“Oh come on,” Boston chimed in, walking beside Howard with a lit cigarette in his mouth. “Get one of those…what did the Brits call them…kitchen passes.”
Howard laughed as Jameson shook his head. “What you don’t get, Boston,” Howard said with a grin, “is that Stanton here would rather go home to that gorgeous wife of his than ask for a night out with the boys.”
“The last two weeks have been a night out with the boys,” Jameson countered. “And if any of you had a woman half as good as Scarlett, you wouldn’t be so quick to ask for a kitchen pass, either.” Besides, it wasn’t just Scarlett he was going home to. William had begun crawling, the changes in his little body happening so fast that Jameson could barely keep up.
“I heard she has a sister,” Boston joked.
“A very engaged sister,” Howard replied.
Jameson’s jaw flexed. Not only was it absolutely abhorrent that Constance was marrying an ogre, but he knew the guilt of it ate Scarlett up and spat her back out daily.
“Flight Officer Stanton,” an airman called, waving his hands just in case Jameson hadn’t heard him.
“So help me God if they don’t let me go home tonight, I’m going to prang an aircraft.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Howard said, slapping him on the back.
Fine, he wasn’t actually going to crash an aircraft on purpose, but the thought had its appeal if it got him just a couple of days with his family. He waved the airman over. The kid couldn’t have been more than nineteen, or maybe it was simply that Jameson felt decades older than twenty-four.
“Flight Officer Stanton,” the kid said between heaving breaths.
“What can I do for you?” Jameson asked, already preparing himself for the possibility of another night without Scarlett.
“There’s someone here to see you,” the kid announced.
“Does this someone have a name?” Jameson asked.
“I didn’t catch it,” the kid admitted. “But he’s waiting for you in the pilots’ rest room. He was really insistent that he see you.”
Jameson sighed and ran his hand over his sweaty hair. He hadn’t just spent the last few hours in an aircraft, he also smelled like it. “Okay, let me get a shower —”
“No! He said he needed to see you as soon as you landed.”
“Great.” Jameson kissed the thought of a shower goodbye. “I’ll head over right now.”
To say he was in a foul mood by the time he walked into the rest room would have been an understatement. He wanted a shower, and Scarlett, and William, and a hot meal, not some secretive meeting in the—
“Holy shit! Uncle Vernon?” Jameson’s mouth dropped open at the figure he found lounged in one of the leather armchairs that lined the rest room wall.
“Finally!” His uncle stood with a wide grin and captured him in a bear hug. “I almost had to give up on you. I’m due to leave in the next half hour.”
“What are you doing here?” Jameson asked as he stepped back, noting the American uniform his uncle wore.
“Your mother didn’t tell you?” Uncle Vernon asked with a sly grin.
Jameson’s brows rose as he recognized the insignia. “You joined the Transport Command?”
“Well, I couldn’t very well sit home on my backside while you were over here risking yours, could I?” His uncle’s eyes swept over Jameson in that appraising way he’d always had. “Sit down, Jameson. You look like hell.”
“I’ve looked like hell for the last two years,” Jameson argued, but sat, sinking into the worn leather. “How long have you been flying for the ATC?”
“Almost a year,” Uncle Vernon replied. “Started out as a civilian, but eventually the pressure got to me,” he admitted, motioning to the rank on the collar of his flight suit.
“At least they made you a lieutenant colonel,” Jameson noted.
His uncle grimaced. “It has some privileges, like being able to hold a flight three hours late when your nephew is in the middle of a dogfight. A nephew I heard happens to be an ace.”
“Wonder where I got those flying skills from.”
“You’ve surpassed anything I could have taught you. It’s damned good to see you, boy. Though even I can admit you’re a man now.”
Jameson rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d say I would have been here sooner had I known, but I wouldn’t have.” He’d never leave his squadron in the sky.
“I’m just glad I got to see you. I wish I could have met your Scarlett and my great-nephew, but maybe we can get the Germans to agree not to attack when I come back next month.” His uncle flashed a smile that closely resembled his own.
“I’ll get right on that,” Jameson said as flatly as he could manage before cracking a smile. “So where do you go from here?”
His uncle arched a brow. “Don’t you know? That’s classified.”
“Don’t you know? I named my son William Vernon.” Jameson lifted his own brow in response. How easy it was to be with him again, as though the last two and a half years hadn’t happened. As though they were at home on the porch, watching the stars come out in the Colorado sky.
“I heard something about that.” His uncle grinned. “I’ll meet up with the rest of the ATC pilots up north, and we’ll head back tonight. It’s hard to believe that sixteen hours make the difference between being in England and hitting the east coast.”
Sixteen hours, Jameson thought. The entire world could change in just sixteen hours. “We’re grateful,” he said, looking his uncle in the eye. “Every bomber you guys ferry over here from the States is needed.”
“I know,” he replied, his face falling. “I’m proud of you, Jameson, but I wish you didn’t have to be here. And I definitely wish you weren’t raising my great-nephew where bombs fall on sleeping babies.”
Jameson let the back of his head fall against the leather and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m trying like hell to get them out of here. She’s been through the medical exams, we have all the paperwork in order, and they’re entitled to citizenship…as long as my government hasn’t revoked mine.” Scarlett’s appointment for her visa was next week. It was already May, and he knew chances were the quotas had already been filled, but he couldn’t give up hope.
“They haven’t revoked your citizenship,” his uncle promised. “America is in this war now, for better or worse. They’re not gonna punish those who were brave enough to fight before we were provoked.”