If so, he didn't want it. Thoughts of Lori's horrified face if he died tormented him with each plummeting mile. He'd wanted her to understand, but hadn't imagined he could throw her right into the sort of pain his father had given his mother.
Damn. Damn. Damn. His crewmates counted on him to do his job, to protect them, and all he could think about was Lori. And the ground closing in at three hundred and fifty knots.
* * *
Lori hitched Magda higher on her hip and tried to soothe her with a combination of bouncing and swaying. It wasn't working. They'd been out on the flight line too long and any child would be restless.
Magda had already climbed up and down the small set of bleachers by the line of parked planes at least fifty times. The allure of strolling around their corner of concrete had long ago palled for the four-year-old.
A summer breeze liked along the open airfield and through Lori's loose hair, offering relief from the stored heat drifting up from the cement. At first Lori had worried a return to the base might upset Magda. But Magda's wariness had faded each day as she bonded with Lori—with a speed Lori understood well since she felt the same. She knew there wasn't a chance she would be giving Magda up at the hearing in a few weeks.
Magda squirmed to get down, not in the least bothered by her surroundings. Too bad Lori couldn't find some of that reassurance for herself. She still wasn't certain why she'd come. For Magda? To find out what made Gray shut himself off from any life other than flying and medicine?
To see him one last time before he left?
A tinkling sound broke through her thoughts. Angela Clark's bracelet sounded from Magda's fist.
Lori knew exactly why she'd come. Grayson's mother was just as persuasive as her son.
Magda jingled Angela's bracelet again, Gray's mother having passed it over fifteen minutes earlier in hopes of calming the wiggling child. Lori had long ago exhausted her bribe supply of gummies and juice boxes.
"Lori?" Dave Clark extended callused hands. "Let me take her."
"Dave, she's not at her best." Lori hesitated, not wanting to impose.
The older man gripped the child's waist. "Grayson couldn't sit still to save his soul when he was a boy. I think I can handle this tiny scrap."
"If you're sure you don't mind?" Lori handed her over with reluctant relief. The kid seemed to have doubled in weight since they'd arrived well over an hour ago.
Angela straightened Magda's hat and matching ladybug-patterned dress. "Of course he doesn't mind. Dave loves babies." A fond smile lit her face, a smile so like her son's. "He was always toting the boys around on his back when they were small." Her smile faded. "Of course he missed Mary Ann's baby years, but she was right about Magda's age when he came home."
All those lost years. An image of young Gray curled up with his stuffed Snoopy dog slipped right up and past Lori's defenses. "Thanks, Dave, my arms were ready to give out."
"No problem." He shifted Magda onto his shoulders so her feet dangled on his chest. Angela pointed to different sites on the runway—cars, trucks, flags—and chanted the words to Magda.
Lori glanced around the tarmac at the other fifty or so waiting people. Maybe one of them would have an answer for the delay. Most of them she recognized from a year ago. Tag's family waited to the side, his wife and two teenagers. Other servicemen milled around in flight suits.
Captain O'Connell, one of the other flight surgeons, stood with the squadron commander and ground crew. Of course, Kathleen O'Connell didn't look at all peaked from her stomach flu bout. If anything, she looked tanned and healthy in her flight suit.
A military doctor, she was just the sort of woman Gray should be seeing. They would have similar goals with a mutual understanding of the job and its demands.
Lori had no reason to suspect there was any relationship between the two of them. Still she couldn't stop the stab of jealousy at comparing herself to Kathleen and finding herself lacking.
Just when she decided she would have to swallow her pride and ask Kathleen for an update, Lori's gaze lit on a late arrival. Lance's wife, Julia, stepped from a military truck, clutching a champagne bottle.
"Thanks, Lieutenant," Julia called breathlessly. "Lance would have had a cow if I wasn't here. Not a pretty sight, let me tell you!"
In a flurry of short, blond curls and yards of whispery cotton, Julia Sinclair rushed across the flight line. Lori had thought they might develop a friendship a year ago, but there hadn't been enough time. Another disappointment. She could have used girl talk and someone to share her bowl of consolation cookie dough.
Lori tapped Angela's arm. "I'll be right back. I'm going to say hello to someone."
"Of course." Angela didn't even look away from Magda. "We'll be fine."
Lori looked up, but still no sign of an airplane. She pushed through the crowd and called out. "Julia. Over here."
The woman turned, frowned, then smiled, waving. "Lori, wow, you came! Lance said you might, but well, men can get things all messed up so I didn't know for sure. I put you on the party count, anyway."
"Thanks. I hope we haven't caused any extra trouble."