Chapter 12

I don't know how long I stood there, my heart filling with dread. Eventually Captain Mitchell said, "I'm waiting for an answer, airman."

"I would prefer not to answer, sir." My voice, for the first time, was faint.

His voice was a bellow. "Do you know what can happen to you and your precious pilot?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"I know what you want. You want to become a chief master sergeant and pass on what you know to a new crop of airmen. I've supported that dream. I applaud it. But if you persist in this relationship, that dream is over. Do you understand me?"

"I do, sir."

"And yet you're not willing to submit to a direct order to end the relationship."

"Sir, I respectfully ask that you not put me in that position."

"You've put yourself in that position, airman. You've deliberately violated regulations, and I can't save your sorry..." He didn't say the word, but I knew which one he had in mind. "I am ordering you to answer my question, Airman Alba."

"Sir, in that case my answer must be that I cannot give up the relationship."

"You won't?"

"I can't, sir."

"So you say." He got out of his chair again, pacing behind his desk. "I could give you that order right now, and wait till you defied it, and have them throw the book at you."

"Yes, sir."

"Why shouldn't I do that?"

I took a breath. "The only reason I can give, sir, is mercy."

"Mercy. Try selling that one to the terrorists." He looked at me, and for a moment he looked old and tired. "In all my years in this Air Force I have never come across anyone as stubborn as you." He sat back down. "I'm going to talk to your pilot. I'm going to give both of you one week from today to make up your minds whether you're going to be in the Air Force or out of it. Dismissed."

I came to attention, saluted, waited till he returned the salute, did an about face, and walked out. The airman at the front desk looked at me. "Don't you dare say a word," I growled at him as I walked past. He didn't.

My crew chief gave me the next day off – probably by direction of the squadron commander. I sat up late, no music, no TV, no book. I had a beer in my hand, a German brand because I'd thought I might give Max's recommendation a try, but I hardly tasted it. It had gone completely flat, and was still three-quarters full, when there was a knock at my door. I got up listlessly and opened the door, and Max was there. She stepped in, shrugging off her bomber jacket and dropping it on the floor while I closed the door again. She was deathly pale, and she put her arms around me as soon as I turned from the door.

"What are we going to do, Derek?" she asked me, and her voice was a moan.

"I don't know, honey," I told her. "I don't know."

"The CO told me that either we forget about each other, or my career is over."

"That's what he told me too."

"Derek, I can't give you up."

I gently rubbed her back. "But you can't give up flying either."

"That's what's killing me, beloved. They've got me between two impossible choices."

"Me too, Max." I gently led her to the sofa and pushed her down, and then knelt at her feet. "I've got to choose you or the Air Force. We're both in the same situation."

"I know. And the best we can do is make sure that only one of us loses."

"I've been thinking, Max," I said. "One of us at least is going to lose. I'll let them take it out on me, and that way you can save your career."

"No, Derek!"

"What other choice do we have? They're not going to leave us alone. If the captain's given us both an ultimatum, then either one of us has got to take it or both of us do. There's no other choice."

"I will not let you sacrifice yourself for me."

"You don't have that choice, Max." My voice was gentle. "It's not a matter of choice. It's simply what's necessary."

Tears began running down her face. "I don't care, Derek. I don't want to hear that it's necessary. I want to hear that there's another way out."

I bowed my head on her knees, and saw the fabric of her white jeans darken with my tears. "There's not, Max. Think it through. I've been thinking it through for hours."

Her hand moved gently through my hair. "I've got hours yet. They took me off the duty roster for tomorrow. I'm supposed to spend the time thinking. I've got a week to make up my mind..."

"We both have the same deadline."

"Yes."

"No matter how many hours or days we've got, Max, there's no other answer. Think it through."

"I don't want to think it through. I want to wake up and find that this is just a terrible nightmare."

"I know. I wish I could rewind the day and start it over, in a different way."

She didn't say anything for a long while. When she did, her voice was raw. "Derek, I want another choice."

I raised my head. "I know this is a terrible time, but in a way it's the best time. You'll remember that I proposed a while back, in a backhanded way. I want to make it formal. Max, will you marry me?"

She put her palms on my cheeks, and she must have felt the tears there. "Derek, I will marry you. Somehow, some way, I'll marry you."

"As long as we're both in the Air Force, you can't marry me."

"I know." Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as she spoke.

"And you make more than I do."

"So?"

I took a deep breath, feeling like I was cutting my own throat. "I can fix jet engines anywhere. I can work at the Sunport, for any of several airlines. The only place you can fly fighters is in the Air Force. If I take the punishment, we can get married, I'll be with you, I can always find work – which will pay more than the Air Force does, and you can keep flying Eagles, and transition to Raptors one day. There's no other choice, Max."

"But you'll never make chief that way."

I'd cut my throat; now I tore out my eyeballs. "I'm willing to give that up in order to save you. And the facts are on my side."

She bent her head, resting her forehead against mine. "I would cut off my legs for you. I would give you my own heart if that's what you needed. Why can't I save you from this?"

"Because the world is the way it is." My throat felt like hamburger, my chest hurt from my sorrow, and it seemed as though someone had removed my heart and run it through a meat grinder. "Max, neither of us is a great Bible quoter. But here's something that comes to mind: 'In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.' We're going through trouble right now. But we'll survive it. We don't have any choice about that. The one we serve has already conquered."

"I would give my life for you," Max said, and I'd never heard such sorrow in anyone's voice. "I would give my career for you. I don't want you to be right. I want to be able to save you."

"I know. I know." I raised her head and wiped her cheeks. Her face looked like she'd just experienced a devastating personal disaster – and I guess she had. "I'm not going to push. I'll let you think about it for as long as it takes ... well, for the rest of the week, if that's what it takes. We don't have any longer than that. I hope you can come up with some other way." I felt my throat constricting. "But I'm afraid that you can't."

"That's what I'm afraid of too," she said.

I got to my feet. "You slept on my sofa once before, when we had to hide what we were doing – even though we did nothing shameful. It's yours again tonight, and we won't bother to hide anymore."

"No, no more hiding. One way or another that's over with. I'm going to make a confession, Derek."

"What's that?"

"I hoped that you might let me sleep on your sofa again. I've got a change of clothes out in the car. If you don't mind, I'd like to go out and get my bag, and then take a shower, and then I'll let you tuck me in."

I nodded. "I'll get a pillow and blanket while you're outside. No, wait – I'll take the sofa."

She stood up and took my hands. "No, beloved, I'm still a guest. I'll sleep on the sofa. But when we're married, then I'll go to your bed, without reservations. For now, let me be just your guest tonight."

I knew she was right. "Okay, Max." I leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, our first real kiss. It was a sad kiss, one that incorporated broken dreams and despair, but it was also a loving kiss, a way in which Max and I could show each other how very much we cared. Eventually I pulled back and said, "I'll kiss you goodnight later. But for now, get your jacket and get outside. I'll fix things up here."

I woke up the next morning feeling like I'd run head-on into a truck. I couldn't at first figure out why I felt so bad, and then I remembered – Max and I were in deep trouble. And I remembered that she was out on my sofa. I rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, and unlocked my bedroom door. I went softly out into the living room, and found that, just like the last time, she was still asleep. I sat down on the coffee table and looked at her. I'd seen her briefly before I'd gone to bed, and I knew that what looked like a sleeveless blouse was actually a pajama top. Her left arm was outside the blanket, and was bent so that her hand rested lightly on her stomach as she lay on her side. I could see the muscle there, underneath her feminine softness.

The clock on the microwave showed nearly 10. I went into the kitchen and found some brown-and-serve sausage links in the refrigerator, and some shredded cheese. There were eggs as well, so I put a skillet on a burner, broke the eggs into it, and broke the yolks with a fork. While they began to cook I cut up the sausage links, dropped them into the skillet, and piled on the cheese. I stirred up the eggs with the fork. I don't know how anyone else scrambles eggs – I do it with a fork.

While the eggs continued to cook I went back out into the living room. I sat back down on the coffee table, and was just reaching to wake Max when she said something in her sleep. It was the incoherence of most sleep talking, but then came something clear: "No, please don't!" She wasn't moving much, just twitches of her hand, but it seemed that she was having a bad dream. I put my hand on her shoulder, and that seemed to trigger another burst of speech. "Leave him alone!" she cried, and I could guess what her dream was about. I gently shook her shoulder, and with an inarticulate low cry she woke.

She sat up suddenly, the blanket falling away to reveal the lacy front of her pajama top. She was alluring, a vision of freckles and white skin and pale gold hair, but her face showed fear. Then, as she recognized me, she relaxed. "They were driving you out of the Air Force," she said. "They were using whips."

"They won't use whips on me, honey."