Flying High

by Gwynne Forster

  He wouldn’t be put off. “Tomorrow then? There are things I want to discuss with you. Okay?”

  She agreed and hung up, wondering what she had gained by not spending that same evening with him.

  She left a message on Winifred’s answering machine and got ready for her next patient, still floating in the afterglow of her liberation from the bondage of hatred.

  “Hi, Wendy. I’m hoping we can have dinner together and swap tales over at your place tonight. If you’re not busy, I’ll bring some food and you won’t have to cook anything but hot water for tea. Ring me on my cell phone. Bye.”

  * * *

  Nelson opened the door for Audrey and had to use all the restraint he could muster to avoid touching her. Cheerful, beautiful and seeming to bubble with joy, she seemed to light up the room. He wondered whether he was in any way responsible for her mood and prayed that he was.

  “Hi,” she said, blessing him with a wink of her left eye that signified compliance with whatever he might have on his mind. He wondered if she was aware of the sexual overtones of that wink.

  “Hi,” he said, making certain that he kept his hands in his pockets.

  She gave his flat belly a light pat as she walked on by him. “Where’s Aunt Lena?” she flung over her shoulder. Who was this woman? Seductive. Frivolous. And oh, so desirable.

  “She’s in the kitchen pampering Ricky.”

  “Audie! Audie, I hurt my knee. I went to the hospital and I stayed there all night.” He stretched out both arms to her, and she hugged him to her as closely as his wheelchair would allow.

  “I know, darling. I went to the hospital to see you, but you were asleep.”

  “Unca Nelson told me. They won’t let me walk, Audie.”

  “As soon as your knee heals, you can walk and run the way you used to. In a couple of days I’m going to begin giving you exercises every afternoon to help you walk soon.”

  “Every day, Audie? You’re coming to see me every day?”

  “Some days you’ll come to my office and sometimes I’ll come here.”

  “Unca Nelson,” he said, “Audie’s going to let me come to her office.” His charm deserted him when he said, “I don’t want to go in this wheelchair.”

  Nelson knew Ricky’s protruding lower lip spelled trouble, but Audrey placated him when she said, “Want a Chupa Chup?” He took one and began sucking on it. “I give these to the children who come to my office.”

  Ricky took the lollipop out of his mouth and studied her. “Can I have two?”

  “None of that, Ricky,” Nelson said. “You do not bargain in exchange for good behavior. You always do what is right, no matter what. You understand that?”

  Ricky didn’t try to hide his unhappiness with the idea. “But Unca Nelson, if I’m going in this chair, why can’t I have two lollipops? Audie won’t mind.”

  “I don’t imagine she will, but I mind. You’re going to her office and candy is not a part of the agreement. No bargaining, Ricky. Got that?”

  “Yes, sir.” He looked at Audie. “Can I have two now? I can save them.”

  Her smile broadened, and the warmth and pure sweetness in her eyes as she looked down at the child sent his heart on a rampage, thumping like a runaway train. Love. There was no other word for it. She loved Ricky and the boy knew it, savored it and accepted it as normal. Suddenly, she rushed to the boy’s chair and hugged him while he giggled and hugged her in delight.

  Nelson had to get out of there. As he plodded up the stairs, his mind socked him again and again with the thought that Audrey belonged in his home, that it was only complete when she was in it. That she made his little circle a real family. Ill at ease in his room, his own paradise, he went down to the family room in the basement and sat down at the piano. For as long as he could remember, playing the piano had had the ability to transport him to a higher plane, a different world. A place of his own where everything was as he desired. But not tonight. He played Chopin sonatas, Liszt preludes, and some Duke Ellington funk trying to find himself. None of it gave him the solace he sought.

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “This is serious,” he said aloud.

  “What’s serious?” Audrey asked him. “I didn’t know you played the piano so well. You’re gifted. Anybody who plays Franz Liszt with such ease is talented. Ricky told me that you’re teaching him to play.”

  He had no stomach for the conversation, no interest in himself.

  “Thanks. It’s as much a part of me as my hands. It’s me. I don’t get a chance to play often or as well as I’d like. Uh...I didn’t know you were down here.”

  “I know that. What’s the matter? You seem...um...less self-possessed than usual.”

  “You’re discerning. It’s nothing I can’t handle. In any case, we’ll talk things over tomorrow. What time would suit you?”

  “I could come by at around five and—”

  He shook his head. “This doesn’t include Ricky. What time do I call for you at your home?”

  She lifted an eyebrow as if surprised. “Seven all right?”

  “Perfect. Let’s go to B. Smith’s in Union Station. I feel like some soul food. What do you say?”

  “I love soul food, although I know it’s rough on my arteries. Aunt Lena and Pam wouldn’t think of cooking soul food. Biscuits, maybe, but that’s it. I’d love to eat there.”

  “Then we’ll go. If we’re in luck, they’ll have a good jazz band. If not, the canned music is always great. Nat King Cole, Duke Ellington, Lester Young, all the great jazz artists.”

  Why was he talking so much about things of little importance? he asked himself. “I’d better look in on Ricky,” he said, not because there was a need for it, but because if he remained down there alone with her for another two minutes, they’d be in a clinch. He started up the stairs and reached back for her hand.

  “I can find my way up the steps, Nelson. I know what’s going on here, and I want you to know you have no need to worry.”

  He stopped and walked back to her. “No?” The next second, he lifted her to fit his body and possessed her mouth. She didn’t deny him, but took him in and sucked sweetly on his tongue until he thought he would go mad with yearning to be inside her body.

  “Unca Nelson. Unca Nelson, I have to go to the bathroom and Miss Lena’s upstairs.”

  He settled her on her feet. “Do you understand now why I needed to get up these stairs? Do you?”

  She nodded. “Sometimes I just want to give in to it and damn the consequences, but I know I won’t do that.”

  “No. And neither will I.”

  * * *

  “Did Audrey come by this afternoon?” Nelson asked Lena when he got home the next day.

  “Yes, but she only stayed about forty-five minutes. Ricky kicked up a storm when she got ready to leave. I told him he don’t own Audrey, but that don’t mean a thing to him. He’s in seventh heaven from the time she walks through that door. That child loves himself some Audrey, and he did from the very first.”

  “Fortunately it’s mutual.”

  “Yes, sir. She loves him all right. Never saw anything to beat it. You planning on doing anything about that, Colonel?”

  He let a grin flicker around his mouth and tantalized her with a wink of his right eye. “You are welcome to delve into Ricky’s love life, Mrs. Alexander, but kindly remember that I’ve passed my fortieth birthday.”

  Her face clouded with bewilderment. “But as her aunt, don’t I have the right to ask you your intentions?”

  A quick shrug forecast the nature of his answer. “You’d better ask Audrey about that. I wouldn’t know.”

  Two hours later, he faced Audrey at a table in B. Smith’s, enjoying Union Station’s cathedral ceiling, marbled floor and towering Ionic columns, among which nestled shrubs
and flowers. Beautiful, like the woman facing him. They each ordered seafood for the main course, along with stewed collards and piquant cornbread, with coconut cake for dessert.

  “Lena says coconut anything is unhealthy, so please don’t tell her. I love this stuff.”

  “What’s it worth to you?” she asked him.

  “What do you say to some first-class kisses? Huh?”

  “That’ll work,” she said, “for starters.”

  The wine he had been about to swallow went down the wrong way, sending him into a coughing fit.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  “Yeah, I’ll bet. Listen, Audrey, I’ve got to talk serious now.” He didn’t like the expression of wariness that came over her.

  “What do you want me to know?”

  “You won’t want to hear this, but I may have to go back to Afghanistan. Nothing is certain yet, but it is very possible.” She folded up like a clam. “I’m an officer in the military, Audrey, and I go where I’m sent.”

  “What about your neck?”

  “I’ll face that when I have to. At least the other thing I want you to know won’t upset you. I’m scheduled to receive a citation for bravery in Afghanistan. They say I saved the lives of the men in my charge when the helicopter I was piloting crashed.”

  Her face brightened and her eyes glistened in that way they had the previous afternoon when she’d looked so adoringly at Ricky. I am one lucky man, he thought when she said, “Nothing wonderful that I hear about you will ever surprise me. I’m so proud of you.”

  He thanked her, but tried to contain both his remarks and his feelings because he knew that getting that citation could backfire. Yet when he spoke, his words came from his heart.

  “When you look at me like that, I feel the way I do when I’m at the controls of an F-16, flying high. Woman, don’t send me any messages that you won’t stand behind.”

  “I never have and I never will, and I expect the same from you.”

  He looked at his watch. Nine-thirty. The thought of leaving her so early didn’t sit well with him, and he didn’t think it prudent to walk with her along the Mall or around the Tidal Basin at that time of night.

  “Feel like walking for a few blocks?” he asked her, thankful that he hadn’t driven his car. She agreed, and he took her hand and strolled with her along Massachusetts Avenue.

  “Sometimes, like yesterday afternoon, for example, I feel you’re right for me, that you would complete my life, and then at other times I feel as if a void exists that needs to be filled, that in spite of what I feel for you, I don’t know you.”

  She released his hand and eased her left arm around his right one. “I’ve often thought that if we were teenagers, we would probably have eloped by now. It’s always great when we’re together, but as soon as we separate, I start thinking.”

  “Same here, but I don’t want to continue this way, and I’m sure you don’t, either.”

  “No.”

  He slipped an arm around her waist, and they walked in silence until they reached Vernon Square, where he hailed a taxi. Telling her good-night at her front door was a habit he’d begun to detest, but he forced a smile and thanked her for the evening.

  “I enjoyed being with you,” she said, and he wondered what she’d do if he picked her up and didn’t stop walking until he reached her bed. “When will you receive the citation?” she asked, and he knew that while she genuinely cared about the recognition given him, she was nervous and making conversation.

  “Tomorrow. It’s a very simple ceremony.” But such an important step on the way to his goal.

  “Your dad would be so proud,” she said, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.

  It didn’t make sense, but he couldn’t resist. “Kiss me? Don’t open the floodgates though.”

  Her lips, soft, sweet and closed, pressed to his mouth. A whiff of her perfume assaulted his nostrils, and her breasts, sweet and feminine against his chest, rocked him like an exploding bomb. His vow to stave off lovemaking with her until he knew her, until she opened up to him and let him know who she was, seemed far-fetched and pretentious in light of the punishing force of his need, of his almost frantic desire to have her.

  With prodigious effort, he moved from her. “I know I said we’d just be friends, but I don’t want that. I want us to work this out. Are you willing?”

  “I want it as much as you do, and I...I’m willing to try.”

  He brushed his lips across her forehead. “Get inside. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Good luck at the ceremony.”

  He stood on her steps until the lock clicked and a light showed at the second-floor window. I swore I’d die a bachelor, but I’m not so sure about that now.

  * * *

  Audrey checked the messages on her answering machine and found three from Ricky. “This is Ricky Wainwright. Can I speak with Audie, please?” He hadn’t mastered the problem of leaving messages. I must teach him how to do that, she thought, and dialed her Aunt Lena’s private phone.

  “Lena Alexander speaking. The Lord loves you, so stay in touch with him.”

  “This is Audrey, Aunt Lena. When did you start answering the phone that way?”

  “When? One day last week. I read it somewhere, and I figured most people could use that little reminder. Anything wrong with you?”

  “No. I got home a few minutes ago and discovered I have three messages from Ricky, so I called to be sure the two of you are all right.”

  “Humph. Which means you were out with the Colonel, otherwise you wouldn’t know he’s not home yet. Ricky thinks he owns you. I asked the colonel about his intentions toward you, and he alluded as to how he was over forty and I could ask you. Like I overstepped my bounds or something.”

  “He wouldn’t have appreciated that question if he’d been eighteen—not with his personality. Anyway, I’m moving away from thirty and ought to be able to look out for myself. Still, thanks for the thought.”

  “Anything happening between you two?”

  “And how! Ever been on a seesaw? Tell Ricky I’ll see him tomorrow after work. Good night.”

  When she said her prayers, she prayed that Nelson’s superiors wouldn’t send him back to Afghanistan. “You and I know he wouldn’t survive it intact, Lord. Please,” she whispered. Still, a sense of helplessness pervaded her as she dimmed her night-table lamp and closed her eyes.

  * * *

  The next morning at eleven o’clock, Nelson stood in the Commandant’s reception room and listened to the citation for bravery in the line of duty. “You have honored your country, the Marine Corps and yourself,” the Commandant said, “and I am happy to tell you that recommendations have been made for your promotion to brigadier general.”

  Nelson found his voice with difficulty, and knew from the lump in his throat that he had to guard his emotions. “Thank you, sir. I am deeply honored and grateful.”

  The ceremony completed and the round of handshakes over, he headed back to his office. Rupert Holden walked beside him.

  “Congratulations, man. And to think you got your ribbon pinned on by the top brass. Way to go. Uh, by the way, did you ever report that corporal you caught sleeping on guard duty in Qandahar? He could have gotten all of us killed. Man, we were close enough to Al Qaeda fighters to spit on ’em.”

  It was a threat, and the man hadn’t even bothered to sugarcoat it. Before he could answer, Holden grinned. “You’re not really expecting to get kicked up to brig general, are you? Things like that business in Afghanistan...you know, that guard sleeping on duty, that always leaks out.”

  They arrived at Holden’s office and the more junior officer gave a mock salute. “All the best, man.”

  “Same to you, Holden, and thanks for your good wishes.” He may have fooled Holden with his attitu
de of nonchalance, but he could barely contain his anxiety.

  Nelson closed his office door and locked it. He’d just had the wind knocked out of him, and he needed to regroup. Rupert Holden had managed to rob him of his moment of glory, refusing to allow him even one hour in which to cherish the first commendation he had received in his military career. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but had showed compassion where it was justified. If that act of mercy proved to be the torpedo that blasted his career, he’d live with it. It would break his heart, but it wouldn’t kill him.

  When the telephone rang, he straightened up, then leaned back in his desk chair and assumed his normal professional demeanor. “Wainwright speaking.”

  “Hi. This is Audrey.” As if he wouldn’t know her voice even if he was coming out of deep anesthesia. “Congratulations. What do they do on these occasions?”

  The sound of her voice raised his spirits. Enlivened him. “They said some very embarrassing things at a reception of sorts, pinned a ribbon on me and told me I was up for brigadier general.”

  “What? You’re going to be a general? I’m happy for you, Nelson, and as proud as if this were happening to me. It’s wonderful!”

  “Thanks. It will take some getting used to. Don’t forget, though, that it isn’t a done deal. I’ll celebrate that star when it’s stuck on my jacket.” Knowing that he might never affix that coveted emblem to his clothing, indeed that even the ribbon could be taken from him, he hadn’t the will to rejoice.

  “You’re so subdued,” she said.

  “Some gave all, Audrey. And some gave a part of themselves, a part that means they can never again be normal men. It’s humbling.”

  “You feel this way because you’re not self-centered, and I like that, Nelson, but you can accept these things that happen to you as something good, maybe even your due. Be happy. If it were me, I’d be dancing on the ceiling. Barefoot. Just wait till I open my office. I’ll do the wind on the corner of Sixteenth and Pennsylvania.”

  “What’s holding it up?”

  “Uh...I’ve got the money now, and the place. It needs some renovation, and that should start soon. It’s just...I hope people will come.”