There she sat for three hours learning about the effects of high altitude on an unprotected body. Ty had disappeared at the beginning. Growing bored, she idly jotted down a few notes. Although the airmen giving the various lectures were good, clear speakers, she couldn’t keep her mind on what they were saying. Words such as
hypoxia, decompression
and
the bends
were mentioned repeatedly.
Her thoughts kept wandering back to Ty. She rested her chin in her palm and stared down at the doodles on her pad. Why did she already feel such an accepted part of this crazy military family? She had noticed that the officers treated the enlisted men and women almost as equals, yet she had always thought that there was a distinct division in the armed services between officers and enlisted people. She let out a long sigh, completely perplexed.
At lunch Ty reappeared, ambling over to her desk.
“Well, did you learn anything so far?” he asked.
She glanced up at him briefly. “You want the truth?”
“Always.”
“I’m bored to death. I keep asking myself what good all this will do and what it has to do with riding in a Buff.”
Ty cocked his head, a warning glitter in his blue eyes. “I know it’s hard to understand, Erin, but if we get a rapid decompression, you could be dead in a matter of minutes. This boring information could literally save your life.”
She felt properly chastised. “Okay, okay. I’ll try to listen more attentively after lunch.”
“We nearly lost a crew member about a year ago to this very thing,” Ty went on, sitting down at the desk next to hers. He rubbed his face tiredly. “We were up at thirty-nine thousand feet and we got an RD—rapid decompression. Our gunner, Davis, was on his last mission with us before he was to be transferred. He was asleep on the bunk. The new gunner got his own mask on and then fought his way forward to clap the mask over Davis.”
Erin frowned. “And?”
“You have to keep in mind that during RD we take emergency flight maneuvers. I nosed the Buff down and was dropping her like a rock to reach ten thousand feet. At that altitude you can survive. But for the gunner to move against the building g forces to get to Davis was damn near impossible. By the time the gunner reached him, Davis’s heart had stopped beating.”
Erin put her hand against her lips, her eyes widening. She searched Ty’s face anxiously. “Oh…I didn’t realize…”
He held her startled gaze. “No one ever does until it happens,” he muttered. He reached over and pulled her hand away from her mouth. “That’s why I don’t want anything to happen to you, gal. I came too damn close to losing a man, and there’s no way I’m losing you. So be attentive and work hard this afternoon.”
He released her hand and stood up. “Come on. I don’t want to completely ruin your appetite. John McIntire is waiting to take us over to the officers’ club for lunch.”
Erin rose, troubled. “What happened to Davis? Did he live?”
“Barely. The other gunner had to administer cardio-pulmonary resuscitation. I landed the Buff at the closest available base. We had air traffic scrambled for a hundred miles in all directions. It was a life-and-death situation, and I wasn’t going to go by the book to get him down and to a hospital. It caused a few hard feelings, until the tower learned what was happening.” He grimaced, opening the door for her. “It was too close, Erin. Much too close.”
On the way to the car, Erin considered his story. She was impressed by the difficult job he had, and by the decisiveness required to handle such an emergency situation. Once Ty’s arm brushed hers as they walked side by side, and immediately their eyes met. His were warm and open, and something deep inside her, some hard core of pain and anger, seemed to melt. She looked away, confused.
John McIntire drove them to the officers’ club and ushered them into the dining room where they helped themselves to a buffet lunch. Erin took a seat across the table from McIntire. Ty sat down next to her.
“You ought to know you’re being escorted by one of the finest Buff pilots in SAC, Erin,” McIntire said, smiling amiably. “I knew him when he was a green kid just out of the air force academy. He impressed me even then.” He shook his head. “Funny how you can tell who will and won’t make it in this pressure-cooker business.”
Erin placed her napkin in her lap. “How is it a pressure cooker?” she asked.
“Tell her, Ty,” McIntire urged.
Ty rested his chin against his folded hands and gazed thoughtfully at her. “It might bore you,” he hedged.
“Nothing you’ve said so far has bored me, Captain Phillips.”
A glint of humor danced in his eyes as he held her gaze. “Sure?”
“Very sure. Want me to swear to it?”
“That won’t be necessary. What John is referring to is the fact that SAC bomber crews are under a lot of pressure from headquarters to do an incredible amount of testing. Each division is allotted so much fuel for the B-52s. If we’ve already flown our required number of hours for a particular month and still haven’t burned up the fuel budgeted to us, we have to fly more missions until it’s used up.” He pursed his lips. “On an average I’d say we spend seventy hours a week on duty and twenty days out of the month away from home.”
Erin stared at him in surprise. “Twenty days away from home every month? Good Lord, that’s ridiculous.” In her own brief time as a military wife she had never had to face such a strain. Steve had been stationed near a populated city and had stayed on the base most of the time. She’d been free to pursue her education.
“It’s a terrible strain on the family and marital ties,” he admitted.
McIntire nodded sadly. “Ty can attest to that from personal experience,” he said softly.
Ty said nothing, but Erin saw a momentary flash of pain in his eyes. She’d occasionally wondered about his marital status and hadn’t noticed a wedding ring, which had surprised her. He seemed far too handsome and intelligent not to be married. But why did she suddenly feel glad that he was single?
Stop it
, she chided herself.
It doesn’t mean a thing
.
“You find out in a real hurry just what your marriage is made of if you marry an SAC pilot,” McIntire told her in a confidential tone. “A lot of women can’t adjust to the demands that SAC puts on their men. Belonging to the military means making constant compromises in your personal life.”
She shook her head. “You make it sound as if the divorce rate is higher than the national average.”
“It is. Especially at Northern Tier bases, where there isn’t much to keep you busy or active outside the home. Most of the wives raise children and develop tightly knit support groups.”
“And if you’re a career woman?” Erin asked.
“Career wives have an even tougher time,” Ty told her. “They usually don’t have children, so they don’t identify with the interests of the majority. Some housewives become jealous because the career wife may have more freedom of self-expression. The situation can lead to a certain amount of jealousy and uneasiness.” A wicked glint danced in his blue eyes. “You’d make a good military wife.”
Erin laughed. “Me? Come on!”
“The marriages that survive do so partly because the women are strong and self-reliant. You’ve got those qualities. Plus you’ve got your own career, which I think helps a lot in the long run.”
John rose, slapping Ty on the back. “I think this young man just proposed to you, Erin. But if I was in his shoes, I would, too! Come on. Let’s get back to class.”
Erin was acutely conscious of heat stealing into her face as Ty pulled out her chair for her to rise. An odd smile quirked one corner of his mouth. The fact that he said nothing to refute John’s ridiculous statement made her pulse pound even harder. She rode in uncomfortable silence with both officers back to the Physiology Center.
Erin spent another hour and a half in the class that afternoon. She was glad when they took a break and Ty wandered back in, handing her a cup of coffee. He perched himself on a chair across from where she was sitting. “Well, did you pay more attention this time?” he inquired.
She produced her notes for his inspection. “I’ve been very good,” she said.
He smiled lazily. “You’re like any other Irishwoman,” he murmured. “All you need is a guiding hand and you swing right back into line.”
“I don’t know about that. I take orders from very few people,” she disagreed, meeting his challenging gaze. “But after your story on that crewman nearly dying, I was convinced.”
“You’re intelligent enough to know that,” he countered, taking a sip of his own steaming coffee.
“And is that good in your eyes?” she questioned.
“Do you want it to be?”
She colored fiercely. “Why do you have to put everything into personal terms?” she demanded, irritated. Her pulse pounded as a sudden sense of his nearness swept over her.
Ty grinned, enjoying her reaction. “Listen, gal, if we had met under other circumstances, things would be different,” he promised huskily.
His words, and the low timbre of his voice, made her feel giddy, and she quickly suppressed the sensation. “And if I didn’t know better, I’d suspect the air force sent you as a decoy to trick me into writing favorably about them,” she retorted.
His expression hardened. “Erin, why do you think the air force is so devious?” Abruptly, he rose, walking over to the wastebasket and throwing away his empty cup. He turned, his eyes narrowed. “For a writer of nonfiction, you certainly have a creative imagination.”
All the hurt and anger that remained in her from Steve’s death long ago boiled to the surface in a scalding wave. She rose, her shoulders thrown back, her body rigid. “I wouldn’t put anything past the air force, Captain. Nothing, do you hear me?” Her trembling voice echoed oddly within the classroom as she faced him. “I keep asking myself why they sent a handsome, very eligible officer to be my escort. Why didn’t they send a married officer with five kids? Why you?”
He walked slowly toward her, halting only inches away. His body was rigid with tension and he spoke quietly but with a hint of steel in his voice. “Thanks for the backhanded compliment, but you’re wrong, very wrong. By now I should think it would be obvious why they didn’t send a married officer to run around with you for two days. They don’t get home often enough as it is. The air force doesn’t want to strain the family ties any more than necessary. So they picked me. I’m divorced. I have no children. I’m on a stand-board crew, which means I don’t fly as often as most other SAC crews. Now do you understand?”
Erin felt as if her stomach had fallen to her feet. She took a step away from him, overpowered by his presence. His words had been quiet but spoken with devastating effect. She realized he hadn’t wanted to admit any of the personal details about himself and she felt guilty.
But she had good reason to hate the air force. “You can’t blame me for taking a jaundiced view,” she said through dry lips. “If you were an antimilitary reporter, wouldn’t you expect the other party to bend over backward to make things pleasant for you?”
Ty raised his chin, glaring at her. “In everything you say your hate of the air force comes through loud and clear. Why?” Ty took a step forward, closing the gap between them. “Why?” he demanded again. “I could deal with you if I understood where you’re coming from.
I can respect your reasons. What I can’t respect is the hate and anger you’re aiming at
me
just because I wear this uniform.”
She made a half turn to escape, but felt the grip of his fingers on her arm bringing her back to face him.
“We’re not finished with this conversation, lady.”
“Let me go!”
“No, Erin,” he growled. “You owe me an honest answer.”
She gritted her teeth, stiffening within his grasp. “You don’t deserve to know!” she whispered angrily. Then, to her dismay, tears gathered. She blinked them back furiously. Oh, God, she mustn’t cry! What was happening? Every time they were together, it was as if an explosive chemical reaction were taking place.
“Why do you hate me?” he demanded.
A small whimper escaped from her lips. “I don’t hate you!” she cried. “Now, let me go!”
Ty released her and stalked toward the door, jerking it open. Halting, he turned. “You’re due in the chamber in ten minutes. Be there.” The door slammed shut behind him.
Erin stood without moving for long minutes, trying desperately to control the raging emotions Ty had stirred to life. He was right, she had to admit. She hated his uniform, not him. Her eyes grew wide at the realization.
She stared toward the door. She shouldn’t feel so drawn to him, but she did. Damn! He had every right to be hurt by her dislike of the air force. How would she feel? Groaning, Erin scooped up her notebook and purse. Right now she had no time to pull him aside and apologize for her overreaction. She would apologize as soon as the hyperbaric chamber experience was completed.
John McIntire smiled genially as she entered the rectangular chamber. Two other airmen, both young, were already outfitted in full oxygen gear. The chamber was empty otherwise, and her footsteps echoed oddly within it.
“Sit here, Erin,” McIntire told her. “Let Airman Reeves help you on with the gear.” He patted her shoulder in a reassuring gesture. “Don’t look so frightened. Everyone goes into this chamber thinking the worst. And you know what? They all come out smiling when it’s over. Nothing will happen. You just sit back and relax while Sergeant Calvin and I sit at the controls. You’ll be in good hands.”
Her heart began a slow pound as an airman in a white helmet with an oxygen mask came forward with her equipment. She didn’t like the chamber at all. After fitting on the helmet, she waited while the airman adjusted the oxygen mask. But when it was clapped over her nose and mouth she felt suddenly panicky.
“We have to make sure we have a good seal,” the airman explained, flipping several switches on a console. “If you don’t have a good seal, you can get hypoxia in here.” He smiled warmly. “And we don’t want that to happen. I’m going to shut off the air now. Breathe in as deeply as you can. Next I’ll put it on gang load. You’ll feel oxygen pressing against your face. At that time I want you to hold your breath so we can make sure there are no leaks between your face and the mask.”
Erin barely heard the instructions. Her hands felt cold and clammy. The instant the airman hit the “off” switch, she was without air. Instinctively she gripped the mask, her eyes wide and fearful. The airman nodded as if to indicate that her reaction was normal.
“Good,” he praised. “Now for the gang load position.”
Air shot through the hose to her mask, and Erin jumped in surprise. The air rushing into the mask bowed the supple plastic of the oxygen mask outward. She tried to breathe normally, but the rush of oxygen continued, and panic surged through her.
“Great,” the airman murmured, flipping the switches back to normal. He straightened up and gave the colonel and sergeant who were at the control panel window a thumbs-up gesture. “She’s ready,” the airman announced.
No, I’m not
, Erin screamed silently. She was trembling with fear. Why was she reacting so strongly? Desperately, she sought the reason for the ugly backwash of fear coursing through her. It made her feel like a small child who was frightened by a stalking nightmare. She was so caught up in trying to regain her emotional stability that she didn’t see Ty Phillips come into the chamber until he passed in front of her. Immediately, her panic eased. She was so glad to see him!
With the mask strapped tightly against Ty’s face, Erin couldn’t read his features except for his eyes. The anger that had been in them only minutes before was gone. As he sat down beside her, she took a deep, steadying breath and closed her eyes.
“Are you all right?” His voice came through the headset in her helmet.
She stared at him. “I—uh, yes. I’m fine.” It was difficult to breathe and talk with the mask in place, and remnants of her previous fear still gripped her. Why wouldn’t it go away?
Ty was watching her with more than casual interest. Looking up at the airman, he said, “Ask the colonel to take us up nice and slow.”
“Yes, sir.”
The next instant the hatch clanged shut and a hiss permeated the chamber. To Erin, it sounded as if a huge dungeon door had been slammed shut, imprisoning her inside. She clenched her hands in her lap. Ty reached out, covering her hands with his.
“Take it easy,” he soothed. “We’ll have to sit here for a half hour while they denitrogenize our blood. That way, when we get to the high altitudes, we won’t get the bends.”
His words registered but, more than anything, his calming voice worked a minor miracle on her ragged nerves. She closed her eyes. She would just have to sit still for half an hour and talk away the incredible monster of a fear that was eating at her emotional control.
“Right now,” Ty murmured, “we’re breathing on a demand regulator. That means you have to work a little bit for each breath. I want you to relax some more. You’re stiff.” He gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. “That’s my girl.”
Erin saw the corners of his eyes crinkle and knew he was smiling. It made her feel a little better. He seemed to sense her need to touch him, to hold on to something solid and reassuring. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d become, and she forced her shoulders to drop. She tried to inhale more steadily.
“Talk to me,” Ty urged gently. “Are you alive and well under that helmet and mask?”
His teasing tone made her smile. Gripping the mask, she nodded. “Barely…”
“This is a real chamber of horrors to most civilians. After a while you’ll get used to it. It’s a strange sensation and one that very few people except military pilots and crew members experience. Relax, Erin. We’ll get you through this in one piece.” His eyes took on a familiar glint of mockery. “Besides, I want to take you out to dinner tonight to celebrate passing this test.”
She shook her head. “How can you?” she asked in half breaths, again having trouble breathing evenly.
“You think just because we have a tiff I’m going to ignore you? No way, darlin’.”
“You’re a glutton for punishment, then,” she told him.
“Maybe, but you’re worth the effort.”
Erin looked away. Did she dare believe what his words seemed to suggest—that he cared for her a great deal more than she’d realized? Confusion mingled with the gut-wrenching fear that still churned within her. She turned back to him. “Did you have to come in here?” she asked.
He shook his head solemnly. “No. I was watching you through one of the windows and saw you were having a pretty bad reaction. I figured some company might help settle those fears.”
Her throat constricted with sudden emotion. “Thanks,” was all she could whisper. His fingers tightened against hers. Tentatively she returned the pressure. “I’m glad you’re here,” she admitted.
His eyes danced with good humor. “There’s more than one way to tame a headstrong woman. I feel a little guilty taking advantage of this chamber of horrors to hold your hand. But it’s worth it.”
The laughter in his voice made the cloak of Erin’s dread slip back a bit further from her shoulders. He was a good tonic.
The half hour passed slowly but surely with Ty’s easy banter and instructions to keep her mind off her fear. Once their blood was completely free of nitrogen, the steps necessary to familiarize Erin with oxygen at high-altitude flight began. She was able to clear her ears simply by swallowing, and Ty gave a thumbs-up signal.
“Hey, pretty good. A lot of people have to do a Valsalva by pinching their noses shut and blowing air back into their Eustachian tubes to clear them. Very good, darlin’. Maybe you ought to sign up with the air force and become a crew member.”
She shook her head firmly. “No, thanks!”
He lifted his broad shoulders, his laughter floating into her ears. “You’d be the prettiest crew member anyone’s seen. I can hardly wait to get you up to K.I. Sawyer and watch those other crews drool with envy. It isn’t every day we get such a good-looking VIP flying with us.”
“You’re such a crock of blarney, Ty,” she accused, smiling in spite of herself.
“Erin, Ty, we’re going to take you up to thirty-five thousand feet,” McIntire informed them through the microphone.
“Okay,” Ty responded. He looked over at her. “At thirty-five thousand, the mask goes on a pressure-demand position. That means you’re going to get a lot of air flowing into it,” he explained.
Erin nodded, feeling somewhat easier. So far she had remained in the chamber for forty-five minutes, and the fear seemed to be staying at bay. Again a loud hiss filled the chamber, and Erin instinctively tensed.
The instant the whoosh of oxygen hit her, her fragile control shattered. Suddenly, she was drinking in larger and larger drafts of air, unable to exhale. She clawed at the mask, panic surging to the surface. Blackness began to rim her vision, and she shut her eyes.
“Erin!” Ty’s voice came quietly through the earphone.
She twisted to one side, a cry lodged in her throat. She felt someone’s arms go around her, pulling her hand away from the mask. “Exhale,” Ty commanded. “Erin! Listen to me.”
She was aware of sharp orders being given. The two other airmen hovered around her. The hiss of the chamber intensified her fear. Suddenly, she was no longer in the chamber, but in the middle of a pond as a twelve-year-old child. She screamed, trying to keep her head above the water that rushed over her. It flowed into her nostrils and down her throat, suffocating her. Wasn’t anyone going to help? Was she going to drown? The water kept closing in over her head, and she screamed with panic, her arms flailing wildly.
Then arms came around her, rescuing her. She was being dragged back to shore, gagging and vomiting up the water she’d swallowed. She lay on the bank, gasping for air. Someone rolled her over on her stomach and forced the rest of the water out. She lay there for what seemed an eternity, gasping in life-giving oxygen. She had nearly died….