He saw Megan’s tense features, her eyes huge, revealing all of her feelings. Sam ached for her, for himself. The crash would forever change their relationship. It had to bring back memories of her father’s crash and death. And it brought home the fact that he could possibly die the same way. Rubbing his face tiredly, Sam tried to push his personal feelings aside and focus on Becky. If Curt were dead, she was going to need support and help. His gut knotted hard, and tears jammed into his eyes. Curt dead. God, don’t let it be. Don’t…Until that moment, Sam had been worried and aware of everyone else’s feelings except his own.
The thought that Curt might already be dead, or lying in there dying just a few feet away, shook him to his soul. Curt was like a brother to him. Sam assimilated the possibility that he was dead, grief spilling through him.
Megan saw Sam draw to a halt just outside the lounge. His face had turned ashen, and his mouth stretched in what she was sure was a line to stop from crying. Sam’s reaction made a lasting impact on her. The death of a pilot affected not just the family, but other pilots, too. It was a galvanizing revelation, something she’d not realized before. But now was not the time or place to discuss it.
Melody Stang’s entrance into the hospital riveted their attention. Megan saw the woman run up to the nurses’ desk, her appearance startling. It was only six-thirty in the morning, and Melody wasn’t wearing any makeup. Her hair, normally coiffed to perfection, hung in uncombed strands around her shoulders. She had thrown on a gray sweatshirt, jeans and white sneakers, a far cry from the elegant picture she normally presented to the world. The change was frightening to Megan. No woman was immune to the threat of her husband being killed or injured in a crash—not even poised, unflappable Melody.
Holt went to the desk and gripped Melody’s arm.
“They’ve just arrived,” he told her in a low voice, “and we probably won’t know anything for at least an hour. Come and sit down with us.”
Melody hesitated, looking at the head nurse, who nodded somberly. “I—oh, God, Sam, what happened? What happened?” Tears ran from her eyes.
Holt told her everything, and when he finished, Melody uttered a small sound. But, she caught herself and straightened, lifting her chin. To Sam, it was an amazing act of courage under the circumstances. Becky was a basket case. Melody seemed to be able to reach down and find some internal courage. She walked without assistance into the visitors’ lounge and murmured greetings to the other two women.
Sam sat down with Melody. He offered to get her coffee, but she refused, and sat there tensely. Heaviness cloaked the room. He glanced over at Megan, finding instant peace as he looked into her green eyes. Managing a slight smile, he wanted to tell her just how damn much he loved her, how much she meant to him. And then, Sam wondered if she felt the same thing, or was contemplating running away from Edwards and all the ghosts that had come to rest on her shoulders this morning. Miserably, Sam wouldn’t blame her if she did. How many people witnessed a jet augering in? Or the possibility of two people dying in the crash?
His gaze moved to Becky. She was curled up under Megan’s arm, head resting on her shoulder, eyes closed. Trying to swallow past the lump in his throat, Sam bowed his head, his hands clasped between his thighs. Now he understood as never before, what the women went through. God, it was hell. Pure hell.
Megan looked up at the wall clock. Only fifteen minutes had passed. She started to speak to Melody, but the woman avoided eye contact. Brittle was the word Megan would assign to Melody right now. But weren’t they all? Melody internalized her fears and anguish. Becky had externalized them. And her? Hungrily, she absorbed Sam’s figure, his head bent, hands clasped, as he stared down at the tiled floor. Sam was safe, alive, and here, unlike the pilots in E.R. She prayed endlessly, wanting Curt and Jack to be alive, to be able to see their children’s faces, and to hold their wives once again.
Becky saw Dr. Anna Cartwright appear first. She unraveled from her hunched position and straightened as the doctor quietly entered the visitors’ lounge over an hour later. The woman’s face was grim as she approached Becky first.
“Curt?” Her voice cracked as the doctor halted in front of her.
Reaching down, Anna gripped Becky’s shoulder. “Your husband is going to be fine,” she said. “He’s suffered a broken ankle and some back compression, Mrs. Merrill.” With a slight smile, she added, “They’re taking him to room 110 right now. He’s conscious, but I’ve given him a drug to halt the effects of shock from the crash. You can see him in about fifteen minutes.”
With a little cry, Becky clutched the doctor’s hand. “Thank you, Doctor. Oh, thank you!”
“You’re welcome.” Cartwright turned, moving across the room to Melody. “Mrs. Stang?”
Melody stared up at her and held herself rigid. “Yes, Doctor?”
“Captain Stang is in critical condition.”
Holt put his hand on Melody’s arm. She paled and began to tremble.
“Critical?”
“Yes. He’s suffered a severe spinal injury, and is unconscious. We’re taking more tests right now to find out exactly what’s wrong. I’m sorry…”
Sam gripped Melody’s hand. She sat there staring up at the doctor, and blinked slowly, as if not believing the pronouncement.
“His chute didn’t open,” Sam told Melody gently. “It was a four-hundred-foot fall.”
Dr. Cartwright touched Melody’s shoulder. “Mrs. Stang, he’s alive. To survive a fall from that altitude is a miracle in itself.”
Melody’s movements were robotlike. Pulling a handkerchief from her purse, she pressed it against her eyes. Her voice was hoarse. “Yes, of course…Jack’s unconscious. What does that mean?”
“I don’t know yet. We’re taking more X-rays.”
“Well…is he in a coma?”
“It’s too early to tell, Mrs. Stang.” Anna tried to smile, but failed. “Just as soon as we can, we’ll let you see him. The tests are going to take at least another hour.”
“Y-yes, I understand. Critical?”
“Yes.”
“C-could he…I mean…die?”
“No one knows. The next twenty-four hours are the most critical.”
Frowning, Melody sat there. “I have to call Jack’s parents. They must know. A-and my parents. Jack has several aunts and uncles that must be notified.”
“Let me help.”
Melody turned her head slowly, in a daze.
Megan mustered a slight smile. “I’ll help you, Melody. We’ll do this together.”
“Thank you.”
Holt wanted to take Megan into his arms and kiss her, praise her for her courage under the circumstances. Melody was in shock, there was no doubt. He would be, too. Megan didn’t have to do this, didn’t have to help make those gut-wrenching phone calls. He loved her courage, tears driving into his eyes. Fighting them back, Sam stood.
“Is Scotty with the neighbors?” he asked Melody hoarsely.
“Yes. Could you call Captain Waverly and his wife?”
“Sure,” Sam assured her quietly. “I’ll make sure they—”
“Don’t tell Scotty what happened,” Melody ordered, her voice strident.
“Of course not,” Sam soothed. Melody was beginning to unravel. He hesitated, torn between staying to help Megan with Melody, or make the phone call.
“Sam?”
He lifted his head, holding Megan’s gaze. “Yes?”
“Reassure Scotty that everything’s all right. Tell him that his mother will call him in about an hour. I’ll stay with Melody.”
Grateful that Megan was thinking clearly for all of them, Sam turned. As he left the lounge, he saw a nurse come and get Becky to escort her down the hall. Releasing a shaky breath, Sam headed for the telephone located near the nurses’ station. At least Curt was going to make it.
Curt raised his head from the pillow when Becky entered the hospital room. He was still feeling lightheaded and dizzy. Part of it was due to the drug
administered to him earlier in E.R., the other part was, he was sure, shock. He tried to smile, but it was impossible, a cut next to his mouth. His helmet visor had shattered on impact, making several small cuts on his face.
“Sparrow?” He held his hand out toward her. Tears came to Curt’s eyes as she walked unsteadily over to his bed. Her eyes were red and swollen. “I’m okay,” he whispered, gripping her hand tightly.
Breath coming in gulps, Becky leaned against the bed for support. “I—I thought you’d died.” Curt’s hair was still damp and pressed against his skull. The multitude of cuts on his face emphasized the close call he’d had with death. There was anxiety in his eyes, his flesh taut and pale as he watched her.
“So had I, Sparrow.” He opened his arms and pulled her against him. The gesture hurt his back, but he didn’t care. His ankle, in a removable cast, was painful, too. But neither equaled the agony in his heart for what his decision had cost Becky.
Collapsing against Curt, Becky lay there, hearing the erratic beat of his heart beneath her ear. “I—I thought I’d lost you,” she said, her voice nearly inaudible.
“I’m sorry.” He kissed her hair, unable to get enough of her. “Patty? Does she know what’s happened?”
“N-no.”
Shutting his eyes, he whispered, “Good.” And then, he said softly, “I’m quitting flying, Becky.”
She lay very still against him, her eyes opening. Becky stared at the white wall for several minutes, not believing her ears. It had to be her tortured imagination! Fingers tightening against his light blue gown, she shuddered.
“Did you hear me?” Curt asked, and stroked her blond hair, something he thought he’d never be able to do again. “I’m going to quit, Becky.”
She lifted her head and sat up, her hand never leaving his. “Quit?”
Nodding, Merrill admitted, “When I ejected, I saw my whole life flash before my eyes. I saw you…and Patty. I knew I was going to die and—” He compressed his lips, trying to halt the sob that wanted to tear from him. Struggling with the words, he choked out, “In those split seconds before I hit the ground, I knew what was the most important thing in my life.” He raised his head and gazed into her tear-filled brown eyes. “You. You and Patty. God, Sparrow, I’ve been so damned stupid. I wanted to fly at the expense of everything and everyone else. You started drinking to numb yourself. Patty’s been uncontrollable and angry. When I ejected, I thought about all of it. Just before I hit the ground, I made a decision that if I walked away from this, I was going to quit. You and Patty are more important to me than my flying.’’
The words fell against her, but Becky couldn’t believe her ears. Reaching out, she touched his tears with her fingertips. “Wh-what would you do instead?”
“Get a job as an aeronautical engineer with one of the big defense contractors. It won’t be hard to get a job, not for someone with my background and experience.”
Swallowing, Becky clung to his somber features. “You’d quit…for us?”
Managing a grimace, Curt said, “Yes. My career’s washed up anyway. After this last stunt, they’ll want me out when my six years is up. I’ll save them the trouble and resign. But I want you to understand—I’d quit even if I wasn’t in trouble.”
Happiness threaded through her numbness and shock. “You wouldn’t miss flying?”
“Sure I would.” Curt kissed her small hand. “But I’d miss you two a lot more. And if I can quit the Air Force, Becky, you’ve got to promise me you’ll get help for your drinking problem. We’ve both got to face the truth. Together.”
“Yes, oh, yes, honey. I’ll do that. I’ll get help.” She slid her arms around his shoulders, embracing him. “I love you so much, so much….”
With a sigh, Curt crushed her against him, never wanting to let her go.
19
The next time Dr. Cartwright appeared, Megan was alone with Melody. Sam had gone with Becky to get his car and he would return shortly. They’d all been able to visit and talk for a few minutes to Curt, who was resting comfortably.
Megan felt Melody stiffen when the doctor approached. Automatically, they both stood, holding one another’s hand.
“Doctor?” Melody demanded in a low voice, clutching at the handkerchief in her fingers.
“Your husband is conscious, Mrs. Stang.”
“Thank God. What else? What’s wrong with Jack?”
“You’d better sit down,” Anna warned, motioning to the chair.
“I’ll stand.”
Megan chewed on her lower lip and read something tragic in Cartwright’s expression. Her mind whirled with terrible options, none of them good.
“Very well. Your husband has sustained severe injury to his spinal column. I’m afraid he’s paralyzed from the waist down.”
Megan gasped, her hand flying to her heart.
Melody’s eyes narrowed. “Are you positive?”
Anna nodded. “He doesn’t respond to any of the nerve response tests. Further, he’s got two herniated discs, and a severe concussion. Right not, he’s disoriented and knows he can’t move his legs, Mrs. Stang.”
“I must see him, Doctor.”
Hesitating, Anna said, “He’s not in very good shape physically or emotionally right now. I’ve given him a drug to neutralize his shock and an IV to handle the pain he’s in, but I can’t give him anything else for the next forty-eight hours because of his head injury.”
Dragging in a deep breath, Melody asked, “Is he—is he permanently paralyzed? Couldn’t this be an acute state and he’ll recover from it later?”
“There’s nothing acute about a spinal column injury, Mrs. Stang. I wish I could give you more hope, but I can’t.”
Melody pulled free of Megan’s grasp. “I’ll see him now, Doctor.”
“Of course.”
Megan stood there, watching Melody walk toward the hall. Her shoulders were squared once again, head held high. At the door, Melody halted and turned toward Megan.
“Thank you for your help,” she said, a quaver in her tone.
Megan nodded, not knowing what to say or do. Right now, all she wanted was Sam. The need to be with him, to hear his voice, to share the shock of this tragedy, was overwhelming. Becky was going to drive him over to Ops so he could pick up his Corvette, and then he’d come back here, to the hospital. Alone once again, Megan turned and looked around the empty lounge, numb. She wondered how many cries and tears the walls had absorbed over the years. Too many. Far too many.
Melody steeled herself as much as she could before she entered Jack’s room. A nurse hovered over his bed, and was in the process of adjusting the IV in his arm. A quiver zigzagged through her, and she stopped, dizzy. Jack’s head was swathed in a white bandage, the left side of his face swollen black and blue, his one eye hidden beneath the bruised flesh. He was mumbling, unable to move anything except his hands. His wrists were tethered with leather cuffs so he couldn’t pull out the IV, or perhaps cause more damage to his spinal column.
“Mrs. Stang, are you all right?” the nurse asked, coming over to her.
Swallowing her nausea, Melody nodded and moved forward. “Yes, I’m fine. Please, could you leave us for a few minutes?”
The nurse hesitated. “I really shouldn’t. Your husband is—”
“Five minutes,” she rasped unsteadily to the woman.
“Five minutes, Mrs. Stang.”
Melody walked to the bed, leaned over and placed a kiss on her husband’s beaded brow. “It’s all right, darling, all right,” she soothed. “I’m here. I’m here, and everything’s going to be fine….”
“My legs, my legs,” Jack mumbled, moving his head from side to side. “Can’t feel my legs…eject, eject! Oh, Christ, I’m not gonna make it!” He strained, as if to protect himself from the oncoming collision with the earth.
A sob caught in Melody’s throat. “Shhh, darling, shhh.” She placed a kiss on his mouth, his lips cool beneath hers. Jack quieted, his breathing labored.
“Here, darling.” She continued to stroke his uninjured cheek. His one eye was red and swollen, a wild look in the depths. “You’re safe now, you’re at the hospital.”
“Legs!” he burst out in a sob. “Jesus, I can’t feel my legs! What’s going on? What’s happened?”
Framing his face, Melody kissed away his tears. They mingled with her own. “Rest, darling. Just rest.”
Jack stopped mumbling, quieting beneath her ministrations. His eyes closed, his breathing steadying out.
Gently, Melody crooned to him, a lullaby she sang to Scotty when he woke up from bad dreams. It had been a song her mother had sung to her. It hurt to see Jack strapped into the bed, a tortured, injured animal in a cage. Tears formed and continued to fall, but Melody sang each verse of the song. Right now, Jack was all that mattered—not his career, not the terrible crash that had occurred. He was in a great deal of pain, and she knew she could take some of it away with just her presence.
When the nurse came back in, Melody told her in a quiet voice to get her a chair to sit on, and to have another bed brought into the room. She wouldn’t leave Jack’s side. Not now. Not ever.
Megan uttered a little cry when Sam appeared at the entrance to the lounge. She got up and felt his arms go around her.
Holt crushed her against him, inhaling the wonderful fragrance that was only Megan. “You smell better than this hospital,” he murmured, and captured her lips against his. Kissing her long and tenderly, Sam reluctantly broke contact. Her huge green eyes were rimmed with exhaustion.
“What about Stang?”
“Dr. Cartwright says he’s paralyzed from the waist down.”
“My God,” Sam whispered, cradling her cheek. He worriedly assessed her features. “How’s Melody taking it?”
“Like the military trooper she is,” Megan answered wearily. “I admire her guts. She stood there and took it on the chin from the doctor, and then marched down the hall as if everything was going to be fine.”
Night Flight Page 31