Night Flight by Lindsay McKenna Page B

microwave for himself and Patty. Worry haunted him. Ever since he’d yelled at her, Patty had withdrawn. She hadn’t eaten much of her dinner, either.
    Rubbing his face, Curt realized he ought to be studying the flight manual for the next test he’d fly two days from now. But who the hell could study? Becky was slowly coming out of her drunk, and Patty had retreated into a shell of hurt silence. What should he do?
    “Come here, Punkin.” He scooped his daughter up. Pulling her arms tightly against her body as he positioned her in his lap, Patty shut her eyes. Curt embraced her and kissed her wrinkled brow. “I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier,” he whispered. “But Mommy was sick, and I got scared.”
    Patty tensed, stubbornly refusing to open her eyes.
    Merrill sighed, leaned back on the couch and stroked her pigtailed hair. “Sometimes Daddy doesn’t have time for you, does he? I wish I did, but I don’t.” He kissed her again, feeling her beginning to finally relax in his arms. That pout of hers was disappearing, too. Smiling gently, Curt squeezed her. “Daddy loves you, Punkin.”
    “Mommy doesn’t.”
    Frowning, Curt studied his daughter. Her huge brown eyes opened, staring up at him mutinously. “Of course she does.”
    “Uh-uh.”
    Cupping her chin, he forced Patty to look at him. “Mommy hasn’t been feeling well lately. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you.”
    “Door was locked. Why’d she lock it, Daddy?”
    Forcing a partial smile, Curt whispered, “Mommy didn’t mean to. It was an accident. Next time you come home from school, she’ll meet you at the gate.” He looked up. Becky stood in the hall, bedraggled-looking in her blue jeans and pink tank top. Her hair had been washed and combed, and hung limply around her shoulders.
    Becky moved slowly to the couch, all her attention on her daughter. She sat down and slid her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. Gently, she stroked Patty’s head.
    “Mommy’s sorry she didn’t meet you this afternoon.”
    “You locked the door, Mommy.”
    “I know, honey. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.” She leaned over, kissing her daughter. “I love you.”
    Curt watched his daughter blossom beneath Becky’s care. In moments, Patty wiggled out of his arms and into hers. Relief surrounded him. The crisis had passed. Just the way Becky cuddled Patty, and loved her with unabashed affection, brought tears to his eyes. That was one of the many things he loved about Becky: her openness, her ability to love fiercely.
    “When do you fly again?” Becky asked in a hushed voice, holding Patty in her arms.
    “Friday.”
    “More landing tests?”
    “Yes.” And then he added when he saw darkness in Becky’s eyes, “Same old thing as before. It’s not dangerous, it’s simple.”
    Mouth quirking, Becky stared sadly at the television. “Nothing about testing or flying is safe, Curt.”
    Running his fingers through his hair, he got up. “Don’t start,” he warned her tightly.
    “Where are you going?” She needed time with him, to heal herself.
    “To the office. I’ve got to study.”
    “But—”
    Curt turned. “Listen, I’ve got to put in a couple hours every night or I’ll fall behind, Becky! You know that.” When he saw her face become sad, he added, “Will you be okay now? Can I fix some pork and beans for you before I go study?”
    “No…you go ahead, go.” She closed her eyes and rested her brow against Patty’s hair. She heard the door shut quietly down at the end of the hall. Pain jagged through her, and Becky drew in a deep, uneven breath. When would all this anguish she carried daily in her heart go away? When? Did the other Air Force wives go through this kind of a hell?
    Becky had been afraid to talk about her fears to anyone because it might get around. And she knew gossip could ruin Curt’s career. Desperately needing to talk to someone, her sluggish mind ranged over whom she could confide in. Curt didn’t