The Way Home (37 page)

“What do you think?” Ty asked.

Meg looked but there was nothing to be seen except grass and shrubs and the cars parked at the curb. She caught Ty’s expectant look and bit her lip, her eyes scanning the area again.

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like what?” she asked, bewildered.

“The car.” Ty stepped forward to pat the roof of a black Ford coupe. Meg stared at him. “It’s a few years old but it’s in pretty good shape. I went through the engine and it’s in tiptop condition. Billy banged out a dent in the fender and found new bumpers, and Max touched up the paint where it needed it.”

When Meg said nothing but only stared at the car, her hands clasped together between her breasts, Ty cleared his throat. “It’s not fancy but it’s solid, and it will do to get you around town.”

Meg moved closer, afraid to blink for fear the car would disappear. He’d bought her a car. She’d only half heard his explanation of who had done what to it. She couldn’t quite grasp the basic idea that he was talking about a car for her.

“If you don’t like it, we’ll get something else,” he said when the silence just continued.

“Like it?” Meg reached out one hand and touched the fender, more than half expecting it to disappear in a puff of smoke. When that didn’t happen, she pulled her hand back, clasping it with the other as she stared at the car. “You bought me a car?”

“Well, I thought it would come in handy, what with the buses not coming up this far and me gone all day. It’ll make it easier for you to go shopping or whatever.”

“A car.” It was slowly sinking in that the car was really for her.

“Do you like it?” he asked, sounding a little anxious.

“Oh, Ty. I — I don’t know what to say.” She felt the sting of tears.

“Say you like it,” he suggested, only half jokingly.

“Like it?” The word was hopelessly inadequate. “It’s the most incredible thing. I never imagined. I wouldn’t have dreamed. I can’t believe you did this.”

The choppy half sentences were all she could manage, but they seemed to be enough to reassure him that she most definitely liked her birthday present. He grinned at her, looking boyishly pleased with himself.

“I thought you might like it,” he said modestly.

“I love it!” Coming out of her state of shock, Meg threw her arms around him, hugging him. “I love it!”

Though not a fraction as much as she loved him, but she couldn’t tell him that.

A week before Christmas, Ty took Meg to an air show in which he and Jack were to be flying. Meg hadn’t been up close to a plane since that never-to-be-forgotten occasion when she was a child and Ty had taken her flying. She was dismayed to find that the planes seemed much smaller and more fragile than she’d remembered. Looking at the shiny red Curtiss aircraft of which Ty was so obviously proud, all Meg could think of was that the thin framework of metal and wires didn’t look like nearly enough to keep her husband safe thousands of feet up in the air.

She couldn’t say as much. She smiled and admired the plane, listening as Ty told her about the engine, the rate of climb, maximum speed, and assorted other bits of information that went in one ear and out the other. None of those things sounded as if it had anything to do with keeping him alive.

Meg reminded herself that Ty had gone up hundreds of times and come down again safely. Of course, it was a crash that had resulted in the broken leg that brought him home to Iowa for the summer. But she wasn’t going to think about that. Ty was a good pilot and there was no reason to worry.

Max was the only one of the pilots in their small circle of friends who wasn’t to be flying that day. Meg attributed iy’s seeming reluctance to leave her in Max’s care to the fact that she hadn’t been feeling well that morning. She’d been warmed by his concern, oblivious to the completely male look that passed from Ty to Max.

The weather couldn’t have been more beautiful. Meg was beginning to think that Los Angeles didn’t have anything but beautiful weather, as if a Hollywood director orchestrated everything from above, allowing only an occasional shower to clear the air. Meg picked her way up the wooden bleachers, grateful for Max’s hand at her elbow to steady her.

“Thank you, Max.” She turned her head and smiled at him as he sank onto the bench seat beside her. “It’s a terrific seat.”

“You should be able to see about everything from here,” he agreed. “Can I get you anything? There’s hot dogs and Coke.”

Meg felt her stomach roll at the mention of hot dogs. She swallowed hard and forced a smile, hoping the shadow cast by the brim of her hat would be enough to mask her sudden pallor. “A Coke would be nice, I think.”

“Sure thing.” Pleased to be able to get her something, Max bounded off down the bleachers.

Just watching him made Meg feel tired. She drew a clean handkerchief from her purse and dabbed at the fine beads of perspiration along her upper lip. She’d been tired a lot lately. Even Ty had commented on it. She’d laughed and told him he was imagining things, unwilling to say anything about her suspicions as to the reason for her sudden lack of energy. It was too soon, she thought.

“Here’s your Coke, Meg.” She took the paper cup Max handed her, smiling her thanks before taking a sip of the sweet, iced liquid. It seemed to settle her queasy stomach, and she was able to give her companion a more natural smile.

“Just what I needed,” she said.

Max stared at her a moment, a look in his eyes she couldn’t quite define. Abruptly he flushed and ducked his head to stare at his own drink. Meg shrugged off his odd behavior, attributing it to shyness. Though he was a few years older than she was, he sometimes seemed much younger, making her think of what it might have been like to have had a younger brother.

“There’s Ty and Jack now,” Max said.

Meg turned her head in the direction he was pointing, feeling her heartbeat increase as she watched the planes taxi onto the field. They were identical, making it impossible to know which one Ty was in.

“Ty’s the one in front,” Max said, as if reading her thoughts. She felt him glance at her but she couldn’t take her eyes off the first plane. ‘ ‘He’s a terrific pilot, you know. One of the best.”

His words soothed a little of her anxiety. Still, she couldn’t stop her teeth from worrying her lower lip as she saw Ty’s plane leap into the air, Jack seemingly only a heartbeat behind. She did not enjoy the act that followed. It was one thing to know what Ty did for a living. It was something else altogether to watch him doing it.

Almost immediately, she lost track of which plane was which as they ducked and dived around each other, performing midair acrobatics with an ease that belied the danger of what they were doing. It was a breathtaking display of skill, and Meg found herself feeling both proud and terrified. She neck ached from the strain of watching the sky, but not even for an instant did she take her eyes from the planes. So intent was her gaze that it was almost as if she thought the sheer force of it would be enough to keep Ty’s plane in the air.

The display seemed to go on forever, and Meg was just starting to relax when first one plane and then the other rose high in the air and then turned to plummet toward the ground nose first. The sound of the engines grew louder, taking on a whine that grated at her nerves. They’d pull out in a second, she told herself. But the whine grew louder, almost a scream now. Around her, the crowd was murmuring in sudden concern as the bright red planes arrowed downward. Meg didn’t even realize that she was on her feet, her hands clasped in front of her, her whole body taut as a finely stretched wire.

She heard Max speaking but the words had no meaning. Nothing had any meaning except the howl of the planes’ engines. At the last possible second, just when it seemed inevitable that both aircraft would smash into the ground, the nose of the first one and then the other jerked up and they leveled out, skimming along in front of the bleachers.

But the roar of approval from the crowd was drowned out by the sudden rushing sound in Meg’s ears. She heard Max say her name, his voice urgent, and then she closed her eyes and, for the first time in her life, collapsed in a dead faint.

When she came to, it was in the cool shadows of the hangar where Ty’s plane had been. There was a cot against one wall, for the use of the pilots who sometimes worked late into the night on a plane. The first thing she saw was Max’s face, looking nearly as pale as she felt, his blue eyes worried. There was a sopping rag across her forehead. Water from it trickled into her ear and she reached up to brush it away, surprised by how much effort the simple movement took.

“Are you okay?” Max asked, his voice as hushed as if he were at a funeral.
Funeral.

“Ty?” She sat up abruptly and dizziness spun through her, nausea rising in her throat.

“He’s fine,” Max hastened to assure her. His hands were gentle as he eased her back against the wall of the building. “Here, drink some of this.”

“This” was a paper cup half full of lukewarm water. Meg sipped it, feeling her stomach sullenly begin to settle.

“I fainted,” she murmured, shocked by the realization.

“You sure did. Scared the life out of me.” Max crouched in front of her, still looking more than a little scared. “I dam near didn’t catch you. I brought you down here, figured you’d be more comfortable.”

“Thank you.” She sipped the water again and managed a weak smile. “Sorry to be so stupid.”

“Not stupid at all,” he said, rising to her defense with a speed that would have warmed her if she hadn’t been so weak. “That stunt’s meant to scare people. A lot of what brings people to air shows is the idea that some pilot may get himself killed.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Just human,” he said, shrugging. “It isn’t that they exactly
wish
anybody dead, but there’s a thrill in thinking something like that might happen. If it wasn’t dangerous, no one would want to watch.”

“I still think it’s horrible,” she muttered, knowing he was right but repulsed by the thought that some of those people out there had been waiting to see Ty or Jack crash.

“Maybe. But you don’t have to worry about Ty, you know. He’s about the best dam pilot I’ve ever seen.” Max’s eyes shone with admiration. “He and Jack between them have more skill in their little finger than I’ll ever have. I couldn’t ever do a dive like that. I get dizzy and pull up too soon.”

“I wish they had pulled up sooner,” Meg muttered. “They knew just what they were doing,” he assured her. “But I know they’ll both be sorry they scared you.” He started to stand up but Meg reached out to grab his arm. “Don’t tell Ty I fainted,” she said urgently.

Max looked from the slender hand on his sleeve to her face, his expression tom. “He’d want to know, Meg.”

“I don’t want him to worry. I was silly to react like that. It was just the heat and the excitement. If he knew, he’d think I worried about him and that would worry him. Please, Max.” He stared at her a long moment. “You love him a lot, don’t you?” he said slowly.

“More than anything in the world.” Her eyes had gone past him to where she could see the first of the planes approaching the huge open door so she missed the wistfulness inMax’s eyes as he looked at her. He set his hand over hers, squeezing her fingers gently.

“I won’t say anything,” he promised quietly.

Unlike Thanksgiving, Christmas was quiet. Most of the pilots managed to find their way home for this holiday, though Joe and Millie were to join them for Christmas Day. Meg had looked very smug when she gave Ty this piece of information, and he’d conceded that, unlikely as it seemed to him, the tall, quiet Texan and the bubbleheaded actress seemed to suit each other.

But Christmas Eve was to be just the two of them. Meg took special pains with the meal for more reasons than just the obvious one that this was their first Christmas together. They were getting a gift neither of them had planned, and she hoped Ty would be as pleased about it as she was.

Ty stared into the flickering flames in the fireplace and felt himself drifting on a hazy cloud of contentment. He couldn’t ever remember enjoying a Christmas as much as he had this one. When he was a boy, he could remember thinking Christmas by far the most exciting time of the year. But after Dickey had been killed, there’d been several years where the main thing he remembered was his mother crying for her lost son.

But this year there were no memories to intrude, no old griefs to spoil the quiet pleasure of the evening. A small tree sat in the corner near the door, its twinkling lights providing the only source of light other than the fire. Delicate strands of tinsel dripped from its boughs and framed the delicate glass ornaments. Everything on it was new, purchased by Meg and himself less than a week ago.

New traditions, he thought drowsily. Exactly right for a new family, which was what he and Meg were. A family. Funny, he’d have said that family was the last thing he needed. Had said just that, in fact. He hadn’t wanted a wife and certainly would never have dreamed of acquiring one under the circumstances he had. But no matter how rocky their beginning, he rather liked what they were building together.

“Ty?” Meg’s voice broke into his lazy thoughts.

“Hmmm?” He didn’t turn his head to look at her, too content to move. He was sitting on the floor, his back propped on the sofa, his long legs sprawled toward the fire. Meg was sitting on the sofa, her knee almost brushing his shoulder. She was knitting something, apparently able to work by feel as much as sight.