Spirit Flight
Page 19
“You felt guilty. That’s understandable. But you didn’t fly the mission because of Dale, right?”
“No.”
“No. You did it because you knew it was the right thing to do. That’s what makes you special, Frank. There aren’t many people in the world who make decisions based on what’s right. They do what’s in their own self-interest. But not you. Even if it could kill you, you press ahead. That’s what I respect most about you.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I’ll go to my grave, a righteous loner.”
“If the person you met is truly the one for you, then she’ll understand why you left.”
“Maybe. My dad says it’s never too late to take your life in a new direction, but I’m not so sure. I chose a path for my life and she chose hers. We’ve gone in separate directions. I just wish—well, it doesn’t matter now.” He stood up and smiled at Melissa. “Anyway, thanks for listening.”
“Sure.” She stood with him and followed him to a side gate. “Don’t forget. On Monday we’re scheduled for an F-16 flight together. I want you to show me some of that cool pilot shit.”
“That’ll be fun,” he said, forcing a smile. He gave her a half wave and then headed out the gate into the parking lot. He was surprised to see the gusty west winds had finally shifted and died. In their place was a light easterly breeze. It was a refreshing change.
He stepped into his truck and frowned at the dust-coated windshield. He figured it would be a good night to give it a thorough washing. Maybe he would go ahead and wax it as well. He started the engine and drove slowly toward the base. He was in no hurry to get home.
Chapter 33
The gate guard stood ramrod-straight and peered at the small blue and white sticker on the corner of Frank’s windshield. Seeing the officer designation, he snapped a sharp salute and held it until Frank responded in kind. As he drove slowly through the gate, Frank glanced at the young airman’s face. He couldn’t be much more than eighteen, he thought.
He watched the airman readjust the menacing black M16 that was slung over his left shoulder. The guard then stepped back into his shack—a lonely sentinel guarding the southern boundary of Edwards Air Force Base. There wasn’t another base structure within five miles of his remote outpost. He seemed too young to have such trust and responsibility. Then Frank thought of himself, commanding multi-million dollar jet aircraft when he was fresh out of college. That was the Air Force way.
Frank followed the desolate two-lane road toward the main part of base. To his left, the sun was drifting low above the Tehachapi mountain peaks. The airfield appeared completely quiet. All of the Edwards aviators had returned to earth, their airborne offices grounded for a weekend of maintenance and preparations. The flyers would spend a couple of days relaxing, going to church, and sharing time with friends and family. But their thoughts would never stray far from the multitude of winged vehicles that awaited their expert attention. They formed a unique brotherhood. A peerless combination of engineering brilliance and aviation skill, all of them endowed with a fearless devotion to flight test. And all quietly confident that few in the world could attempt what they accomplished every day.
Frank scanned the familiar layout of hangars, runways and lakebeds. He waited for that old tingle of excitement and anticipation, but it never came. Instead, his ears registered a high pitched whine that grated hard against his senses. He looked toward the sun and spotted an odd-shaped bird on final approach to the main runway. Frank realized it was the Global Hawk, a massive unmanned spy plane that was undergoing flight testing at Edwards. Its huge bulbous nose contained no cockpit, only computers and sensors. It passed overhead, following a pre-planned program to landing. Frank watched it touch down and taxi back to the South Base hangars, all without human intervention. The future of flight test had arrived.
Dale used to argue that they could only make airplane computers so smart, or they’d start demanding their own ejection seats. It was meant as a joke, but Frank saw the reality. His own days as a test pilot were coming to an end. He had been at Edwards over four years, so he was due for reassignment. But where? In a couple of months he would be up for lieutenant colonel. But then what? Frank realized, he didn’t really care.
He followed the roads to his own dusty little trailer park. He parked along the curb and got out to check his mailbox. It was stuffed with two weeks worth of letters. He shuffled through the stack as he walked slowly toward his front door. A letter from NASA caught his attention. He stopped and stared at the outside of the envelope, stamped with a return address from the Johnson Space Center. He waited again for the tingle of excitement.
Instead of opening it, Frank finally stuffed the letter back into the pile and headed for the door. As he reached into his pocket for the key, he noticed something leaning against the base of the door. It was a painting.
He picked it up, his heart pounding. It was a desert scene, done in oil. The artist’s strokes were quite familiar, as was the setting. It depicted a small sandy hill with a gorgeous pastel sunset filling the sky above. On top of the hill was a single giant joshua tree.
Frank turned to face the familiar hill, less than half a mile from his trailer. He stood motionless, staring at the real life landscape, unwilling to let himself believe what he prayed must be true. After a moment, he gently set the picture down and began to run toward the hill.
He found her seated on a small blanket beneath the joshua’s tangled limbs. She faced the back-lit Tehachapi’s, a sketchpad in her hands. Anna turned to watch him as he climbed the sandy slope. At last, he stood before her.
“You were right,” she said contentedly. “The sunsets here are beautiful.”
“How did you get here?” he whispered breathlessly.
She smiled. “The joshua trees led me here.”
Frank sat down beside her, overwhelmed by her presence, but completely confused by it. Had she simply come out of friendship? Was she making up for the way they had parted? And what about Charlie? But instead of speaking, Frank could only fixate on those lovely brown eyes.
Anna explained for him. “When I saw the news reports, I just knew it was you flying the mission.” Her soft features tightened with concern. “It was you in the B-2, wasn’t it?”
Frank nodded. “I tried calling you the night before. Your mother answered.”
“She probably told you I went to the beach.”
Frank gave her a curious look. “She said that Charlie took you.”
“Yes,” she said, shaking her head. “He took me. But remember, I left my car at the beach when you flew me home.” She leaned back and searched Frank’s face for understanding. “I also wanted a chance to talk to him. When we got to Nags Head, he dropped me off and returned to Greensboro. He realized I needed some time alone.”
“What did you do?”
“I walked on the beach. I painted. But mostly, I thought about you.”
Her words surprised him, and Frank felt his face flush with pleasure.
“I had to sort through all I had been feeling for the past week,” she continued. “I had to understand why I couldn’t get you out of my mind. That’s when I painted the hill you told me about. It made me think of all that we share in common. Everything that makes our time together so special.”
Frank looked away guiltily. “I shouldn’t have left you the way I did.”
“It wasn’t the first time,” she chided. “But I thought about that too. We all have our own way of expressing ourselves. For me, it’s painting. For you, it’s flying. What you do in the air is as much an art as what I do on a canvas. When you left, it looked like people would take away your means of expression. I don’t blame you for wanting to make sense of what happened. I understand how important flying is to you, and I would never try to take that away.”
Frank leaned back and gazed at the twilight sky. With Anna beside him, he felt he was floating among the distant stars. He looked at her happily. “So, you think you’d consider staying awhile to
paint some more desert scenes?”
“That’s not the only reason I came.” Anna gently ran her hand across his cheek. “I love you, Frank. I always have. I tingle with excitement every time I see you.” She stopped and looked at him hopefully. “Do you know the feeling?”
Frank trembled at her touch. “Yes,” he said happily. “I do.”
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P.R. Fittante
P.R. Fittante is a former B-2 test pilot with flight time in over forty different aircraft. A North Carolina native, he currently resides in New Mexico with his wife and two children.Spirit Flight is his first novel.