Touch the Heavens (2 page)

She remained silent in his Corvette on the way over to the Officers’ Club. The building sat up on a hill, its white walls gleaming in the pale December sunlight.

“What do you think of our base so far?’’ he asked, parking the Corvette in the crowded lot.

“It’s big. Impressive.”

“The base covers three hundred ten thousand acres of Mojave Desert.’’ He rested his hands on the steering wheel for a moment, looking over at her. “And speaking of impressive, I understand you have some pretty distinguished qualifications yourself.”

Chris squirmed beneath his admiring gaze. Every time he looked at her it was as if he had reached out and touched her bodily. The sensual tension seemed to vibrate between them. It was a disturbing chemistry that made her feel suddenly shy. “I met the requirements for TPS,” she responded modestly, wanting to avoid bragging about her credentials. She climbed out of the sports car.

Dan checked his stride, aware of her new coolness. Why had she become reserved with him?

“How was your flight today?” Chris finally asked, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.

Dan ushered her into the spacious lobby, adorned with paintings and photographs of Edwards’s colorful history. “It was beautiful. You’ll find that you’ll want to fly early in the morning before everyone else gets up there. The air’s calmer.”

“I can hardly wait to climb back into the cockpit of a fighter,” Chris confided fervently.

Dan smiled, directing her to the dining room and found an empty table. It was the first time since their meeting that she had shown some of her true feelings. “You love flying, eh?” he asked, sitting next to her. “When you were born did your parents think you were part eagle?” he asked teasingly.

Chris compressed her lips, avoiding his warm, interested gaze. “I don’t have any parents.”

“Both dead?” She was too young to have both mother and father gone. He saw her face grow tense, and Dan realized he had stepped into something larger than he could have possibly anticipated.

“I’m an orphan.”

Dan sat back, sensing—no, feeling her carefully shielded anguish. His thoughts acted like a circuit breaker on his emotions.
She had no one?
No one at all?

No wonder she had all the earmarks of a loner.
Toying with the fork, he pondered the consequences of her lack of family support. His mouth curved into the semblance of a smile for her benefit. “Just because all of us Air Force pilots are handsome devils, doesn’t mean we don’t blunder into things at times.” He reached forward instinctively, his hand briefly settling on hers. “I’m sorry, Chris.”

The instant his hand touched hers, a thrilling pulse sent her heart beating faster. But before Chris could respond, Dan had removed his hand. He was an instructor at TPS. One of her instructors. And more than that, he was a major and she was below him in rank. Further, he was a relative stranger to her. There were a hundred reasons why Dan McCord shouldn’t have touched her. But her heart...oh, God, her heart surged with an instant’s joy at his touch.

“I shouldn’t be so defensive,” she began. “I’m more tired than I thought from the trip.”

Dan grinned easily. “Forget it. I understand.”

The waitress came over and interrupted them. Chris ordered a Scotch on the rocks and Dan ordered a beer.

“You’re hard to figure out,” she told Dan. “You should be anti-women pilots like everyone else.”

His laugh was low, resonant. “I’m many things but not that. I’ll be truthful with you, Chris. I like your company.”

“You’re coming on strong, Major.”

“Why do you confuse honesty with a pass?” he parried.

Chris blinked. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been around fighter jocks. You’re all alike. Real hotshots with a male ego a mile wide. You all think you have something to prove. Especially to a woman military pilot. I’m not interested in being your latest challenge, Major McCord.”

“Ι’ll be the first to admit that I like the way you fill out that uniform.” His azure eyes grew dark. “And you’re right about me liking a challenge. I wouldn’t be in the test-pilot business if I didn’t. But you’re wrong about my being a fighter jock. I used to fly B-52 bombers. I flew the slower, heavier aircraft just like you did,” he said, his voice firm. “I flew the F-4 Phantom during the war. But otherwise, I was weaned on bombers and lived most of my military life in them. Now, does that make you feel a little guarded about me?”

She liked his honesty. It became him. A slight smile edged her full lips. It was common knowledge that fighter jocks were far more aggressive than bomber pilots. “I would never have guessed it. But then, you are a paradox.”

“Comes with the territory, Chris. I don’t know too many test pilots that aren’t like day and night, Jekyll and Hyde. You are, too, you know. So be careful of the pot calling the kettle black.”

She relaxed within the aura of their parry-riposte conversation. Leaning her elbows on the table, she smiled. “Not me. If there is a set of words to describe me, it’s
consistent
,
loyal
and
responsible.
”

Dan took a swallow of his beer, his eyes dancing with silent laughter. “I’d prefer to use more
complimentary
adjectives, such as
beautiful
,
sensitive
and
shy.
”

Something happened inside Chris. Her heart raced strongly for a moment and she felt giddy—like a child. But she had never felt like a child in all her life. How had he brought out this hidden side of her—and on less than one day’s acquaintance! She couldn’t resist a smile. “You’re a fighter jock at heart, Major. I don’t care how long you flew bombers. You’re long on bs and short on sincerity.”

Dan grinned wickedly. “Think so? We’ll see,” was all he said.

* * *

C
HRIS WAS FINISHING
off the last coat of polish on her fingernails when she heard a knock at the door.

“Come in.” Who could it be? She knew no one on base yet except Dan McCord. A small, blonde woman in a dark blue uniform came in. Chris gasped, rising.

“Karen! I don’t believe it.”

“Finally, after a year we get to see each other again.” Her friend laughed, coming forward. Karen was only five-foot-three and reminded all who saw her of a blonde, blue-eyed pixie come to life. Careful not to smear the drying nail polish, Chris hugged her. Karen stepped back, taking off her cap and smoothing her short curly hair back into place.

“Come on in the kitchen, Karen. Like some coffee?”

The petite blonde made herself comfortable at the kitchen table. “Love some. I arrived at Edwards a little more than a month ago. I work over at Test Pilot School in Operations. As soon as I heard you were being assigned, I had to let you know you had a friend here.”

Chris smiled happily, putting the coffee on. Karen and she had been roommates throughout their four years at the Air Force Academy. Afterward her friend had failed her flight test and gone into a different military career. But it hadn’t stopped them from remaining close over the years.

“Right now, I could use a friend,” Chris confided.

“Amen. You’re really biting off a big chunk by being the first woman in the Air Force to try for test-pilot status.”

“Around these guys, I may just decide to clam up or watch my words. It’s safer that way, I think.”

“I understand. In a sense, I’m glad I flunked out of pilot training, Chris. Watching you as you weather the chauvinism, the dirty looks and even worse verbal insults from the men would make me quit.” Karen gave her friend a keen look. “Every newspaper article I’ve read on you asked why you became the first woman test pilot. And your answer was always the same: you had earned the right to take a shot at the most prestigious job in the Air Force. Level with me. Why did you apply to TPS?”

Chris sipped the coffee. “Maybe a better question would be, what makes Chris Mallory run the way she does?”

“I thought it might be because you were orphaned and you don’t have anyone. Test piloting is risky. Maybe you had nothing to lose if you did die. Sounds dumb, I know.” And then she shrugged. “I never was good at psychology.”

“You almost flunked out on it,” Chris agreed. “I love to fly, Karen. It’s that simple. I never told the press that because I would come off sounding like some pie-in-the-sky idealistic female.” She slowly turned the cup around in her hands. “Flying makes me happy, Karen. Up there, I’m free—free of the past. The sky has no memory. It forgives and forgets who and what you are or are not. I don’t have to remember that I’m an orphan. Or that I’m a woman in a very male-dominated business. Up there I’m a woman. And the sky doesn’t care. And neither does my aircraft.” She smiled sadly. “See, I told you it would sound philosophical and idealistic.”

“No,” Karen murmured, “it sounds like you. There are a number of instructors over at TPS like you. They just live to fly. It’s their full-time mistress. They want nothing more out of life than to climb into the cockpit of a plane and take off for the blue sky.”

“I think I just met one of those guys. Major Dan McCord.”

Karen’s eyes widened. “Oh, him! He’s such a terrific guy, Chris. And he’s single, too.”

Chris frowned. “No matchmaking,” she warned sternly. “By the way, how’s your love life?”

“Much better. I’m dating an instructor by the name of Major Mark Hoffman. He’s wonderful.”

“I can tell by the sound in your voice.”

“You’ll like him. I know both Mark and Dan were excited about having you at TPS. They know a woman can be a fine test pilot, unlike a lot of other guys over there who think you’ll wash out before you set foot in the place.”

Chris took a deep breath then exhaled slowly. “Well, when you consider I’ve never sat behind a stick of a fighter plane, they could be right. It means having to work twice as hard as any other student in order to make the grade.”

“Isn’t that the truth? When will women ever get a fair shake? Why do we always have to start from behind and be twice as good as any man at something before we’re taken seriously?”

“I don’t know. I thought I’d had enough of that pressure and stress when we went through four years of hell at the Academy. But here I am, doing it all over again, breaking new ground.” Chris shook her head. “And I’m so tired of wearing flight uniforms all the time with no makeup or jewelry.” She touched her shoulder-length hair, now shining with blue highlights after its recent brushing. “I’ve made up my mind. I might have to dress like a man, but I’m not going to look like one. After the mandatory morning flights, I’m putting my earrings back on and adding a bit of makeup.” She held out her hands. “And I’m going to wear nail polish.”

Karen laughed. “Good for you! At least I get to wear a skirt and pumps all the time. But you know the flight rule about no jewelry. If you wore a ring on your hand and had to eject, the jewelry might get caught on something and you’d lose that finger.”

“Or worse, my whole hand. No, I realize the rules are there for a reason, but I’m determined to keep my femininity intact, regardless.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Chris. With your looks, you could wear a gunnysack and still turn heads.”

Chris laughed with her. “We’ll see just how many heads I turn tomorrow morning. And I can guarantee you, not all of them will be admiring ones.”

2

C
HRIS PROCEEDED UP
the long sidewalk toward the Test Pilot School building. She touched her hair, now in a chignon at the nape of her neck, in a gesture of nervousness. Why do I feel as if I’m going in front of a firing squad, she wondered. I thought I’d sweated enough for my wings. Her stomach was tied in knots. She was dressed in her snug one-piece green flight suit that was adorned with all the appropriate patches on each shoulder. The small pearl earrings and pale-pink nail polish and light application of makeup subtly emphasized her femininity. Her blue flight cap rested on her black hair, the double silver bar on the cap shining brightly in the January sunlight.

Chris stifled her anxiety as she climbed the last few steps to the cream-colored building. Whether she wanted to or not, she had thought about Dan McCord off and on throughout the past two days. The image he projected as a playboy pilot out to have a good time was simply a sham, she decided. McCord was made of much more reliable material than the ego-ridden jet jockeys she had worked with throughout her career. Dan possessed a thread of gentleness coupled with incredible sensitivity that threw her completely off guard. Chris had no defense against kindness. Taking a deep, uneven breath, she opened the door, uttering, “Welcome to the real world, Captain Mallory.” Chris knew there would be men in her class who would hate her presence. And there would be other pilots who would applaud her efforts based on her flying skills and ignore the fact that she was a woman. Inwardly she drew a small breath. At least one instructor, Dan McCord, was on her side and that made her feel a twinge of relief on an otherwise stressful occasion.

Adrenaline made Chris’s heart pound faster as she walked down the highly polished hall to the first classroom. A small knot of pilots stood off to one side, giving Chris a challenging stare. Her mouth went dry, but she didn’t let her gaze waver. She was damned if she was going to feel belittled by a bunch of jet jockeys. Their gazes raked over her as she passed. Chris’s keen hearing picked up a few stage whispers and then a collective laugh from the group. It wasn’t going to be easy to integrate.

From 0800 through noon they heard from many of the instructors explaining curriculum, flight schedules and the school’s aims and goals. Chris was attentive throughout the presentations, but never as much so as when Dan McCord stepped to the front of the room. He looked relaxed, breathtakingly handsome in his flight suit and keenly alert. She smiled to herself. Wasn’t that something they all shared in common: that “look of the eagles?” She hadn’t seen a man here today who didn’t possess that characteristic.

“I’m Major McCord, and I’ll be your instructor for the first thirteen weeks of flight aerodynamics,” he announced. He scanned the room, found Chris and saw her color fiercely. “The curriculum is drawn up to teach you how to work in a team-oriented environment. In each team there will be a test pilot, a navigator and an engineer. You’ll work on gathering data, planning and carrying out what you’ve discovered and then evaluating it on actual test flights. After that, a written report on your assigned research projects will be handed in.” McCord stopped his slow pacing from one side of the room to the other, his eyes narrowing. “I can’t stress the importance of teamwork here, ladies and gentlemen. Part of being a test pilot is understanding that you don’t work alone.” His gaze settled briefly on Chris. “The pilot is only a part of the team. It’s true, you will be flying the aircraft. But at times you’ll need a navigator in that back seat—more importantly, a test engineer. Without him or her, your job wouldn’t exist. This isn’t an area where egos can get in the way,” he warned. “You set aside your prejudices and your opinions, and stick with the facts and only the facts,” he concluded, his voice growing harder.