Flying High by Gwynne Forster Page A

understand that wanting to wasn’t sufficient. It was almost like asking an eagle to give up his wings. Audrey, if I ever love you...I mean, if I ever love you...!” He stood. “I’d better get moving.”
    She walked with him to the door, her hands locked behind her back, symbolic of her struggle for control. “If I had the guts where you’re concerned that I have with the rest of my life, I’d tell you not to leave.”
    “When you’re ready, you won’t have to say a word, and we’ll both know.”
    He ran the back of his hand across her nose, barely touching her skin. “See you.”
    She didn’t reply but, like a robot, closed the door behind him, locked it, and trudged back up the stairs. Thank God I don’t drink to escape.
    She tiptoed into the guest room and looked down at Ricky, hugging his bunny as he slept. “Somebody should have told me that I have a maternal instinct,” she said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I always thought I wanted no part of it. Maybe it’s just Ricky.”
    Or maybe it’s Nelson, and your desire for him brings out this maternal feeling in you, an inner voice whispered. Nelson! Nelson! It would be a long night.
    * * *
    Lena returned four days later with a black band around her arm. “What’s that for?” Nelson asked, pointing to the badge of bereavement.
    “I thought everybody knew what it was for. People don’t go around wearing black bands for nothing. Where’s Ricky?”
    “Where you left him. School’s out and I couldn’t take him with me to the Pentagon. Lena, I don’t want to go over this again. I thought we agreed that if you had to be off, you’d let me know in advance, and I would choose someone to stay with Ricky.”
    She pulled off her hat and her hands went to her sides. “I didn’t get no notice, sir, and neither did my uncle. Otherwise, I don’t think he’d a gone to sleep that night.”
    “You mean he—”
    “Right. He didn’t wake up the next morning.”
    He put an arm across her shoulder as he looked down at her. “Lena, why didn’t you try to get in touch with me? You had my cell phone number. Is there anything I can do? Are you out of pocket? I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
    He didn’t remember having seen her so lacking in aplomb and, for once, she appeared to be speechless.
    “I was real upset, sir. Uncle Claude was a father to me from the time I was ten and my own father passed. Uncle Claude was the youngest of the six brothers and the last to go.” Moisture accumulated in her eyes, but she didn’t let herself shed tears. “Now my generation is out there in the front.”
    “Don’t dwell on that, Lena. Ricky and I are you family. I’m here for you.”
    “You know I thank you, sir.” She pulled off her hat and looked around and smiled. “Place is nice and neat. You know, Colonel, you got a lot to offer.” She walked over and faced him. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but your generation is right after mine. You done any thinking about a mother for Ricky? He loves me, but, Colonel, you don’t call your mother ‘Miss,’ and he’ll soon know the difference.”
    He wanted to glare at her, but considering what she’d just been through, he thought it prudent to indulge her.
    “It may upset you to know this, but my sense of obligation to Ricky doesn’t extend to marrying for his sake, and while my appreciation for you is considerable, neither in breadth nor depth does it cover you meddlesomeness. Understand?” He patted her shoulder to soften the remark.
    “Pshaw!” she said, placing her hands at her hips. “With your parents and your brother gone and no women hanging around you—least not any that I know about—that leaves me the only person who can tell it to you exactly like it is.”
    “And you’re bound to do your duty. Right?”
    “Well, sir, duty ain’t something I ever shirked.”
    “Getting you to mind your business is like getting roosters to lay eggs.” Walking away from her, he glanced