Morgan's Wife

by Lindsay McKenna

  Pepper nodded, knowing he wanted to go second to watch her performance in the jump. “Fine,” she said, striving to keep the irritation out of her voice.

  “Once we hit the LZ,” he said, using the common designation for landing zone, “you’ll take the compass and map and get us out to the pick-up point where the HumVee team is waiting. It’s a ten-mile hike.”

  Pepper smiled grimly to herself. She knew Jim was not only testing her jumping ability, but checking out just what kind of shape she was in. She would have at least fifty pounds of weight on her back after the jump, and she was sure he didn’t think she could go ten miles with it. Little did he realize she carried as much, sometimes more, into a smoke jump. Her team worked in shifts for almost twelve hours at a time, doing the grueling physical work of cutting fire breaks through stubborn brush. If only he knew that she was questioning his physical condition. Eight hours a day in a posh Pentagon office made for soft officers, not hard ones. She’d find out just what kind of shape Woodward was in—one way or another.

  Exactly ten minutes later, a red light began to blink. Pepper moved to the starboard side, a bit ahead of Jim. Holding on to the cable above their heads she watched the maw of the C-130 slowly groan open. Whirring and grinding sounds clashed with the noise of the plane. Icy wind blasts began to buffet her body, pummeling her sporadically. As the ramp dropped, she saw the beauty of the night sky above them, a few stars still twinkling. Below them, dawn brushed across a thick carpet of barren, gray trees, which had already lost their leaves in fall’s arrival. The hills of Virginia were rounded, but many were steep, and they’d been specially chosen because they resembled Nevis’s volcanic terrain.

  The jump master, a twenty-year veteran, stood opposite them. The wind whipped into the cargo entrance, striking Pepper heavily. She spread her legs a bit to take the invisible fists of air punching through the aircraft. The wind was biting, far below freezing. Although she wore black nylon gloves, she took them off at the last moment before she expected the light to flash green, indicating “jump.” Jamming the gloves into a thigh pocket, she took a deep breath and felt her heart start a pounding but steady beat.

  Pepper never tired of the adrenaline rush that accompanied such a jump. With it, all her senses became excruciatingly alive. She sensed movement behind her, knowing Jim also was getting ready for the jump. Fear struck at her, too. She hadn’t made a jump this high in a long time. Talking to herself, telling herself it was the same as any other, she managed to dissolve some of the initial anxiety.

  The light flashed green. The jump master gave her the hand signal.

  It was like taking a long, summer walk down the sloping, greasy ramp of the C-130. Then Pepper took the leap, plummeting downward, keeping her hands, arms and legs tucked tightly against her body. The slipstream slammed into her as she tumbled clear of the aircraft. She gasped. It was icy cold. Her goggles protected her eyes from the tearing wind and enabled her to look around. She peered up to see the C-130 moving away from her, then glanced down at the luminous dials on her watch, counting ten seconds. Woodward had jumped, though she couldn’t see him in his dark camouflage gear against the still-darkened sky.

  Spreading out her arms and legs, she stopped her rock-like plummet. The wind beneath her became a cushion against her flattened body. Stabilizing, she checked the altimeter on her wrist, then glanced upward. At fifteen thousand feet, they were to meet and pull their chutes simultaneously.

  Finally Pepper saw Woodward. He was coming rapidly toward her out of the darkness, his body like an arrow except for the hump on his back where he carried his weapons and gear. Bringing one hand in, she got ready to pull her rip cord. Woodward threw his arms and legs out, braking his plummet. When he was no more than twenty feet away, she saw him jerk his cord. To her horror, before she could pull her own, she saw his released chute begin to stream.

  No! Pepper stopped herself from opening her chute and watched in dismay as Jim tried to open his by jerking on the shroud lines repeatedly. It wouldn’t flare and catch the wind, and Pepper knew a parachute that streamed had little chance of opening. She saw him frantically take out his knife and cut away the shroud lines before he got tangled in them as he continued making slow, awkward spirals downward. Like Pepper’s, his emergency chute was attached to his chest harness, and he quickly jerked it open. As she watched, the parasail started to open nicely, then developed a fold and crumpled. The horror on Woodward’s face spurred Pepper into action.

  Without thinking, she dove toward him. She’d have to be careful to avoid getting tangled in his reserve chute, and she made a sign for him to cut it away. She saw him shake his head as he frantically tore at the lines, trying to force the chute to open at least some of its cells, so it would catch the air and balloon out.

  Fifteen thousand.

  Pepper wanted to scream at him, but she didn’t. She’d forgotten she had a mike and could speak to him.

  Twelve thousand.

  “Jim! Cut the chute away! I’ll come in, and you grab my harness. I’ll open my chute and we’ll go down together.”

  She heard his heavy breathing, watched helplessly as he made large, corkscrews, fighting the chute all the time. Stubbornly, he jerked the lines again and again, trying to force the cells to open.

  Ten thousand.

  Pepper became alarmed. “Cut the chute!” she screamed.

  He refused.

  Eight thousand.

  Breathing hard, Pepper again dove toward him. Dodging his chute, she made a grab for his shoulder harness. There! She slid her fingers strongly around the nylon straps. The thick material bit deeply into her hands and the two of them began to tumble slowly, like a huge, eight-legged spider in the sky.

  “Cut the chute!” Pepper pleaded hoarsely, tightening her grip on his harness. She felt more than saw Jim hacking at the shrouds. He didn’t think she could rescue him, much less hold on to him, but she’d proven him wrong.

  Six thousand. It was now or never.

  “Grab my harness front!” she screamed, and she jerked at her rip cord. She felt his hands grab on to the crisscross of nylon over her chest. Her eyes trailed upward with the opening chute, which streamed, then flared perfectly. Pepper had little time to prepare for the opening. Woodward weighed more than two hundred pounds with all his gear, and he had gripped her harness with both hands, the front of his body pressed tightly against hers.

  The jerk was tremendous. Pepper groaned, but kept her hands locked around Woodward’s upper arms, knowing he could easily lose his grip on her harness as the chute yanked them upward. Her muscles screamed. She shut her eyes and pulled hard. Fire seemed to roar through her body as every muscle went rigid against the reverberation of their combined weight.

  Jim grunted as the pull of gravity fought the jerking, upward motion of the opening chute. It felt as if an invisible giant had gripped his legs and was pulling him downward with all its might, almost forcing him to let go of Pepper’s harness. His gloved hands were sweaty and his fingers began to slip. He felt Pepper’s tight grip around his upper arms, but his fingers were slipping even more. No! He gasped again, struggling. The terror of falling to his death tore through him. His grasp continued to weaken despite his panicky knowledge of what could happen.

  In that instant, his entire life began to flash before his widened eyes. He saw everything—things he hadn’t remembered since he was a young boy. He saw the death of his mother and father. He saw himself on the deadly parachute drop into Panama City. Accompanying the inexorable vision of his life, he felt every emotion with heart-stopping clarity. The replay was pulverizing, and he gasped again, realizing he was going to die.

  Somehow, Pepper must have sensed his situation. Jim was amazed when she pulled him upward, with a strength few men would have possessed. Adrenaline flashed through his body, and he squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his face against her belly region, her gear mashed against him, jabbing into his flesh. His fingers stopped slipping. He crushed his helmet and go
ggles against her, gasping for breath. Due to her one, upward motion, he was able to affix his fingers more tightly to her harness and prevent a fall to his death.

  Breathing hard through her mouth, Pepper gave a quick, cursory glance around them. Thank God the chute was open and working perfectly. But where were they? She couldn’t look at her compass or altimeter, since both were strapped to her wrists. She felt Jim clinging to her, their bodies fused together, their tangled legs dangling as they fell rapidly through the denser air nearer the ground. The parasail, without any pulling of shroud lines, drifted at the whim of the wind. The sky was getting lighter, though the sun wasn’t up yet. Pepper could clearly see the woods below them, coming up fast. Too fast.

  They were at three thousand feet, she estimated, and their rate of fall, because the chute was too small for their combined weight and gear, was a lot more rapid than it should be.

  “Jim!” she gasped. “We’re about three thousand. We’re coming in too fast!”

  He grimaced and felt a terrorizing weakness numb his arms. Did he have the strength to hold on until they landed? He didn’t know.

  “There’s nothing we can do!’ he rasped, trying to glance out of the corner of his eye. He dared not move. Dared not try to readjust his position. If Pepper’s grip weren’t so secure, he wasn’t sure he could continue to hold himself in place, with the sixty pounds of weight on his back tugging him away from her and her lifesaving harness.

  Gasping for breath, Pepper said in a hurried voice, “Okay, okay. We’re about twenty-five hundred feet. We’re heading into what appears to be a slight opening in the trees. Try and stay loose. Try not to tense up too much. We’re gonna hit the limbs. Be flexible, but hang on.”

  It was frustrating not being able to see where they were going. Jim tried to steady his breathing. He felt Pepper flex her knees, a signal that they were close to the canopy. He could still die. They both could. The thought of Pepper being killed almost shattered him. What a brave, strong woman she was, he realized mere seconds before they smashed into the treetops at over eighty miles an hour.

  The crunching and snapping began, and Jim felt the initial branches giving way beneath them. As they fell, the chute slowed their forward motion. Heavier, less-forgiving branches swatted at him, bruising the backs of his legs. He grunted as another smacked him hard across the shoulders. The pain was instantaneous and he almost let go. At once Pepper’s hands tightened.

  The sounds intensified as the crackling, popping branches stubbornly gave way. They were falling. Falling through space.

  Jim hit the ground first, and Pepper’s entire weight came down across his lower legs. Crying out in pain, he jerked his hands free of her harness and tried to cushion the force of his contact with the ground by rolling end over end, dirt and rocks flying up around him.

  Pepper rolled headfirst across him and down a brush-covered gulch. She kept herself tucked as much as possible, her arms across her face to protect it, her legs drawn up. It was impossible to tuck as she wanted to, carrying so much weight. Finally, she hit a large bush and came to a sudden stop, landing flat on her back, the breath knocked out of her, her arms and legs sprawling outward.

  Opening her eyes, Pepper took in the dawning sky above her and the many broken limbs where they had fallen through the thick, nearly impenetrable canopy. Panting for breath, she automatically went through a swift, physical check of herself. Jim! Her heart thudded powerfully in her chest. Was he alive? Dead? Suddenly, concern for him overwhelmed every other sense, avalanching through her with unexpected force and leaving her stunned as nothing had in the past six years.

  Slowly, she forced herself to roll over and dizzily rise up on her hands and knees. Searching desperately she called out his name, her voice a terrified croak.

  “Jim! Where are you? Answer me!” Pepper fumbled frantically with the harness straps, working quickly to free herself from the cumbersome pack.

  “Dammit, answer me!” Her voice broke with emotion. What was going on? She never behaved like this in the field. Jerking the helmet off her head, she dropped it on the ground, her hair spilling around her face and shoulders as the cap came with it. Off came the goggles. Peering through the gray early-morning light, Pepper thought she saw a lump far below her on the brushy hill. “No…” she said in a half whisper. Breathing raggedly, she stumbled, fell, then made it to her feet. As she picked her way down the sharp incline, she saw the dark lump define itself into Woodward, lying in a ravine filled with dried leaves, rocks and small bushes. He was sprawled on his back, his left leg tucked up under his body, his arms thrown outward. His head was tipped back, mouth open.

  Was he dead? Badly injured? Her mind spun with questions and ways to get help here as fast as possible. They had a radio. She could call for a rescue helicopter. Powerful emotions captured her, and tears flooded into her eyes. Arriving at his side and falling to her knees, she sought and found the jugular vein in his neck with shaking hands. A sob racked her body and she felt out of control, pulverized by these violent feelings toward him. It was crazy! She was crazy.

  “Jim?” Her voice wobbled. Tears blurred her vision as she frantically searched his wan features, even as her fingers located a strong pulse. Thank God. Pepper saw his lashes flutter as she called his name again. Getting up, she moved to his left side, where his leg was folded beneath him.

  “Don’t move, Jim. Don’t move,” she crooned, placing her hands on his hip and knee. “You might have a broken leg. Just wake up easy. Easy…”

  Pepper’s husky voice entered Jim’s burgeoning consciousness. He was aware first of her voice, then of those strong, sure hands on his left thigh. Groaning, he opened his eyes. Pepper was kneeling over him, her face drawn in tension, her tearful gaze fixed on him. Shaken by the change in her features, the panic in her eyes, he reached up for her.

  “We made it,” he mumbled. “We’re alive….” A miracle in itself when he’d been so certain he was going to die. Struggling toward consciousness, he slid his hands over her shoulders. Life and death. How close they’d come to dying. Tears were rolling down Pepper’s pale cheeks, and Jim dug his fingers into her shoulders as a fierce joy suddenly swept through him. Never had he needed someone as he needed her at this moment. His careening emotions had steamrollered his normal, controlled responses. A wild feeling thrummed through him and he pulled her down, crushing her to him as his arms slid across her back.

  “You’re alive, you’re alive….” he rasped, burying his face in her thick, silky hair. Jim groaned as he felt her surrender to his need to embrace her. He felt her sob once more, her cheek pressed against his. The dampness of the tears, the softness of her skin dizzied him, convinced him of the fact that they weren’t dead. For one powerful heartbeat out of reality, Pepper clung to him, held him as tightly as he was holding her. She was warm. Alive. Moving his face away from her cheek, he released her and tunneled his fingers through her hair. As she eased away, her face bare inches from his, he drowned in the splendor of her anguished, sky blue eyes. And Jim saw desire there. Desire, heat and need. The realization tore at his disintegrating control and pummeled senses. He saw Pepper’s lips part. The ache to kiss her was almost his undoing. As his fingers tightened against her face, he saw her eyes flare wide with shock.

  Pepper gasped and placed her hand on his heaving chest, wildly aware of his strong, cool hands framing her face. What was wrong with her? She shouldn’t be embracing him! What insane fear had made her lose her perspective? Her professionalism? She saw the burning hunger in his eyes for her alone. Shaken badly, she pulled out of his grasp, knowing that if she didn’t, she was going to lean forward those final scant inches and bury her lips against his very male mouth.

  Trembling violently, she sat back, perplexed. She tried to recover from her faux pas by examining his injury, but her face was burning with mortification. What was happening to her?

  As he lay there, reorienting himself, Jim realized that if Pepper hadn’t saved his sorry neck, he’d b
e dead. What had made him reach out and embrace her like that? Chaotic feelings sheared through him. And what the hell had prevented him from cutting those second shroud lines to release the reserve chute? Ashamed, he admitted the answer he already knew: he hadn’t trusted Pepper to rescue him, because she was a woman.

  “Your leg,” she whispered tautly, giving him a quick glance. His cheeks were flushed, his look one of utter discomfort. Swallowing hard, she murmured, “How does it feel?”

  “It hurts,” he grunted, avoiding her darkened eyes, seeing the shame in them. “Look out, I’ll try to move it.”

  Surprised, Pepper staggered to her feet. “Can you?”

  “I think so….” He grasped at any straw to lessen the tension, as if some invisible, throbbing sensation lingered palpably between them. Even if his leg was broken, it could refocus their attention on something other than their torrid, intimate embrace of moments ago. Jim sat up with difficulty, the pack he was wearing still weighing him down. Then, easing his body slightly to the right, he brought his left leg out and straightened it.

  “You’re lucky,” Pepper said, a wobble of relief in her voice. She touched her damp cheek and wiped at the last of the tears. Inadvertently, she looked up at him. His gaze burned with an emotion that scorched her, and she looked away, shaken even further. “Brother, are you ever lucky. I thought you’d busted your femur in a compound fracture or something.” She knelt at his side again. Whether she wanted to or not, she had to touch him. Resting her hands gently on his leg, she examined the length of it. Feelings she thought had died years ago swept through her as she explored his muscled limb. She felt a throbbing sensation seem to leap from him to the palm of her hand. Confused, she struggled to force the raw, newly awakened feelings aside.