Part 14 (1/2)
Concern knotted her brows. ”You sound confused. You don't sound like the firm, dedicated man who used to lecture me on G.o.d, country, and being the world's greatest fighter pilot.”
He looked out over the water. ”I don't know if I can explain this or not.” He took another long pull. ”I feel as if a lot of things are closing in on me.”
”What is the main thing that seems to bother you?”
He made a snorting sound. ”You sound like a jolly shrink, or Doc Russell. He's always asking questions. Seems to me you were on my case in LA one fine morning. You didn't like the answers you got, so you took off. It was raining.”
She stroked his arm. ”I ... shouldn't have done that. I had asked for it, and you were telling me exactly what you thought. I am sorry about that. But this is different. You weren't so ... so morose then. You were all jolly and eager to tell me what you thought. Now you are doing a lot of heaving great sighs and staring out to sea. Tell me about it.
Is it because you can't go after MiGs anymore?”
”I thought that was it, but no, it isn't really. At least not by itself. There are other things. One is the feeling that no matter how hard we-me and my buddies-try to win this d.a.m.n war, or even just fight it properly, we're held back. Or we're on the edge of a court-martial for treading too close to the edge of the rule book. That makes us feel kind of abandoned, like our own government doesn't support us, maybe even doesn't like us very much. By 'us' I mean all the GIs over here, not just aircrew.” He rose to his feet, face flus.h.i.+ng with anger. ”We're not just fighting a half-a.s.sed war, we're fighting a bunch of politicians back home who think they know more about war than we do.”
”Hey now, take it easy,” Susan said, and opened another Tiger beer. She got to her feet and handed it to him. ”Cool off. I'm sorry I got this started.”
He took the beer and sat down. ”Oh h.e.l.l, Susan, don't be sorry. I get this way every so often. Maybe there is more to how I feel, maybe there isn't. Let's drop it for now.”
They strolled the beach in silence for a while, then sat under a palm.
”So, what are your plans? What are you going to do if you get out?”
He s.h.i.+fted to face her. ”Do?” He looked at her for a second, his eyes became firm. He put his arms around her.
”What I'd like to do is quit now, and then I'd kind of like you and I to spend our lives She put a finger to his lips. ”Oh Court, wait a minute.
I didn't mean any ... I mean, I don't expect you to . . .” She untangled from his arms and stood up. ”No,” she said, ”I just don't want to talk about this.”
”Hey, wait a minute yourself. You're the one who brought up the subject about what I was going to do.”
”I know.” She turned to look out to sea. ”I just want to hear about you.” Small waves slapped the sh.o.r.e.
”So you've been hearing about me. More than I intended.
And hearing about me brings me around to us.”
”It doesn't have to.”
He stood behind her and put his arms around her waist.
”You're trembling,” he said. ”Did I say something wrong?”
She took a deep breath, then turned to face him. She had a too-brilliant smile on her face. ”Look, flyboy, I'm your personal bunny for this whole R-and-R of-, yours. Take it, take me, for what I'm worth ... which is a h.e.l.l of a lot, I might add. Don't let's get involved in any long-range stuff.
Let's take the here-and-now and . She broke from his arms and pirouetted on the sand. She grasped corners of her shorts and flashed her legs like a Spanish hat dancer.
”Party,” she sang out. ”More beer. Let's party, sefior.”
The message was with Court's key when they returned to the Raffles. He was to report back to the Director of Operations, 7th Air Force, Tan Son Nhut, RVN, ASAP. Court had the concierge book him on the next plane to Saigon. He said it was in the early morning and a taxi would be waiting for him at 0600.
Susan stood by the gift shop, worry lines creasing her face.
”What do you think it's all about?” she asked when Court returned.
Court flicked a copy of the Straits Times. ”That,” he said, and pointed to the headline: Ma.s.sIVE COMMUNIST ATTACKS BREAK TET TRUCE.
”What will you have to do?” she asked.
”Join my squadron, I expect. Fly air support for the troops.” He wasn't aware he had a faint smile on his face and a look of expectation in his eyes.
That night, both in white, they dined again at a corner table in the Palm Court. They ate a light Sole aux Crevettes with a young white Macon, skipped dessert, and lingered over their coffee.
”Considering it's our last night, you seem awfully happy,” Susan said.
Court gave her an evasive smile and stroked her hand.
”I'm not. Believe me, I'm not. I'm going to miss you something bad.
Let's dance.”
”Methinks he doth protest too much,” she said lightly and accompanied him to the dance floor.
They danced in silence, holding each other. Moonlight complemented the soft glow of the ground lights set among the flower beds.
”Court, about today. About marriage, I mean. Not now.
It wouldn't work. And you belong in the Air Force. You know that.”
”I guess I do,” he said slowly.
She leaned back and traced his lips. ”I love you.”
”And I love you.”
”This is not a good way to part.”
”No, it isn't.”
”I'll come to Bangkok. That's close to your base, isn't it?”
”Yes.”
”Do you want me to come?”
”Yes, of course.”
She looked at him and smiled. ”You're a surprise. Here you've been talking about resigning from the Air Force and our getting married. Now I don't think you feel that way anymore. Funny what a little war can do. You probably think the MiGs will fly south any moment.”
He looked anguished. That was exactly what he had been thinking.
”Susan, I-'