Creighton lifted his brows and gave a small shake of his head.
“That’s probably because Coach Theo doesn’t think you’re old enough for bribery,” Eli said to the team. “But I do.”
“What’s bribery?” the least-coordinated boy asked.
“It’s when you offer to give something to someone if they’ll do what you want in exchange. I’m guessing that parents frown on bribery. But lucky for you guys, I’m not a parent.”
Their small faces sharpened with interest.
“We’re playing the Bricklayers on Monday night and we’re going to bring a full court press defense. We’re also going to rebound. When we have the ball, we’ll take our time and attempt smart shots. If you steal the ball from the other team or if you rebound a ball, Coach Creighton here is going to add a tiger claw tattoo to your arm the next time you sit on the bench.”
“A permanent tattoo?” a red-haired kid asked.
That’s right. We’re going to ink a permanent tattoo onto your arm on the sidelines of a youth basketball game. “A temporary tattoo. At the end of the game, you’ll count up your tiger claws and we’ll see who has the most.”
“So what are you bribing us with?” Redhead again. His mouth twisted with confusion.
“The tattoos. If you do what I want—steal the ball or rebound the ball—I’ll give you a tattoo. Deal?”
“Deal,” they said in unison.
•••
Penelope immersed herself in a bath composed half of water and half of thick, glossy, vanilla-scented bubbles. Her fingers drifted back and forth, creating fanciful patterns in the suds.
Everyone stationed at Ricker Air Force Base left eventually.
Her years in Misty River had taught her this truth very, very well. She didn’t date airmen in partbecausethey left. So why had the realization that Eli would be leaving caused a wrench of pain so deep within that she still hadn’t recovered from it?
The town, their social circle, Theo, herself. None would be the same without his distinctive presence.
Roy’s flat face appeared over the lip of the tub. His attention ticked from bubble to bubble until he finally started batting at them with a paw.
Yesterday, when she and Eli had danced, she’d once again been confronted with her enormous longing for him. Her whole body had beenachingto kiss him. Yet her deep emotions concerning him were at war with one another. She hadn’t forgotten Lila’s tears. Michelle’s tears. Destiny’s tears. The pain Eli himself had caused her the one time she’d risked kissing him. The fact that he’d be just as gone, come January, as all the other airmen who’d come before him.
She’d told Sam that she did not want to doom herself to heartbreak. And a truer statement had never been given.
With Eli, falling in love felt like the easiest option in the world. It would take no effort to fall. He was brave, selfless, impressive, funny, smart, and inexplicably dedicated to her.
Heartbreak was the thing that would take effort. If things didn’t work out with Eli, she’d be left with a canyon of sorrow to scale.
•••
Eli pulled down the top few inches of his flight suit zipper on Friday as he strode away from his aircraft across the tarmac. He clasped his helmet bag in one hand and used his other to rake his sweat-drenched hair into place. Now that the aircraft were parked safely in their shelters, the shrill noise of their jet engines was fading quickly. The Raptors that had been so dynamic minutes before now looked dormant, the smell of burnt fuel the only symbol of the power they’d just displayed.
Inside the squadron lounge he pushed two pieces of bread into the toaster, ate a banana, took a long drink of water, poured himself coffee, then waited for Shooter to finish with the butter and butter knife. The other pilots were all talking and jostling in the small space, trying to grab food and a drink during the few minutes they had to spare before the debrief.
They’d just completed an air-to-air mission. Half of them had been designated good guys. Half of them bad guys. They’d all had to operate under the assigned parameters, make split-second decisions, and fly with precision.
Their cockpit displays had been recorded throughout the exercise and they were about to review the tapes, which meant each pilot’s mistakes and successes would be shown to all.
Eli would find out if he’d won the war or lost it. They’d eventually agree on learning points, but until then he could count on the debrief to be tense and hard-hitting. No matter how senior you were, if you’d screwed up during the mission, even the junior pilots would call you out.
He didn’t think he’d screwed up. He was a perfectionist when it came to flying and he expected to be told during the debrief that he’d done well.
Even so, this was not the time to think about poetry.
He placed his toast on a paper plate and buttered it while thinking about poetry.
