Heart to Heart

by Meline Nadeau

  A good night’s sleep had helped alleviate her fear as well as allowed her to focus more objectively on the accident. Charlie and she were the only witnesses as to what had gone wrong. They both had to be clear-headed in recalling the events. Before the investigators were finished, every aspect of the flight would be analyzed, the pieces of airplane retrieved from the ocean floor and reassembled, their personal lives scrutinized, their diet, sleeping patterns, and alcohol consumption for up to fourteen days before the accident looked into for any manifest irregularity.

  The team would find out that she and Charlie had dated, that she had broken off with him to date another man, a Japanese pilot in the Samurai Squadron — interesting twist — and had very recently terminated her relationship with him. The psychologist would have a field day with that one. Captain Comerford appears incapable of sustaining a healthy, long-term relationship with the opposite sex. They would ask if she were despondent over the breakup. Was she suicidal or distracted? Did Charlie harbor any ill-feeling toward her? Or perhaps she had skipped breakfast the morning of the flight or was suffering from indigestion from a greasy lunch. Nothing, no matter how trivial, was overlooked in an accident investigation.

  Libby would have liked to look in on Charlie; the last time she’d seen him was in the ambulance. But until they were interviewed — each one separately — they would be sequestered in their own rooms. In the unlikely event of pilot error, there was always the possibility of a cover-up if the two people involved were allowed to confer privately.

  Libby had been reassured he would recover. His arm was fractured in two places and he had had to undergo surgery but, other than postponing his assignment to Fighter Weapons School, the injury would not interfere with his flying career. The burns on his face and scalp were superficial; when they healed, he would be as handsome as ever.

  Charlie … . Would the accident bring them closer together, change her feelings for him? She wondered. They had shared a harrowing experience. As melodramatic as it sounded, she had saved his life. Would that bond strengthen their friendship or would it sever it completely? It was too early to tell. Gratitude could be a difficult obstacle around which to navigate.

  Libby reached for the card tucked discreetly amid the blooms. The bouquet was from the Samurai Squadron. She wished it had been from somewhere else. She didn’t want any reminders of her association with the Japanese pilots. But when the orderly came in with breakfast, she asked if he knew who had delivered the flowers. She had a vague memory of Kojiro’s comforting presence beside the bed and wondered if … . But no, that was impossible. He wouldn’t have been allowed past the front desk and even if he had, surely he wouldn’t have had the nerve to visit her after what he had done? She’d made it very clear that she never wanted to see him again. The image impressed on her brain of Kojiro gazing down at her and saying her name was just a dream, a fragment of memory that had resurfaced in her subconscious while she was sleeping.

  Libby tore the card in two and tossed it into the wastebasket.

  “Captain Comerford?” The flight surgeon, an enthusiastic New Yorker with a distinctive Brooklyn accent, stuck his head around the door. “May I come in?”

  “Do you have to have my permission?”

  “I’ve been trying to get in your bedroom since you got to Misawa, Libby, and you haven’t let me in yet.” Major Benjamin Segal was the squadron physician. The short, balding Easterner was an unlikely candidate for a career officer but after his first flight in the back seat of an F-16, he was hooked. The pilots liked him because he loved to fly and treated him accordingly with affection and trust. He was one of Libby’s stalwart admirers and an ardent defender of women in the military.

  Libby smiled. “I’ll make an exception this morning. Sir.”

  Ben closed the door behind him and came to stand by her bed. Libby, used to seeing him in his flying suit hanging around the squadron trying to get a flight or partying with the pilots in the officers’ club, was surprised to see him in a starched white smock with a stethoscope sticking out of the pocket and a medical chart tucked under his arm. He didn’t look so harmless or cuddly in that get-up. Instead of the usual leering grin with which he inevitably greeted Libby, his smile was cool and professional.

  “You look perkier this morning than you did last evening,” Ben said, clasping her hand. “How do you feel?”

  “My shoulders and arms are a little sore. But other than that, if it weren’t for the hangover I have from the injection you gave me, I feel fine.”

  “You were too keyed up to sleep. If I hadn’t medicated you, you wouldn’t be in any shape to talk to all the people converging on base this morning.”

  “Already?”

  Ben nodded. “They’re waiting for me to release you. If you want a day to recoup, I can keep you here for another twenty-four hours but they’ll still want to talk to you today, while the accident’s fresh in your mind.”

  “How’s Charlie? The nurses told me he had surgery … ”

  “Charlie was lucky. He’ll be as good as new, once his arm heals.” Ben plucked one of the roses from the bouquet, broke off the stem and stuck it in his lapel. “You were terrific, you know.”

  Libby squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Ben. For taking such good care of me.”

  “My pleasure.” Releasing her hand he proceeded to check her vital signs, temperature, blood pressure, pulse. It was a routine procedure, which he attended to with professional detachment.

  “What’s my prognosis, doctor? Will I live to fly another day?”

  “Oh, I expect so. Unless … ”

  “Unless what?” Libby sat up straighter and grasped the flight surgeon’s arm. “It’s imperative I get back in the cockpit as soon as possible. You know that. If I don’t people will think I’m in some way to blame. They’ll say I panicked and punched out too soon. That Charlie could have recovered and saved the taxpayers twenty-five million dollars. Someone, somewhere will write his congressman or a column in the newspaper complaining about women flying fighters. And there are pilots in the squadron who would be all too happy to concur — off the record, of course,” she added bitterly.

  She tugged on his sleeve. “Ben, tell me. Do you know something I don’t know about the accident?” There was an edge of fear in her voice that belied her composure.

  He shook his head. “No, no. It has nothing to do with the accident, Lib. You even impressed the skeptics with your heroics. No one’s questioning what happened, that I know of. People are just glad you and Charlie made it back.”

  “Then what?” It wasn’t like Ben to give patients a hard time. Libby resented his evasiveness, especially under the circumstances. As a flight surgeon, he should have been more sympathetic to her present state of mind.

  “What is it?” She repeated.

  Major Segal walked over to the window and adjusted the sash on the blinds, taking great care to align the two cords evenly.

  “Do you know that you were pregnant?” He asked bluntly.

  Libby slumped back on the pillows in defeat, as reluctant to look at Ben and to acknowledge the truth as he had been, only a moment before, to confront her with the unfortunate reality.

  “No,” she said. And then, “Yes. I think so.”

  “Think so?” He sounded incredulous. “If it was anyone else … ”

  “Ridiculous isn’t it? Someone in my position being so oblivious. I thought I was just under a lot of stress. I didn’t want to believe that, that … ” She couldn’t say it. If she confirmed the pregnancy out loud, it would make it real.

  “Stress can manifest itself in a lot of ways, Libby, but pregnancy isn’t one of them.” She could detect the disappointment in his voice, the sudden distaste and the effort he was expending to sound nonjudgmental. “I suppose it’s of no consequence one way or the other now … .”

  Libby leaned for
ward. “What do you mean?”

  “You lost the baby, Lib. When they brought you in, you were bleeding. The shock, I suppose, or temperature in the water. Who knows? You weren’t very far along. Six or eight weeks at the most.”

  Libby supposed she should feel relieved but she had been so successful at convincing herself she wasn’t pregnant, the significance of what Ben had just told her had little impact. Perhaps when she had time to think about what had happened to her she would feel something — regret, sadness, relief, but not yet … not yet. She had too many other unresolved issues to deal with before she could acknowledge the pregnancy and miscarriage.

  “It’s none of my business, I know. But if you want to tell me about it.”

  “There’s nothing to tell,” she said sharply. “I made a mistake. I misjudged someone. It won’t happen again.” He went to pat her hand but she pulled it away, running her fingers absently through her hair. It felt stiff from the salt water, the smooth cap shaggy and unkempt. She needed a long, hot shower and shampoo.

  “What day is it?” Libby asked suddenly.

  “Saturday.”

  “He’s getting married in five days.”

  “Forget about him, Libby. Concentrate on your future. There’s nothing standing in your way.”

  “I suppose everyone in the hospital knows … ” she hesitated. “About, about the pregnancy.”

  “Your medical records are confidential, Libby. Excessive bleeding is not unprecedented after a traumatic incident … .” His voice trailed and he looked away, as if something outside the window had suddenly caught his attention.

  “But the accident board … ”

  “The accident board only knows what I tell them. That information is not germane to their inquiry.” He patted her hand. “If you have any problems, call me at home.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  He shrugged. “Just doing my duty as a flight surgeon, Captain Comerford. I have an obligation to the Air Force and to Colonel Long to get you back in the airplane as expediently as possible.”

  THE fishing-boats are tossed about,

  When the stormy winds blow strong;

  With rudder lost, how can they reach

  The port for which they long?

  So runs the old love song.

  Sone Yoshitada

  Chapter Eleven

  The final accident report would not be completed for several months, but the preliminary account exonerated Charlie and Libby and blamed the crash on engine failure. Both pilots were commended for their reactions during the crisis and Libby, in particular, was singled out for her courage in rescuing Charlie from almost certain death by drowning. Her picture appeared on the front page of The Stars and Stripes and The Air Force Times. There was a feature article about her in the Dayton press and the Sunday supplement Parade wanted an exclusive interview.

  Two weeks to the day after ejecting into the ocean, Libby was back in the cockpit of an F-16. She wasn’t afraid to fly, but the accident had instilled a new respect for the aircraft, as well as an awareness of the inherent danger. She felt different after the experience, older and wiser. Until the accident, she had been young and untested, driven by ambition to try to succeed in a man’s world. It was ironic that it took a disaster to prove to Libby that she was every bit as good a pilot and officer as the men in the squadron.

  As far as her pregnancy was concerned, since Libby had refused to acknowledge it to begin with, she thought it would be easy to forget. She and Ben Segal were the only people privy to the information and true to his word, Ben had not disclosed the pregnancy to the accident board. She was young and healthy, her body quickly recovered. When Libby looked in the mirror, there was no hint she had ever been pregnant visible on her smooth, firm flesh.

  But as the weeks went by, Libby discovered her emotions had not healed as swiftly as her body or that she was not as blasé about the miscarriage as she had believed. Her initial relief was sabotaged by sorrow. When she least expected it, she would suddenly remember and, just as suddenly, be awash in waves of unfathomable remorse. How could she grieve over the loss of an unborn child she had neither wanted nor acknowledged? It didn’t make any sense.

  When Darlene confided that she and Leonard were trying to get pregnant, Libby burst into tears.

  The accident affected her relationship with Charlie as well. There was no question that he wasn’t grateful to Libby for having saved his life, but he seemed embarrassed and demeaned by the whole thing. Nothing he did could have prevented his broken arm. He apparently hit the side of the cockpit when the ejection seat blasted him out of the jet. The misadventure with the faulty parachute was complicated by the fact that he couldn’t reach up to pop the back lines and control his descent or reach the pouch to release his dingy. But Charlie seemed to take the unfortunate events personally and behaved as if his manhood had been called into question.

  They had dinner a few times during his convalescence but the topics of conversation were random and impersonal. The accident had brought closure to a chapter in their lives that had begun their freshman year at the Air Force Academy. The bond of friendship that Charlie hoped would mature into love was moribund. Neither of them was certain just when it had happened and both of them were saddened by its demise and strangely relieved.

  When Libby saw Charlie off at the airport, on his way to Las Vegas and Fighter Weapon’s School, she was reminded of her arrival at Misawa. It was foggy and cold and the terminal was crowded with people waiting for flights delayed by the weather. They stood arm in arm, like they had that day, but the excitement and anticipation, the joy was missing. Charlie just wanted to leave Japan and the sooner the better. Libby was indifferent to the people staring at her and commenting on her looks.

  “I’ll miss you, Libby,” he said. But he didn’t mean it.

  “Me, too.”

  “You never know when we’ll run into one another again. The Air Force is a small world.”

  “Well, I won’t be going anywhere for a while. I’ve been in Misawa less than a year.”

  Charlie shrugged. “Time flies when you’re having fun. Before you know it, it will be your turn to bid farewell to the ‘land of the rising sun.’”

  Libby was going to say she would miss Japan when that day came. But she wasn’t sure that was true anymore. Maybe by the time her three-year assignment was over, she would be as eager as Charlie to leave.

  Her enchantment with Japan and its people had waned considerably. But Libby continued to take Japanese lessons with Nakane-san every Saturday morning. Her academic interest in the language and art had not been affected by the intransigence and conventions of the culture, but she found herself spending more time on base than she had in the past or traveling farther afield, to Aomori or Hirosaki, in order to avoid running into Kojiro and his bride. She had no other choice than to come to terms with the marriage but she didn’t think she could bear to see them together. As long as she didn’t know what Motoko looked like, there was an aspect of unreality about the whole thing, but if she saw her … .

  After the long winter, Libby found herself looking forward to the cherry blossoms with almost as much enthusiasm as the native Japanese, who monitored, in painstaking detail, the progress of the blooms on radio and television. From the moment the first buds opened on the islands of southern Japan in late March, until the last petals had fallen in Hokkaido six weeks later, their advance was carefully recorded so the people could plan accordingly to take time off to view the short-lived spectacle.

  One of the most famous cherry blossom festivals in Japan, and one of the most beautiful venues for viewing the flowering trees on the grounds of the old castle, was in nearby Hirosaki. Libby had just finalized plans for attending the festival and was on her way out of the officers’ club with Darlene Washington, when the Wing Commander, accompanied by Ge
neral Sato and a cohort of Japanese Air Self-Defense officers, including Major Yoshida, walked into the club. If she had spied them any sooner, Libby would have fled into the ladies room to hide but as it was, she had no recourse other than to keep on walking, with her head held high, right out the front door.

  But she didn’t get that far before being recognized by General Sato.

  “Captain, Captain … ” He couldn’t remember her last name, let alone try and pronounce it, but that didn’t prevent him from hurrying over to her to shake her hand. “It is a pleasure to see you looking so good,” he beamed. “I am so happy you were not hurt in the terrible accident. And also, the other pilot. Ah … .”

  “Captain McKay,” the Wing Commander said.

  “Ah, so. Captain McKay.” General Sato nodded gravely. “We heard how brave you were. My wife, she could not believe it. The beautiful lady pilot; she was so kind to me. That is just what she said when I told her. She remembered meeting you at our garden party.”

  Libby didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t look up, for fear of seeing Kojiro’s face in the circle of admirers.

  When she didn’t reply, the general continued. His English was noticeably improved. He spoke with more confidence and ease. “We were very worried about you. Major Yoshida, here … ” He turned and waved his hand in the direction of Kojiro. “He could not rest until he went to the hospital to make sure you were all right. You are very popular with the pilots in the Samurai Squadron. They remember when we flew together. Isn’t that right, Major Yoshida?”

  She heard Kojiro mumble hai, in that deep distinctive voice.

  “You have not forgotten, have you?” The general chided.