Improvisation

by Karis Walsh

  She watched them come through the door, engrossed in a conversation and seemingly barely aware of their surroundings. Tina had noticed little resemblance between father and daughter in the photos, but she could easily see the similarities in expression and gesture as they talked.

  “It was a Cessna 172,” Jan’s dad said as he stopped by the booth and turned his attention to Tina. “You must be Tina. I’m Glen. No, don’t get up. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  “Hi, Tina,” Jan said briefly. “A high-wing? No way. I distinctly remember it was a Piper Cherokee.”

  “Sit down, daughter. Your mule ears are scraping the ceiling.”

  “We’ll talk about this later,” Jan said, scooting into the booth next to him. She started fussing with the table settings, moving napkins and flatware so they were near her dad’s good arm.

  “I think I’m in trouble,” Glen said in a conspiratorial whisper as he leaned toward Tina.

  “I think you’re right,” she whispered back. “I heard the same tone in her voice when she caught me talking during her seminar.”

  “No one’s in trouble,” Jan said, moving her dad’s water glass closer to him. “You’re wrong but not in trouble.”

  Glen captured Jan’s hand as she was reaching for his coffee cup. “If you tuck a napkin in my collar next, I’m upending my hot coffee in your lap.”

  Tina wrapped both hands around her coffee mug as she watched the two interact, their affection for one another easy to see. But maybe because she was getting to know Jan better, or because she simply was aware of Glen’s condition, Tina could see the subtext playing out behind the teasing argument. They were both scared and uncertain but devoted to each other.

  “I don’t know much about airplanes, but what’s the one up there? The one with the propeller-thingies?” Tina asked, pointing to a large model plane, dangling from the ceiling near their table. Glen rolled his eyes at Jan.

  “Propeller-thingies? Where did you find this uncivilized woman? It’s a C-130 turboprop. A cargo plane. Jan, didn’t I take you on a C-130 when we were stationed in Virginia?”

  Jan frowned. “Are you sure it wasn’t when we were in Germany?”

  “No. Wasn’t that a Starlifter?”

  Their debate was put on hold when the waiter came over to take their order. Tina asked for a Denver omelet and raised her eyebrows in surprise when Jan and her dad ordered chicken-fried steak and eggs.

  “D’you two have a busy day of lumberjacking ahead of you?”

  “It’s the best thing on their menu,” Jan said, emptying a couple of sugar packets into her coffee. “You’re going to be jealous when you smell it, but don’t ask for a bite. I’ve seen how you eat.” Jan bit her lip and looked down at her coffee mug, apparently hearing the double meaning in her words only after she’d spoken them out loud. Tina covered the awkward moment by asking Glen about another airplane.

  Tina continued to move the conversation along, giving prompts based on the pictures she had seen in the apartment and her growing interest in Glen’s aviation knowledge. He could recite details and specs for most of the planes, but she most liked the way he added his personal stories to the dry information. Stories culled from thirty years in the air force, but most often about trips or air shows he and Jan had experienced together.

  Tina glanced outside as a flash of movement caught her eye. A small blue-and-white plane took off, a speck of color against the dark clouds and the pine-covered ridge bordering the far side of the runway.

  “Wish we had better weather today,” Glen said, looking outside as well. “There won’t be much air traffic since it’s so overcast.”

  “This is light traffic?” Tina asked. “I’ve seen at least four planes take off while we’ve been sitting here. What?” she asked when she saw Jan and Glen smile at each other.

  “It’s the same plane,” Jan said. “The pilot’s doing touch-and-gos. Practicing takeoffs and landings.”

  Tina squinted out the window. “Are you sure? Wasn’t the last one a different color?”

  “If by a different color you mean the same blue-and-white color, then yes, it was,” Glen said with a laugh. He started to explain how to identify private aircraft by shape and size while Jan excused herself. As soon as she left the table, Tina held up her hand to interrupt.

  “I need to ask you something,” she said, her voice serious. She wasn’t sure she wanted Jan to hear this part of the conversation, so she needed to hurry and fit it in.

  Glen nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “What would make someone who loved fighter planes and worked hard to become a pilot give up his chance and, instead, fly a…I forgot what Jan called it. A gas station with wings.”

  Glen raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Someone’s been going through my things.”

  “Jan showed me some photos, and I happened to see some paperwork at the same time,” Tina said quickly. She wouldn’t be sidetracked. “Orders to report for flight school for the fighter jet, and a second set the following year, for the tanker. I’ve noticed all the pictures in your apartment. I recognize passion when I see it, and I’m curious about why you’d give up a lifelong dream.”

  Glen glanced toward the bathroom. “I’ve never told Jan about this,” he said. “Our nomadic lifestyle was hard enough on her. I didn’t want to add any misplaced guilt.” He sighed and tapped his fingers, pausing briefly before he rushed through the story. “You see, Jan’s mother was much younger than I, and back then, I was single-minded in my goal to fly fighters. The military life sounded romantic until she actually had to live it, all the moving and the long hours I had to work while I was building my career. I suggested we have a baby, foolishly thinking she’d be less lonely with a family.” Glen shook his head. “A bad reason behind the best decision I ever made. Anyway, once she got pregnant, I could tell it had been a mistake for my wife. I knew my marriage was falling apart, and I just had a sense I would be left to take care of the baby on my own. My wife left before Jan’s second birthday.”

  Tina took a sip of her coffee while Glen paused in his story. She didn’t want to be tied down, to be responsible for a child, but still, she couldn’t imagine walking away if she had one. Leaving a young daughter. Leaving Jan. Inconceivable.

  “You need to understand, I didn’t turn my back on my dream to fly the F-15. The dream left me. The moment I held my little girl in my arms, my old priorities simply disappeared, and she took their place. I called in some favors and was moved to the KC-135 program because it was less dangerous, and I could keep Jan with me whenever I was transferred. I still got to be around the fighters, doing my part to help them go places, but at night, I went home, where I belonged.”

  The waiter came and set heaping plates of food in front of them. Tina sniffed. Jan’s breakfast did smell good. She reached across and cut a piece of steak, smearing the gravy around to conceal her theft.

  “You’re likely to lose a hand doing that,” Glen warned before he continued. “In hindsight, I should have let go of my dream of flying altogether, gotten out of the force as soon as I could and given her a stable home.”

  “Maybe,” Tina said. She understood how Jan’s childhood had affected her, with its loneliness and instability and constant change. “But she’s the woman she is because of the decisions you made. And, I think you’ll agree, she’s pretty wonderful. And the way she teaches, finding so many ways to connect what the kids learn in the classroom to the other parts of their lives. Would she be the same kind of teacher if she hadn’t been exposed to all those different places and people and ideas?”

  Jan walked toward her dad and Tina, the two obviously having an intense conversation given their expressions and the way they leaned toward each other. “What are you talking…Did you steal my food?”

  “Told you,” Glen murmured.

  “Looks the same as it did when the waiter brought it,” Tina said. “Doesn’t it, Glen?”

  “You’re on your own with this one,” Glen said as Jan
sat down again.

  Jan glared at Tina, who seemed to be trying to assume an innocent expression. She wasn’t very good at it. “You owe me some of your omelet,” she said.

  “Why don’t we just trade. I’ll give you my omelet, and I’ll eat the rest of your breakfast since it got kind of messy…on the way here from the kitchen.”

  Jan swatted at Tina’s hand when she tried to grab her plate. She reached for the ketchup bottle. “You’re only being noble because I was right. I made the better breakfast choice, just like I chose the best cupcakes in Coeur d’Alene.”

  “Is she always this smug?” Tina asked Glen.

  Jan prodded her dad in the ribs to keep him from answering. “I’ll give you another bite if you just admit I was right,” she said to Tina.

  Tina grimaced. “After you drowned it in ketchup? No thanks.”

  “You have no taste,” she said, taking a big bite and chewing while she looked out the window. She pointed to the north. “Look, a helicopter.”

  Tina checked outside before turning back to Jan with a grin. “Is this like your old Look, a bird! line?”

  Jan laughed, glad they were able to joke about last Saturday’s abbreviated trip. She had worried Tina might still be upset with her, but during their short phone conversation to set this date and so far today, she had seemed nothing but cheerful. “No, it’s not. See the tall clump of trees on the ridge? Look to the right of them.”

  “Sure enough,” Tina said. “A tiny dot in the sky.”

  “R-22,” Glen said. “Hey, pumpkin, do you remember when we took the helicopter tour in Hawaii?”

  He told Tina the whole story, with Jan chiming in occasionally, while they ate. She loved seeing her dad happy and laughing and full of memories. She wanted him to be this way forever. As she had come to expect, the intrusion of worry about the future gave her a tight feeling behind her eyes, but she blinked back the threat of tears and kept a forced smile on her face. The slight brush of a leg against hers made her look up and meet Tina’s eyes. A brief press against her calf before Tina moved away again. The small gesture, the reassurance of Tina’s smile, was comforting. Not something to get used to, but nice, nonetheless.

  Tina asked another question and listened with what seemed to be genuine interest as her dad explained the technical aspects of airplane-wing design. Jan watched her as she seemed to mentally process the information, as if she were filing it away for later use. And it probably would show up again at some point—in her life, her work, her music. Changed, improved, embellished beyond recognition. She had exactly the quality Jan tried to instill in her students. She seemed to love to learn, regardless of the topic, and had the talent to soak up information and images. And make them her own. Jan had gotten glimpses of the way Tina’s mind recreated ideas during their conversations and through the work she had been doing for Peter, and she recognized her own growing, and frightening, fascination with Tina. She could handle—and fight—a physical response to her. But being drawn to her intellectually was an entirely different, and entirely dangerous, phenomenon.

  Jan picked up the bill when the waiter brought it to their table, but Tina snatched it out of her hand. “I’m paying,” she announced. “It’s the least I can do since you two are giving me a place to stay.”

  “Plus, you ate some of my breakfast,” Jan said as they left the restaurant.

  “One bite,” Tina protested. “And you never did prove it was me and not the waiter. Hey, an old menu.”

  Jan peered over her shoulder at the bulletin board full of ads for planes, flying lessons, and airplane parts. In the middle was a framed copy of the restaurant’s original menu. Jan read the faded print. “Meatloaf, twenty-five cents. A piece of pie for a nickel.”

  “What a great look for Peter’s website and ads,” Tina said. She frowned and her gaze was distant as she thought out loud. “Something about eating like it was yesterday, or at yesterday’s prices.”

  “You can have prices listed like a menu,” Jan said. “Carrot seeds or tomato plants on one side, with a comparison of what you’d have to pay for the fruits or vegetables in a grocery store on the other.”

  “I like it,” Tina said. “I’m picturing a faded, yellowish background, like old paper.”

  “It fits with your old-fashioned general store theme.”

  “Yes, and Peter will love it. How’s this,” Tina turned to face her, the excitement of inspiration evident on her face. “Tomorrow’s dinner at yesterday’s prices.”

  “Perfect,” Jan said. She fell silent, awed by the intensity of Tina’s focus when she was creating like this. Her dad cleared his throat, and she took a step back like a guilty teenager caught out after curfew. Tina moved back as well.

  “You two make a good team,” Glen said, an innocent expression on his face.

  Jan frowned at him as she brushed by on her way to the door. “Let’s go,” she said, concerned because she had been thinking the same thing.

  *

  Jan picked up her phone for what felt like the hundredth time, and then she put it down again. Tuesday afternoon. Her classes were wearing her out as she dealt with frantic students trying to cram a semester’s worth of questions into less than a month of class, edgy seniors who knew they were only days away from freedom, and masses of projects and assignments to grade. No matter how prepared she was, the last few weeks of school were always stressful and unpredictable. A night out would be good for her. A night out with Tina would be even better. She felt the echo of the camaraderie they’d shared at the airport. The connection had felt good. Not just between her and Tina, but between Tina and her dad, too.

  Her dad liked Tina. Maybe too much, because he was turning into as determined a matchmaker as Brooke. He had been mentioning Tina at every opportunity, suggesting Jan call her and have an evening out. Jan had argued at first, but now she was changing her mind. Missing Tina’s company. She could watch Tina play at O’Boyle’s. Challenge her to a rematch at pool. Maybe flirt a little. Maybe flirt a lot…What could it hurt?

  Unfortunately, Jan knew exactly how much it could hurt. So she kept putting her phone away. But she also knew how she felt around Tina, and how much she longed to touch her. If she went into the night with no expectations beyond an evening of play and sex and fun, maybe she could come out the other side unscarred. Maybe…

  She picked up her phone and punched in Tina’s number. A few rings later, Tina answered, the sounds of talking and laughter in the background.

  “Hey you,” Tina said. Jan’s cynical side wondered who was with Tina, keeping her from saying Jan’s name on the phone.

  “Hey yourself. I’m going to the pub tonight with Chloe. Any chance I’ll see you there?”

  “No, sorry. I’m actually in Seattle. I thought of a cool idea for a website, and I came over here to pitch it to a couple of businesses. And to spend a few days in the big city.”

  Jan forced herself to echo Tina’s laughter. Why didn’t you let me know you were leaving Spokane? she wanted to ask. But what reason did Tina have to explain her actions to Jan? “Sounds like fun,” she said out loud. “Well, have a safe trip back.”

  “Will do. Talk to you later.”

  Jan disconnected and leaned her elbows on her desk. She felt hurt that Tina hadn’t shared any of this with her. She hadn’t told Jan about her website idea, but why should she? Just because they had brainstormed together once and seemed in sync with their ideas, she had no reason to expect Tina to discuss any other work-related issues with her. And just because Tina was staying at her dad’s apartment, she had no reason to tell Jan when she’d be sleeping elsewhere. Jan dropped her forehead against her hands. No, the big problem wasn’t that Tina hadn’t told her these things. It was that Jan wanted to know. She had started to care about Tina—her life, her job, her thoughts—and that kind of caring would only get her hurt. Sexual attraction might be reciprocated, but not caring. She needed to remember that, if she was going to get through the rest of Tina’s stay in Spo
kane without losing her heart completely.

  Chapter Ten

  Tina stared at the phone in her hand. “You okay?” Brooke asked as she came into the kitchen.

  “Yeah, fine. Some mockups for my cousin’s newspaper ads are ready,” Tina lied. She stole a stuffed mushroom off the tray Brooke pulled out of the fridge and followed her into the living room, where Andy and the other members of their quartet sprawled on various pieces of furniture. She had lied to both Brooke and Jan. Brooke, because she had been after Tina all day with questions about Jan, and Tina hadn’t figured out how to distract her from her matchmaking obsession. And Jan, because she couldn’t let her know how shaken she’d been after a simple breakfast with her and Glen. Watching their affectionate and playful interaction, bouncing ideas off someone intelligent and quick and understanding, feeling a little like part of a family. But a family unlike her own, with its complex web of responsibility and guilt and regret. That morning had scared the crap out of her, and she had run away like a chicken. And, damn it, all she wanted to do now was speed back to Spokane just for a chance to watch Jan play pool at O’Boyle’s.

  She hadn’t been lying about her business meetings, however. Glen’s talk about planes had triggered Tina’s memory of her drive to Spokane. The angled blades of windmills, the arched wings of ducks sailing over her car to land in a lake on the side of the freeway, the curve of an airplane wing’s leading edge. She had gone directly back to the apartment and used some of Jan’s lesson-planning techniques to develop the outline for an entire PR package. A little research online had given her the names of several aviation-related businesses with poorly designed and hard-to-navigate sites. A few queries later, and she had lined up interviews with two aeronautical engineering firms. She’d use the hefty advance she’d received from the one she had finally signed to take Jan and her dad out for a nice dinner, as a thank you. Or, maybe, send them out to dinner without her. The safer option.