The Top Gun's Return

Chapter 15

They had stopped beside a nondescript tan-colored car. Cory took keys from his pocket and unlocked the trunk, then took hold of the bike by its handlebars. Sammi June took hold of the back wheel. They both lifted, then looked at each other.

"Think…mine's gonna have to go in first," Sammi June said.

"Okay," said Cory, "here we go. No, here…okay, this way-"

After a couple of false starts they managed to get most of the bike wedged into the trunk. They ended up standing side by side, so close to each other that Cory's shirtsleeve was brushing Sammi June's bare arm. Then, instead of moving apart and going their separate ways, they both went on standing there, not moving…neither of them saying anything. And somehow, although neither of them appeared to move a muscle, she could feel the space between them growing smaller, until it wasn't just his sleeve that was touching her arm, but the warm, firm muscle under it, as well. She felt her heart stumble, and heat envelope her. Her breath seemed to catch on something sharp inside her chest.

"I think that's got it," Cory finally said in an odd, strangled-sounding voice, and suddenly the warm place along the side of Sammi June's arm felt abandoned and cold.

"It's not very far-just up at the top of the hill." She went around to the passenger side of the car and got in, while he did the same on the driver's side. Their doors made twin slams, and then they were both busy settling in, buckling up.

Cory started the car and drove out of the hospital parking lot. He made a careful left and they headed up the long hill. Sammi June, her heart still thumping crazily, tried to think of something to say.

"So," Cory said after they'd gone a few blocks, looking over at her while they waited at a traffic light, "your dad calls you Sammi June?"

She made a disparaging sound. "Most people do."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I like it. It's cute."

She threw him a look. "Yeah, but I'm eighteen years old. 'Cute' isn't exactly the image I'm going for right now, okay?"

He laughed. The light changed, and he drove on. They covered a few more blocks. At the next stoplight he turned to her and said, "How do you feel about Sam?"

Behind the glasses, his eyes were that incredible, intense blue. As she gazed into them, Sammi June realized that what she felt was afraid. It reminded her of when she was a little girl and her parents had moved around so much. This was the way she'd felt standing in the doorway, about to go into a new classroom, a new school. On the brink of something scary and unknown. "I assume you mean, as a nickname?" she said, and then shrugged. "It's okay." A smile hovered. "I kind of like it, actually."

"Okay, then. I'll call you Sam." The light changed. The eyes shifted away from her, and she could breathe again, but only in quivery, shallow breaths.

After that, neither of them spoke again until they reached the dorms. Then Sammi June told Cory where to turn and where to park in the visitors' section of the parking lot. Since it was moving day, they were lucky to find one, happening along just as someone else was pulling out.

Although she didn't really need him to, and certainly didn't expect him to, Cory turned off the motor and got out to help her wrestle her bike out of the trunk. When the bike was once more upright with both wheels on the ground, Sammi June flexed her fingers on the handlebars in a fidgety sort of way and thought about saying goodbye. The thought made her heart stumble and her breath grow shallow.

Before she could make the words come out of her mouth, Cory smiled at her and said, "How 'bout those directions, now?"

She flipped back her hair-casual, composed-and said, "Oh, sure. Got a pencil?"

He opened the back driver's side door, took out a laptop computer and set it on the hood of the car. "Oh, cool," said Sammi June, as he opened it and booted it up. She told him her parents' address, phone number and directions to their house, and watched over his shoulder while he entered the information into the laptop. She was thinking that she really liked the way he smelled, and was trying hard not to sniff audibly.

When he finished he closed the laptop and put it back in the car, then turned to her, smiling in an odd sort of way. Reluctantly, she wondered Could it be…? And her heart gave a sickening lurch, because she knew that now he was going to have to say goodbye, and probably tell her something like…he guessed he'd see her tomorrow. But all at once, tomorrow seemed an eternity away.

"I don't suppose," she heard herself say, in a disgustingly breathless, eager voice, "you'd like to help me load my stuff in my truck?"

His eyebrows went up and he said warily, "I don't know, how much stuff are we talking about?" But she could see that his eyes were laughing.

She gave him a sly, sideways look. "Oh…you know, the usual-clothes, books…computer."

"Uh-huh." He was gazing up at the dorm. "Which floor?"

"Fifth-but there's an elevator."

Muttering, "Why do I get the feeling I've been had?" he locked up the car and pocketed the keys while Sammi June stood by, holding her bike and grinning with an irrational joy.

They walked toward the dorm, one on either side of the bicycle, neither of them in any hurry. Halfway there, Cory looked over at her and asked somberly, "Is this a test?"

She repeated it, not understanding, and as she did, she felt her gaze collide with his and stick like glue. It seemed impossible to pull away from those terribly intent, all-too-perceptive eyes.

"To see if I'm young enough to keep up with you?" he said, and smiled.

Sammi June laughed, and in the warmth of that smile, felt all her fears of a short while ago fade away, like fog in the sunshine.

Jessie closed the lid of the old-fashioned hard-type suitcase, snapped the latches shut and straightened. What else? Had she forgotten anything? Tristan had assured her the lake house was completely furnished and fully equipped, but Jessie was taking no chances. She'd filled Momma's old suitcase with sheets, towels and cleaning supplies, just in case. Food, though, was another matter. She had no idea what to take, or how far from grocery stores and restaurants this lake house was. She was going to have to ask Tris, she realized with a sigh.

She stood gnawing on her lip and thinking dejectedly about that, and how awkward and uncomfortable things still were between them-Jessie tiptoeing around like a hunter trying not to wake up a sleeping rhinoceros, and Tristan being determinedly upbeat in an effort to convince her she had no cause to worry about him. Would things ever be right and easy for them again? There were barriers between them-huge barriers, impenetrable as the prison walls he'd supposedly left behind.

A tiny movement drew her eyes to the window, where two people were coming along the lane from the direction of the woods. Sammi June and Cory, back from an introductory tour of the place. As Jessie watched the two of them walking together, side by side, not touching, she felt an odd little ripple in her belly. Emotions stirred through her-not alarm or dread or dismay, exactly…and maybe there was even some happiness in the mix, and excitement, too-the kind of emotions that make a mother smile misty-eyed and at the same time tremble in fear. My daughter's in love. The body language was unmistakable. And unless she was very much mistaken, the feeling was mutual. Like mother, like daughter, she thought.

Tristan was on the front porch, enjoying the soft feel of humidity on his skin, thinking how much he'd missed this, the gentle easing of Southern springs into muggy summers…distant rumblings that weren't bombs or tanks but only friendly afternoon thundershowers…whippoorwills calling and bats swooping in the dusk. I'm a lucky man, he thought as he watched his daughter and the man responsible for his resurrection come toward him across the just-mowed lawn. A lucky, lucky man. And Cory's right-I need to stop dwelling on the past and start thinking about the future. Particularly on how I'm gonna make a future with my wife and child.

As always, when he thought about that, he felt doubts come to cloud his vision and darken his soul. The future? But I can't even figure out where I fit into their lives here and now.

But now he shook them off and called out, "Hey, 'bout time you guys decided to come home. Sammi June, I was just about to talk to your mother about food."

Behind him, the screen door banged, and Jessie said, "That's good, because I was about to ask you the same thing. What are we gonna take with us tomorrow?"

Tristan smiled at her and shrugged. "I don't know-the usual stuff, I guess. Hamburgers, hotdogs…chicken. We can stop at a grocery store on the way…pick up whatever we need. No, I was thinking more in terms of now. Tonight. What're we doing for dinner? Barbecuing? Sandwiches? Or-does your mother have something exotic planned?"

"Momma's got a church thing," Jessie said. "They're fixin' to spend tomorrow sprucing up the cemetery, like they do every Memorial Day weekend, so I guess this evening's the planning session. Anyway, they're havin' a pot-luck supper at the church, so we're on our own."

"Well," said Sammi June, "don't worry about us." Tristan turned his head to look at her. She and Cory were standing at the bottom of the steps, side by side, not looking at each other. And it occurred to Tristan all at once that, even in the dwindling light, her eyes seemed to be glowing. He felt an odd little vibration begin, just behind his breastbone.

"Cory and I are going out," Sammi June announced.

Tristan frowned. Behind him he heard Jess make a soft, wordless sound, like a cough. "What do you mean 'out'?"

"I mean, out-out." Now she did look at Pearson, and not only were her eyes glowing, so were her cheeks.

Tristan's heart gave a sickening lurch. In that moment she reminded him so much of someone…someone he'd known a long time ago… "Wait just a minute," he began.

"We're gonna go into town, have dinner…maybe see a movie. Come on, Dad, it's my first day of vacation-I'm not gonna spend it sitting at home. Anyway-" she grinned wickedly and gave a kind of wiggle that made Tristan's hair stand on end "-I want to show Cory the local night-life. If he thinks he can handle it."

Jess made a strangled sound that could have been laughter or dismay. Tristan opened his mouth, but couldn't think of a response, because in his mind he was trumpeting all sorts of dire paternal threats and proclamations, the kinds of things fathers of daughters have always thought, but these days, at least, are seldom foolish enough to say out loud: Over my dead body! I'm gonna lock you in your room until you're forty and strangle with my bare hands any man who dares to touch you!

"I don't think that's such a good idea," he mumbled at last, scowling, realizing he sounded more pouty than paternal. "You're gonna need to get up early tomorrow morning."

Sammi June's laugh was incredulous. "Dad, hello. I'm used to studying until four in the morning, then getting up three hours later to take a test. It's not like I'm a child, can't be up past my bedtime."

"That's not the point-"

Cory leaned his head close to Sammi June's and murmured something to her under his breath. In response to which her chin jutted out and tilted upward, and her mouth took on a stubborn look her father well remembered. "The point is, Dad, I'm eighteen years old. You don't get to tell me what to do, okay?" With that, she stomped up the steps past him and into the house.

After a moment's hesitation Cory followed her, looking unhappy and apologetic. When he got to the top of the steps where Tristan was, he paused and said, "Look, man, I-" Jess touched his arm and shook her head, and he bit back whatever it was he'd started to say and went into the house.

When the door had closed behind them both, Tristan rounded on his wife and growled, "What the hell'd you do that for? Maybe I could've talked some sense into him, at least."

"And then what? Make an enemy of your daughter?" Her tone was mild, but her voice sounded shaky, which set Tristan back momentarily.

He scowled at her for a moment, then huffed in a disbelieving tone, "What, over a damn date?"

She made an exasperated sound. "A date? For heaven's sake, Tris, that's not what this is about. Can't you see she's in love with him?"

"In-" He gulped the word as if he'd been punched in the stomach with it. "What are you talking about? That's just…ridiculous. She's…hell, she's not old enough to be in love."

"Now that," said Jessie, "is ridiculous. She's the same age I was when I fell for you."

"And," Tristan blustered on, not hearing her, "he's sure as hell too old for her!" He paced a few steps one way, then the other. Rubbed his forehead, ran into a blackberry scratch and winced. "Should be ashamed of himself," he muttered. "Damn well ought to know better."

"It's not Cory's fault." She was trying to keep her voice down so as not to be overheard, but even so he could tell it was shaking again. "And by the way, he's the same age you were when I met you."

"Yeah," he growled heedlessly, "and we both know how that ended up, don't we?"

She was silent for a moment, just looking at him. Her eyes, in the deepening dusk, nevertheless seemed to shimmer. Then, very quietly, she said, "Yes. And if I remember correctly, that was my doing, not yours. You were all set to walk away."

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again when he realized the shimmer in her eyes was tears. He looked back at her, and felt an ache in his heart that was part regret for her tears, part longing for that time of sunshine and happiness that was forever lost to him. "Why'd you do that?" he asked in a voice that felt as if it had rusted. "Call me back?"

"I knew what I wanted," she said softly. A tear spilled over and she brushed it away with a quick, angry motion. "And so does she."

His heart wasn't made of steel, and he'd never liked fighting with her. He would have gone to her then; he wanted to. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her close to the aching places inside him and forget everything about the past except the fact that he loved her. But when he made a jerky move toward her, she held up a hand to stop him, like a traffic cop, and turned away, shoulders hunched and back stiffened against him. Pain stabbed through him, pain as bad as anything he'd endured at the hands of his Iraqi jailers. He'd learned ways to endure that kind of pain, but this was something beyond his experience. She'd never done such a thing to him before.

He turned blindly and went into the house. Farther down the hall, in the alcove behind the stairs where the telephone was, he could hear Sammi June and Cory talking, evidently checking on movie schedules. He tightened his jaw and went up the stairs, wondering why his knee was bothering him again all of a sudden, when it hadn't for days. The motorcycle accident, he wondered, or self-pity?

In the bathroom he washed his face, then stood for a few minutes studying his reflection in the mirror. He'd avoided looking too long and hard at himself since he'd been back. He didn't like to think he'd ever been a vain man, but it had still been a shock, seeing himself for the first time after so many years. He'd barely recognized himself. He'd grown old. His hair had gray in it now, and his face had lines and hollows-not to mention scars-that hadn't been there before. He could hardly blame Jess for looking at him as if he was a stranger, when he was a stranger to himself.

It hit him then, like a cold blast of wind. Fear. Fear that the dream he'd carried in his heart for so long, the dream that had kept him alive, kept him sane, might never come to be. All he'd thought about, all those years, was getting back home, home to his wife, his daughter, his family. And now-well, he was back, but he sure as hell wasn't home, and his wife and daughter didn't seem to have places for him in their lives anymore.

He'd known there was a possibility Jessie might have married somebody else, of course, but he hadn't believed it, not really. And when he'd found out she hadn't and in fact was still his wife, well…he'd taken it for granted things would eventually take up pretty much where they'd left off, after a reasonable adjustment period. It hadn't ever occurred to him he and Jess might not be able to make it work again…ever.

Look to the future, Cory had told him. But he had to face up to the fact that he and Jessie might not have a future-not together. Face it. Staring into his own bleak and shadowed eyes, Tristan felt cold to the very depths of his soul.

So far, the weekend was turning out better than Jessie had expected. Tristan's friend Tom Satterfield's lake house wasn't on one of the big Savannah River Corps of Engineers' lakes, but on a small tributary lake on the South Carolina side. The house, set on a wooded knoll, was small but comfortable, a mobile home that had been improved and added onto and now had a huge covered and partly enclosed deck that overlooked the water and zig-zagging wooden stairs running down to the boat dock.

A set of house keys had been left with the Satterfields' next-door neighbor, who had been instructed to turn them over to Tristan along with the keys to the ski boat parked in the carport. The neighbor even helped Tris and Cory launch the boat, explaining as he did so that the tank had been filled up with gas not long before Tom-the lieutenant commander-had shipped out. The neighbor knew all about Tris and shook his hand warmly and wished him welcome home with a catch in his voice.

As Tris had promised, the house was clean and equipped with everything they needed, but Jessie had made up the beds with the sheets she'd brought with her, anyway, to save having to launder the Satterfields' linens before they left. The house was only a little stuffy and muggy from being closed up for several months, but the air conditioner soon took care of that, and by the time Jessie had made the beds and stashed away the groceries, the men and Sammi June had the boat launched and were tooting and waving at her from the dock.

There'd been thunderstorms in the night. Now it was midafternoon of a clear, hot and hazy day. Sunlight sparkled on brownish-blue water, and the air was busy with the sounds of boat engines of every description. Pontoons churned sedately up and down, passengers waving at one another or at friends on the docks they passed; bass fishermen patiently rode the wake-choppy waters in coves and inlets; water-skiers swooped and soared, sending up joyful roostertails of spray. And darting in and out amongst them all, the inevitable wave-runners and jet skis sounded-and annoyed-like angry hornets.

Jessie, slathered with sunscreen and wearing shorts, her bathing suit top, a hot pink sun visor and dark glasses, was occupying one of the ski boat's rear-facing seats. Sammi June and Cory were in the water-she was teaching him to water-ski-and it was Jessie's job as observer to tell the driver, Tristan, when he no longer had a skier attached to the other end of the nylon rope. Understandably, this had happened with great frequency at first, although Cory remained game and was staying up for longer and longer periods while Sammi June rode shotgun on a knee board, like a proud parent running alongside her child's first two-wheeler.

The latest run, in fact, was going amazingly well. Cory looked relaxed; he even seemed to be smiling as, following Sammi June's lead, he successfully navigated the wake. With the skiers riding on smooth water outside the wake, Jessie took her eyes away from them for a moment to glance back at Tris. Her heart seemed to swell and tremble inside her chest as she watched him guide the boat with effortless, well-remembered skill…big, raw-boned hands steady on the wheel, the wind riffling through his hair.

How incredible this must be for him, she thought. And how hard. Incredible because it had been so long since he'd known such freedom…such joy. Hard because she knew he'd have much preferred to be out there in the water himself; on a single ski, Tris had been poetry in motion. But, while he'd come a long way in the past weeks and in spite of his determination to build back his strength to what it had been before his capture, he was still a long way from being ready for the rigors of the sport of waterskiing. And thank God, Jessie thought, he was smart enough to know that. Still…it must be hard for him, and she wondered if that was why he'd chosen to wear knee-length shorts, sandals and a print shirt borrowed from C.J. instead of bathing trunks.

Or maybe, she thought as she turned back to the skiers, it was that he felt uncomfortable about showing his scars…

A moment later the run was brought to a halt when a jet ski, manned by two young teenagers, cut too close to the skiers. Jessie sent up a yelp as first Cory, then Sammi June hit the water, but Tris had seen trouble coming and already had the boat throttled down. He was swearing under his breath as he brought the boat around in a wide circle, trailing the tow grips.

"Those kids don't have good sense," Jessie said.

"They're gonna kill somebody," Tris growled, skillfully maneuvering the towlines so the skiers could grab them easily.

"That was a great run," Jessie called, as Cory, grinning and exuberant, paddled his ski toward the tow rope. "Hey-you guys 'bout ready to take a break yet?"

Cory's mouth opened, and so did Sammi June's. But instead of words Jessie heard a shout and, a split second later, a terrible, grinding crunch. For a moment she stared at the skiers, unable to process what could have happened to her hearing. Then behind her she heard Tris swearing loudly, angrily, as he put the boat in gear and headed it out across the water.

"Take the wheel," he shouted at her, already half out of his seat. And she saw what he had seen.

At the mouth of a small cove inlet maybe fifty yards away, the jet ski that had brushed past them minutes before lay in the water at a crazy angle. Next to it, a bass boat was slowly sinking. One of the teenagers, a girl with long blond hair, was clinging to the jet ski, dazed and disoriented. Her friend, buoyed by his life vest, was floating nearby, facedown in the water. Of the occupants of the bass boat there was no sign.

All this Jessie absorbed in the space of a few seconds-or split seconds-how could she know, when time moved in stops and jerks? And even as she was moving to take over the boat's controls, knowing she had no choice but to do so, she was screaming, "Tris-no! Don't you dare-Tris!"

But he was taking off his sandals…and his shirt, and then he was perched on the side of the boat, like a runner in starting blocks. He wasn't wearing a life vest, and neither was Jessie. As she brought the boat as close to the wreck as she dared, he straightened up, measured the distance, then cut the water in a clean, shallow dive, leaving her anguished shout shivering in the air like the aftermath of a cymbal's crash.

"Tristan!" Frozen in terror and making furious, whimpering sounds, she railed at him. "Tristan, what are you doing? Damn you…oh, damn you-" Then, turning frantically, she began to scream for help, and she could see Cory churning toward them, swimming as if a whole school of sharks was in pursuit. Right behind him was Sammi June on the knee board, dipping both arms into the water in powerful strokes.

Still struggling to control her own panic, with help on the way Jessie turned back to the disaster in front of her. Relief burst from her in a gasp when she saw Tristan's head break the water, but that relief was short-lived. After looking around wildly for an instant, he gave a leap and back down he went.

Meanwhile, the teenage girl had recovered her wits enough to realize where she was and what had happened to her. Seeing her friend lying facedown in the water, she began screaming her head off. Jessie put the boat's engine in neutral, then gathered up the life preservers and threw them, one by one, toward the hysterical girl, at the same time yelling at her to grab hold of one and for God's sake, turn the boy over!

It was horrible-one of the worst things she'd ever experienced-watching that boy floating with his face in the water, and not being able to do anything about it. Every instinct she had told her to jump in the water and go to him. But she couldn't leave the boat-she couldn't. If she left the boat unattended and it drifted away, they could all drown.

Then, miracle of miracles, just when Jessie thought she wouldn't be able to stand by and do nothing one more second, the girl in the water stopped screaming. Face set in a mask of determined terror, she lunged for a floating life preserver…caught it and hung on. Paddling clumsily, sobbing, she made her way to her friend-brother?-and somehow, somehow, managed to get him turned over.

"Good girl! Now, hold on to him!" Jessie yelled, and slowly began to tow the life preserver back to the boat.

And all the while she was screaming inside her head, Oh God, Tristan-where are you?