felt like silk against the hard line of his jaw. Kyle ached to lean down and kiss her. 'Take it easy, easy… ' he coaxed, his voice low and unsteady.
For several minutes Gale was unable to do anything except feel. Feel the lessening of the pain, feel Kyle's strong, powerful body against hers. His breath was choppy, and she was aware of his heart beating frantically in his chest where she lay against him. His touch was excruciatingly gentle as he placed a cloth over her hand after turning off the faucet.
'Come on, sit down. You're shaky.'
Wasn't that the truth, Gale thought, allowing Kyle to guide her to a chair at the table. Her watery knees had nothing to do with the burn, but with him holding her as if she were some fragile, priceless treasure.
Worriedly, Kyle studied her, his hand firm on her shoulder. Gale was waxen, and when she raised those dark, long lashes to look up at him, he felt as if someone had gut punched him. Dizziness assailed him, and his grip tightened on her shoulder momentarily. Large eyes, huge black pupils surrounded by a vibrant green, stared back at him. Gale's cry had torn him apart, ripping away all his pretenses, his good sense.
Kyle went to the sink and dampened a wash cloth. Gale sat with her head bowed. She looked so hauntingly vulnerable her shoulders slumped forward. Fighting all his rising, chaotic feelings, Kyle crouched in front of her.
'Here, this ought to help,' he said. He removed one cloth and laid the new one across the injury. Kyle heard Gale breathe in raggedly, but she didn't cry out.
He kept a grip on her arm. His heart refused to stop thudding in his chest, his pulse pounding until every beat was like that beat of a kettle drum being played within him.
When Kyle looked up and saw tears form and then fall down Gale's cheeks, he lost what little control he had left. 'Don't cry,' he pleaded thickly, cupping her cheek with his hand. He stared deeply into her eyes.
'Oh, Kyle… ' she choked out.
Her lips parted, lush and inviting, and Kyle started to lean forward.
'Hey, where's everybody at?' Mike called from the living room.
Kyle froze, his hand slipping from Gale's face. He stood, dizzied and shocked by what had almost happened. 'In here, buddy.'
Mike appeared at the doorway. Dressed in his blue winter uniform, he took off his garrison cap. Immediately, he went to Gale's side and knelt on one knee next to her.
'Honey?' He gently cradled her hand. 'What happened?'
Gale made a frustrated sound. 'I made a dumb move at the stove and splashed grease over my hand, Mike. It's nothing. I'll be okay.'
Kyle backed away in a daze. What the hell had just happened? He had been ready to kiss Gale! Shocked, he left the kitchen and went to the living room. Hands shoved into his pants pockets, Kyle was angry and upset with himself.
Gale was barely able to think. If Mike hadn't arrived when he had, she knew Kyle would have kissed her. His eyes had been hooded, stormy with unre-quited need. She trembled, but it wasn't out of fear. It was out of anticipation of the unexpected. When Kyle had held her, he'd made the pain go away. She shook her head, forcing her attention to Mike, who had retrieved some salve to put on the minor burn.
It was all craziness! It was the stress of the wedding, the war and the fact that Mike was going to leave in a month. The pressures on all of them were great. Kyle was Mike's best friend, Gale rationalized, and he had simply reacted out of loyalty.
Kyle slowly paced the perimeter of the living room, head down in thought. Mike would never know what had transpired. The wedding would go on as planned. Kyle would be Mike's best man, and he would be happy for both of them…
Savagely rubbing his face, he knew it had to be the jet lag, the shock of stepping out of the war in Southeast Asia and returning to the States. It had to be.
Chapter Two
Gale sat in the living room of her base home, several letters and a magazine in her lap. The house was quiet. Deadly quiet. She had just gotten off duty at the meteorology department and the holiday stretched out unendingly before her. This year there was no tree in the corner, no decorations in evidence, not even Christmas music to take the edge off the silence that surrounded her. The coolness in her home seeped through her uniform, making her feel chilled more than she should be.
Six months after marrying Mike, he'd been lost over Hanoi during a bombing raid. Was he a prisoner of war-or dead? No one knew. She slowly looked at the first letter, wishing it was from Mike, but it wasn't.
Instead, it was a neatly addressed envelope from Captain Kyle Anderson. Gently, she ran her fingers across the crisp envelope. Kyle… Her grieving, shattered heart filled with warmth and a thread of hope. Kyle had signed up for a second tour so he could be with Mike during his first. When Mike had been shot down by a SAM missile, Kyle had been there. He'd seen the whole thing.
Mike had often said Kyle was like the brother he'd never had. Since the time Mike had been listed as missing in action, Kyle had written to her at least once a week, fulfilling his duties as a friend who wasn't there to help her over the terrible days and nights of loneliness. In his first letter, Kyle had told her that Mike had made him promise to care for her if he was ever shot down and became a POW or M.I.A. Like the Marines, the Air Force took care of its own, Kyle had informed her. And because of his promise to Mike, he would do his best to take care of her, even though they were half a world apart.
With a sigh, Gale saw that the other two letters were bills. Her parents were dead, so there was nothing from family. Her sister, who lived in Haight Ash-bury, was opposed to the war and to Gale being in the service. Gale expected nothing from Sandy as a result. They were on opposite sides of an ideology that had divided them for the past four years.
This would be her Christmas present: Kyle's letter was a precious, life-giving gift. Inevitably, Gale's spirits lifted, as they always did whenever she received a letter from him. Opening this one slowly, savoring the fact that it was several pages thick, she settled back to find a tiny shelter from a storm that hovered around her twenty-fours hours every day.
December 16, 1974
Dear Gale,
This is your hot-rock jet jock writing to you from a place where a Christmas tree would
Of course, yours truly is the only one doing something praiseworthy-writing to you! How are you? In your last letter, you sounded down. Don't give up. I
Thanks for the tin of cookies! My God, they were a hit around here! You know how our post office works don't you? Those enlisted guys have noses on them like bloodhounds. They smell each package. The ones that have cookies in them are somehow detoured or 'lost.' When the package finally finds its way to the officer, the food that was in it has mysteriously gone. All the guys who work over at the post office are overweight. I wonder why?
However, because you told me ahead of time that you were going to make six dozen chocolate-chip cookies and send them to me for Christmas, I went over and warned all those guys to keep their hands off-or else. Your
