s sincerity and sensitivity. She’d never met a man willing to sit and listen for nearly two hours without interrupting her as Cam had just done. His few questions had been incisive and clear.

Hope built within her with each step she took at Cam’s side. The bay was afire with red-orange color, mirroring the horizon. By the time they reached the parking lot, Molly felt an incredible surge of self-confidence. Yes, she had to take her father and Scott’s call tomorrow, but she would do it with new firmness and commitment.