Operation Homecoming

by Justine Davis

  Amy glanced forward into the cockpit, where the array of electronics and screens looked beyond intimidating.

  “So how are the lessons going?” she asked.

  “Good,” Hayley said. “Not much longer.”

  “You’re really learning to fly this thing?” Walker asked.

  His sister arched an eyebrow at him. “Think I can’t?”

  “Never said that. It just looks pretty daunting. To anyone,” he added.

  Hayley let it go. “Pick a seat,” she said.

  In response, Cutter jumped up into one of the comfortable-looking seats, then turned to neatly face front. Amy and Walker both laughed in the same moment.

  “He sits there for takeoff, so we can strap him in. After that he gets the run of the cabin.”

  “Taught him to fly yet?” Walker asked drily.

  “He could probably learn,” Hayley said with a ruffle of the dog’s fur.

  Amy took the seat opposite the dog and tried to focus. She still had great trouble believing Marcus Rockwell could be involved in something sketchy. Anything sketchy. She would have sworn he wasn’t that kind of attorney, that kind of man. And if she was wrong, which it was starting to appear she was, then she would have to question her own competence, both in judging people and dealing with them.

  But she still couldn’t quite make herself believe it. She...

  “Amy?”

  Hayley’s voice broke through, and clearly she’d said something before that Amy had completely missed.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I was just thinking.”

  “We’ll figure this out,” Hayley promised.

  “I don’t know whether to hope we do or not.”

  Hayley sat in the seat beside her. “You’re really torn, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” She let out a compressed breath. “Remember when I found out last year my father had finally drunk himself to death?”

  “Of course,” Hayley said quietly.

  “My boss found out, probably because I was so scattered. He called me into his office, and I thought I was in trouble because I’d messed up a couple of things, including an important procedural motion. Instead, he told me about his own father being an alcoholic, and how it had affected his whole life. And that when he died, he was angry at himself for feeling anything.”

  She paused, starting to wish she hadn’t begun this. She wasn’t sure she wanted Walker to hear it. But she was in it now, so she kept going.

  “That was exactly how I was feeling. I had expected, when the inevitable happened, that I wouldn’t feel a thing. That I’d just shrug and move on. My father had never really been a part of my life, so why would it matter?”

  “And yet you were grieving,” Hayley said, reaching out to gently put a hand over hers.

  “Yes. And he explained it. That I was grieving the loss of what now would never be. It made so much sense.”

  “Sounds like the voice of someone who’s really been there,” Walker said, his voice quiet.

  “A very kind and understanding someone,” Hayley added, zeroing in on the crux of it as she so often did.

  “Yes,” Amy agreed. “He didn’t have to do it, but he did. And he never got upset over my mistakes that entire month. In fact, he fixed the big one himself and never mentioned it again.”

  “No wonder you’re having so much trouble believing he’s gotten into something illicit or crooked,” Walker said, still in that same tone. Amy was afraid to look at him, because just the way he was speaking made her feel quaky inside.

  “One thing I’ve learned from experience with Foxworth,” Hayley said, “is never to assume guilt too quickly. We may turn something up that explains everything.”

  “I hope so,” Amy said fervently.

  “Do you apply that everywhere?” Walker asked, his tone just a bit too innocent.

  What did he expect? Amy wondered.

  “That depends on the evidence,” Hayley said evenly, and without waiting for him to reply, turned to see that Cutter was safely belted in.

  And the evidence against you is insurmountable, Amy thought as she fastened her own seat belt securely. And wondered if the apparent fact that his own decisions had caused him great pain came anywhere near ameliorating what he’d done.

  Quinn came up the plane steps and nodded at Hayley. She turned and made her way up front, into the copilot’s seat. Quinn looked at Amy and smiled, nodded at her fastened belt, then walked over to Cutter and scratched that apparently favorite spot behind his right ear.

  He glanced at Walker. “Buckle up,” he ordered.

  “Not going to toss me out at altitude?”

  “The thought occurred,” Quinn said drily. “But if it comes to that, I’ll manage.”

  Amy smothered a laugh as Quinn headed up front, since the words didn’t seem to have much heat. Even Walker’s mouth quirked, albeit rather ruefully. But then, he’d once had a great sense of humor. Back then.

  “You wouldn’t hate him so much if you hadn’t loved him first...”

  And, oh, she had. Despite her easy denial to Hayley, she knew she had adored Walker with all the power of a young heart that had never been broken in that unique way. And for years he had lived up to her imaginings, along the way becoming the most beautiful male human being she had ever seen.

  And damn him, he still was. It wasn’t just that lean, athlete’s body; it was those eyes, those dark rimmed, hazel-gold eyes. Or maybe the unfairly long lashes. Or the thick, silky hair that still tended to fall forward as it did now, making him shove it back with an impatient hand.

  “I’m sure Hayley has some dog clippers. She could fix that for you.”

  She made sure her tone was nothing more than amused. He looked surprised at first, but answered in the same way.

  “That’s the second offer of a clipping I’ve had. Tempting.”

  “No barbers where you were?” Again she kept it light.

  He looked at her across the small space. “No time. For that and a couple of other things. I wanted to get here as fast as— Never mind.”

  She wondered if he’d stopped because he feared she would start in on him again. She wouldn’t, she thought with renewed determination. Hayley had asked her to set it aside, and she would.

  Selfish of you, she thought. She’d been so incensed at first that she hadn’t thought enough about how much harder her own anger would make things on Hayley. It couldn’t be pleasant to have your best friend and your brother snapping at each other all the time, no matter how you felt about him. And Hayley was the one who had the real stake in this. And if by some miracle, although she couldn’t imagine what it would be, she and Walker made up, she didn’t want to put Hayley in an even more awkward place.

  So she would pretend that she cared nothing about it. She would take her lead from Hayley, and act as if he were someone she had just met, a casual acquaintance.

  “Everyone ready?” Hayley called back to them. Cutter woofed softly as if in answer, and Amy laughed. So did Walker, and the sound caught at her. She had so loved his laugh...

  The plane began to move, and Amy turned her head to look out the large, rectangular window. They quickly reached the end of the main runway. She could see that the small airport cleared out of tall trees wasn’t much more than a couple of airstrips laid out at angles to each other. No control tower, yet Quinn had a headset on and was speaking into it. When an even smaller plane touched down, slowed and rolled past them, its pilot giving them a wave as it went by, she realized that was who Quinn must have been talking to. She looked upward then, but couldn’t see any other planes.

  On that thought they started to roll. It was a much quieter and gentler process in the small plane than what she was used to. But cutting through the thick cloud layer was a bit more tension-inducing. Maybe t
he bigger windows, she thought. You could really see how much you couldn’t see. Which was the silliest sentence she’d come up with in a while.

  They finally broke through and into the sunlight. It streamed through the windows into the plane’s cabin. And suddenly the flight was exhilarating, and she understood Quinn’s affection for the nimble little plane.

  She glanced over at Walker, who was looking out his own window. The light poured in over him, making the lighter strands of his hair gleam. She could see every plane, every angle of his handsome face, the strength of his jaw and the softness of his mouth.

  Tempting.

  The word he’d spoken in response to her quip about the dog clippers echoed in her head. But looking at him now, sitting in the golden glow, her unruly mind was putting an entirely different connotation on it.

  At least you’re consistent, she said to herself. Consistently idiotic.

  Hayley came back and unbuckled Cutter, letting the dog down on the cabin floor. He promptly went to a flat cushion that lay opposite the door—or was it a hatch on a plane?—and plopped down with his bone, obviously completely at ease.

  Amy was grateful for the distraction. And had the thought that she could do worse than model herself on the dog’s unconcern.

  Too bad that seemed impossible for her with Walker around. Which was ridiculous, since what she should be worried about was the very real possibility she was about to blow up her entire life.

  Chapter 15

  If this trip so far was any indication, Walker thought, Foxworth was a very efficient operation. The promised car had been waiting at the hangar they’d taxied to on the private side of the busy airport, once they’d finally gotten clearance to land in between the big commercial jets. Quite a difference from the quiet, rural airport they’d left from.

  There are airports and then there are airports, Walker had thought as he’d helped offload their bags. The heat, even now in early spring, was a shock after the still-cool and rainy northwest. He’d been here once in his travels, but it had been years ago and the place had grown. He could see the now-bigger expanse of airport buildings from here. Cutter was also looking around curiously. The dog stayed close, though, seemingly dividing his attention between Hayley and Amy, with an occasional glance his way.

  He was a very different sort of dog, Walker thought, and not just because of those moments when he’d come to him and given him an odd, unexpected sort of comfort. That had been, he thought, one of the strangest sensations he’d ever known. It had made him think of the stories of the wonders therapy dogs accomplished. He’d always assumed it was simply mental, that humans had such an affinity for their furry brethren on this planet that just interacting with one did them good. Especially when they were in distress.

  Now he was wondering if there wasn’t something more to it.

  “You two could stay with me,” Amy said to Hayley as they waited for Quinn to get the plane secured. “And Cutter. There’s even grass in the courtyard for him.”

  “Thanks, we would, but Quinn needs to check out the new office, anyway.”

  Walker noticed he was not included in that offer. Which was, he told himself, only to be expected. He didn’t think Amy realized yet just how much danger she could be in. But he did, and he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her. He’d lost a battle like this once; he wasn’t going to lose this one. Not with Amy. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.

  He’d spent far too much time on the flight down here sneaking glances at her, watching how the sunlight streaming through the window lit up her hair, and marveling at how it had changed from that clownish orange she had always hated to this rich, beautiful shade. On its own or with help, it didn’t matter; it was beautiful.

  She was beautiful.

  At one point during the flight she had taken off the blue-framed glasses and cleaned them. He was startled at how different she looked, like someone else, and more startled to realize he felt better once she put them back on.

  She was, if he was remembering right, nearsighted. He had a vague memory of seeing her younger, bookish self reading intently along with his sister, without glasses, and then having to grab them up when something happened across the room.

  The lenses had darkened in the bright sunlight, hiding the clear blue of her eyes. They were obviously the kind that did that automatically, removing the need for sunglasses like the ones he’d pulled out of the side pocket of his bag as soon as he had it off the plane.

  He wondered why she didn’t wear contact lenses. And on the heels of that thought came an odd bit of appreciation that she didn’t. The image of that girl who had hated wearing glasses flashed through his mind again. She’d clearly gained the self-confidence to make the most of it now.

  “Problem, Mr. Cole?”

  Her voice held that sweet tone that, with his sister, warned him a shot was readied, just awaiting a trigger pull. He suspected it was the same with Amy. They’d probably learned it together.

  “I was just thinking glasses have come a long way.”

  She considered that for a moment. “They’re a style choice for some these days. Which is very useful.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you don’t just mean for correcting your vision?”

  Surprise flickered across her face for a moment, as if she hadn’t expected him to get that. If she knew how often his life had depended on reading people lately, she wouldn’t have been.

  “I don’t,” she said. “It says something about people who wear them when they don’t need them.”

  “Like people who wear cowboy boots who have never met a cow?” He knew he saw a smile threaten. It pleased him far beyond what it should have.

  “In a way, yes. For them it’s all about image. Which is telling. And they’re useful in other ways. For one thing, people focus on them instead of my eyes, so they...miss things.”

  “Funny, I can still tell when you’re looking daggers at me.”

  She did smile at that. “Good. I’d hate to think that was wasted.”

  “You said, ‘For one thing.’ What else?”

  “Categorizing,” she said.

  He blinked. “What?”

  “The people who buy into stereotypes. Who think it automatically means you’re smart.”

  “But you are.”

  The smile was genuine this time. “Yes.”

  “What else?” he asked, realizing with a little jolt how much he was enjoying this simple thing, talking with her minus the anger, the sniping and those daggers.

  “It helps keep the male of the species at bay.”

  He drew back slightly at that. “How?”

  “Some truly can’t look past them. The old joke still has truth—some don’t like girls who wear glasses. It helps weed out the ones who are that shallow.”

  He just looked at her for a moment, standing there with the California sun lighting up her hair, the bright blue top she wore clinging subtly to curves that still startled him, looked at the delicate line of her jaw, the softness of her mouth...

  “They’re the ones who need help seeing, then,” he muttered, his voice a little harsh.

  She looked genuinely startled, and then her gaze narrowed at him. God, he’d gone crazy. This was Amy. Little Amy, his sister’s best friend. He couldn’t be reacting like this to her. It had to be that he was just off balance, coming home after all this time. He was just messed up, that was all.

  Besides, there was the little matter of the fact that she hated him.

  Quinn came back then, the keys to the small SUV in his hand. Small meaning they’d be even closer in the backseat this time. Great. Maybe there wouldn’t be room for the dog in the back, with four bags, and he could sit between them. That might help.

  And then Quinn startled him by handing the keys to Amy.
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  “You’re the local,” he said.

  Walker remembered then that she had lived down here, south of LA, until the commute into the city had gotten to be too much and she’d reluctantly had to move closer.

  Hayley gestured at Quinn, then the front seat. “You’d better stay up here. You’re too tall to be comfortable back there.”

  No concern for him, of course, even though he was nearly as tall as Quinn. But he hadn’t expected any. At least it meant he’d be in back with Hayley, not Amy.

  The irony was not lost on him. The one person he’d been most afraid to see was now the one he feared least. At least his sister wasn’t likely to resort to physical violence with him, and she didn’t glare at him, either.

  Of course, that sad, disappointed look she gave him was no better. In some ways it was worse than Amy’s glare. Because it seemed a lot closer to not caring, to writing him off.

  He’d take anger over that.

  * * *

  “How’d Foxworth end up down here?” Amy asked as she negotiated what were familiar paths to her. Since it was Sunday, the traffic wasn’t nearly as bad as it would have been on a workday, and they were in the south part of the county fairly quickly. Quinn had gotten a call, then he and Hayley had had a quick, private conversation, and then they were on their way.

  “This is where Charlie finally found the right place,” Quinn answered, adding with a grin, “Picky, I think is the right word.”

  “There are living quarters, too. You will stay with us while we’re here?” Hayley asked.

  “I’m supposed to be back to work tomorrow. And my car’s at home.”

  “We’ll get you there, and to work and back the next few days. This way you and Hayley can have some time together. Plus it will make things easier if you’re handy in case there are questions,” Quinn said.

  “All right, then. Once I get my car I can commute for a while.” She rolled her eyes. “I did it for a long time before I moved.”