"Not at all. Everything's done and waiting." Julia fanned her face with her hand, shuffled, shifted her handbag over her shoulder. Nervous energy radiated from her in waves to rival the heat steaming from the runway. "I thought for sure I would be late. I had to transfer all those deli meats and cheeses to real platters, then stuff the plastic ones deep in the trash. Bury the evidence, you know? Can you believe Lance actually thinks I cut all that stuff up with my own little hands? Sheesh! But who am I to disillusion the guy?"
Lori laughed, looking up at the woman who topped her by at least three or four inches. Julia had a way of making her presence felt in a way that had nothing to do with her near-six-foot height. "I guess it's lucky for you they're running late."
Julia tugged her necklace up to read the watch face. "I guess they are, aren't they? That happens. It's probably nothing."
"Of course." Lori grasped for something to say, anything to keep the conversation alive so she didn't have to think about the delayed aircraft. "It's nice of you to put together the picnic for Gray."
"The local deli and I can throw one heck of a party. Your little one will have plenty of kids to play with. Most of the families are joining us back at the house. Gray has a lot of friends here. We're going to miss him."
"Hmmm." So would she. He'd left his mark on her life. She couldn't walk through her apartment without thinking of him. She'd fed a whole box of crackers to the birds so she wouldn't have to look at the packs and remember Gray.
"It's not often they get to fly with one of his kind."
Where was he? "What do you mean?"
"A flyer flight surgeon."
"What about Captain O'Connell?" Lori nodded to the woman across the runway. "I thought she was a flight surgeon, too."
"She is, but didn't Gray ever explain the difference? He probably didn't want to brag. A flight surgeon is a doctor who specializes in medicine pertaining to flyer ailments! Only a few of them are actually flyers themselves, about a dozen I think."
"A dozen?" Lori answered absently, scanning the horizon, searching for a dot, each minute weighing on her. Wind stirred, swirled, plastering her silk wraparound dress to her body. "Here?"
"No. In the Air Force."
Julia's words sank in, slowly, heavily. A flash of admiration mixed with a wayward twinge of pride. Only a dozen people in the entire Air Force held that distinction, and Gray was one of them.
There wasn't a chance he could give it up. That doused the last of her hopes, banked though they may have been. No reserves or weekend warriors after his stint in Washington. He'd charted his life.
A nimble sounded in the background. Lori straightened, her breath catching as she searched the sky and runway. Was that the plane? She jerked to look over her shoulder.
Hangar doors growled open, not aircraft sounds at all.
Sirens split the air.
Numbness fell away.
Fire trucks tore out, six of them screaming across the tarmac toward the runway.
Lori stopped breathing altogether. She looked around frantically. Gray had said a fire truck would hose him down, a tradition for finit flights, but he hadn't said anything about six trucks with sirens.
Julia's pale face didn't calm Lori in the least. Just as she started to search for Gray's parents, a handheld radio crackled, blaring loudly enough to be heard over any flight line pandemonium, "Wolf One, this is command post."
Lori followed the noise to a small group between the bleachers and line of planes.
The squadron commander, Lori searched for his name and couldn't find it, raised the radio to his mouth, "Yeah, Wolf One here, over."
"Sir," the radio broadcast, "Lifter one-three has declared an in-flight emergency. Experienced a rapid decompression. They're on twenty-five-mile approach."
In-flight emergency. Just the words horrified her. Lori held herself still, desperate to absorb and decode every word.
"Roger that, command post. Rapid decompression. And the crew?"
"No injuries."
No injuries. Lori clung to those words as tightly as she held Julia's arm. When had she grabbed it?
"Roger," the commander barked. "Send Foxtrot over to pick me up at spot twelve. I'm heading out for landing. Over."