by Peggy Webb
“I’m coming, Rachel. Hang in there, kid.” Jacob sprinted down the hill after them, laughing so hard, he could hardly see.
For a while it was nip and tuck as to who was being herded into the pen. By the time Jacob got to the bottom of the hill, the billy was safely behind bars, and Rachel was leaning against the fence, laughing.
“What took you so long, Jacob?”
“I was enjoying the show. I didn’t know you yodeled.”
“I can do anything I set my mind to—including getting you back.”
“After seeing the way you handled that stubborn goat, I should be trembling in my boots.”
“Are you?”
“Nothing scares me.”
After they got back into the Jeep, there was a sort of camaraderie between them. Rachel took advantage of the changed atmosphere to talk.
“You know, today is the first time I’ve seen you fighting an oil field fire.”
“Were you afraid?”
“Yes, but it was different from the way I used to imagine it.”
“How is that?”
“When I discovered I was pregnant and you were in Saudi Arabia, all I could think of was you at the mercy of the fire. I couldn’t face that, Jacob. The thought of my child having no father terrified me.”
She saw his jaw tighten, but he said nothing.
“Today I saw that it’s not like that. You were the master, not the fire. Of course the danger is there, but you were the one in control.”
“Funny how our timing always seems to be off, isn’t it, Rachel? If you had said that six years ago . . .” His shrug was eloquent.
She reached over and touched his hand. “I’m so sorry, Jacob.”
“So am I.”
“Forgive me.”
He turned toward her, and his smile was sad. “You ask more than I can give.”
o0o
Jacob saw Rachel safely onto the homebound plane, then he returned to his work. Within three days, he and his team had completed the job they’d set out to do. The plane was loaded with all their heavy firefighting equipment.
He and his men celebrated at a small nightclub in Maracaibo. The singer was dark skinned, dark eyed, and sultry instead of blond and elegant, but she still reminded him of Rachel. All her songs were fast-paced Spanish numbers rather than slow blues songs, but still she reminded him of Rachel. Everything reminded him of Rachel—the full moon, the hot sleepless nights, the sound of a woman’s laughter, the elusive scent of flowers that hung over the city.
“Jacob.”
“What?” Cradling his bottle of beer, he turned toward Rick.
“Where were you, pal? We’ve asked you twice if you’re staying down here a few days with the rest of us.”
“No. I have an old friend in Panama. I think I’ll make a short hop there, then I’ll take the equipment on home. You can keep the Mustang down here.”
Rick reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Luck, Jacob.”
“Thanks, Rick.”
o0o
Jacob left Maracaibo in the early morning light. Lifting the plane upward toward the dawn, he waited for the soaring feeling of freedom that always accompanied his flights. For the first time in his memory, nothing happened. He was merely a tired man flying home to the States.
As he winged his way through the clouds, he thought of Rachel—that certain tilt of her head when she laughed, the throaty way she sang. Funny that his first thoughts were of her and not of his son, he thought. Strange that his heart still behaved as if he were in love.
He forced his mind away from thoughts of Rachel. The clouds were heavy today, the sky dark and troublesome. They matched his mood. His mind registered his checkpoint, and he glanced briefly at his watch.
As Jacob approached the Andes, he heard Rachel’s voice. I’m here for you, Jacob. I’ll always be here for you. How paltry the words seemed when weighed against action. She’d denied him Benjy. And yet, she’d come to Maracaibo; she’d even risked her life.
Suddenly an awful silence descended on the plane. His radio was dead, and somewhere through those clouds lay the Andes Mountains. Under ordinary circumstances, Jacob would have climbed higher so that he could clear the peaks, but he was flying with a heavy load, all the fire-fighting equipment. There was no way the overloaded jet could clear the tops of the Andes. And he didn’t have enough fuel to turn around and go back. He’d planned to make his first stop to refuel in Panama.
Adrenaline flowed through him, giving him that extra burst of energy he needed to face the danger. He knew that he had to make a ninety degree turn in order to go around the peaks, but he’d counted on radio contact to guide him. He strained forward, trying to see through the thick clouds. There was nothing in front of him except murky grayness—and possible death.
He’d flirted with death many times, but he’d never come face to face with it. Death in the mountains would be quick and relatively painless—one moment of bright, searing pain and then nothing. Oblivion. The agony of the last few days would be over. But so would life.
Suddenly Jacob realized just how much he wanted to live. Everything he held precious existed in the real world—his son, his parents, his brothers and sisters and their families. And Rachel. In that clear moment, with death looming ahead, he knew that he still loved Rachel.
Sweat popped out on his brow, and he looked at his watch. He’d been in the air for over an hour, and he knew the mountains were close.
Jacob pitted all his skills against the dark mountains ahead. If he could remember the precise time he’d passed the last checkpoint, he could calculate the exact time he should make his turn. He closed his eyes briefly, forcing himself to relax. With great concentration, he cleared his mind of everything except flying. He couldn’t afford any guessing games. He had only one move to make, and that had to be the right one.
Bit by bit he traced backward. He’d looked at his watch when he’d passed the checkpoint, but he hadn’t been thinking of the time: he’d been thinking of how long it would be until he got home. He closed his eyes again, visualizing the dial, trying to create a precise image of the hands. Seven fifteen. The numbers sprang out at him. It had been 7:15 A.M. when he’d passed his checkpoint.
Jubilation filled him. He looked at his watch again. In exactly six minutes he had to make his turn.
Jacob had been six minutes from death.
He made his turn at the appointed time and came out on the other side of the Andes. On this side of the mountains, the clouds had lifted. Bright sunlight poured through the cockpit as if God were shining his benediction down on Jacob.
The magnificent power of freedom soared through him. He threw back his head and laughed aloud. He knew exactly what he was going to do: He wouldn’t stop to see his friend after refueling in Panama— he’d fly straight home to Rachel.
o0o
Four days after she’d left Maracaibo, Rachel was humming around her house in Biloxi.
Vashti put down her dust cloth, propped her hands on her hips, and scowled.
“I don’t see what you have to be so cheerful about. After Jacob put you on that plane and sent you home, it seems to me you’d be trying to think of ways to get him back instead of flitting around here humming.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing, Vashti. I’m scheming to win him back.”
“Well, you sure could’ve fooled me. You’ve been doing nothing for the last few days except preening and primping, getting your nails done and having your facials and letting that fruitcake mess with your hair.”
Rachel laughed. “He didn’t mess with my hair; he trimmed it.”
“Ha. I liked it better the old way.”
“Half an inch, Vashti. Who in the world misses half an inch?”
“Jacob would—if he were here, and it looks to me like that’s been ruined. It seems to me we’ll be mighty lucky to ever see hide or hair of him again.”
“He’ll be here, and when he comes, I’ll be ready for him.” She hummed ano
ther snatch of song.
“You better be eating some humble pie instead of going around here humming. What is that infernal song, anyhow?”
“Waltzing Matilda.” Rachel took Vashti’s arm and led her toward the kitchen. “It’s time for a tea break, and while we’re drinking, I’m going to tell you something that will wipe that scowl off your face.”
“I’m not scowling. I never scowl.”
Rachel prepared two tall glasses of iced tea with plenty of lemon and sugar, just the way Vashti liked it, then she joined her surrogate mother at the kitchen table.
“Once Jacob told me something about himself, and I didn’t remember it until I was back home in Biloxi.”
“Hmmmm.” Vashti sipped her tea, unconvinced that anybody could know more about Jacob Donovan than she did.
“He loves the unattainable. That’s one attraction flying has for him. Only the truly courageous dare to attain the freedom of the skies.”
Vashti thumped her tea glass on the table. “So what does that have to do with getting him back?”
Rachel grinned. “When he comes to Biloxi—and I know he will—I’m going to be unattainable.”
o0o
Jacob stayed in Greenville only long enough to unload and service the jet, then he climbed into the Baron and headed for Biloxi. It was evening when he checked into the Broadwater Beach Hotel, and he was tired. But he didn’t want to rest. He had to see Rachel. One quick call let him know that she was back at the club, singing two shows a night.
He went to the late show. She wasn’t onstage when he slipped into his seat in a quiet corner near the back. He ordered a drink and waited, tense and expectant.
When she walked onstage, he forgot to breathe. She was shining and glorious, as if she were the finest plane in the world and had been buffed and polished with a chamois cloth. She was wearing a shimmery gown of iridescent beads that moved when she did and shot sparks of fire. Jacob couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.
She saw him. He could tell by the shine in her eyes and the high color on her cheeks. Smiling, he leaned back in his seat and listened to her sing. It was a slow, pulsing blues number, and she sang it to him. In fact, she sang all her numbers to him. It was so obvious that heads turned to look in his direction. The curious nightclub patrons wanted to see the object of all Rachel Devlin’s attention.
Jacob loved the attention. He acknowledged all the knowing smiles and curious glances with a wicked, devil-may-care smile.
Onstage Rachel was relieved. She hadn’t known what his mood would be when he came to Biloxi, but his smile had told her everything. There was no tension, no anger in him. Apparently time had been a healer.
Giving a silent prayer of thanks, she turned all her persuasive powers on him. With body language and sultry voice, she made it abundantly clear that she was singing only for him. Watching his reaction, she was secretly delighted. She had Jacob Donovan thinking she’d fall into his lap like a ripe plum. So much the better. He’d be caught completely off guard.
After the show was over, Rachel went to her dressing room and waited. She didn’t have to wait long.
Jacob gave one commanding knock, then he pushed open her door. He’d tried to tame his hair but hadn’t succeeded. It looked like a wild red halo around his face. The spark in his blue eyes was so bright, she wondered why the room didn’t catch fire.
“Hello, Jacob.” He never lost his smile. Her coolness hadn’t registered on him yet.
“Rachel.” He moved into the room as if he owned it.
She sat at her dressing table and picked up her hairbrush. She would use every weapon at her disposal, and she knew what the sight of her brushing her hair did to Jacob Donovan. As she pulled the brush through her mass of hair, she watched the effect the action was having. A muscle jumped in Jacob’s cheek, and he moved abruptly to a chair. He gripped the chair back so hard his knuckles turned white.
“I suppose you’re here to talk about Benjy.” Rachel leaned over and brushed her hair from the underside. She had to do something to hide the gloating look on her face.
“Actually. I’m not. What I have in mind will solve any problems we might have had over our son.”
“Our son?”
“Yes, Rachel. Yours and mine.”
“In Maracaibo he was your son.”
“You have every right to be upset with me.”
She put her hairbrush on the dressing table and stood up. With languorous movements, she lifted her hair off the back of her neck and stretched. She hoped the move shot his blood pressure up ten notches.
Letting her hair drift back through her fingers, she smiled at him.
“I’m not upset, Jacob. You were exactly right. Benjy is your son, too, and we’ll work out the details like two sane, sensible adults. There’s no need to let past feelings enter into this discussion.”
“Past feelings?”
“Yes.”
“In Maracaibo, you said you loved me.”
“And you said you didn’t love me. I accept that.” She turned her back to him. “Will you help me with this zipper, Jacob? I need to get out of this dress.”
Jacob didn’t move.
“If I take you out of that dress, we’ll be here the rest of the night, and it won’t be to change clothes.” Suddenly he bolted from his chair and caught her shoulders. “Dammit, Rachel. Look at me.”
She turned slowly around. He was standing so close, she could feel his body heat. She almost abandoned her game. Forcing herself to ignore her passion, she looked straight into Jacob’s eyes. He had to know that she was his match. By her actions she had to show him that he couldn’t walk away from her love and then win her over with a smile.
“I’m looking, Jacob. You look tired. You should have taken a week or two to rest.”
Jacob could hardly believe what he was hearing. A few minutes ago he’d have sworn she was singing those love songs especially for him, and now she was acting as though he barely existed.
“I had other things on my mind”
“Benjy.”
“No. You.”
“I suppose you want to give me a few more orders. It won’t work.”
“I’m not here to give you orders, Rachel. I’m here to tell you that I love you.”
Until she heard him say the words, she hadn’t been certain. Her relief was so great, it made her weak. Keeping her face expressionless, she reached out and patted his cheek.
“I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Dammit, Rachel. What is the matter with you? You came down to Maracaibo to ask for my forgiveness and my love. I’m telling you now that I forgive you and that I love you. What in the hell is wrong?”
“Why should I believe you? What makes this time any different from the last time? You carried me up in that plane and declared you’d always love me, and then what did you do? When I got to Maracaibo—to tell you the truth, by the way, and don’t you ever forget that—when I got down there, you treated me like a complete stranger.”
She stalked around the room, every step and gesture calculated to show off her body in the revealing gown she’d chosen so carefully. Heartless, she thought with glee. That’s what she was.
Jacob caught her around the waist and pulled her against his chest.
“I don’t make love to complete strangers.”
She arched her eyebrows.
“Is that what that was, Jacob? Love?”
“Yes. I’ll admit I was a jackass. I took the truth badly. But I’ve never touched you except in the name of love.” He let his hands trail slowly down her back. “Coming home, I realized that I’d never stopped loving you. I can never stop, Rachel. You’re the other half of my heart.”
She tipped her head back and smiled.
“I’ll admit I want you, Jacob. Sex was always good between us. But that’s not love.” Easing out of his arms, she reached behind her back and pulled down her zipper. “You can leave now. I’m going to undress and go home.”
/> His gaze burned over her. For a moment, she thought he was going to say something else, and then he turned on his heel and left.
She sank into her chair and put her head on her dressing table. If Jacob Donovan had known how close she was to losing control, he would never have left. One more minute, two at the most, and she’d have been in his arms begging to be loved.
She stood up and dressed quickly. Tonight was only round one. Tomorrow would be another day, and she needed her rest.
o0o
The next day, Jacob’s note arrived.
Dear Rachel, it read, let’s have dinner together before your early show. I’ll pick you up at six. Love, Jacob.
A single white rose was attached.
Smiling and humming, she put the rose in water and carried it upstairs to her bedroom. Then she picked up the telephone and called Jacob.
“I got your note and the rose. Thanks.”
“I knew you’d like the rose. Is six too early for you?”
“The time doesn’t matter. I can’t go with you tonight.”
“Other plans, Rachel?”
“My plans are none of your concern. Goodbye, Jacob.”
She knew Jacob wouldn’t give up. And she was right. Two hours after the phone call, Vashti called her out into the front yard.
“What is it, Vashti?”
“Wait a minute. He’ll come back.”
“Who?”
“Jacob. Benjy and I were practicing his curve ball, and Benjy saw it first. He showed it to me before he went inside for cookies.”
Rachel laughed. “Do you know that you drive me crazy? Stark raving mad. What in this world are you talking about?”
“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise.” Vashti stopped talking and grabbed Rachel’s arm. “Look. Up yonder in the sky.”
It was a jet, flying fast and low. As Rachel watched, the plane began to do a series of loops and curves.
The contrail spelled I LOVE YOU, RACHEL.
“He’s going to kill himself, Vashti. He’s not a stunt flyer.”
“How do you know that’s him up there? Maybe he hired somebody else to do the job.”
“I know, Vashti. I know.”
She shaded her eyes and watched the plane pass over her house and come back. I LOVE YOU, RACHEL appeared in the sky once more, then the vapor broke apart and disappeared.