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“Ι’ll be the first to admit that I like the way you fill out that uniform.” His azure eyes grew dark. “And you’re right about me liking a challenge. I wouldn’t be in the test-pilot business if I didn’t. But you’re wrong about my being a fighter jock. I used to fly B-52 bombers. I flew the slower, heavier aircraft just like you did,” he said, his voice firm. “I flew the F-4 Phantom during the war. But otherwise, I was weaned on bombers and lived most of my military life in them. Now, does that make you feel a little guarded about me?”
She liked his honesty. It became him. A slight smile edged her full lips. It was common knowledge that fighter jocks were far more aggressive than bomber pilots. “I would never have guessed it. But then, you are a paradox.”
“Comes with the territory, Chris. I don’t know too many test pilots that aren’t like day and night, Jekyll and Hyde. You are, too, you know. So be careful of the pot calling the kettle black.”
She relaxed within the aura of their parry-riposte conversation. Leaning her elbows on the table, she smiled. “Not me. If there is a set of words to describe me, it’s consistent, loyal and responsible.”
Dan took a swallow of his beer, his eyes dancing with silent laughter. “I’d prefer to use more complimentary adjectives, such as beautiful, sensitive and shy.”
Something happened inside Chris. Her heart raced strongly for a moment and she felt giddy—like a child. But she had never felt like a child in all her life. How had he brought out this hidden side of her—and on less than one day’s acquaintance! She couldn’t resist a smile. “You’re a fighter jock at heart, Major. I don’t care how long you flew bombers. You’re long on bs and short on sincerity.”
Dan grinned wickedly. “Think so? We’ll see,” was all he said.
* * *
CHRIS WAS FINISHING off the last coat of polish on her fingernails when she heard a knock at the door.
“Come in.” Who could it be? She knew no one on base yet except Dan McCord. A small, blonde woman in a dark blue uniform came in. Chris gasped, rising.
“Karen! I don’t believe it.”
“Finally, after a year we get to see each other again.” Her friend laughed, coming forward. Karen was only five-foot-three and reminded all who saw her of a blonde, blue-eyed pixie come to life. Careful not to smear the drying nail polish, Chris hugged her. Karen stepped back, taking off her cap and smoothing her short curly hair back into place.
“Come on in the kitchen, Karen. Like some coffee?”
The petite blonde made herself comfortable at the kitchen table. “Love some. I arrived at Edwards a little more than a month ago. I work over at Test Pilot School in Operations. As soon as I heard you were being assigned, I had to let you know you had a friend here.”
Chris smiled happily, putting the coffee on. Karen and she had been roommates throughout their four years at the Air Force Academy. Afterward her friend had failed her flight test and gone into a different military career. But it hadn’t stopped them from remaining close over the years.
“Right now, I could use a friend,” Chris confided.
“Amen. You’re really biting off a big chunk by being the first woman in the Air Force to try for test-pilot status.”
“Around these guys, I may just decide to clam up or watch my words. It’s safer that way, I think.”
“I understand. In a sense, I’m glad I flunked out of pilot training, Chris. Watching you as you weather the chauvinism, the dirty looks and even worse verbal insults from the men would make me quit.” Karen gave her friend a keen look. “Every newspaper article I’ve read on you asked why you became the first woman test pilot. And your answer was always the same: you had earned the right to take a shot at the most prestigious job in the Air Force. Level with me. Why did you apply to TPS?”
Chris sipped the coffee. “Maybe a better question would be, what makes Chris Mallory run the way she does?”
“I thought it might be because you were orphaned and you don’t have anyone. Test piloting is risky. Maybe you had nothing to lose if you did die. Sounds dumb, I know.” And then she shrugged. “I never was good at psychology.”
“You almost flunked out on it,” Chris agreed. “I love to fly, Karen. It’s that simple. I never told the press that because I would come off sounding like some pie-in-the-sky idealistic female.” She slowly turned the cup around in her hands. “Flying makes me happy, Karen. Up there, I’m free—free of the past. The sky has no memory. It forgives and forgets who and what you are or are not. I don’t have to remember that I’m an orphan. Or that I’m a woman in a very male-dominated business. Up there I’m a woman. And the sky doesn’t care. And neither does my aircraft.” She smiled sadly. “See, I told you it would sound philosophical and idealistic.”
“No,” Karen murmured, “it sounds like you. There are a number of instructors over at TPS like you. They just live to fly. It’s their full-time mistress. They want nothing more out of life than to climb into the cockpit of a plane and take off for the blue sky.”
“I think I just met one of those guys. Major Dan McCord.”
Karen’s eyes widened. “Oh, him! He’s such a terrific guy, Chris. And he’s single, too.”
Chris frowned. “No matchmaking,” she warned sternly. “By the way, how’s your love life?”
“Much better. I’m dating an instructor by the name of Major Mark Hoffman. He’s wonderful.”
“I can tell by the sound in your voice.”
“You’ll like him. I know both Mark and Dan were excited about having you at TPS. They know a woman can be a fine test pilot, unlike a lot of other guys over there who think you’ll wash out before you set foot in the place.”
Chris took a deep breath then exhaled slowly. “Well, when you consider I’ve never sat behind a stick of a fighter plane, they could be right. It means having to work twice as hard as any other student in order to make the grade.”
“Isn’t that the truth? When will women ever get a fair shake? Why do we always have to start from behind and be twice as good as any man at something before we’re taken seriously?”
“I don’t know. I thought I’d had enough of that pressure and stress when we went through four years of hell at the Academy. But here I am, doing it all over again, breaking new ground.” Chris shook her head. “And I’m so tired of wearing flight uniforms all the time with no makeup or jewelry.” She touched her shoulder-length hair, now shining with blue highlights after its recent brushing. “I’ve made up my mind. I might have to dress like a man, but I’m not going to look like one. After the mandatory morning flights, I’m putting my earrings back on and adding a bit of makeup.” She held out her hands. “And I’m going to wear nail polish.”
Karen laughed. “Good for you! At least I get to wear a skirt and pumps all the time. But you know the flight rule about no jewelry. If you wore a ring on your hand and had to eject, the jewelry might get caught on something and you’d lose that finger.”
“Or worse, my whole hand. No, I realize the rules are there for a reason, but I’m determined to keep my femininity intact, regardless.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Chris. With your looks, you could wear a gunnysack and still turn heads.”
Chris laughed with her. “We’ll see just how many heads I turn tomorrow morning. And I can guarantee you, not all of them will be admiring ones.”
2
CHRIS PROCEEDED UP the long sidewalk toward the Test Pilot School building. She touched her hair, now in a chignon at the nape of her neck, in a gesture of nervousness. Why do I feel as if I’m going in front of a firing squad, she wondered. I thought I’d sweated enough for my wings. Her stomach was tied in knots. She was dressed in her snug one-piece green flight suit that was adorned with all the appropriate patches on each shoulder. The small pearl earrings and pale-pink nail polish and light application of makeup subtly emphasized her femininity. Her blue flight cap rested on her black hair, the double silver bar on the cap shining brightly in the January sunlight.
Chris stifled her anxiety as she climbed the last few steps to the cream-colored building. Whether she wanted to or not, she had thought about Dan McCord off and on throughout the past two days. The image he projected as a playboy pilot out to have a good time was simply a sham, she decided. McCord was made of much more reliable material than the ego-ridden jet jockeys she had worked with throughout her career. Dan possessed a thread of gentleness coupled with incredible sensitivity that threw her completely off guard. Chris had no defense against kindness. Taking a deep, uneven breath, she opened the door, uttering, “Welcome to the real world, Captain Mallory.” Chris knew there would be men in her class who would hate her presence. And there would be other pilots who would applaud her efforts based on her flying skills and ignore the fact that she was a woman. Inwardly she drew a small breath. At least one instructor, Dan McCord, was on her side and that made her feel a twinge of relief on an otherwise stressful occasion.
Adrenaline made Chris’s heart pound faster as she walked down the highly polished hall to the first classroom. A small knot of pilots stood off to one side, giving Chris a challenging stare. Her mouth went dry, but she didn’t let her gaze waver. She was damned if she was going to feel belittled by a bunch of jet jockeys. Their gazes raked over her as she passed. Chris’s keen hearing picked up a few stage whispers and then a collective laugh from the group. It wasn’t going to be easy to integrate.
From 0800 through noon they heard from many of the instructors explaining curriculum, flight schedules and the school’s aims and goals. Chris was attentive throughout the presentations, but never as much so as when Dan McCord stepped to the front of the room. He looked relaxed, breathtakingly handsome in his flight suit and keenly alert. She smiled to herself. Wasn’t that something they all shared in common: that “look of the eagles?” She hadn’t seen a man here today who didn’t possess that characteristic.
“I’m Major McCord, and I’ll be your instructor for the first thirteen weeks of flight aerodynamics,” he announced. He scanned the room, found Chris and saw her color fiercely. “The curriculum is drawn up to teach you how to work in a team-oriented environment. In each team there will be a test pilot, a navigator and an engineer. You’ll work on gathering data, planning and carrying out what you’ve discovered and then evaluating it on actual test flights. After that, a written report on your assigned research projects will be handed in.” McCord stopped his slow pacing from one side of the room to the other, his eyes narrowing. “I can’t stress the importance of teamwork here, ladies and gentlemen. Part of being a test pilot is understanding that you don’t work alone.” His gaze settled briefly on Chris. “The pilot is only a part of the team. It’s true, you will be flying the aircraft. But at times you’ll need a navigator in that back seat—more importantly, a test engineer. Without him or her, your job wouldn’t exist. This isn’t an area where egos can get in the way,” he warned. “You set aside your prejudices and your opinions, and stick with the facts and only the facts,” he concluded, his voice growing harder.
McCord had already picked out which pilots would be a problem to Chris. Earlier, Captain Richard Brodie had swaggered up to Chris while she was talking with two other pilots. Dan had just walked into the lounge area when he saw Brodie make a pass at Chris. He had to curb a smile as Chris easily evaded him. Brodie had not expected her to turn him down and departed fuming, his ego decidedly wounded.
Brodie, as he liked to be called, was the typical macho fighter jock who lived, drank and partied hard. He flew like few other pilots dared. If Brodie didn’t square off with Chris within the first month, Dan would be surprised. And if Brodie did, it was up to the instructor to put a quick stop to it.
He paused, glancing at his watch. He had ten minutes before lunch. “One more thing before we break for chow,” he continued. “Just remember this—you are the best. You’ve got the confidence, competitiveness and intelligence that can’t be matched anywhere else in the world. You are it! And you’re at the toughest school in the world. What we wring out of you in the next forty-six weeks will be unbelievable. But you were chosen because of your tenacity. You all have what it takes or you wouldn’t be here. Okay, let’s break,” he ordered. “Those of you who don’t want to hit the NASA cafeteria up on the road can hang around for the sandwich truck. It’s a blue-and-white affair that’s got a variety of junk food on board.” He allowed a momentary smile. “It’s affectionately known as the Roach Coach.”
The students laughed with him and they rose, dispersing quickly. He caught up with Chris. “I’d like to see you in private for a few moments,” he said.
Her eyes widened, and he chastised himself for sounding so damned official. “Don’t worry, it’s good news,” he added with a persuasive smile.
“Okay.”
Chris’s heart beat furiously. What was happening to her? Dan always seemed to make her feel shaky and breathless. He took her elbow, guiding her out of the room and down the hall. She put her flight cap on as they swung out the back door to the parking lot. “Where are we going?” she wanted to know.
“O’Club for lunch,” he answered casually, escorting her to his Corvette.
Chris slowed, a smile barely touching her mouth. “Is this official business, Major?”
He laughed pleasantly, opening the door for her. He leaned closer, his azure eyes disturbingly intense. “Absolutely. After watching you shoot down Captain Brodie, I decided to use a different approach.”
Chris climbed in without a retort. She enjoyed Dan’s company and looked forward to the lunch. Giving him a wry look she said, “The Captain Brodies of the world will never match your approach, Major.”
A twinkle came to Dan’s eyes. “I’ve known Brodie off and on throughout my career. He has the tactics of a bull in a china shop, thinking every woman will swoon over him because he’s a fighter pilot.”
“Well,” Chris said, laughing good-naturedly, “I thought he was going to faint from shock when I turned down his invitation for lunch today.”
“Wise choice. Besides, you’re going out with a better man anyway.”
They both laughed in unison. “The only reason I went with you is because you made it sound like an order,” she teased.
He pursed his lips. “It was.”
Chris knew differently, but she remained silent. McCord would no more use his rank and authority for personal gain than she would. But she let him think that she believed him.
The car was warm, taking the edge off the cold, blustery day. It wasn’t unusual for snow to fall in the high desert near Edwards, located one hundred miles northeast of Los Angeles. The Telupachi and San Gabriel mountains that surrounded Antelope Valley were already cloaked in their white raiments of snow for the winter season. She glanced over at Dan as he got in. The Corvette purred to life and he shifted the gears. He probably flew a jet just as smoothly, she thought.
“So far, so good?” he asked her conversationally.
She nodded and smiled. “I’m thrilled, if you want the truth. And by the way, you’re a very effective teacher. You had all of us sitting on the edge of our seats.”
Dan gave her a sidelong glance. “Coming from you, that’s a high compliment. Thanks.”
“It’s well earned, I must say.”
“Who knows, maybe one of these days you’ll be teaching there, too.”
Chris gave an explosive laugh. “Oh, sure! Let’s take one step at a time, shall we? First, I have to learn how to fly combat planes. Next, I have to graduate.”
His azure eyes grew warm with admiration. “There wasn’t a prettier person in that room this morning than you.”
Her heart gave a leap and she pursed her lips. “There you go again.” She colored prettily beneath his look. “Am I going to have to put up with this for forty-six weeks?”
Dan’s smile was devastating. “Roger that, my raven-haired beauty. You’re just going to have to learn to take compliments with grace and say thank you.”
“Then, thank you,” she murmured, her voice growing husky. She thrilled to the words, raven haired beauty.
“That’s better. Hungry?”
“Starved!”
“Good, we need to get some more meat on your bones. You’re too damn skinny for your height.”
Chris ordered a steak sandwich, French fries and a garden salad. Over lunch, she relaxed in Dan’s soothing presence. The dining room was filled to capacity with Air Force officers and civilians alike. Dan pointed out Chuck Yeager, one of the most famous of all test pilots. Yeager had brought the U.S. into the jet age by riding the Bell
X-1 through the sound barrier. Chris stared at the short, wiry man with respect. She looked back over at Dan.
“I’d give my right arm to do something similar to what he’s done,” she whispered.
“We’re all ‘golden arms,’ so don’t be giving your right arm away for anything,” he teased. It was the pilot’s skill at getting the plane into the air and landing safely that counted. The myth that it took a “golden arm” or the “right stuff” to do it was synonymous with test piloting. “And don’t worry, you’re going to go on to create a special Chapter in the history books for all women who go into testing,” Dan said, meaning it.
“I still can’t figure out why you have so much confidence in me when I’m behind the eight ball to begin with.”
Dan toyed with his fork, a smile lingering on his mouth. He enjoyed being close to her, and was secretly amazed at how much Chris had relaxed around him. She had lost much of her previous defensiveness. Perhaps it was the adjustment of settling in at a new base. “Why do you always see yourself playing catch-up?” he posed softly, meeting and holding her violet gaze.
Chris squirmed, compressing her lips. “I’ve always felt like that.”
“Could it have to do with your past?” Dan watched her stiffen, her eyes growing hooded, more distant. He reached out, gripping her hand for just a moment and then releasing it. “You’re talking to me, Chris. I’m a friend. Don’t retreat from me.”
“I don’t want to discuss it.”
“I do.”
“My personal life is my own.”
Dan’s eyes narrowed speculatively on her. “Correction. When I feel it interferes with your attitude, it becomes my business. I’m in the habit of extracting the very best of each student’s potential. Your attitude of playing catch-up could prevent you from making a quantum leap forward by learning to fly combat jets in a very short period of time.” His voice was velvet lined with steel, and it netted the desired result.
Chris had been trained in the military, and responded to his tone. She watched him with new respect. She placed both elbows on the table, staring at him. “I don’t happen to agree with your assessment of me, Major. But if you think it’s going to interfere with my flying, then I’ll tell you.”
“Good,” he encouraged, his voice becoming gentler, less authoritative. “Maybe it will be more painless if I ask you a few key questions.” He looked up at Chris and his chest constricted with guilt as he saw hints of pain in her mobile features. This wasn’t going to be easy.
“Go ahead.”
“Were you always an orphan?”
Chris swallowed. “My mother gave me up when I was born.”
“So you were placed in an orphanage. For how long?”
“Not long initially. I went through a series of foster homes like everyone else until I was about eight, and then was sent back to the orphanage.”
Dan grimaced, resting his chin on his folded hands. “That must have been hard on you emotionally.”
“I don’t need your pity!”
“You have my understanding, not my pity,” he countered coolly, watching her face lose its lines of tension. “So how did you fare in grade school?”
Chris took a sip of her coffee. “If you want the truth, it was a salvation. I could spend hours hidden away in books of all kinds ranging from math to English.” She made a wry face. “Going back to the orphanage every afternoon was always a downer.”
Dan wanted to reach out and comfort her to neutralize the hurt that still lingered in her voice. “That’s why you enjoy being alone?”
Chris raised her chin, her violet eyes resting on his concerned face. “I don’t like it, but I’ve learned to cope successfully with it.”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “Okay, the hard part’s over. Now tell me why you feel you’re behind everyone else here at TPS.”
She shrugged, insecurity evident in her voice. “Not having any fighter experience is going to be my toughest transition. If that isn’t catch-up, nothing is. Otherwise, I feel confident in my other abilities.”
