The Top Gun's Return

tall and still. Dry-eyed, now, and calm inside, she looked into the stranger's eyes and said, 'Hi, Dad.' Vaguely surprised to find herself already out of breath, she caught a quick one before adding, 'Welcome home.'

She stepped resolutely forward to accept his embrace, and as she felt his arms come around her, found herself inhaling deeply. And she remembered, suddenly, all the times she'd flown joyfully full-tilt into her daddy's arms, when he'd come back from wherever it was he'd been, and whether he'd been gone a day or a week or many months, it hadn't mattered because he was her daddy, and she was glad to have him home. When she was really little, she'd grab him around the knees and then he'd pick her up and carry her. When she got too big to carry, he'd hug her hard and lift her feet off the floor and swing her around. But for her it was always the same: giggling, she'd rub her cheek against his whisker-scratchy face, and then bury her face in his neck and inhale his special daddy smell. Now, although she tried to find it-the daddy smell-she couldn't. Either she couldn't remember it, or it wasn't there.

She felt her dad's breath-his laughter, his voice-gust softly against her temple. 'My God. Your mother showed me pictures, but-my God-I can't believe how grown-up you are. How beautiful you are.' She felt a tremor go through his body, and his words seemed to catch on something as he whispered, 'Guess I can't call you baby girl anymore…'

And even though her father's arms were around her once again, and his same whisker stubble was scratchy against her face, she felt a bewildering, aching sense of loss.

* * *

Watching her daughter's face, Jessie pressed clasped hands against her lips and fought to control the dry sobs that rippled through her body. I won't break down, she told herself. I won't. Dammit, I'm not about to let the whole world see me cry.

She'd only then begun to be aware of the crowd gathered beyond the barricades, many of them wearing the uniforms of the various services. A military band was playing something she couldn't identify because of all the cheering and shouting. American flags were flying everywhere, and farther away behind a high chain-link fence, more people in civilian clothes waved flags and red, white and blue balloons and school children held up signs that said, 'Welcome Home, Tristan,' and 'America Loves You.' In another roped-off area, members of the news media pointed microphones and cameras of every size and kind and jostled each other for the best position.

My God, Jessie thought, this is all for Tris. My husband is famous-a celebrity. How will we ever get our lives back? Are things ever going to be normal for us again?

And then she guiltily reminded herself, But we have him back. That's all that matters.

Someone-Lieutenant Commander Rees-was touching her elbow, gently guiding her toward the waiting dignitaries. Ahead of her, with one arm still around Sammi June's shoulders, Tristan was making his way down the line, shaking hands, saluting, listening, nodding, saying something to each one, while off to one side Max waited, staring fiercely into the sunlight and occasionally dabbing his nose with his white handkerchief. In a daze Jessie barely remembered shaking hands with the secretary of defense, the secretaries of the various services, numerous generals and admirals, and the vice president of the United States. And then they were being escorted down a long red carpet and into a cavernous hangar that had been decorated with American flags and red, white and blue bunting and balloons.

Tristan, Jessie, Sammi June and Max followed the dignitaries onto a bunting-draped stage. Seated in folding chairs, they watched while the crowd from outside, including the band, poured into the hangar. The media people followed and were herded onto a platform behind another rope barricade. After an interminable period of whispering, shuffling preparation, one of the high-ranking officers-an air force general, Jessie assumed-stepped up to the lectern. As if that were the signal they'd been waiting for, the band struck up The Star Spangled Banner.

I'm not gonna cry, Jessie thought, holding her breath as she squinted into the lights. I'm not gonna cry. She didn't dare look at Tris, and she couldn't see Sammi June, standing on the other side of her grandfather. Beside her, Max Bauer stood stoic and iron-jawed with his hand over his heart.

When the last notes of the national anthem had died away, another officer-the base commander-spoke a few words of welcome, then introduced the secretary of defense, who also kept his statement mercifully brief. He then introduced Tristan and kept shaking his hand and beaming while cameras flashed and the crowd cheered and roared. After that, another officer, this one an admiral in Navy dress blues, presented Tris with the National Defense Service Medal, the POW Medal, and the Purple Heart.

Please don't let me cry, Jessie begged, as she felt her heart swell and quiver inside her. Beside her, Max swiped unobtrusively at his nose with his big white handkerchief.

Then it was Tristan's turn to speak. He stood quietly at the lectern, not smiling, looking out over the crowd as he waited patiently for the cheering to stop, while Jessie's heart pounded so hard it hurt. Then he ducked his head toward the microphone in that rather awkward way she'd seen him do at the press conference in Landstuhl, and said quietly, 'I've got just one thing to say…' He paused, then in a louder voice, hoarse with emotion: 'It's great to be back home!' He thrust both fists into the air and grinned-and it was his old familiar Tristan grin, with his teeth showing and comma-shaped creases around his mouth and fans of smile wrinkles at the corners of his eyes-while the crowd went wild.

Oh, dammit, dammit, Jessie thought. I didn't want to cry. Beside her, Max Bauer was nudging her with his elbow. She glanced over at him, sniffing desperately. His eyes gleamed-Tristan's familiar twinkle-as he took a clean white handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and silently handed it to her.

As she mopped at her nose and eyes, Jessie wondered how Tristan's daughter was holding up under the emotional bombardment. Stubborn as she was, Sammi June would just about rather die than cry. It was only later, after the ceremonies were over and done with and the informal reception was in full swing and people were milling all around, that Jessie had a chance to get a good look at her. Sammi June's face appeared calm and composed, as if she'd never shed a tear in her life.

Well, no wonder, Jessie thought, and almost burst out laughing. She was watching her daughter move with a grown-up's poise at Tristan's side while he introduced his family to one dignitary after another. There Sammi June was, sandwiched between her father and grandfather for the first time in her adult life, and Jessie was struck by how much alike they were, the three generations of Bauers. The smile, the jaw, the crinkled eyes-proud, arrogant, stubborn and bullheaded as sin, all of them. Jessie didn't know whether to laugh or be worried to death.

Following the reception in the hangar, Tristan and Jessie, Max and Sammi June were whisked away for a private lunch with the various secretaries and their wives, during which they were briefed on the White House visit scheduled for the next afternoon. During the rest of the meal, cocooned in rich paneling, soft leather and mellow lighting, the defense secretary debated the merits of American versus German motorcycles with Max, while his wife, who was originally from Charleston, South Carolina, flirted quite openly and charmingly with Tris. Jessie tried to listen to the SECNAV's wife talk about her NICU experiences-her most recent grandchild had been born eight weeks premature-but she kept being distracted by the conversation Sammi June was having with the SECNAV. He was quizzing her about her college and career plans.

'Right now I'm a freshman at the University of Georgia,' she heard Sammi June say, 'mostly because it's close to home. But what I really want to do is learn to fly. I think I'd like to be a pilot.'

Jessie's insides turned to ice. She barely heard, through a rushing in her ears, the SECNAV say, 'Is that right? Follow in your dad's footsteps, huh?'

'Well, not necessarily military,' Sammi June said. 'I was thinking more about, you know, commercial aviation?'

'Can't beat the training the military has to offer,' said the SECNAV. 'Have you considered the Navy? What about Annapolis? I think, under the circumstances, I could probably…'

The SECNAV's wife had asked a question, but Jessie had no earthly idea what it was. She could only smile desperately, because right then all she could hear inside her head was someone frantically screaming, No, no, no!

After lunch Lieutenant Commander Rees and Major Sharpe were waiting to drive them to their hotel. After