Quickly Leslie prepared herself for the day ahead. She showered again and, wanting to look her best, she put on her nicest dark blue skirt and lightweight blue sweater. She used the hair dryer provided in the room to brush her hair almost straight before leaving it down.
The Jeep was already waiting, and the driver escorted her to the plane that would take her on the second leg of the journey. Dawn was breaking as an airman met her on the runway, took her bag and led her up to the small passenger compartment of the massive cargo plane. Major Littlejohn greeted her from his seat in the cockpit and introduced her to his copilot, Captain Phil Stallwood.
Although the men did not say anything directly about Leslie’s appearance, their double takes and appreciative expressions gratified her.
“As soon as all the checklists are complete and we get clearance, we’ll be ready to take off,” Major Littlejohn informed her.
Captain Stallwood appeared to be a few years younger than the major, and he seemed eager to put her at ease. “It looks like we’re going to have great weather, miss.” His eyes were intelligent, and his smile was friendly. “That’s a good thing because these transports can get kind of bumpy in turbulence.”
“Okay...that’s good, I guess.” She fidgeted with her purse. “How long is the flight?”
“Just a little over four hours,” Littlejohn answered. He angled his head toward his copilot and added, “We’ll do everything we can to make your first trip on a transport a smooth one!”
* * *
FOR THE NEXT FEW HOURS, Leslie tried to keep her mind focused on a book she had brought. She chuckled as she realized it was the slightly worn copy of Pride and Prejudice she’d borrowed from Ben’s library, but she found it difficult to concentrate. She managed to doze for a while to pass the time, and finally Captain Stallwood informed her that they were beginning their descent.
Suddenly, Leslie felt almost overwhelmed by nerves. Within twenty minutes of Stallwood’s pronouncement the aircraft came to a halt near a row of huge, immaculately maintained hangars. Peering out one of the plane’s few small windows, Leslie saw military aircraft of all types, shapes and sizes—helicopters, fighter jets and cargo planes among others. Two crewmen came into the forward cabin to open the doors and secure the movable stairs to allow Leslie and the pilots to disembark. Leslie gathered her belongings and quickly moved toward the door of the craft. She paused a minute to thank the officers once more for coming all the way to Kenya for her.
“You’re very welcome,” Brad Littlejohn said, shaking her hand. He turned to the copilot. “Phil, when you go to the office to drop off the flight manifest, take a few minutes to assist Ms. Carpenter to find her ride. I’m sure someone has been dispatched to pick her up.” Stallwood nodded, and, taking her bag, he gallantly led the way down the stairway.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
LESLIE PAUSED AT the door of the cargo plane and blinked several times. It was nearly noon, and, in stark contrast to the interior of the aircraft, it was brilliantly bright outside. The air smelled of jet fuel and smoke, but compared with Kenya it was cool and dry. She paused to look around the massive base, noting the hangars and buildings to one side and huge runways and taxiways to the other. Off in the distance, she could see a small city nestled among foothills, eclipsed by the peaks of low mountains. Well, she told herself, you’re not in Kenya anymore....
Refocusing her thoughts, she looked down to where Captain Stallwood had paused in front of two uniformed officers. As she watched, he saluted and said something to them. He turned and glanced upward, gesturing in her direction. She studied the two. One was very tall and lanky; the other was fairly short and stocky. They were both dressed in full air-force blues, complete with customary billed hats pulled down to shade their eyes. Stallwood handed her bag to the shorter man and turned to wave at her before saluting the men again and heading toward the nearest hangar.
Leslie waved back before starting down the stairs. Near the bottom, she returned her attention to the two men who were now only about thirty feet away. For the first time, she noticed the taller man was leaning on a crutch, which was tucked under his right arm. As she descended the last step, he removed his hat, and Leslie stopped abruptly.
She wasn’t prepared. She felt her face go pale and then red. Her heart rate soared, and the nerves were back in her stomach, this time with a vengeance.
He was almost unrecognizable, but there was no doubt—Ben. Much of his perpetual tan had faded, attributable to more than two weeks of hospitalization. He had lost weight, perhaps as much as ten pounds. Years of living in Kenya had made Ben lean; now he was bordering on thin.
She studied his face, trying to merge what she had known with what she was seeing. There was a marked disconnect. Gone was the incessant two-day growth of beard she could only remember being absent a few times. The most amazing change, however, was that his ponytail was gone. In its place, Ben’s hair had been neatly barbered into a standard military cut. The difference it made to his appearance was astonishing, and Leslie could not keep from staring. Before, he had been very good-looking in a way that snubbed conventional society, with his strong features, expressive mouth and long hair. Now, neatly combed and shaved and wearing a freshly pressed uniform, he was unbelievably handsome—and disconcertingly different.
Leslie blinked and swallowed hard.
Leaning lightly on his crutch, Ben moved forward several steps until he stood only a few feet away from her. His heart had been thundering in his chest as he watched her descend from the plane. He’d rarely seen her wearing anything other than her standard uniform of white or light blue shirt and khaki skirt, with her hair pulled into a long ponytail or held on top of her head with a large clip. She was always pretty, always appealing—now she was gorgeous. He wanted desperately to gather her into an embrace and carry her away. But he could see the surprise and confusion in her eyes. To combat the overwhelming desire to whisk her into his arms, he gripped the crutch tightly with one hand and his hat with the other. Although he tried to smile, he was uncharacteristically tense as he watched her search his face and wondered—What if she doesn’t find what she’s looking for?
For a few moments they stared at each other, oblivious to the activity all around. Finally, looking deeply into the pale green eyes, Leslie found what she needed—assurance. He looked different. Probably he was different. But she had found Ben. Leslie also recognized his hesitation and understood it was her move. Tentatively, she closed the small space between them and reached up with one hand to touch his hair.
His eyes never left her face as she studied him. The feel of her hand as she lightly caressed his hair sent shivers through his arms and legs. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she smiled. It was a lovely, joyfully welcoming smile.
“Well, wow.” Her words were soft. “I didn’t think you could surprise me again.... I was wrong.” Then with a glad cry, she threw her arms around his neck.
The crutch made a soft thunk as it hit the ground when Ben let go to catch her in his arms. He gently kissed her cheek and then her hair as they held each other tightly. Finally, she loosened her grip enough for him to pull away to stare into her eyes again. He lowered his lips and lightly kissed her. It was a soft kiss, but one that bore a mountain of promise.
Reluctantly, they pulled apart. She spoke first as they searched each other’s faces. Her words came pouring out. “I was so frightened. We tried and tried to learn where you had been taken. I didn’t know if...” She stopped in midsentence, unable to continue. Tears suddenly threatened.
He pulled her into another embrace. “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry. There was no way to tell you. The brass insisted on secrecy with the airlift, and I had to wait until I’d recovered enough to commission a request for a team to go after you. But it all worked out. You’re here now. I’m just sorry you were worried.”
Not completely letting go, sh
e stepped back a pace to study him. “You really do look terrific—much better than I expected! You need to put on some weight, but I guess that after all you’ve been through, that’s understandable.” With that, her clinician’s concern emerged. She bent to retrieve the crutch and asked, “Your leg—is it all right?”
He glanced down at the crutch and then back at her. “It’ll be as good as new in a few weeks. The orthopedist had to do some reconstruction to my quadriceps and hamstring, which explains the immobilizer. But I’ll only need it for about ten more days. I have physical therapy twice a day with guys named Randy and Guenther.” He grinned. “Guess which is the sadist?”
She giggled, and he continued, “The PT will continue for another few weeks, but that’s not too bad.”
“What about your abdominal wound? Your chest?” Her worried expression returned.
He laughed at her directness. “I’ll show you the scars later, and answer any and all questions you will no doubt have. Suffice it to say that all bullets have been removed, and holes patched. I am healing nicely and will be a hundred percent very soon.” He took her hand and turned her toward the man who had been standing with him. “But now, you need to meet someone.”
Ben replaced his hat and managed to keep his free arm around Leslie as he limped toward the stocky man. “Leslie, this is one of my best friends, Major Charlie Neatherlin. Charlie, this is Leslie.”
Leslie reached out to shake the major’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Charlie.”
The officer quickly removed his billed hat, revealing a close-cropped head of ash-blond hair. His blue-green eyes seemed to sparkle with good humor. “Me, too, Leslie. Ben has told me a lot about you. I was certain he’d exaggerated,” He laughed heartily. “Now I’m not so sure.”
Leslie glanced at Ben. He shrugged and smiled innocently. Looking at Charlie, she asked, “Just what did he tell you?”
Charlie chuckled. “Well...that your Swahili is atrocious. That you are beloved by the people of southern Kenya. That you do a great impersonation of a spoiled Southern belle. And that you would make an excellent bush pilot.” He paused in his recitation, then added a little more soberly, “And that you saved his life.”
She blushed and smiled. Inwardly, she was touched. To keep the mood light, she squinted her eyes and frowned at Ben. “My Swahili isn’t that bad. You try to pronounce all of those syllables with a Texas accent and see what you come up with!”
Both men laughed as her drawl thickened with every word. She wrinkled her nose at them. Ben could not restrain his crutch-free hand as he reached up to lightly stroke her cheek. “Honey, it wasn’t the purest pronunciation of the language I’ve heard, but it was certainly the most interesting. And you did get much better.”
She liked the feel of his hand, and she smiled into his eyes. The deafening sound of a jet taking off only a few hundred feet away reminded them of where they were and Charlie grabbed her bag and headed toward the waiting Jeep. “Why don’t we get you back to the officers’ quarters? And I don’t know about you two, but I’m ready for lunch.”
Ben dropped his hand and motioned for Leslie to follow his friend. Loudly enough for the other man to hear, he explained, “Les, I fear we have to bring this walking commentator with us everywhere we go. I can’t drive because of the brace, and, unfortunately, the air force won’t let civilians operate the equipment. So we’re stuck with Charlie.”
“Hey, it could be worse,” Charlie called back as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “You could have some crass, nosy driver, prone to voyeurism and gossip—someone you’d have to pay to keep quiet. Me, I’m a quiet, unassuming guy who’s just happy the stick here is going to make it.”
Ben was chuckling as he gallantly assisted Leslie into the passenger side of the Jeep. Then with surprising ease, he deftly stepped up into the rear of the vehicle, angling into the corner and propping his immobilized leg on the seat beside him. When they were all situated, Charlie took off toward a gap among the rows of planes, hangars and assorted buildings.
As they drove between the buildings and onto paved streets, Leslie witnessed the bustle on the large base. She saw military personnel in all manner of activities. They passed an open field on which a group of at least sixty or seventy men and women were marching in formation. As they made their way down a busy street, she observed service personnel, sometimes alone but often in pairs or small groups, walking from one site to another. Some people were dressed in regular street clothes, and it was impossible to tell whether they were family members or civilian employees. Those in uniform appeared to be mostly U.S. Air Force, but she recognized uniforms of the U.S. Army and Marines as well as occasional soldiers from other countries.
Charlie paused at a corner and yielded to a large truck towing a flatbed trailer with an Apache helicopter—minus its rotors—perched on it. Leslie blinked in astonishment as Charlie waved at the driver, who gave him a casual salute as they passed. He then turned right and said, “It’s a pity you missed yesterday’s ceremony, Leslie. It was impressive.”
“Charlie,” Ben growled. “Don’t get—”
“What?” Charlie interrupted with feigned innocence. “What’s the big secret?”
Ben’s reply sounded exasperated. “It’s not...well...” He did not continue but fidgeted a little as if trying to get comfortable.
Leslie could see both men from where she sat in the front of the vehicle, and she looked from one to the other. Finally, she addressed Ben. “What ceremony?”
She was stunned yet again as it appeared that Ben actually blushed. He gave a dismissive wave and shrugged. “Just an awards thing.”
“Jeez, man,” Charlie commented. “Not any old ‘awards thing.’” He glanced at Leslie and then back to the road. “In addition to a promotion, Ben received a Bronze Star, a Distinguished Flying Cross, the Distinguished Service Medal and a Purple Heart. Major Ben Murphy had a very good day, finally being recognized for what he’s been doing for three years. It was too bad that I was the only close friend to share the occasion with him.”
“Okay, that’s enough, Charlie.” Ben frowned at his friend.
Leslie blinked a couple of times and watched him carefully. “Ben, you know that I’m really at a loss here.”
Ben sighed. “Look, about the medals and all—I was just doing my job.”
“Hell, no, man! Sorry, Leslie,” Charlie countered. “Just doing your job? Give me a break!”
Ben gave a quiet guffaw and then acquiesced a little. Addressing Charlie, he said, “Well, okay, I did earn the promotion. At least I caught up with you!” He glanced over at Leslie and then back down at his injured leg. “And the Purple Heart, well...” He fingered the crutch. “That’s a no-brainer. But about the others, I was just doing my job.” The last was spoken with considerable annoyance.
“There’s no telling how many lives you’ve saved.” There was an edge in Charlie’s tone and he looked over his shoulder at Ben before returning his eyes to the street. “Obviously, the brass agreed with me. About the Flying Cross, man, if they hadn’t caught it on the satellite feed and radar, no one would have believed it. Like anyone has ever taken out a couple of fighter jets while flying a single-engine Cessna.”
“Charlie, that’s classified,” Ben growled through clenched teeth.
“Good God, Ben! Who’s she going to tell?”
Ben rolled his eyes, then looked a little sheepish. He sighed. “Okay, that was a pretty good—er—encounter. But those guys were absolute idiots...and the jets were Cold War era Yugoslavian POCs. So I kind of feel bad about getting the medal.”
“Yeah, but hell, man. A Cessna?”
“It was a pretty nice Cessna.” Ben spoke matter-of-factly as if trying to credit the plane. “It was me or them. I was mostly just trying to stay alive.”
Charlie growled, “Harrumph,” but did not comment
further. Leslie also kept silent. She just glanced from one man to the other as she witnessed the exchange. She was becoming more enthralled by the minute with the man sitting behind her. He was more—much more—than she had recognized or been led to believe. Furtively, she took in some of the details she had missed previously. Although both Ben and Charlie bore the same rank and wore similar insignia, probably indicating their status as pilots, Ben had nearly twice as many ribbons. Not only was he an officer, evidently he was now a decorated one. She had just become privy to the fact that he was still an air force officer, and the more she learned, the more she realized that she didn’t know. Suddenly she was awash with a new concern—did she really know him at all?
A short time later, Charlie stopped the Jeep in front of an attractive three-story redbrick building. Ben swung his legs over the side and stood on his good leg as he pulled his crutch from the rear seat. Once steady, he reached up to help her out of the Jeep. She tried to stifle a giggle, recalling the times she had crawled in and out of his plane or Jeep with only a rare offer of assistance.
He watched the amusement flicker in her eyes and questioned, “What’s so funny?”
She smiled. “I was just thinking there’s more different about you than just your missing ponytail.”
“Ponytail?” Charlie interrupted. He’d retrieved Leslie’s bag from the rear of the Jeep and made his way to stand beside the couple. Leslie looked at Ben. She grinned teasingly and would have sworn that he blushed again.
“Who had a ponytail?” Charlie insisted. His attention zeroed in on Leslie.
She chuckled. “Ben. You mean you didn’t see him when they brought him in?”
“You’ve got to be kidding!” Charlie responded. “Mr. Clean-Cut, All-American Ben Murphy had a ponytail? Wait’ll they hear about this back at Edwards.” He started laughing.
Ben groaned audibly. “Now, wait a minute. There are some things that are classified—”
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