His mind clicked through causes, everything from a popped seal to an explosion. He couldn't evaluate until they reached ten thousand feet. If they got there.
Lori's face flashed in front of him again at absolutely the worst time. He did not need distractions. Not now. And Lori had always been the biggest distraction he'd ever known.
The plane rattled louder, noises picking up, whining. Clouds whipped past the windscreen.
Still Gray couldn't shake thoughts of Lori. He could almost smell peaches. Was this what guys like Lance and the squadron commander, all those married flyers went through every time they faced danger?
If so, he didn't want it. Thoughts of Lori's horrified face if he died tormented him with each plummeting mile. He'd wanted her to understand, but hadn't imagined he could throw her right into the sort of pain his father had given his mother.
Damn. Damn. Damn. His crewmates counted on him to do his job, to protect them, and all he could think about was Lori. And the ground closing in at three hundred and fifty knots.
* * *
Lori hitched Magda higher on her hip and tried to soothe her with a combination of bouncing and swaying. It wasn't working. They'd been out on the flight line too long and any child would be restless.
Magda had already climbed up and down the small set of bleachers by the line of parked planes at least fifty times. The allure of strolling around their corner of concrete had long ago palled for the four-year-old.
A summer breeze liked along the open airfield and through Lori's loose hair, offering relief from the stored heat drifting up from the cement. At first Lori had worried a return to the base might upset Magda. But Magda's wariness had faded each day as she bonded with Lori—with a speed Lori understood well since she felt the same. She knew there wasn't a chance she would be giving Magda up at the hearing in a few weeks.
Magda squirmed to get down, not in the least bothered by her surroundings. Too bad Lori couldn't find some of that reassurance for herself. She still wasn't certain why she'd come. For Magda? To find out what made Gray shut himself off from any life other than flying and medicine?
To see him one last time before he left?
A tinkling sound broke through her thoughts. Angela Clark's bracelet sounded from Magda's fist.
Lori knew exactly why she'd come. Grayson's mother was just as persuasive as her son.>Lori followed Angela's gaze over to the black iron bench. During Angela's minirant, Magda had slipped away to stand beside Dave.
One by one, the older man quietly passed toys to the solemn-eyed little girl. A rainbow-striped ball. A Cinderella coloring book and box of crayons. A Raggedy Ann doll that looked suspiciously new with a dangling price tag.
Angela tucked her hand in the crook of Lori's arm. "He was always so good with our boys when they were little. Just like that. So patient."
Magda scooted forward, stretching up on her toes to peer inside the box. She eyed Dave warily, and when he nodded, her hand snaked inside the box. She pulled free a stuffed white-and-black Snoopy dog that had seen better days. Definitely a well-loved toy. Magda scooched up onto Dave's lap and continued to empty the box, one treasure at a time, all the while keeping her Snoopy snuggled under her arm.
Angela's bracelet jingled as she pressed a hand to her chest. "My goodness, Lori, does that ever bring back memories. Grayson's younger brother, Davis, was a cuddler like I bet you were." Angela sighed. "But Grayson, Lord have mercy, that child could wiggle. He never could hold still for more than five seconds at a time. The peculiar thing was deep down he wanted, even needed, those hugs much more than Davis."
Lori swallowed the urge to run up the stairs and lock herself in her apartment before Angela unveiled anymore heart-wrenching peeks into Gray's past. Instead of running, Lori changed the subject. "Magda seems to have taken a liking to the dog. I hope your grandchildren won't be upset that it's on loan for a while."
"They won't miss it. That's one I had tucked away. It was Grayson's. He slept with that Snoopy every night when he was a baby." Angela gnawed the corner of a nail absently. "He took it back after his father deployed to Vietnam."
Magda nested under Dave's chin, her eyes drooping as he patted her back. Lori couldn't help but think of how much living the man had missed with his own children.
Tears dulled Lori's vision without warning. She should have run when she'd had the chance. She was way out of her league in holding strong against the emotion-tugging powers of Angela Clark.
The older woman's hand fell back to her side. "So, dear, should we pick you up for the finit flight party at four or closer to four-thirty on Friday?"
Lori took in the determined gleam shining from Angela's eyes. There wasn't even a chance of avoiding that party. "You don't play fair."
The door slammed shut above, just before Gray charged down the stain, a determined look on his face.
Angela studied her son for a lingering second, then turned back at Lori. "Mothers rarely do when their children need them."
Chapter 12
Gray gripped the stick and flew. Beach music pulsed trough the interphone. No one argued or grumbled. This was his flight.
But he wasn't singing. The shock on Lori's face when he'd told her about his move kept blindsiding him.
Damn it, he needed to fly the plane.