Always and Forever (2 page)

“I think Mike's the luckiest guy in the world. Imagine him snagging you.”

She turned to the kitchen counter to busy herself. It was too easy to stare into those dark blue eyes that made her go weak and shaky inside. “You're making it out as if he captured the most beautiful woman in the world,” she teased. “And I'm not. I'm just an Air Force captain.”

“No one said women in the service aren't beautiful.”

“Please.”

Kyle laughed softly as she turned and gave him a dark look over her shoulder. “Now, that's the
truth,
Gale.”

“Sure. Fighter jocks have more lines per square inch than any other male I've ever run into.”

“Sounds like an indictment.”

“More like a chronic disease with you guys.”

He sat back, immensely enjoying her sense of humor. “That's another thing I like about ladies in the military—they have a fine sense of humor.”

“And probably the last thing you look at or consider when you meet one.”

“Now, Gale...”

“Now, Kyle...” And again, she laughed. The merriment in his eyes stole her breath away. There was more happiness there than she'd ever seen before. “You're just like Mike,” she accused gently, “all strut and stuff, but underneath, a very nice guy.”

“God, don't let
that
get out! The guys over at Udorn think I'm one mean fighter behind the stick.”

Rolling her eyes, Gale got eggs from the fridge, then returned to the stove to cook them. “Here we go again. Make sure no one knows the real guy who wears those pilot's wings. Really, Kyle, did they make all of you out of the same mold?”

“Well, we went through flight school together.”

“Instead of teaching you how to fly, I swear they put all of you through the same personality training.”

“That's not so bad. I mean, look at us—we're confident, good at what we do and besides that, we're good-looking.”

“I give up. If I didn't know any better, I'd say Mike was here and not you.”

Sipping his coffee, Kyle smiled recklessly. “Well, Mike and I are like brothers, but there are a few differences. I'm four months older than he is.”

Gale knew there were other, more profound differences.
Mike was laid back; Kyle was far more aggressive. She wondered if Mike would turn out the same way after being in combat.

Forcing herself to return to the task at hand, Gale busied herself with scrambling the eggs while the bacon finished frying. Her hands trembled. Trying to laugh at the absurd notion that Kyle's presence was responsible, Gale focused on Mike. She had met him a year ago over at Operations, where the meteorology department was located. He'd come in early one morning, angry over the fact his weather plan hadn't been ready in time for his flight. On his return to base two days later, Mike had taken her out to an expensive restaurant in Sacramento to apologize for his less-than-gentlemanly behavior. Over the next six months, they'd fallen in love. Their happiness was complete until Mike abruptly received orders to Thailand. They had decided to get married before he left.

Frowning, Gale stirred the eggs briskly in the hot skillet. Vietnam. War. Death. She felt her heart contract powerfully with fear. It wasn't fair that Mike was going to be torn away from her a month after they became husband and wife. What in life was fair? Not much. Kyle's face haunted her. Shutting her eyes, Gale took a deep breath. What kind of crazy joke was being played on her? She loved
Mike!
So what were all these new and startling feelings she'd had since she had been introduced to Kyle?

Forcing herself to concentrate, Gale removed the skillet from the burner and put a lid over it to keep the eggs warm. At twenty-three, she thought she knew herself. It was true Mike was the first man she'd fallen in love with, but she'd had a lot of dates throughout college before joining the Air Force. Now, the nights she'd tossed and turned, dreaming of both Mike and Kyle, had left her nerves raw and taut. How could she be attracted to Kyle? Perhaps because he was Mike's best friend and they were similar in some ways.

Reaching blindly for the skillet that held the bacon, Gale bumped the pan containing the hot grease off the electric burner. Unthinkingly, Gale reached out, trying to catch it. Hot grease splattered across her right hand. Pain reared up her arm, and she cried out, leaping back as the skillet crashed to the floor, the grease flung in all directions.

“Gale!” Her scream galvanized Kyle into action. In an instant, he was at her side, his arm going around her shoulders, holding the reddened hand that had been burned.

“Oh, damn...” she sobbed, gripping her wrist, trying not to let the pain overwhelm her. Sinking against his strong, supporting body, Gale felt safe. Kyle's breathing was punctuated, harsh near her ear, his breath moist against her cheek.

“So stupid,” she whispered, a catch in her voice. “I—I'm sorry....”

“It's all right. Come on, get over to the sink. Cold water will help,” he whispered, guiding her in that direction. The burn on her hand didn't look nasty but still his heart was pounding in his chest and he felt shaky. After fumbling with the handle on the cold-water spigot, Kyle turned it on and forced her hand beneath the stream.

The water hit her flesh and Gale sucked in a breath, then bit her lower lip.

“Lean on me,” Kyle ordered huskily as he felt her tremble. She obeyed him. Her perfume, light and delicate, struck his flaring nostrils. It was the way she fitted against him that nearly unstrung him. Her hair, slightly wavy, felt like silk against the hard line of his jaw. Kyle ached to lean down and kiss her. “Take it easy, easy...” he coaxed, his voice low and unsteady.

For several minutes Gale was unable to do anything except feel. Feel the lessening of the pain, feel Kyle's strong, powerful body against hers. His breath was choppy, and she was aware of his heart beating frantically in his chest
where she lay against him. His touch was excruciatingly gentle as he placed a cloth over her hand after turning off the faucet.

“Come on, sit down. You're shaky.”

Wasn't that the truth, Gale thought, allowing Kyle to guide her to a chair at the table. Her watery knees had nothing to do with the burn, but with him holding her as if she were some fragile, priceless treasure.

Worriedly, Kyle studied her, his hand firm on her shoulder. Gale was waxen, and when she raised those dark, long lashes to look up at him, he felt as if someone had gut punched him. Dizziness assailed him, and his grip tightened on her shoulder momentarily. Large eyes, huge black pupils surrounded by a vibrant green, stared back at him. Gale's cry had torn him apart, ripping away all his pretenses, his good sense.

Kyle went to the sink and dampened a wash cloth. Gale sat with her head bowed. She looked so hauntingly vulnerable, her shoulders slumped forward. Fighting all his rising, chaotic feelings, Kyle crouched in front of her.

“Here, this ought to help,” he said. He removed one cloth and laid the new one across the injury. Kyle heard Gale breathe in raggedly, but she didn't cry out. He kept a grip on her arm. His heart refused to stop thudding in his chest, his pulse pounding until every beat was like the beat of a kettle drum being played within him.

When Kyle looked up and saw tears form and then fall down Gale's cheeks, he lost what little control he had left. “Don't cry,” he pleaded thickly, cupping her cheek with his hand. He stared deeply into her eyes.

“Oh, Kyle...” she choked out.

Her lips parted, lush and inviting, and Kyle started to lean forward.

“Hey, where's everybody at?” Mike called from the living room.

Kyle froze, his hand slipping from Gale's face. He stood, dizzied and shocked by what had almost happened. “In here, buddy.”

Mike appeared at the doorway. Dressed in his blue winter uniform, he took off his garrison cap. Immediately, he went to Gale's side and knelt on one knee next to her.

“Honey?” He gently cradled her hand. “What happened?”

Gale made a frustrated sound. “I made a dumb move at the stove and splashed grease over my hand, Mike. It's nothing. I'll be okay.”

Kyle backed away in a daze. What the hell had just happened? He had been ready to kiss Gale! Shocked, he left the kitchen and went to the living room. Hands shoved into his pants pockets, Kyle was angry and upset with himself.

Gale was barely able to think. If Mike hadn't arrived when he had, she knew Kyle would have kissed her. His eyes had been hooded, stormy with unrequited need. She trembled, but it wasn't out of fear. It was out of anticipation of the unexpected. When Kyle had held her, he'd made the pain go away. She shook her head, forcing her attention to Mike, who had retrieved some salve to put on the minor burn.

It was all craziness! It was the stress of the wedding, the war and the fact that Mike was going to leave in a month. The pressures on all of them were great. Kyle was Mike's best friend, Gale rationalized, and he had simply reacted out of loyalty.

Kyle slowly paced the perimeter of the living room, head down in thought. Mike would never know what had transpired. The wedding would go on as planned. Kyle would be Mike's best man, and he would be happy for both of them....

Savagely rubbing his face, he knew it had to be the jet lag, the shock of stepping out of the war in Southeast Asia and returning to the States. It had to be.

December 24, 1974
Castle Air Force Base, California

G
ale sat in the living room of her base home, several letters and a magazine in her lap. The house was quiet. Deadly quiet. She had just gotten off duty at the meteorology department and the holiday stretched out unendingly before her. This year there was no tree in the corner, no decorations in evidence, not even Christmas music to take the edge off the silence that surrounded her. The coolness in her home seeped through her uniform, making her feel chilled more than she should be.

Six months after marrying Mike, he'd been lost over Hanoi during a bombing raid. Was he a prisoner of war—or dead? No one knew. She slowly looked at the first letter, wishing it was from Mike, but it wasn't.

Instead, it was a neatly addressed envelope from Captain Kyle Anderson. Gently, she ran her fingers across the crisp envelope. Kyle... Her grieving, shattered heart filled with warmth and a thread of hope. Kyle had signed up for a
second tour so he could be with Mike during his first. When Mike had been shot down by a SAM missile, Kyle had been there. He'd seen the whole thing.

Mike had often said Kyle was like the brother he'd never had. Since the time Mike had been listed as missing in action, Kyle had written to her at least once a week, fulfilling his duties as a friend who wasn't there to help her over the terrible days and nights of loneliness. In his first letter, Kyle had told her that Mike had made him promise to care for her if he was ever shot down and became a POW or MIA Like the Marines, the Air Force took care of its own, Kyle had informed her. And because of his promise to Mike, he would do his best to take care of her, even though they were half a world apart.

With a sigh, Gale saw that the other two letters were bills. Her parents were dead, so there was nothing from family. Her sister, who lived in Haight Ashbury, was opposed to the war and to Gale being in the service. Gale expected nothing from Sandy as a result. They were on opposite sides of an ideology that had divided them for the past four years.

This would be her Christmas present: Kyle's letter was a precious, life-giving gift. Inevitably, Gale's spirits lifted, as they always did whenever she received a letter from him. Opening this one slowly, savoring the fact that it was several pages thick, she settled back to find a tiny shelter from a storm that hovered around her twenty-fours hours every day.

December 16, 1974

Dear Gale,
This is your hot-rock jet jock writing to you from a place where a Christmas tree would
never
grow! I'm sitting here
at a bar in Udorn trying to write to you under some pretty severe conditions: beautiful Thai bar girls dressed in decidedly tight dresses, loud (and lousy) music, cigarette smoke so thick you could cut it with a knife, and a lot of pilots making eyes at all the bar girls.

Of course, yours truly is the only one doing something praiseworthy—writing to you! How are you? In your last letter, you sounded down. Don't give up. I
know
Mike will be back. Somehow, some way. And me? Brazen (to use your word) as ever. Yes, I still fly a mission over Hanoi just about every other day. And no, I haven't had any close calls. Are you kidding me? The ace at Udorn? Come on! This jock has one and a half tours under his belt. I'm considered the Old Man around here. All the younger jocks always gather around me when I sidle up to the bar, wanting stories. So I oblige them.

Thanks for the tin of cookies! My God, they were a hit around here! You know how our post office works don't you? Those enlisted guys have noses on them like bloodhounds. They smell each package. The ones that have cookies in them are somehow detoured or “lost.” When the package finally finds its way to the officer, the food that was in it has mysteriously gone. All the guys who work over at the post office are overweight. I wonder why?

However, because you told me ahead of time that you were going to make six dozen chocolate-chip cookies and send them to me for Christmas, I went over and warned all those guys to keep their hands off—or else. Your cookies got through unscathed. How did you know my favorite was chocolate chip? I'd die for those. Between the box my mom sent and yours, I was the cookie king here at Udorn. And don't you think the other jocks weren't wandering over to my hooch to bum a few. Yes, I shared them, like you requested. Would I hoard them? Don't answer that. I carried
out your wishes to the letter. You made a lot of jocks happy. I gave some to the enlisted guys on the flight line, too. Those guys bust themselves twenty-four hours a day, and it was a good feeling to make them smile. They thank you, too.