The Gauntlet (7 page)

Packing up her items, Molly thought she’d never felt as alive as she had in those few minutes with Cam and his dog. At least he hadn’t been icy with her, as he was at school. There had been a change in him, although it was subtle. Why was he so unhappy? As Molly shrugged into her knapsack and folded her towel, she cringed at the thought of going home. The weekend stretched in front of her. On Saturday her father would call, demanding a detailed verbal report of her week’s activities.

Slowly, Molly walked through the sand. The sun hovered on the horizon, the sky a pale pink tinged with lavender. Its setting was going to be spectacular, and the beauty momentarily raised her plummeting spirits. How she longed for the kind of freedom Miracle had.

Cam’s face swam in front of her. All her worry lifted, and a ribbon of warmth spread through Molly. What kind of magic did he hold over her to lift her unaccountably from her own private hell? Whatever it was, Molly thanked the Fates for bringing them together this evening. That had been a miracle in itself.

* * *

“Stop whining.” Standing in the living-room doorway, Cam scowled. Miracle stood at the front door, as if waiting to be let out. Cam knew the dog was thinking of Molly. Wasn’t he, too?

Running his hand through his hair, he entered the living room, sat down on the overstuffed couch and picked up a newspaper. The six o’clock news was on TV, and Cam watched it with disinterest. Miracle came over to sit primly near his feet. She whined again.

“Stop,” Cam pleaded, putting the newspaper aside and patting the Lab. “I know you liked her a lot. And yes, she played with you.” Cam frowned. “I’m sorry, I should play more with you. Maybe I’ll try from here on out. Okay?”

Miracle thumped her tail on the hardwood floor.

With a shake of his head, Cam sat back. “You like her, don’t you? I can tell by the look in your eyes. Of course, what’s there not to like?” Cam stopped. “God, I must be going crazy, talking to a dog like it understands me.”

Miracle whined and licked his hand.

“Sorry, pup. I didn’t mean it.” Cam stroked her velvet ears absently. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll run into Molly on the beach again sometime.” Did she go there often? Cam wondered. Cam wasn’t sure he wanted to meet her again on a less-than-military basis. She invited investigation. Molly was personal and unafraid to reveal her private side. Was she that way with everyone? My God, if she was, she was asking for trouble.

* * *

“Seventy-five percent! Molly, that’s almost failing!”

“Father, it wasn’t bad for a first test flight.”

“But everyone else got higher grades. How do you think you’ll stay in the thick of the competition when you come in dead last?”

Biting her lower lip, Molly tried to control her rampant feelings of hurt and frustration. “I’ll do better next time. I have nowhere to go but up.” She wasn’t going to tell her father that Chuck Martin had continually harassed her in the cockpit, making her extremely nervous. So nervous that she’d blown the timing in two out of the four test ascents, which had contributed to her poor first showing.

“That’s what you told me when you went to Whiting Field to earn your pilot’s wings, Molly. You used those exact same words, young lady.”

“Father, I don’t have anything else to tell you. I gave it my best shot. I am trying.”

“Scott’s disappointed in you.”

What’s new?
Molly almost asked. Instead she said, “I gathered that.” He hadn’t wanted to talk to her today. She supposed it was his way of punishing her for doing so badly.

“Molly, he’s not eaten since talking to you on the phone yesterday.”

“Father, I’m sorry! What do you want me to do? Slit my wrists?”

“Molly, don’t you dare take that tone with me. Your mother wouldn’t approve.”

“My mother’s been dead fourteen years!” A sob caught in her throat.

“I think we should terminate this phone call. You’re obviously upset, and so are we. I hope, for all our sakes, that you’ll have better news for us next Saturday.”

“I’m sure I will, Father,” Molly whispered.

“Don’t forget to write Scott his weekly letter. You know how much he looks forward to them.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Goodbye.”

Molly heard the phone click, and the line went dead. Dully, she placed the receiver back in the cradle. It hurt to feel for a long moment afterward. Molly hated it when he referred to her mother. He always threw her death in Molly’s face, and she reacted as if she’d been physically slapped. Rubbing her hands against her long thighs, Molly forced herself to get up. Time to study, time to bury herself in the books—in another world. A world not as harsh as the one she lived in with her family, she reflected glumly.

As she went to her office, Molly thought fondly of Cam and Miracle. The dog loved effortlessly and was so uninhibited about showing her love. Why couldn’t human beings be the same way? Why did they have to be so complex? Sitting down at her desk, Molly pulled the textbook on software programming toward her. Next week would be spent preparing for a Friday test flight. Who would be assigned to her? God, not Chuck Martin!

* * *

“Psst, Molly!” Lee Bard leaned over toward her desk and slipped her a piece of paper. “Read it and weep. What black cloud do you have over your head?”

Molly glanced at the paper. It was the test assignments. Her eyes narrowed.

“Martin? I’ve got Martin
again
?”

“Shh, keep your voice down. Bad luck, Molly. I’m really sorry. Martin’s a tail wringer.”

Molly sat in shock as the rest of the students filed in for the Wednesday class in aerodynamic theory. Her hand tightened around the paper. Panic filled her. If she flew with Martin again, she would lose her confidence—what little she had left. Internally, Molly tried to gird herself. The debriefing session on Friday would be a son of a bitch if she flew with Martin. Yet, she had no recourse. Was the commandant plotting to get rid of her?

A huge part of her wanted to talk to Cam Sinclair about this, but Molly was afraid that if she did, it would be seen as favoritism—or worse: that she was crying because TPS was too hard on her. No. Somehow she had to find the grit and utilize it. What would Friday bring? She was confident of her latest test program. How would Martin fly it?

* * *

Cam sat at one end of the debriefing table, notebook in hand. Next to him was Vic Norton. His four pilots had been paired up with Vic’s flight engineers. The eight students sat around the long rectangular table, their faces sober and serious. Cam kept glancing at Molly, who sat diagonally across from him. She was pale, her green eyes a dark green. Chuck Martin sat across from her, flushed and tapping his pencil angrily against the polished tabletop.

The atmosphere in the room was always tense, Cam noted. They sailed through the first three flight debriefs. The last one was Molly and Martin’s. Cam tried to hide his interest in her flight.

“Report, Mr. Martin,” Cam ordered.

“Two of my three tests were blown by Ms. Rutledge’s lousy program.”

Cam looked up to see the effect of Martin’s scathing comment on her. Molly sat, grimly unresponsive. “Oh?”

“Yes, sir. She had a series of rolls and chandelles for me to fly. The degree of roll was too much, and I had one hell of a time making the bird fit the demands of what she wanted. I busted the first roll. On the second try, I fit the bird in the parameters.” Martin glared at Molly. “The chandelles were a complete loss. They were too tight for me to execute properly.”

Molly clenched her hands in her lap beneath the table, so no one could see her do it. She waited impatiently for Vic Norton to ask her questions.

“Molly?” Vic asked. “What happened out there?”

In a smooth, unruffled voice, Molly gave her assessment of the flight tests. “And as for Mr. Martin’s inability to fit the F-14 into the roll configuration, it was a matter of his flying skills blowing the test—not my program.”

“Bullshit!” Martin cried, jumping up. “Honey, I came off carrier duty in the Med, and believe me, we get our share of bogey flights in that area. I’ve got the best flight record in the Tomcat for landings and takeoffs.”

Molly stared at him. “That has nothing to do with anything. My program wasn’t flawed.”

Cam watched them argue back and forth. Molly’s voice remained soft and quiet. At every opportunity, Martin scathingly attacked her program. He wondered if Norton was going to intervene on Molly’s behalf. When he didn’t, Cam knew he couldn’t either. It would be seen as favoritism. Maybe her program had been inadequate. Martin
was
a qualified Tomcat pilot with plenty of carrier duty over the past four years.

Finally the room quieted. Norton glanced over at Cam. He scribbled some figures on his board and handed it to him. Cam read the grade for Molly: seventy percent.

“Are you going to cross-check her program against the video?” Cam asked. He looked pointedly at Molly, hoping she would jump in and demand the video be played. She stared back at him, hurt mirrored in her eyes. Not a word came from her.

“I don’t think it’s necessary.”

Molly’s heart stopped as Cam passed the board across the table to her. Both instructors had to grade and sign off each student’s flight. She saw an eighty-five percent next to Martin’s name. Her heart dropped when she saw the seventy next to hers. With a shaking hand, she signed the board and handed it to Martin. The pilot grinned triumphantly.

Everyone was dismissed. Blindly, Molly shouldered past several students and dived out into the hall. She was breathing hard, feeling the panic and the pain. Martin had screwed up her flight. She hadn’t! But they didn’t believe her. Norton wouldn’t even view the videotape to confirm what she’d said! They were all against her! All of them!

Fighting back the real need to cry, Molly quickly left TPS. She didn’t want to go back to the apartment for fear of a Friday-night call from Scott. Right now she just needed to be alone to sort out what was happening and what she could do about it. The beach was the only answer. Dana had always gone swimming when things got bad. Well, she wasn’t much of a swimmer, but at least the beach would be deserted and she’d be alone.

As she got into her station wagon and drove off, Molly felt a terrible need for a friend. If only Dana and Maggie were here! They’d know what to do. Her safety net was gone, and she felt helpless and vulnerable as never before—almost as bad as when her mother had died. Fighting tears, Molly guided her car out to one of the many parking lots at the beach. At least, being alone, she could cry.

Cam stood at the window of his office, his hands on his hips. He watched Molly drive out of the parking lot. Damn! Why hadn’t she stood up for herself? This was the second time that Martin had blasted her and she’d taken it broadside. He shouldn’t care; but dammit, he did. With a snarl, he whirled around on the heel of his boot and grabbed his garrison cap. Settling it on his head, he walked quickly down the hall toward the parking lot located at the rear of the facility. Something told him she was heading for the beach.

As Cam climbed into his sporty car, he wondered how he knew that. The pain in his chest was widening by the second. It wasn’t for himself; it was for Molly. Something just wasn’t making sense, and he was going to get to the bottom of it—one way or another.

Chapter Five

M
olly strode blindly past the dunes and went directly to the solid sand near the water. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she walked fast, trying to burn off the anger and injustice she felt. Once her father and Scott found out about her grade, they’d hit the roof. And why had Lieutenant Norton not looked at the video of Martin’s flying? If he had, she knew that somehow her flight-test program would have been vindicated.

Damn them all! Molly couldn’t pay attention to the circling gulls who cried to her, floating near and then arcing out over the bay. She barely felt the warming June breeze that had sprung up to caress her hot, damp face or noticed the sun slanting across the water, making the light look like dancing diamonds on the surface. Her total concentration focused on her hurt and disappointment in herself.

How long she walked, wandering aimlessly among the dunes, Molly didn’t know. Finally sitting down beside one of them, she brought her legs up and rested her face against her knees. Crying had helped because she felt cleaner and more calm. The edge of panic wasn’t quite so near, and that was good.

“You’re damned hard to find when you don’t want to be found.”

Molly gasped, her head snapping up and to the left. Cam Sinclair stood a few feet away, hands resting on his hips, his eyes narrowed on her.

“Wh-what do you want?” she croaked.

Cam came forward, fighting himself. Molly’s face was flushed with spent tears, her green eyes huge and luminous with those yet to be shed. Her blond hair was in disarray, her garrison cap clenched in her hand. A huge part of him wanted simply to crouch down, put his arms around her and rock her. With Molly, his protective mechanism was working overtime.

Halting a foot away, Cam hunkered down in front of her, placing himself at her level. “I want to talk to you.”

Sniffing, Molly avoided his stare.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he ordered tightly. Cursing himself for his harsh tone, Cam added, “Lesson number one—you stare your enemy in his face. Don’t ever lose eye contact. It’s called a bluff. Whoever blinks first, loses.”

Molly forced herself to hold his gaze. “Are you my enemy?”

“No.”

“Really? Then why are you here? To rub salt in my wounds like you did the last time?”

Cam scowled. “When was that?” When had he hurt her?

With a muffled sound, Molly said, “You sided with Lieutenant Norton just now in the debrief room without ever seeing the video.”

Recalling the conversation, Cam shook his head. “Hey, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings in there. I was giving you an opportunity to defend yourself by suggesting that Norton watch the video of your flight.”

Her eyes rounded. “It sure didn’t sound like it.”

“Did it ever occur to you that it was your job to fight hard enough and long enough to force Norton to look at your video, not mine?”