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
Molly 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 th
at 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?”
“I will not raise my voice and act like a three-year-old child to get my way, Captain Sinclair.”
The anger in her eyes was real, but it didn’t transfer to her voice. What had stoved Molly up so badly that her anger was short-circuited against herself? “So you played martyr instead, and took the fall whether it belonged to you or not.”
Molly’s mouth dropped open. “How dare you!” She leaped to her feet. She wasn’t fast enough. Cam unwound like a tightly coiled spring, straightening and reaching out, his fingers wrapping around her arm.
“Running—again?” he taunted close to her ear.
“Let me go!”
“Or what?” Her flesh was firm and supple, and Cam longed to open his arms and give her the safety she needed. But to do so would weaken her, not help her.
Glaring up at him, Molly whispered, “Or nothing. Please let me go.”
“Will you stay and talk, not run?”
His fingers felt like a hot brand against her arm. Impatiently she said, “Yes, I’ll stay!”
“Good.”
The gentleness of just that one word shook Molly. His face was still hard, but his voice had turned warm and coaxing. She stared up at him, not knowing what to make of him.
“Now, come on. Let’s sit down and talk.”
“About what?” Molly demanded petulantly, sitting cross-legged on the sand. Cam positioned himself a foot away, opposite her.
“You.”
“Look, if you’re going to sit there and rip me up—”
“Ensign Rutledge—” Oh, to hell with it. “Molly, give me a chance. You’re behaving like I’ve got a report card or something to deliver. I don’t,” he said softly.
When he whispered her name, Molly sat very still. She tried to wrestle with her fear that he was going to expertly dissect her performance today. Her entire life since leaving home had been exactly that: a report card. She was held accountable for every minute of her life. She feared that he’d point to her mistakes just as her father and Scott did.
“Look, I can’t take a dressing-down right now. I’ve had about all I can take.”
“I understand.” Cam didn’t, but he was going to try. Opening his hands in a gesture of peace, he urged, “Tell me about your father. I know your mother died when you were ten. What’s he like?”
Completely taken off guard by his questions, Molly hesitated.
“I know this is personal, but what we share stays with me. I won’t use it against you, Molly. I promise.”
Although Sinclair was still in his flight uniform and looked very much the warrior, Molly responded to the softened grate of his voice. The sensation was almost tangible, as if a cat were licking her with its roughened tongue. Needing to confide in someone, she nodded.
“I miss my friends, Dana and Maggie. I used to be able to talk to them when things got tough. They’re still at Whiting Field and—”
“You’re up here all alone without any friends or family?” Cam guessed, trying to keep his voice low and warm. He saw his effort work a minor miracle with Molly. She placed her hands on her knees and opened up to him.
“I’m so lonely without a friend here. The last two weeks have been pure hell. Martin’s trying to sink me before I even get a chance to prove myself and—”
“Whoa! Slow down, gal.” Cam held up his hand. “Let’s backtrack. I want to know about your father. What’s he like?”
With a sigh, Molly told him. At one point, she thought she saw his eyes soften for just an instant. Or had it been her imagination? Maybe it was the evening light, the way the sun was slanting across the bay. She talked about her father for a good ten minutes.
“So, to sum it up, you report in to your father and your brother on a weekly basis?” Cam asked. He struggled mightily to keep the disbelief out of his voice.
“Yes, sir.”
“When we’re alone like this, let’s drop the military formality, okay? Call me Cam, and I’ll call you Molly. Fair enough?” Cam wondered where that had come from. Well, it was too late to take it back. Molly’s face lit up with such gratefulness that it didn’t matter.
“Okay…Cam. Scott, my older brother, hangs on my every word. It really makes his week to get my letters and phone call.”
“Doesn’t he have his own life? A job?”
Molly shrugged, making geometric designs in the sand in front of her crossed legs. “No.”
“Tell me about your friends, Dana and Maggie.”
Eagerly Molly filled him in on the two women, who were really more like sisters to her. Cam’s face remained stoic and without expression. She hesitated halfway through her explanation.
“Why am I telling you all of this?”
“Because I want to know.”
“Why?”
“I care what happens to you, Molly.” God help him, he shouldn’t, but he did. Cam felt himself falling apart inwardly when he saw her eyes fill with tears. Gruffly, because he knew he couldn’t stand to see Molly cry without taking her into his arms, he told her, “I care enough to help you learn how to help yourself. What else did Maggie and Dana do for you?”
The harsh edge in his voice halted her tears. Molly blinked them away and continued with her story of how they’d met and become the closest of friends at Annapolis. By the time she’d finished, the sun had set and the sky was a bold apricot laced with the pink trim of the clouds that hung over the bay.
Cam said nothing for a long time, digesting her story and trying to put the pieces together. Molly looked so alone sitting there in front of him. He was amazed that she genuinely trusted him with all this personal information. Yet, without it, he’d be helpless to understand her actions and reactions at TPS.
“When you’re angry or upset, do you always retreat?”
Molly stiffened. “I don’t retreat.”
“I sat in that debrief room this afternoon and watched you crawl deep inside yourself, Molly.”
“Martin had no business verbally abusing me the way he did!”
“He was defending his territory. What were you doing?”
“What? What territory? That test was supposed to be us working as a team.”
“Every test pilot maps out his territory, and then he defends it, Molly. Do you think Martin is going to say ‘Yeah, I screwed up the flight’?”
“I expect him to be honest!”
“Because you are?”
“Of course.”
“Who taught you that?”
She glared at him. “My mother.”
“Test pilots by nature are self-protective, Molly. They’ve got egos as big as the Chesapeake Bay. Martin’s record is impeccable. He’s a hotshot jet jock and knows it.”
“I don’t care if he thinks he’s God. He’s not! He made mistakes up there in the air today, Cam. I was there. I saw it happen!”
“Prove it to me,” he goaded her softly.
“I tried today.”
“By acting like a cream puff in debrief? Give me a break, Molly. Why didn’t you demand that Norton view the video? I haven’t seen it, either, and it may or may not prove a thing, but at least it would put Martin on notice that you’re going to start protecting your territory.”
Molly scrambled to her feet. “I will not play these little-boy games, Cam! We’re supposed to be mature adults.”
“Martin was a six-year-old squalling like a scalded cat in there this afternoon,” Cam drawled, holding her furious gaze. “Who do you think won that battle in your personal war with him? Who did Norton believe? Who got the better grade?”
“You gave him an eighty-five!” Molly flung heatedly. “I didn’t!”
“You didn’t give me a choice.”
“I what?”
“Come on, sit back down
. We’re not done talking.”
Breathing hard, Molly sank back to the sand, her fists clenched in her lap. “I wasn’t aware I had anything to do with Martin’s grade. You do.”
“You’re wrong. I assess my student in three areas. First, how he presents his report of the flight. Second, through the video analysis. Third,” Cam drilled her, “the flight engineer’s report. You think Martin’s the only one who’s going to try and make you look bad when he blows a test? Every man in there will do it, Molly. And if you don’t want to get washed out in the first month, you’d better start defending yourself.”
Molly felt at a loss. Hanging her head, she mulled over Cam’s suggestions. “I won’t become like them,” she said finally. “I refuse to lower myself to their level of infantile behavior to get some notice or a better grade.”
Without meaning to, Cam reached out, his hand settling on hers. “Who taught you not to fight for yourself, Molly?”
His hand was firm yet comforting on hers. A lump formed in her throat. “My mother never raised her voice to my father.”
“You don’t have to be exactly like her.” Cam ached to lean closer, frame her face and kiss her pursed lips. Her face was filled with such pain that he felt tears come to his eyes. Tears! He hadn’t cried in nearly six months. Reluctantly, Cam removed his hand, realizing he was becoming too involved with Molly. If he was going to help her, he had to remain distant and objective. There was danger in allowing her to affect him.
With a shrug, Molly whispered, “You think I’m a wimp.”
“No. I don’t think your family gave you the support or the tools for learning to stand up for yourself.” His voice became lined with emotion. “Molly, if you really want to make the grade at TPS, you’re going to have to start defending yourself.”
The Gauntlet Page 6