Jack climbed down the side of his jet and took off his helmet. He ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair and squinted against the glare of the California sun. With a practiced gesture, he put on his sunglasses one-handed and glanced up as his plane captain appeared beside him.

“Hello, Warren,” he said.

“Good afternoon, sir.” Warren’s black face was grave as his eyes unconsciously flicked over the attack jet, his baby. “Any more problems with the bombsight?”

“I think it’s FUBAR,” Jack said. “It crapped out right after my first run.”

Warren grimaced. “I thought it was the wiring harness. I replaced it with the one from 505”—the squadron’s hangar queen—“but I guess it’s a problem in the main unit.”

“See if you can scrounge a new one from Chief Estes.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Warren said with a distracted air. He was already deep in thought, planning the work in his head.

Jack left Warren to his work and walked around the high nose of the jet, his eyes searching for the pilot of the adjacent plane.

“How do you think you did, Mr. Maddox?”

“Piece of cake, Lieutenant,” the ensign said, his expression cocky.

Jack chuckled good-naturedly and the two men fell into step, the ensign automatically adjusting his pace. As they walked back to the locker room, they talked about the flight they’d just completed, and the ensign’s progress in training.

Afterward, Jack showered and shaved, his thoughts returning to Ensign Maddox. The young man was like so many others Jack had trained: eager, self-assured, and indestructible. Jack had been just like him when he was younger—still was, when he didn’t have to wear the face of the instructor—and he mentally chuckled at the man’s enthusiasm.

Another instructor stuck his head around the corner. He spotted Jack and said, “The Old Man wants to see you.”

Jack looked up and nodded. He spent a moment adjusting his uniform and then headed out. At the commander’s office, he greeted the petty officer behind the desk.

“Go right in, Lieutenant,” the man said, “he’s expecting you.”

Jack knocked on the door jamb and then half-stepped into the office. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

Commander Fitch looked up from his desk and frowned. “You got your wish, MacLean,” he said gruffly. Then he pointed at a chair. “Sit.”

Fitch didn’t like to be questioned by junior officers, so Jack sat silently. Military school and years in the Navy had hammered into him the ability to “hurry up and wait.” Finally, the commander set aside his paperwork and looked up.

“I talked to Personnel this morning,” he said. “VA-55 needs two pilots and you’re one of ’em. I hate losing a good instructor, but Don Scarlatti needs a new section leader—someone with experience.”

Jack felt the thrill of anticipation, but controlled it and merely nodded. He was eager to fly in combat, and had been quietly bucking for a transfer to a fleet squadron for months. Now, finally, he was going to get his chance.

“I was tempted to let him have Lieutenant Claggett,” Fitch continued, “just because you’ve been such a burr under my saddle about a transfer. But I got a wild hair and decided to be accommodating for a change. I don’t know what came over me, and if you know what’s good for you, Mr. MacLean, you won’t speculate.”

“No, sir,” Jack said as sincerely as he could.

Fitch gave him a hard stare. Then he laughed humorlessly. “At any rate, you got your shot. Report to Commander Scarlatti on Friday. Dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jack said as he stood. At the door, the commander stopped him with a word, and he turned.

“Bomb some gooks for me,” Fitch said.

Jack couldn’t help himself, and his lips quirked into a grin as he nodded.

Without another word, Fitch returned to his paperwork.

Jack had to suppress the urge to whistle.

Beth adjusted the temperature on the stove and automatically rotated the handle of the pot away from the edge. Then she looked around for her son, Paul. She spotted him after a moment, playing with his cars under the kitchen table.

With a sigh, she leaned against the counter and ran her hands over her belly, big and round. She wasn’t nearly as cumbersome as she’d be in a couple of months, but she still felt like a Studebaker. As she thought about the baby, though, she smiled. She just knew it was a girl, even though she and David had picked out a boy’s name as well.

She looked down and smoothed the apron over her belly again, smiling at her daughter-to-be. Then she glanced at the small clock on the stove.

“Paul,” she said, “Daddy will be home soon, so let’s pick up your cars.”

The boy frowned.

“And then you can help set the table,” she said with feigned excitement. “Okay?”

She made a game of picking up the metal cars, and nodded seriously as Paul put each of them into the shoebox. “Now, let’s get out the napkins and silverware,” she said, and made a game of setting the table as well. They had just finished when she heard the front door open.

“Beth!”

Paul raced away at top speed. “Daddy!”

“I got my orders,” David called, louder still, in what Beth privately called his flight-line bellow.

A moment later, she heard him ask Paul, “Where’s your mom, son?”

Beth rounded the corner at a more sedate pace, conscious of her pregnancy-impaired sense of balance (not to mention her added bulk). David stood in his khaki uniform, Paul in his arms. In two strides, he crossed the small foyer and pulled her against his side, heedless of her belly. He kissed her forehead and she inhaled the spicy scent of his aftershave. For a moment, she thought of her father, who wore the same brand.

“Good news,” David said, interrupting her reverie, “I got my orders today.”

“Which squadron?” she asked. After two months in the Replacement Air Group, David was finished with training, and was ready to be transferred to a fleet squadron. She wanted to be near her mother when the baby was born, so she hoped it would be one of the East Coast squadrons.

“VA-55,” David said. “The Warhorses.”

She furrowed her brow.

“They’re based in California,” he said, “at Lemoore.”

The US Navy didn’t consult wives when it transferred personnel, and she suppressed a momentary fit of pique.

“The only downside is,” David continued, “they’re scheduled to deploy in December.”

She felt her heart race. “When in December?”

“The 10th.”

“But that’s…”

“I know,” he said, pulling her closer still, “that’s before the baby’s due. But your mother can fly out, and your brother’s already out there.”

“But Hank’s at Miramar,” she said. She thought of the first time she’d been at Hank’s house, when Paul was born, a month early. “Besides, I don’t want another baby born before I’m ready. And I definitely don’t want her born while you’re at sea.”

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” David soothed. “He’ll be born when he’s born, and we can’t do a thing about it.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” she said. “You don’t have to be pregnant.”

He kissed her soundly and then grinned. “And you don’t know how happy that makes me.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed him away affectionately.

He grinned, completely unrepentant. A moment later he caught a whiff coming from the kitchen. “Mmm, dinner smells good,” he said. Then he turned to Paul. “Did you help your mom today? Were you a good boy?”

Paul nodded, eager for his father’s attention.

She watched them for a moment. David seemed genuinely interested as Paul described the game of setting the table. For all his eagerness to transfer to a fleet squadron—which would take him away from her for months at a time—David was a good father, and a better husband.

Beth knew what a California squadron meant, and especially what the deployment foretold: WestPac. Vietnam. A detached part of her knew they’d be shooting at her husband, and anger mingled with her fear. But she knew that her support was as important as his eagerness. She knew they were both acting, too, playing the roles society expected.

Fear gnawed at her again, but she suppressed it. David had wanted to fly since before she met him, and she’d known what to expect when he asked her to marry him.

Still, she couldn’t convince herself that it was fair for her husband to go fight a war when so many others stayed home. If only he’d been transferred to an East Coast squadron, with deployments in the Mediterranean…

There’s the right way, the wrong way, and the Navy way, her father had always said. She smiled at the mental image of his face. He’d been career Navy, and she’d grown up on a half-dozen different bases, from Guam to Norfolk. She hadn’t liked moving, but the Navy was all she knew—it was home.

With a welter of emotions still threatening to overwhelm her, she forced a smile and looked up at David, so handsome in his uniform. She had married an officer, and she was determined to act like an officer’s wife. If that meant sending him off to fight, then she’d do it, no matter what it cost her in the silence of her heart.

Jack returned the salute of the Marine sentry at the gate and then stepped on the gas, the Corvette’s engine winding out as he shifted through the gears. A few minutes later he pulled into a parking space at the squadron operations building and let the engine rumble at idle. Then he killed it and practically leapt out of the car.

He straightened his cap and strode toward the building’s entrance. An ensign paused to salute, and Jack’s eyes flicked to the gold wings of another pilot as he snapped a salute in reply. The junior officer paused deferentially to let Jack pass, and they entered the cool dimness of the building a moment later.

“Lieutenant MacLean, here to see Commander Scarlatti,” Jack said to the female petty officer at the squadron desk. He smiled at her as he handed over his file packet.

“He’ll be with you in a moment, sir,” the young woman said. “If you’d like to have a seat while you wait,” she added, gesturing to a row of gray metal chairs.

Jack nodded and moved to the seats, his eyes on the ensign who’d entered behind him. The man was at least six feet tall, and broad through the shoulders, his dark hair trimmed short in a flattop. He was also nervous.

“Ensign Hughes,” he said, presenting his packet, “reporting as ordered.”

The petty officer nodded. “Yes, sir,” she said. “Commander Scarlatti will be with you in a moment. If you’d like to have a seat…”

Jack watched the younger man and smiled to himself. Fresh from the RAG, he thought. Ramrod straight and nervous about reporting to his first squadron. He could’ve been one of my students.

Ensign Hughes smiled at him respectfully and took a seat one chair away, far enough not to crowd a superior officer, but not so far away as to give offense. The younger man dusted away an imaginary piece of lint, but before Jack could say anything, a booming voice called from the inner office.

“Joanie? Are my pilots here yet?”

The petty officer rose and stepped to the door, file packets in hand. “They just arrived, sir,” she said. “Would you like me to…?”

“Get ’em in here,” the man in the office said.

Joanie turned and smiled. “He’ll see you now, sirs.”

Jack rose and preceded the ensign into the office. The younger man came abreast and braced to attention a moment before Jack did.

“At ease, gentlemen,” Commander Scarlatti said. “Have a seat.”

The ensign waited for Jack to pull up a chair and then seated himself as well, his back straight.

“Can Joanie get you anything?” the commander asked as he took the thick brown files from his yeoman. “Coffee? Soda?”

“No, thank you, sir,” Jack said.

The ensign declined and Commander Scarlatti dismissed the petty officer with a nod and a word of thanks.

“Lieutenant MacLean,” Scarlatti mused, glancing at the top file. “Tex tells me you’re a first-rate instructor.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jack said, smiling to himself as Commander Scarlatti referred to Commander Fitch by his callsign, something no junior officer would’ve done.

“Good,” Scarlatti said. “I need a new section leader and I need one now. I just lost a man to a broken leg, and another to appendicitis, of all things. We’re working up for a deployment,” he continued, “and I don’t have time for this shit.”

“No, sir,” Jack agreed politely.

Commander Scarlatti reached for the second file and scanned it quickly. Then his eyes speared the young ensign. “So you’re my nugget…”

Jack stifled a smirk at the ensign’s expressionless non-reaction. He’d been a nugget himself once, the new guy fresh from training. He remembered how he’d felt, as if he’d been in deep water and sinking fast. Seeing the young man’s stoic reaction, he smiled to himself. He knew the look well.

“Hughes, right?” Scarlatti continued.

“Yes, sir,” the ensign said.

“Straight from the East Coast,” Scarlatti said, perusing the file. “Good flight skills… good situational awareness… but only so-so on the bombing range, I see.”

Hughes didn’t say anything.

“We’ll cure you of that,” Scarlatti said, a bit gentler.

Once again, Hughes remained silent.

Good man, Jack thought. He knows when to shut up and smile.

Scarlatti swiveled his head. “You were a gunnery and bombing instructor with VA-125, weren’t you, Mr. MacLean?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Then I’ll let you work with Mr. Hughes. The squadron is scheduled for some time at Yuma before we deploy, and I want him to hit the bull’s-eye every time he rolls in.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Jack said.

Scarlatti glanced pointedly at the young ensign.

“Absolutely, sir,” Hughes agreed. “Bull’s-eye, every time.”

Jack mentally nodded at the younger pilot’s confidence. The two hadn’t exchanged more than perfunctory greetings, yet Jack already felt a sense of kinship to the man. Early in his career he’d had his own share of problems on the bombing range, and had overcome them through sheer, bullheaded determination.

Scarlatti leaned back in his chair and nodded. Then he gave Jack a friendly look. “Tex tells me you’re married with children.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack said. “My wife and I have two boys: one just turned seven, and one’s five and a half.”

“You’re married too, aren’t you, Mr. Hughes?” Scarlatti said. “Has your wife moved out here yet?”

“Yes, sir,” Hughes said. “We’re renting a house off-base.”

“Any children?”

“A boy, two and a half,” Hughes answered, “and another on the way.”

“Good for you,” the commander said. “Have your wife call my wife, Mary, if she needs anything.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hughes said.

“The same goes for your wife, Mr. MacLean,” Scarlatti said. “I know you’ve been out here a couple of years already, but Mary likes to help out where she can.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jack said.

Scarlatti stood, and the junior officers followed suit. Then he walked around the desk. “Welcome to the squadron, Mr. MacLean.”

Jack stepped forward to shake his hand.

“And you too, Mr. Hughes.” Another handshake. “I’m happy to have you both with us.”

“Thank you, sir,” the two men said at once.

“And now, gentlemen,” Scarlatti said, “I need to get back to the paperwork some damned bureaucrat thinks I need to be saddled with. Talk to Joanie on the way out; she’ll give you the nickel tour.” With a nod and a dismissive wave, he returned to his desk.

“Jack MacLean,” Jack said to the younger man when they reached the outer office. “Box,” he added, using his callsign, “or Boxman. But most people just call me Jack.” He extended his hand and the ensign shook it.

“David Hughes. Gator.”

“Welcome to the Warhorses, sirs,” the female petty officer prompted. “If you’ll follow me…”

After the tour, Jack and David stood outside the building, talking. The Navy attack community wasn’t exactly small, but Jack had been in it long enough that he knew several instructors David had trained with. Besides, he’d spent two years stationed at Cecil Field, where the younger man had transferred from.

“I was in VA-36 before I transferred out here,” Jack said, by way of explanation.

“One of my friends from flight school just transferred to the Roadrunners,” David said.

“It’s a good squadron,” Jack said. “Who’s the CO now?”

“Commander Zielinski.”

“Bud Zielinski?” Jack asked. “He was the XO of VA-44 when I was in the RAG.” Jack and David talked for several minutes about shared acquaintances, but when the younger man shifted nervously, Jack paused. “Is there someplace you need to be?”

“No, sir,” David answered quickly.

“Then what is it?” Jack pressed, gentle but firm.

David darted a quick glance at his watch. “My wife was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. She had a doctor’s appointment—she’s seven months pregnant—and…”

Jack smiled. “C’mon,” he said, “I’ll give you a lift to the base hospital. I’m sure your wife just got tied up with some red tape.”

He gestured at his Corvette, and watched with a self-satisfied look as the younger man ogled it. The car had been Jack’s Christmas present to himself. Nothing compared to the speed and agility of a Navy attack jet, but the Corvette was as close as he could get on the ground.

“So, how are you and your wife settling in?” Jack asked as they rumbled out of the parking lot.

“Just fine, sir, thank you very much.”

“You can dispense with the ‘sirs,’ David. Call me Jack.”

The other man nodded diffidently.

“So, where did you and your wife find a house?” Jack asked, trying to draw him out.

“On Sycamore Street. About three miles from—”

“Sycamore? Off Avalon?”

David looked at him in surprise, but then nodded.

“My wife and I live one street over, on Maple. It’s a nice neighborhood.”

“We like it so far.”

He’s still worried about his wife, Jack thought. Then he stole a glance at his watch. Another three minutes till we get to the hospital… “So, how’d you end up in the Navy?” he asked.

“My father was a Master Chief,” David said, “an airplane mechanic. And the Navy seemed like the thing to do. Besides, ROTC was the only way I could afford to go to college, so…”

Jack nodded. His own father had been a civilian—a wealthy civilian at that, he reflected—who’d made his money the old-fashioned way: he inherited it. In spite of his upbringing, Jack had worked hard for all he’d achieved, first at the Citadel, and later in the Navy. Public service was a tradition in his family, if not exactly military service, and he knew his duty to his country.

David seemed to be cut from the same cloth, and Jack found himself warming to the younger man. But he was obviously nervous about his pregnant wife, so Jack gunned the engine around the final turn as the hospital came into view.

“Thank you very much, sir,” David said, unconsciously reverting to military formality.

“I’ll go with you,” Jack said as they pulled into a parking space. “I know the hospital layout. It’ll save you some time.”

They got out of the car and David looked around. Then his eyes locked on a woman just coming from the building. “There she is now, sir,” he said.

Jack turned to follow the younger man’s eyes. He quickly spotted the blonde woman, round with pregnancy, with a young boy in tow. Then he recoiled in surprise, a rush of familiarity washing over him.

She could be Susan’s sister, he thought, picturing his own wife. But then he brushed off the similarities. Still…, he thought. He glanced at David’s wife a second time, and had to fight not to stare.

“Beth!” David called, starting toward her.

Beth looked up at the sound of her name. She was already running late, and it took her a moment to realize that one of the two men walking toward her had called out. With the sun behind them, it took her another moment to recognize David. She didn’t know the other man.

I don’t know anyone on base, she thought with a familiar stab of frustration.

During the course of David’s training, they had moved several times, and she’d had to meet new people and make new friends at each base. Each was a test of her social graces, and she’d always been amazed when she survived with more aplomb than she thought she had in her. Once again, she pasted on her “meeting new people” smile and scooped Paul into her arms.

“The Lieutenant was nice enough to give me a lift,” David said to her as he drew near. Then, thankfully, he took Paul from her. “Is everything okay?” he asked. “When you were late, I—”

“Everything’s fine,” she assured him. “We just had to wait, that’s all.” Her spirits lifted in silent amusement as David remembered his manners and gestured to the man next to him.

“Honey, this is Lieutenant MacLean.”

“Jack,” the man said, extending his hand.

Beth shook it. He was a handsome man, a little shorter than David, but with the same preternatural confidence. His hair was dark, although lighter than David’s almost-black, and he had a friendly, open smile. Something in his blue eyes made her own smile turn genuine.

“I won’t keep you,” he said. “I’m sure you’re ready to get off your feet…”

As if on cue, Beth felt the baby kick, and she put her hand to her back to steady herself.

“…so I’ll be quick. My wife and I would like to invite you to dinner. You know, sort of welcome to the neighborhood.”

“Jack and his wife live one street over,” David explained.

“I’ll ask Susan to give you a call this evening,” Jack said, “after you’ve had a chance to get home and relax… as much as you can relax with a two-year-old running around the house,” he added.

Beth smiled, her opinion of him growing.

“Why don’t you come over tomorrow, around eighteen hundred,” he said to David. “We have a color television, and I can throw some steaks on the grill. How’s that sound?”

When David looked a question at her, Beth smiled gratefully. Her pots and pans were still packed, in boxes deceptively labeled “Kitchen,” stacked by the movers in a haphazard pile. Her silverware had made it into a box labeled “Living Room,” and she’d only discovered it by accident.

And since TV dinners are not the way my mother raised me to feed my family…, she thought archly. “That’s very nice, thank you,” she said aloud, in answer to David’s unvoiced question.

David turned to Jack and nodded. “Thank you, sir. We’ll be there.”

Beth let David get Paul from the back seat as she awkwardly climbed out of the car, a casserole dish in hand. After two hours of digging through boxes containing everything from spices to family photos, she’d managed to locate enough of her cookware to make green bean casserole.

Once she steadied herself on the walk, she looked at the MacLeans’ house. It had a well-manicured lawn, with a sea of gold and orange mums planted in pots by the front door. When David rang the doorbell, Beth felt herself tense up. She relaxed when a dark-haired woman opened the door and smiled, warm and inviting.

“You must be David and Beth,” the woman said. Then she bent down and fixed Paul with a sparkling blue eye. “And you must be Paul.”

Beth put her hand on the back of Paul’s head and stroked his hair. “What do you say, Paul? Yes, ma’am?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he repeated dutifully.

“I’m Susan,” the woman said, still at his level. “Pleased to meet you.” She gifted him with another smile and then straightened. With a gracious gesture, she invited them into her house. “Jack’s in the back with the grill,” she said to David.

“Um… thank you,” he said.

Beth extended the casserole dish. “I know Jack said we didn’t need to bring anything, but…” She felt a wave of relief when Susan smiled in understanding.

“Men simply don’t understand how much work is involved in fixing dinner,” she said, a smile in her eye as she glanced at David. “So it’s a good thing they have us to look after them, isn’t it?”

Beth’s answering smile was genuine—as genuine as David’s abashed expression. They’d argued over whether or not to bring the casserole. He’d insisted that it would be an insult to Jack, a superior officer. But she had steadfastly refused to go to another woman’s house empty-handed.

“Can I get you a beer, David?” Susan asked as she ushered them toward the kitchen.

Before he could answer, two boys raced into the house from the backyard.

“Mom,” the oldest shouted, “Dad says he’s ready for the steaks.”

“Kirk, use your inside voice,” Susan said.

Beth smiled as the second boy merely blinked and pulled back a bit, startled by the presence of strangers.

“Kirk, Doug,” Susan said, “I’d like you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Hughes, and their son Paul.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” Kirk said formally, stepping forward.

Beth hid a grin as David shook the boy’s hand with equal gravity. The younger boy followed suit, but seemed shier than his brother.

“Boys,” Susan said, “why don’t you show Paul your toys?”

The younger of the two simply raced back outside.

Susan blinked in surprise and covered her embarrassment with a diffident smile.

“I’ll do it,” Kirk said. Then he extended his hand to Paul, and Beth watched the two of them disappear down the hall.

“Honey?!” Jack called from outside. “Kirk?!”

“Just a minute, Jack,” Susan called back. When she reached for a platter of thick steaks, David stepped forward.

“I’ll get those,” he said, and headed out the back door.

Susan’s eyebrows lifted, as if to say “Oh, my.”

For a moment, silence descended upon the two women, and Beth fought not to fidget. Her brief phone conversation with Susan had been cordial, but had hardly left her with a sense of the woman herself.

Meeting other wives was always a mixed experience, and Beth never knew how to react. Some women were stiff and formal, conscious of their position as officers’ wives. Others were friendly and supportive, all-too-familiar with the hardships of life at the whim of the US Navy.

“Can I get you a Coke?” Susan asked at last.

“Yes, thank you.”

Susan paused for a moment and then laughed.

Beth felt her breath catch, and she wondered if she’d misjudged the other woman.

“You know,” Susan mused aloud, “they call it soda out here. I never have gotten used to that. Back home, it’s Coke. Whether you want Coca-Cola, Royal Crown, or anything else, you just call it ‘Coke.’ Have you ever noticed that?”

Beth nodded, her nervousness turning to amusement.

“You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” Susan explained, opening the bottles with a church key, “so I guess I just slipped into an old habit.” She turned with a smile and extended the bottle. “So, where are you all from?”

“Florida,” Beth said. Then her eyes widened as she recognized the familiar twang in the other woman’s voice. Definitely not a flat California accent, she thought. “Where are you and Jack from?”

“South Carolina,” Susan said, affecting a stronger drawl. “Ain’t that a-mazin’?”

Beth smiled at the other woman’s disarming laugh. Not stiff and formal at all, she thought with an almost palpable wave of relief.

“Now, how did two shining examples of Southern gentility end up in a place like this?” Susan asked, her lips quirked up in a smile.

Beth had met enough pilots’ wives that she’d become a quick judge of character, and she decided that she liked Susan MacLean. She liked her a lot. Not only was she a gracious hostess, but she had a dry sense of humor. And with a secret inner smile, Beth relaxed as she watched David and Jack together, talking like long-lost friends.

At dinner, the steaks were juicy and delicious, and Jack had two helpings of her casserole. Susan asked for the recipe, although Beth was certain that the other woman could make green bean casserole in her sleep. The men talked about flying, while she and Susan carried on a conversation about their adventures with military moves.

At eight o’clock, Susan put her sons to bed, and David moved the sleeping Paul to Jack and Susan’s bed. Then the couples adjourned to the living room.

“You must be exhausted,” Susan said to Beth.

Beth smiled politely, determined not to show how tired she really was. She was enjoying herself, and the anxiety of a new place had vanished entirely.

“Here,” Susan added, “let me get a pillow to put behind your back. When I was pregnant with Doug, I couldn’t find a comfortable position to save my life.”

Jack and David shared a knowing look, and Beth made a show of grimacing at them.

“You think we’re kidding?” Susan asked rhetorically. “You try getting pregnant sometime.”

“Not me, babe,” Jack said.

Beth settled into a comfortable position and silently thanked the other woman for her attention. After her harrowing day with the movers’ uninformative box labels, and then the argument over the casserole, she was ready for a break.

Around her, the conversation ranged far and wide, although she was content to merely listen. But when Susan began talking about her father—an industrialist turned resort owner—Beth sat forward.

“Like a vacation resort?” she asked, speaking for the first time in many minutes. The other couple shared a discreet look, which she thought odd.

“Yes,” Susan said without pausing. “I grew up on a large… well… I guess you’d call it a plantation. We didn’t exactly have a manor house, but we had fields and forests, lakes and streams.”

“Wow,” David said. “That must’ve been nice.”

Susan smiled. “It was. It was kind of isolated, but I love the area. Have you ever been to South Carolina?”

David shook his head.

“My family drove through it on the way to Virginia once,” Beth said. “But other than that…” She shrugged. “Did you live there all your life? Until Jack joined the Navy, I mean.”

“Mmm hmm,” Susan said. “Jack grew up in Charleston, and I’m from a little town called York.”

“So, how did you two meet?” Beth asked.

Susan grinned at her husband.

“In Charleston,” Jack said, a flash of mischief in his eye.

“Oh?” Beth said.

Susan smiled and set her hand atop Jack’s.

Beth felt a rush of affection for David and did the same. When he looked at her, she smiled and gently squeezed his hand.

“I was a student at the College of Charleston,” Susan explained, “and Jack was a cadet at the Citadel. He kept asking me out, but I wouldn’t have anything to do with him.”

“So you were playing hard to get?” Beth said, warming to the tale.

“At first, no. I had a boyfriend at home, and I wasn’t looking for anyone else. But Jack eventually wore me down, and I said yes.”

Jack smirked.

“We went to a Christmas dance,” Susan continued. “A military dance. My father made uniforms during the war, but that was the closest I ever got to the military.”

“Little did she know what she was in for,” Jack said roguishly.

Beth glanced sidelong at David, who grinned.

“Can you blame a girl for enjoying all that attention?” Susan asked, disingenuous and wry.

“Absolutely not, dear,” Jack said. Then he turned to his guests. “She discovered that she liked all that pomp and circumstance.”

“And one thing led to another?” Beth asked.

“One thing led to the back seat of my car,” Jack said, his grin a leer.

“Jack!” Susan mock-scolded.

Beth and David shared a grin.

“Yes,” Susan said, “one thing led to another.” Then she rolled her eyes at her husband’s antics. After a moment she politely turned to Beth. “How did you two meet?”

Beth felt her face heat at the memory.

David spoke up when she hesitated. “Beth’s brother, Hank, was my ROTC mentor in college. And when he brought me home for dinner, Beth was wearing this blue dress…” He trailed off, his expression dramatic and rapturous.

“Oh, stop it,” Beth said. “It wasn’t that tight.”

“It wasn’t how tight it was,” David said. “It was that the strap kept falling down, and I was hoping I’d see more than your shoulder.”

At that, the couples laughed.

“Men,” Susan said, looking at Beth.

Beth rolled her eyes and nodded, her face still flushed at the memory of that first night with her then-future husband. As she thought about all the nights since, she felt her face heat even more. When she finally mastered her emotions, she glanced up. Susan merely arched an eyebrow and smiled.

The evening eventually wound down, and the couples said their goodbyes. David carried a sleeping Paul to the car and gently set him on the back seat. Beth was beyond exhausted, but she had enjoyed herself.

“It was lovely meeting you,” she said to Susan.

“It was a pleasure meeting you too,” Susan replied. “Call me tomorrow and I’ll come over to help you unpack.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Beth demurred.

“Nonsense,” Susan said. “I’d be glad to help. Besides, it’ll keep me off the streets.” She and Jack shared a smile.

Beth acquiesced.

“We had a lovely evening,” Susan continued as David rejoined them, the car idling in the driveway. “Thank you very much for coming. And thank you for the casserole. It was delicious.”

After their final goodbyes, David helped her to the car, where she looked into the back to make sure Paul was still asleep. He was, and she slid into front seat as David walked around to the driver’s side.

“I like Jack,” he said as they drove home.

“Mmm hmm. I like Susan, too,” Beth said. “They’re a nice couple.”

“You were right about the casserole,” David said at last. “Sorry.” He paused. “I know I don’t say this often enough,” he began hesitantly, “but I love you.”

She felt a rush of warmth. “I love you too.”

“And I know it’s been hard on you, moving to California and all. But this is what I do.”

“I knew what it would be like when you asked me to marry you,” she said softly. “And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

He smiled at her, once again the bashful young man she’d fallen in love with years before.

Jack turned off the porch light.

“I like Beth,” Susan said.

He smiled and pulled her close. He reached around her middle and felt her soft stomach beneath her dress.

“I like David too,” she said.

“I’ll bet you do,” he said, his hips pressed against her from behind. He felt his dick stir, and raised his hands to cup her breasts.

“Is that all you ever think about?” she said.

He facetiously paused. “Yep, pretty much.”

“You’re terrible!”

In spite of her protests, he felt her press back against him. She sighed when he released her breasts, but then practically purred as he reached for the zipper at the back of her dress. He lowered it with a hiss, revealing the smooth expanse of her back, broken only by her bra. With a practiced twist, he popped the catch.

“And what exactly do you have in mind?” she asked, a smile in her voice. “As if I didn’t already know.”

Without answering, he put his hands on her shoulder blades, his fingers worming under her bra straps as he pushed them and the dress over her shoulders. She pulled her arms free, and the bra fell to the floor as the dress gathered around her waist. He cupped her breasts, testing their weight. As he did, he pressed his lips to her ear and kissed it.

“So you like David?” he asked softly, suggestively. “Do you think they could be the right couple?”

She half-turned in his arms and glanced back at him.

Susan’s parents didn’t own a normal vacation resort—it was a nudist resort, which Jack had learned shortly before he took her home for the first time. He wasn’t a prude—far from it—but he’d still been shocked. He was also surprised when he met her parents in person. His own parents had been hopelessly straitlaced, but Susan’s were nothing of the sort.

Douglas and Marilyn York were a liberal, tolerant couple, and they hadn’t even batted an eye when their daughter arrived with a much older boyfriend. Instead, they welcomed him into their home and made him part of the family.

They were very affectionate with each other, too, and shared a youthful vigor that he’d rarely seen in a couple their age. Several years later, after Marilyn’s death, Susan told him about her parents’ real relationship: they were swingers.

Jack knew that he was fairly liberated, even for the times, but the Fifties had been far more prudish than the Sixties. Yet Susan’s parents had created an enclave of freedom in the South Carolina Piedmont—freedom from clothes, certainly, but also from other people’s expectations and narrow-minded sexual mores. Not surprisingly, they didn’t share society’s oppressive need for conformity, either.

When Jack learned that the Yorks were swingers, he was stunned. He thought he’d hidden it well, but Susan had sensed his knee-jerk disapproval. To his credit—and probably for the first time in his life—he’d questioned his own upbringing, his infallible sense of right and wrong.

Why was it “wrong” to have sex with other couples? Susan’s parents obviously loved each other; they certainly had a more open and loving relationship than his own parents had.

Jack’s parents had been dead for three years, but he still remembered their stiff formality around each other, as if showing any affection would upset their well-ordered existence.

Susan’s parents were different, but he was still surprised when he learned that they didn’t maintain any pretense of sexual monogamy. Fidelity—loyalty—was a cornerstone of Jack’s existence, and he wondered how a marriage could survive without it. But the Yorks’ had. Not only had it survived, it had flourished.

Deep inside, Jack wanted the same kind of relationship with Susan. She’d gotten pregnant while they were still dating, and he’d done the honorable thing. He knew the difference between love and lust, and he definitely loved her. He asked her to marry him, but he hadn’t been ready to settle down, and a part of him still wanted to sow his wild oats. He’d never given in to temptation, but he fought a constant inner battle with it.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t stop thinking about the Yorks’ swinging lifestyle, and he constantly fantasized about having sex with other women. Worse still, some of his most powerful fantasies involved watching Susan have sex with someone else.

Was he a bad husband? Was he a pervert? Could he actually watch his wife have sex with another man? Would she let him have sex with another woman? If they did it, would their marriage survive?

He’d thought about those questions a dozen times—more!—and every time, his thoughts returned to the Yorks. He’d seen with his own eyes how strong their relationship had been, without jealousy or resentment. He wanted that kind of relationship with Susan. He thought he had it already, but a niggling part of his brain (and his loins, he reluctantly admitted) wanted to expand their relationship.

He was happy with his sex life—more than happy—but he still wanted to have sex with other women. And the thought of another man having sex with his wife was a powerful image—nearly as powerful as the rush he felt when the catapult kicked him in the seat of the pants, launching his plane down the carrier’s deck.

More powerful, he admitted silently. But will I be jealous? And more importantly, will she trust me with another woman?

It had taken him a while, but when he finally sorted through his conflicting emotions, he talked to Susan. They’d never kept things from each other, so he told her about his desires. Far from being outraged, she’d been understanding. Even enthusiastic. It was carefully subdued enthusiasm, but he still knew her reactions.

At first, they simply talked about it. Susan explained that they needed to find a couple who had a strong, healthy relationship, and who wouldn’t let jealousy or suspicion ruin marriages, friendships, or both. They talked about what kind of women Jack was attracted to, and the men Susan found attractive. They talked and talked, about trust and communication, resentment and doubt, and more.

In retrospect, Jack realized that most of their conversations had been a test. He knew himself well enough to realize that he could have been rationalizing his answers in order to get what he wanted. Did he simply want a little nookie on the side? And perhaps to watch his wife have sex with another man, purely to fuel his own fantasies? Or was he genuinely interested in expanding their relationship?

A side benefit of their conversations was the fantastic sex they had afterward. With the boys safely in bed, he and Susan had had sex in every room of the house—and even outside on the patio, with the cool night air bathing their sweaty bodies as they screwed each other silly.

Finally, they had come to a mutual decision: their marriage could survive—would survive—as long as they were honest with each other. They agreed to stop everything if either of them felt the least jealousy or suspicion. Their relationship with each other was more important than sex with other people. So, with barely concealed enthusiasm, they began looking for the right couple.

Fortunately, their closest friends usually had relationships like their own. Unfortunately, none of them fit the bill in every way. Something always dashed their hopes: Jack wasn’t attracted to the wife, or Susan wasn’t attracted to the husband, or the couple wasn’t open-minded enough, or they weren’t discreet enough, or any of a dozen other objections.

Even with the liberation of the Sixties, the military was as straitlaced as ever. Pilots were perhaps the wildest of the bunch, but they were tame compared to what Jack and Susan were looking for. Worse, what they wanted to do was technically illegal. Adultery was a punishable offense under the Uniform Code of Military Justice; Jack could be court-martialed for having sex with another man’s wife. And since most of their friends were military, the risk would extend to the other man as well.

Jack had always had a healthy respect for the law—except the speed limit, he thought wryly—but he was a firm believer that what a man and woman did in their own bedroom was none of the military’s business. Still, they’d have to be doubly careful if they didn’t want to jeopardize his military career. And while he might think David and Beth were the right couple, he wasn’t going to rush into anything.

He was definitely attracted to Beth, full belly or not. She had the same deep blue eyes as Susan, as well as the same gestures when she talked. They also shared the same curves, not to mention their round, full breasts. Beth was big with pregnancy, but she hadn’t grown heavy, the way some women did. He could still make out the sexy lines of her body, despite the maternity clothes.

And David was Susan’s type—broad-shouldered and muscular, without being bulky. He also had the same self-confidence that Jack had, which had drawn Susan to him in the first place.

Even better, David and Beth seemed genuinely open-minded, and hadn’t recoiled when the after-dinner conversation turned a little risqué. As Jack ran through the possibilities in his mind, he none-too-patiently awaited his wife’s opinion.

“They could be,” Susan said cautiously.

“David’s definitely your type,” he said.

“And Beth’s yours,” she shot back. “Or, she would be, if she wasn’t seven months pregnant.”

“Pregnant women are sexy too,” he said.

Before she could reply, he planted a line of kisses down her neck and slowly ground his hips against her ass, his erection straining at his zipper. Then he moved his hands down her stomach and slid them under her panties. She rocked her hips to help him get the elastic over them. Then she pushed them down her thighs to join the dress already pooled at her feet.

“I bet you’d like to suck David, wouldn’t you?” he said softly, one hand delving between her legs to test the heat and moisture of her arousal.

She gasped softly as his fingers parted her pubic hair and brushed her hooded clit.

He rubbed gently, spreading her nascent moisture over her lips. They slid apart at his touch and he dipped his finger into her, coating it with her juices.

“I’d like to suck you,” she said, breathless with arousal.

“But what about the Hugheses?” he pressed, half-teasing, half-serious.

“We barely know them,” she said. She reached back and ran her fingers over his crotch. “And I know your dick very well. But it’s been several hours…”

Jack wasn’t going to give up that easily. “I want to watch you fuck David,” he said. “And Beth’s like a blonde version of you. What could be better?”

“What could be better?” she teased in reply, distracted by his fingers on her clit. “Well, I’ll tell you…” She composed herself. “Better would be waiting for her to actually give birth. Pregnant women may be sexy, but they’re also ungainly. On the other hand, I’m not ungainly.” She squirmed out of his grasp, turned, and sank to her knees. “And David might be a nice guy,” she said, reaching for Jack’s belt buckle, “but he’s not here, and I’m not planning to suck him tonight.”

Jack knew when he was defeated—for the time being—so he simply grinned down at her as she concentrated on freeing his hard-on.

“I want to suck you,” she said, lowering his pants and underwear at the same time, his dick springing free. “Now,” she said, a cross between humor and pique, “if you don’t mind…”

With that, she engulfed him, her lips closing around his shaft, just past the crown.

He watched for a moment as she concentrated on sucking him, her tongue working its magic against the underside of his glans. Then he ran his fingers through her hair, holding her head as she tongued the underside of his dick.

She put her hands on his hips to guide his pace as he began thrusting, his shaft shiny with her saliva.

As he sank his cock into her mouth, he closed his eyes and groaned softly. Unbidden, an image of a blonde woman sprang to mind, with bright blue eyes, her lips wrapped around his shaft. He shuddered at the thought, his hands gripping his wife’s head as if to steady himself. Instead, he shook off the fantasy, opened his eyes, and swallowed hard.

Susan was bobbing her head back and forth, her lips open to receive him and then tight around his shaft as he slowly withdrew it. They moved in sync, her hands gently pressing against his hips when he thrust too far and threatened to make her gag. Finally, she pulled back, his dick slipping free of her lips.

“There,” she said softly, “that’s better.” She kissed the tip of his dick, the sound wet and soft in the quiet house. “We can talk about Beth and David some other time.” She kissed him again, her lips open as she ran them along the underside of his shaft. For a moment, she nuzzled his balls, her breath warm on the base of his shaft. “In the meantime,” she continued, “the only thing we need to talk about is where you want to put your dick next.”

“I was thinking about your pussy,” he said, trying not to groan as she tongued his balls, her mouth hot and wet.

“Not yet.”

He arched an eyebrow and glanced down at her, just in time to see her close her eyes and run her lips along the length of his cock. When she reached the tip, she gently planted kisses on it, her cool fingers holding him steady.

“I want to enjoy myself a little longer,” she said, her voice husky with desire.

With a roguish grin, he resigned himself to being her pacifier.

Susan loved sucking his dick, and she could do it for what seemed like hours on end. Even better, she had a way of gripping the base whenever he was in danger of coming. It postponed his climax, but heightened the pleasure, and when he did finally come, his orgasm was usually mind-blowing.

Besides, he reflected with a low chuckle, sucking me off makes her horny as hell. She’ll be wet and ready when I fuck her.

She slowly fellated him, her lips and tongue working him to the brink of orgasm several times. Each time, she pulled back, squeezing the base of his shaft until the urgency passed.

Finally, he pulled her to her feet and unceremoniously bent her over the couch. Her round ass invited him forward, and his erection probed the heat and moisture between her legs. She groaned as his shaft slid along her slit, her damp pubic hair parting before its advance. He pulled back and angled his hips, the tip of his dick at her opening. Then, with a steady thrust, he entered her.

She wasn’t as tight as the seventeen-year-old girl she’d been when they first met, but he wasn’t about to complain. After two children, she had filled out, her hips flaring into the curves of womanhood.

Her breasts were bigger too, he thought, reaching for them. She moaned softly as his fingers gently kneaded them. When his hips met her ass, she moaned again, her pussy hot and smooth around his invading shaft.

He bent over her back and kissed her shoulder, his own breath hot in his face as he kissed her again, his lips moving to the nape of her neck. She shuddered when he reached it, her body writhing at the combination of his lips and his dick. He added his fingers to the mix, gently rolling her nipples between them.

After several drawn-out moments he began rocking his hips, his shaft moving within her, teasing her with short thrusts. She whimpered insistently, her back arching as the sensations assaulted her. His own need eventually drove him to stop teasing her.

He straightened and reached for her hips. He began pumping into her, filling her with each thrust. She cried out softly, the sound mingling with the slaps as his hips met her ass.

I shouldn’t’ve let her suck me so long, he thought with a combination of amusement and irritation. She got me all worked up, and now… I… won’t… last… long.

With a grunt, he buried himself inside her, his balls drawn tight with the first twinges of orgasm. The sensation built for a moment and then exploded, radiating outward like a nova. He closed his eyes, his back arched and his butt clenched in ecstasy.

One spurt filled her, followed immediately by a stronger one. Blazing pleasure raced along his nerves as the spurts died to gushes, and then finally to a thrumming sense of exhaustion and release.

He collapsed over her back, panting, the smell of their sex filling his nostrils. She sighed beneath him, and it took him a moment to realize that his weight was full on her. He pushed up, but she merely shook her head.

“You’re fine,” she said softly, languidly, as if reading his mind.

He smiled and leaned forward again, kissing the nape of her neck, tasting the saltiness of her body. Then, with a surge of guilt, he realized that she hadn’t come yet. He pushed himself up yet again, but she shook her head.

“I’m fine,” she said.

He looked a question at her, but her eyes were still closed.

“Really,” she insisted softly. “I’m fine. I just want to lie here like this. Is that okay?”

Instead of answering aloud, he wrapped his arms around her, his chest pressed against her back, his dick slowly softening within her.

“I love you,” she said softly.

“I love you too.”

After several minutes of companionable silence, he felt her smile. He couldn’t tell how, but he knew she was.

“You might be right,” she said softly.

“About what?”

“About Beth and David,” she said, picking up the thread of their earlier conversation. “I think we need to get to know them better.”

Beth used the back of her hand to brush an errant strand of hair from her face. The hair fell again and she tried to blow it back into place, without success. She’d just returned her attention to the kitchen floor, hair be damned, when the phone rang. She stifled a grunt as she slowly climbed to her feet, and answered the phone on the sixth ring.

“Beth, hi. It’s Susan.”

Beth smiled. “Oh, hi, Susan.”

“Are you busy?”

“No, not at all,” she lied. In reality, she’d been cleaning. With David at work and Paul taking a nap, she finally had time to do some housework. “Why?”

“I thought I’d come over and give you a hand around the house.”

Beth paused for a moment. Susan had been a godsend with the unpacking, but Beth didn’t want to impose on her generosity. Besides, she’d known women whose offers to “help around the house” had been nothing more than thinly disguised snooping. She didn’t think Susan was like that, but she automatically guarded her family’s privacy.

“The boys just got home from school,” Susan continued, “but they have a birthday party to go to, so I thought I’d come over and give you a hand.”

“Thank you very much,” Beth demurred, “but you don’t have to…” Secretly, however, she longed for the help. Paul was a handful when he was awake, and Beth rarely had the energy to keep up with him, much less do all the other things that kept her house running smoothly.

“Nonsense. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Susan arrived with a friendly smile and an air of energy.

“Paul’s still asleep,” Beth said, gesturing the other woman into her home. When Susan looked at the living room and nodded appreciatively, Beth felt a rush of pride. “I was cleaning the kitchen floor when you called,” she added, by way of explanation for her frazzled appearance.

“Have you cleaned the bathrooms yet?” Susan asked.

“Not yet. I was going to do them next.”

Susan smiled, a mixture of sympathy and reproach. “You shouldn’t be on your hands and knees, and you know it. Where’s your mop?” she asked, rolling up her sleeves. “And a bucket and some ammonia? You can clean the mirrors while I do the dirty work.”

An hour later, Beth decided that Susan wasn’t nosey at all. Even better, she didn’t gossip. Beth had known too many officers’ wives who seemed to thrive on rumors and scandal. She wasn’t like that herself, and she didn’t want to spend time with a woman who was (her good manners would eventually wear thin, and her face would hurt from an insincere smile).

Although the two women didn’t gossip, they did share their impressions of what little they knew about the other pilots’ wives. Beth was a little surprised that their opinions were so similar.

At first, she thought Susan might be agreeing with her just to be polite. But as they worked and chatted, she decided that Susan simply had a keen insight. At the thought, she smiled guiltily, since she didn’t like what that said about her lofty opinion of her own insight.

“What were you just thinking?” Susan asked suddenly.

Beth looked up and tried to cover her embarrassment with a smile. “Hmm?”

Susan’s blue eyes twinkled. “You looked like you’d just been caught patting yourself on the back.”

“Was I that obvious?”

“Not really. I just know how I look when I start feeling too proud of myself.” She smiled guiltily. “So I guess I assumed… you know.” Another smile, this one wry: “Aren’t we just two peas in a pod?”

Beth felt her eyes crinkle with an answering smile.

“We’re horrible, self-centered women, aren’t we?” Susan said.

“Horrible,” Beth echoed, still grinning.

Both of them looked up at a sound from Paul’s bedroom, and Beth’s smile turned weary.

“I know the feeling,” Susan said. Then she brightened. “You get Paul while I put away the cleaning supplies.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Beth said. “You’ve already done more than enough.”

“Go.”

“Are you sure?”

Susan made an insistent shooing gesture, punctuating it with a smile. “Do you drink coffee?”

Beth shook her head as she walked down the hallway. “But you know where the percolator is,” she said over her shoulder, “so feel free to make a pot.” When she returned to the living room with Paul, she found Susan sitting quietly with two cups.

“I’m not much of a coffee drinker myself,” Susan said, “so I made us some hot chocolate instead. I hope you don’t mind.”

Beth set Paul down and he immediately headed toward his wooden blocks. “That sounds wonderful,” she said, sinking into the chair as Susan pushed a cup toward her. “Absolutely wonderful.”

“I love your backyard,” Susan said after a companionable lull in the conversation.

Beth lifted her eyebrows in question.

“We have a fence around our yard,” Susan explained, “but we don’t really have any privacy.”

Beth glanced out the sliding glass door and shook her head, puzzled. Her backyard was like any other: a chain-link fence surrounding a rectangle of grass with a few trees.

“I should’ve said I love your patio,” Susan explained, reading Beth’s confusion.

The patio itself was nothing special. It had a waist-high block wall around it, with boxwoods surrounding that. Neither the wall nor the bushes would even provide shade, though.

“You can sunbathe in privacy,” Susan said at last.

“Ah… oh! Now I understand.”

“I like to lie out topless…,” Susan added, her voice trailing off.

Beth thought she detected a deliberately nonchalant note in the other woman’s tone, so she glanced up.

Susan merely gazed back with calm equanimity. Then she smiled and took a sip of her cocoa. “Your patio wall should give you some privacy,” she said, “if you like to sunbathe topless, that is…”

Beth was certain of the nonchalant tone, so she carefully schooled her expression. She did like to lie out topless—and sometimes more than topless—but it wasn’t something she talked about very often. Still, she didn’t detect anything more than leading curiosity in the other woman’s tone—not even a hint of disapproval—so she nodded and smiled politely, content to see where the conversation went.

“It’s a moot point now,” Susan said, “but when the weather warms up next spring…”

“You’re welcome to come over and sunbathe here, if you’d like,” Beth said, taking the cue and making the offer without the slightest reservation. She decided that Susan was being polite enough to avoid imposing herself on another woman, but not deliberately deceptive.

“I’d like that, thank you,” she said, smiling graciously. “I think you’ll like it out here—the weather is wonderful… not too hot, not too cold.”

Beth smiled and nodded.

“I used to sunbathe all the time when I was a girl,” Susan said.

“Did you have someplace private at your father’s resort?” Beth asked. She hid a puzzled frown as Susan’s eyes sparkled at some unknown joke. For a moment, Beth got the impression that the other woman was sizing her up, considering whether or not to let her in on a secret.

“I used to sunbathe nude,” Susan said at last. When Beth merely smiled—instead of reacting with shock—she continued. “I love feeling the sun on my skin. That’s one of the only things I don’t like about living out here… no privacy. I grew up with thousands of acres to explore, and if I wanted to do it in the buff, no one bothered me.”

Beth heard a hint of amusement in the other woman’s voice, but she wrote it off as a reaction to the conflicting attitudes in California.

“So when I saw your backyard,” Susan continued, “my heart leapt at the chance to get a good tan. I’m ashamed to say that I might’ve railroaded you into inviting me.”

“Absolutely not,” Beth said quickly. Then she smiled her own guilty smile, albeit for a different reason. At the mention of nude sunbathing, her eyes unconsciously roamed over the other woman’s body, so much like her own. So much like I used to be, she thought with a trace of bitterness. Pregnancy had changed her, and she didn’t like the way her body looked. She shook off the thought and smiled to cover her unhappiness.

“You didn’t railroad me at all,” she said at last. “As a matter of fact, I like to sunbathe nude too… sometimes.” When Susan smiled a knowing smile, Beth found herself wondering how much the other woman had already suspected.

“The only problem,” Susan added with a smile, “is that it gets sunny here a little before it actually gets warm, so I have to be careful not to freeze sensitive body parts!”

They shared an honest, uncomplicated laugh.

“I’m sure the guys wouldn’t mind,” Susan added with a wry grin, “but cold nipples are not my idea of foreplay.”

“Mine either,” Beth said, shaking with mirth. All of a sudden, she felt the baby kick, and she put her hand to her belly.

“Is she moving?” Susan asked.

Beth nodded.

Without asking, Susan leaned forward and put her hand on Beth’s protruding belly.

Beth was surprised, but her touch was reassuring and gentle.

“I used to sit up at night when I was pregnant with Doug,” Susan said softly, almost wistfully, “drinking tea and reading. He was a night-owl, and sometimes kept me up half the night.” Her eyes were far away, remembering. “The only thing that calmed him down was music.”

Beth looked a question at the dark-haired woman.

She smiled. “Glenn Miller. My mother loved him, and she lent me her record collection. Jack bought me this big, awkward set of headphones, and I’d put them against my belly, with the volume turned down low. Doug would go right to sleep, every time.” She smiled again at the memory. Then she chuckled, throaty and warm. “I must’ve been a ridiculous sight… sitting on the couch in my robe, my slippered feet tucked beneath me, a book in one hand, and a great, huge pair of headphones against my tummy.”

Beth laughed softly at the image, but she felt an instant affection for the other woman.

Susan smiled again, her eyes glistening. “I still have her records,” she said softly. “She never got them back after Doug was born. And after she died, my dad…” She swallowed hard and forced a smile.

“How did she die?” Beth asked quietly.

“Hmm? Oh… a stroke. It was just her time, I guess.”

“That must’ve been hard,” Beth said, and immediately regretted it. Of course it had been hard, losing her mother.

“It was.” Susan paused, her eyes unfocussed. “It still is. I miss her every day.”

As the silence drew out, Beth fought not to fidget. She didn’t know what to say, so she decided that silence was better than meaningless platitudes.

“Look at me,” Susan said at last, composing herself. “I turned all maudlin on you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, hush,” Beth said. Her own eyes were full of unshed tears, and she blinked to clear them. Susan reached for her cup of cocoa to cover her emotion. As she sipped, Beth met her eyes and they gazed at one another for a long moment. Understanding and compassion flowed unspoken between them.

They finished their cocoa in silence, and Beth decided that she wouldn’t worry about guarding herself against Susan. She’d sooner guard herself against her own sister.

“Attention on deck!”

Jack automatically shot to his feet, his back straight, hands at his sides, eyes front.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Commander Scarlatti said as he strode up the aisle to the lectern at the front of the squadron briefing room. “Please be seated.”

Jack spared a glance at David and waggled his eyebrows, as if to say “Here we go.” Aside from quick introductions with the squadron executive officer and the command master chief, Jack and David had yet to meet the majority of the men they’d be flying with.

“Before we begin,” Commander Scarlatti said, “I’d like to introduce our new pilots.”

At the commander’s glance, Jack rose. A half-second later, David followed suit, still a little unsure of himself.

Commander Scarlatti began, “Lieutenant Jack MacLean, ‘Boxman’…”

Jack inclined his head to the room full of officers gazing at him.

“…joins us from VA-125. He’ll tell you more about himself later, but his most recent job was as gunnery and bombing instructor. So I’ve asked him to work with Commander Waulk on the Yuma training evolution.”

Jack shot a confident glance at the squadron XO, Frank Waulk. In their brief encounter, the man had come across as a stiff, by-the-book officer, but Jack reserved further judgment until he actually had a chance to work with him. Waulk had a pun for a callsign, “Side,” and Jack hoped he was wrong about the man’s personality.

“And Ensign David Hughes, ‘Gator,’” Scarlatti continued, “comes to us from the RAG. Ensign Weigand will be glad to meet him, I’m sure.”

The gathered officers chuckled. A lieutenant JG tousled the hair of the man next to him, a young, ginger-haired ensign. The ensign bore it with rueful good grace, his face turning ruddy.

“Mr. Weigand is our Shitty Little Job Officer,” Scarlatti said to David, grinning as he did. “This is his nugget cruise too, but you’re junior to him. So when you get up to speed, you will be our new SLJO.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” David said without a trace of resentment.

Or comprehension, Jack mused with a smile. In any case, David seemed too nervous to take offense.

“Until Mr. Hughes does get up to speed, however,” Scarlatti said, turning back to Weigand, “you’re still our SLJO, Mr. Weigand.” With a professional smile, he gestured for Jack and David to be seated. “Now, let’s get down to business. The first item on the agenda is logistics, and I’ll turn the briefing over to Commander Featherston…”

Later, after the briefing broke up, Jack and David introduced themselves to the other pilots. Jack had a good memory for names—a trick his father had taught him—and he smiled as he met each man.

The names and the faces jumbled together after a while, but Jack cataloged them all. The information would be there later, when he needed it. Beside him, David seemed a little overwhelmed, and he felt for the man. He’d been overwhelmed himself when he joined his first squadron.

The Naval Aviation community was relatively small, and full of go-getter personalities. The very process of becoming a Navy pilot eliminated the shirkers, sea-lawyers, and no-load officers. So the ones who pinned on wings of gold were the best of the best—they wouldn’t have survived the training if they weren’t. Taken as a group, they could be an overwhelming and raucous bunch.

Jack smiled again and glanced at David, who seemed to be bearing up under the pressure. After all, he was one of those men who’d survived the brutal selection process and joined their elite company.

“Mr. MacLean,” Commander Waulk called through the crowd.

That was a preview of Nereids. To read the rest purchase the book.

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