Dark Moon Rising, page 12
‘There isn’t time.’ Gena made straight for the bedroom. Hauling her bag out from under the bed, she took her nightshirt from beneath her pillow, rolled it up with her dressing-gown, and stuffed it into the bag. She added clean underwear, a fresh shirt, a pair of socks, and her hairbrush.
Pulling the second drawer open, she stared down at the neat folds of her long skirt and pretty top. It was only a few days since she had worn them, yet it seemed a lifetime. Leaving them where they were she slammed the drawer shut, dropped the bag outside the bedroom door, and hurried to the bathroom for her face-cloth, soap, and toothbrush.
As she returned to the kitchen, David held out a mug. ‘Drink it now, while it’s hot,’ he directed. ‘I’m making you some sandwiches. You can eat while you fly.’
‘There’s no need –’ she started to protest, but he cut her off with an explosive mutter in Turkish.
The barely controlled violence in his voice and manner made her flinch. He glared at her.
‘Is it so hard to accept anything from me?’
Startled, she blinked. She hadn’t meant it that way. But, as she opened her mouth to apologise, David’s features hardened into a mask of aloofness.
‘I would have done as much for any colleague. Don’t be concerned that you are receiving special treatment.’ His tone was caustic. ‘I know how irritating you would find that.’
‘No,’ she began, ‘I didn’t mean – that wasn’t –’
‘You had better hurry.’ He was brusque.
Gena felt as though she was being carried along by some juggernaut over which she had no control. Now that David appeared anxious for her to go, she was having doubts. But it was too late. Besides, her reasons for going – the weather, and maintenance for the helicopter – were genuine. A couple of days apart was the best thing for both of them. It would disperse some of the emotional tensions.
She zipped up her bag, swallowing the last of her coffee, and carried her mug to the sink to rinse it. David was wrapping the sandwiches.
‘All being well, I should be back by lunchtime the day after tomorrow,’ she said, drying the mug with concentrated care.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ came the laconic reply.
There was nothing more to keep her. As she picked up her bag and her jacket, he placed the packet of sandwiches in her hand but kept hold of them, forcing her to look up.
‘Make sure you eat them, Gena. There’s a lot of adrenalin in your system right now. Add low blood-sugar and fatigue, and you are inviting trouble.’
‘I won’t forget,’ she whispered, helpless in his piercing gaze. ‘Thank you.’
Unexpectedly, he touched her cheek with his forefinger. The gesture was so full of restrained tenderness that her heart flipped over. The silence stretched and as he studied her with a strange intensity a muscle flickered at the corner of his mouth.
‘What if I tell you that the army can bring me out and you need not come back at all.’
She stiffened. That was the last thing she had expected him to say. He was standing so close. She could feel the magnetic pull of his body. He radiated strength and warmth, and it enveloped her like a cocoon. Strain tightened the back of her neck as she raised her eyes to his. She cleared her throat. ‘Are you firing me?’
‘No,’ he said, his voice low and harsh. ‘I am giving you an option. If you consider the professional dangers are too great …’ he shrugged. ‘Your father is holding you responsible for the helicopter. The choice between risking potential damage and completing the contract can only be yours.’
He was giving her a way out, a legitimate criticism-proof escape clause. She could leave now and simply not come back. They need never see one another again. Under the circumstances, wouldn’t that be the most sensible course of action?
‘I – I’ll give it careful thought,’ she murmured, her mind reeling. Never see him again?
He nodded. ‘You do that.’
They gazed at each other a moment longer, neither willing to break the contact. Then, with a muttered curse, David crushed her to him, his strong hands moulding her body against his as if he would absorb it into his own.
His mouth covered hers in a kiss that betrayed the turbulence raging inside him. His lips parted hers, ruthless and demanding. But, as his tongue explored the soft inner contours of her mouth, the kiss changed to a silent cry of need, hunger, and loneliness.
With the clarity of a star-shell burst Gena recognised in David’s kiss a reflection of all the things she was feeling. When, a few moments later he raised his head, his breathing swift and ragged, eyes clouded with desire, Gena was clinging to him, deafened by her pounding heartbeat, her body seared by their mutual yearning, her vision blurred by the sparkle of tears.
Grasping her upper arms, he moved her gently but firmly away from him. His fingers tightened for an instant then he released her. Striding to the door he wrenched it open. ‘Get the hell out of here,’ he grated.
Gena could still hear the echo of the outer door slamming behind her as she wound the engine up and prepared for take-off. Choking back sobs, fiercely scrubbing away hot tears with the heel of her hand, she went through her pre-flight checks. The pain was physical, agonising in its intensity. She had to go, yet she was leaving behind part of herself.
She wanted him so much. But he was already committed to someone else. He was a part of this country. He understood it. He belonged. She did not.
As the helicopter lifted off, she could not resist one last look at the cabin, a swift, searching glance combining hope and despair. But the door remained closed, and behind their mesh screens the windows were as blank and unrevealing as closed eyes.
Within five minutes the first snowflakes hit the wind-screen. There were only a few to begin with, tossed like feathers on the wind. But they quickly increased, becoming an opaque, moving curtain.
Locked inside the swirling blizzard, she was flying solely on instruments. But she had set her course. As she checked her altitude, direction, and airspeed the Jet Ranger carried her away from David, the valley and the earthquake, eastward to the town of Van and the familiar, comforting presence of Jamie.
As soon as she was within radio range, Gena called the airport and asked that Jamie be paged. She needed him on site the moment she arrived. Whether she went back to Ahslan or returned home to England, the aircraft would need to be serviced. But more than anything else she needed a friend.
She flew out of the blizzard and into the brilliant sunshine of a late spring afternoon, over valleys lush with trees and grass. The tilled earth, sprouting crops and multiple shades of green was a soothing sight after so much barren rock.
The vast expanse of Lake Van glistened like a sheet of blue glass beneath her. A field of red poppies, their heads bobbing in the breeze, splashed vivid colour against the grey rock edging the shores. To the north, snow mantled the rounded summit of Mount Suphan.
‘What happened?’ Jamie demanded, squeezing her hands. ‘You look terrible. Has Halman been giving you trouble?’
They were standing on the concrete apron, watching ground crew push the Jet Ranger into its allotted space in the huge, brilliantly lit hangar workshop. Around them the airport buzzed with activity. Large aircraft arriving and small aircraft leaving on the last of the day’s internal flights, taxied along runways.
Fire tenders, trucks carrying freight, and trailers loaded with luggage trundled to and fro. Engines roared, horns peeped, doors slammed, people shouted to one another and hurried about on urgent errands.
‘Gena?’ Jamie tugged at her hand. ‘Has he?’
‘No.’
‘You don’t sound very sure.’
Gena pushed a hand through her hair. ‘It’s – it’s all been a bit confusing.’
‘Has he upset you?’ Jamie’s face was livid. ‘If he’s hurt you, I’ll take him apart. Bloody arrogant foreigners, they’re all the same’
‘Hang on a minute.’ Gena frowned, perplexed. ‘What’s going on? Jamie, when I left Erzurum at the beginning of the week, you were telling me to spread my wings. I was ready to fly, you said. You were practically throwing me at David Halman.’
Jamie looked down at his feet. ‘Yeah, I know,’ he muttered. ‘I meant it then, too. The only trouble was, I didn’t realise –’ He shook his head. ‘No matter.’ Drawing her hand through the crook of his arm, he made a brave attempt at a cheerful grin. ‘So what are you doing down here? You weren’t due back for at least a week. Is the bird running rough?’
‘No, she’s fine. Never mind that for the moment. What do you mean, you didn’t realise? What didn’t you realise?’
‘Forget it. It’s not important.’ He avoided her questioning gaze.
‘Yes, it does.’ Gena was determined. ‘There’s something you both know about that I don’t. David has been making cracks, referring to you as my faithful friend, though his tone was anything but admiring. He even had the gall to ask if you – if we –’ She flushed and shook her head. ‘Never mind.’
‘If we what?’ Jamie demanded, pulling her round to face him.
‘If we were – are – lovers,’ Gena blurted. She looked bewildered. ‘Where could he have got an idea like that?’
‘What did you tell him?’ Jamie’s expression was curiously intent.
‘The truth of course,’ Gena retorted. ‘I told him that you were a very dear friend. I also told him you were married, and that I was very fond of Helen too. Which is the truth, isn’t it?’ She hugged his arm, expecting immediate confirmation.
Jamie placed his hand gently over hers. ‘Part of it,’ he answered carefully.
Gena glanced at him, clearly puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
Jamie raised his head. His eyes were full of sadness and a self-deriding smile twisted his mouth. ‘Halman’s no fool. He has eyes like a hawk. He knew at once. I didn’t have to say a word. He told me.’
‘What, Jamie? What are you talking about?’
He looked down at his hand half covering hers. Then, compressing his lips for a moment, he turned his head away. ‘He recognised what I’ve tried to ignore, what I’ve tried to hide from myself. He saw –’ Jamie’s voice had thickened and he cleared his throat. ‘He saw that I love you. I’ve loved you for years. I dare say I’ll go on loving you until I die. No,’ he said sharply, as she started to speak. ‘Let me finish. We may as well get it over with.’ He stroked the back of her hand with clumsy, shaking fingers. ‘I never intended to tell you. I knew nothing could ever come of it. I can’t leave Helen, and you’re not the sort of girl who would want an affair.’ His mouth stretched in a travesty of a grin. ‘That is assuming you could ever think of me that way.’
‘Oh Jamie,’ Gena was moved, awed and horrified.
‘Don’t,’ he blurted. ‘Don’t say anything. It’s as well to get it out in the open. I can’t go on kidding myself. Those other women – When you’re hungry, you eat. When you’re thirsty, you drink. They meant no more than that. I used to daydream that some day things might be different. That you and I could –’ He shook his head. ‘You’re not for me, Gena. You never were, never will be. I knew that long before David Halman knocked on the door and asked for Mr Brady. Half of me wants to kill the bastard. The other half knows it wouldn’t make a scrap of difference.’
‘Jamie –’
Still he would not let her finish. Stretching his seamed face into a brave smile, he jerked his head sideways. ‘Come on, there’s a canteen just the other side of the workshops. You must be starving. It’s not every day you’re faced with the confessions of an aircraft mechanic.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry. I had a sandwich during the flight.’ Sandwiches David had made, caring about her, knowing she was flying back to Jamie. Knowing Jamie loved her. She swallowed the tightness in her throat. ‘But I’d give my right arm for a cup of tea. Do they serve tea here?’
‘Only with lemon,’ Jamie grimaced. ‘No one has ever heard of making it with milk. And they call this the cradle of civilisation.’
As soon as they were settled at a small corner table, with Gena screened from general view and no longer the object of prying eyes and curious stares, Jamie began to question her again. ‘So, what’s the base like?’
Heat climbed her throat and warmed her face. ‘Small. But at least it’s warm and dry.’ Now she was here, free at last to unburden herself, to spill out all her confusion and misery, she couldn’t. Something held her back. It wasn’t just Jamie’s startling declaration. Now she could understand David’s scepticism. He must have thought it very odd that she hadn’t known of Jamie’s feelings. But she hadn’t: not the slightest idea. Even now she found it almost impossible to believe she had actually heard the words he’d said.
‘Any sign of the earthquake?’ Jamie’s mouth was grinning, but his eyes were full of strain and he was visibly tense, hunched forward over the table as he played with the spoon in his glass of tea.
‘A few tremors, nothing too violent yet.’ Gena felt strange. For an instant it was as though the geological upheaval, and the kisses she had shared with David, were interchanged.
‘And Halman? Is he … is he treating you OK?’ Jamie glanced up at her, gripping the spoon so hard that his knuckles gleamed white.
‘He’s a strange mixture, Jamie,’ Gena murmured, her head bent, eyes unfocused as images of David filled her mind. ‘While we’re working we get on really well together. The problems seem to start when we’re not working.’
‘What do you mean?’ His voice was hoarse. ‘What sort of problems?’
She shrugged uncertainly. There was so much she couldn’t tell Jamie now. ‘He expected me to cook. It didn’t go down too well when I told him I couldn’t.’
‘That’s one of the things I always admired about you,’ Jamie said softly, not looking at her. ‘You had the guts to break out of the strait-jacket of tradition. You refused to accept limitations and restrictions just because you’re a woman.’
Gena’s smile was bitterly ironic. ‘People change, Jamie. I’m not half as clever as I thought I was. I’m not even the person I thought I was,’ she added softly.
‘This is Halman’s doing?’
‘I suppose he’s partly responsible,’ Gena admitted.
‘Aaah,’ Jamie sighed.
Gena looked up. ‘What do you mean, aaah?’
‘You’ve fallen for him.’ It was a statement, not a question, and his tone was hollow.
The pain pierced her like a stiletto blade. ‘That would be an utterly pointless thing to do.’ Her tone was sharper than she intended, but she couldn’t bring herself to apologise. Jamie didn’t have a monopoly on anguish. She took another sip of tea. It was lukewarm and slightly acrid.
‘Why?’
‘Oh, come on, Jamie. You know as well as I do.’
‘You mean because he’s half-Turkish?’
‘No, of course not.’ Gena was impatient, dismissive of something that seemed totally irrelevant. ‘I mean because he’s married.’
Jamie’s face creased into a bewildered frown. ‘What are you talking about? More to the point, what’s he up to?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘David Halman isn’t married. He was, but his wife is dead.’
Gena started so violently, her tea slopped over the rim of the glass, and ran between her fingers and down the back of her hand. ‘What?’ she gasped.
‘He’s a widower,’ Jamie repeated. ‘His wife died three years ago.’
Gena replaced the glass on its saucer with a clatter and wiped her hands on the paper napkin Jamie passed her. Her thoughts were a mad whirl. She felt dizzy and light-headed.
‘Are you sure? How do you know? Who told you?’
‘He did.’
‘He told you?’ she repeated blankly. ‘When?’
‘On our last evening in Erzurum. The night before you both took off for Ahslan base.’
Gena shook her head. ‘He talked about Turkish history. He never said anything – I know he didn’t. We were talking about the job and about servicing arrangements here.’
Jamie nodded. ‘That’s right. But you went to bed as soon as we finished eating. Halman and I stayed talking over coffee.’ He caught her eye and flushed brick-red. ‘I guess I told him more than I realised.’
Gena shook her head wearily. ‘He tends to have that effect on people,’ she murmured.
‘Go on.’
‘Well, I can’t remember how, but something came up about hospitals, it must have been a follow-on from talking about service facilities. Anyway, I mentioned Helen and her accident and that was when he told me about losing his wife. Apparently, it was one of those awful freak mishaps. She was only in for a minor op.’
Gena searched his face, her mind a whirling maelstrom of relief, uncertainty, guilt, hope and anguish. ‘What happened?’
Jamie lifted his shoulders. ‘He didn’t say. Just that she died.’
Then why had he told her he was married? Gena’s head felt as though it was about to burst. Resting her elbows on the table, she pressed the tips of her fingers to her temples.
Jamie’s chair scraped on the floor as he stood up. ‘Come on, I’ll see you back to the hotel.’
She looked up and shook her head. ‘No. I’m all right.’
‘You don’t look it.’ Jamie was blunt. ‘What you need is something to eat followed by a hot bath and twelve hours’ sleep. And what I need,’ his grin was crooked and not very convincing, ‘is to get on with the job I’m being paid to do.’
Gena didn’t have the strength or the inclination to argue. These two latest shocks, Jamie’s confession of his true feelings for her, and the revelation that David was not married, coming on top of the strain of the visit to the village, plus David’s suggestion that she need not return, had pushed her to the limit of her endurance.
Jamie dropped her bag on to the bedcover and pushed the key into the lock on the inside of the door. He pointed to the paper bags she was holding. One contained spit-roasted lamb and a salad of tomatoes and onion rings in a pitta pocket, the other a feather-light pastry stuffed with nuts soaked in syrup. ‘Eat your supper, then get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
