FIC: Flight of the Phoenix ~ Stand-alone (3/3)
Title: Flight of the Phoenix ~ Part three of three
Authors: aussie and bugs
Genre: A/U (of the A/U), Romance, Humor
Word Count:17,700
Rating: M
A/N: So sorry, faithful readers. We will get back to Unavailable, we swear. But we needed a fic for about_time's 12 Days of Christmas, so we went to our favorites, the Adams!
IV.
Laura stood before her mirror and checked her appearance. She was a scarlet woman in more ways than one. The fine red silk slid along her curves. With every movement, the shimmering fabric slid along her swaying hips and nervously heaving chest. This was a gown which she'd purchased on a whim while taking a rare visit to Chicago, but had never gotten the nerve to wear in small town Adair. She could just hear Ellen Cavil, for one...
But tonight was the night to finally put on the revealing dress. She was going to show her hometown just who she was...And Bill Adams? She had to prove something to herself, more than him. He had flown out of her life without a word.
Ignoring the voice whispering in her ear, reminding Laura that she had hurtfully rejected his proposal, she snatched up her clutch. Sam waited below to drive them to the dance.
Jake was also waiting patiently by the truck.
"You can't go," Laura insisted to him.
He wagged his tail, stirring up the dust with its feathery hair.
Sam opened the passenger door for her. "No," she said again.
The dog kept his gaze locked with hers, his big brown eyes swimming with near tears.
“No,” she repeated.
Sam waited, not closing her door quite yet.
Jake continued to stare, his tail wagging.
"All...Right..." she muttered and Jake was up and onto the floorboards at her feet in a flash.
Then Sam closed the door and went around to the driver's side.
The ride to the Baltar farm was mercifully short in her farm truck.
"Is Kara going to be here?" she asked Sam to keep her mind from her empty barn and deep track marks that Bill's plane had left in her field as he'd taxied away.
"Maybe," he grumbled. "She didn't return my phone call. She won't be there as my girl if she does show up."
"She does seem to have trouble settling down," Laura mused, not really paying attention.
The Baltar farm was bright with glowing lanterns strung above the barnyard, lighting up colorful tents and carnival booths. Music pouring through the wide open doors of the potato shed. After ordering Jake to stay outside the barn, Laura was soon swept into the cheerful crowd of former students and old friends, reminding her why she loved this little town in the middle of cornfields.
Then she found herself face to face with Julius Baltar's son, the rather odd young man, Guy. He'd gone away to the country's finest colleges, but had been tossed out of all of them because of wine and women. His father both publicly berated and exalted his son, leading the boy to be even more petulant. He now spent his time in the back tool shed, tinkering with machines and often traveling to Chicago for 'supplies.'
"Miss Roslin," babbled Guy. "You look lovely tonight."
Guy Baltar had been in one of Laura's first classes she'd taught after returning to Adair. She'd often sensed his gaze on her, regardless of how many poor grades she gave him and little encouragement.
She awarded him now with a vague smile and turned toward the packed dance floor. Surely there was someone willing to dance with her...When no partner stepped forward--only shy glances from the town's men looked her way--she moved back outside for fresh air.
The Reverend Cavil and his wife were there, running the kissing booth to much raucous laughter from the boisterous crowd. Laura quickly turned her back so as not to be drawn into their scene. She was approached by Dulcie Franks, bringing a tall young man with her.
"Miss Roslin! I would like you to meet my nephew, Billy. He's visiting this weekend from Des Moines."
Laura shook Billy's hand, angry at herself how even the name Billy made tears come to her eyes.
The young man looked concerned, but his aunt prattled on. "Billy's attending the teacher's college in Des Moines, just as you did."
Laura forced herself to chat with Billy about his professors and courses offered there. "Do you know where you plan to teach when you graduate?" she asked.
"I graduate next week, and no, I don't," he said, the tips of his ears turning pink as his aunt not too gently elbowed him. "Uh...I was wondering..."
Laura smiled with understanding and felt sudden, irrational joy. She questioned him further about his studies. They strolled back into the shed to watch the dancers and hear the music.
Just when Laura was beginning to enjoy her evening, Dulcie called out, "Mayor Adair," drawing the tall man in to join her little group.
His wife was at his side, as always in these social occasions, but he still looked Laura over in a much too familiar fashion. She was angry for his poor wife and furious for herself. She'd worn this dress to send a message but she certainly hadn't intended Richard Adair to receive it.
Raising her chin, she exchanged chilly greetings with the Adairs. Guy Baltar joined them, acting in that ingratiating manner he had whenever a person of authority or power visited his family's farm.
Interrupting their stilted conversation, surprised gasps signalled a new, exciting arrival. Many of the partygoers’ heads bobbed close together to frantically whisper. Then, several turned Laura’s way, eyeing her new dress up and down again.
Laura snatched up a glass of lemonade from the refreshment table and tried to look as casual as possible. Surely it couldn’t really be Bill Adams... He had flown away three days ago. There was no chance he’d be returning to Adair, or attending their silly little barn dance... Was there?
But even without the buzz building around the partygoers, she knew he was. Her skin was prickling with awareness, anticipating his already-familiar stocky but muscular frame to appear by her side at any moment.
Baltar and Richard had fallen silent; they were looking at a man pushing through the crowd until he stood before Laura. Bill was wearing black tie evening dress, yet he didn't appear the least bit ridiculous or out of place. He wore the tuxedo like a uniform and perhaps for a fabulously wealthy person, it was.
Of all things, Jake was trailing after Bill, his tail wagging joyfully. The traitor!
"Mr. Adams,” she said coolly, “what are you doing here?”
“Mrs. Cavil invited me, if you remember.”
Laura’s eyes flicked automatically around the crowd of curious faces until she spotted Ellen strolling in with a studied casual air. While she snagged a glass of lemonade, the hunched figure of her husband was nowhere to be seen.
Richard stepped between Bill and Laura. "Mr. Adams, I presume," he said with his familiar sneer.
Bill looked the mayor over slowly, taking his time as he removed his monogrammed platinum cigarette case from his jacket pocket. Snapping it open, he offered the cigarettes to Richard first.
"That's me," Bill said with a smile which didn't go to his eyes.
"No, thank you," Richard said to Bill's offer.
Watching her hand as though it was a stranger’s, Laura reached over and removed a cigarette from Bill's case. "Thank you," she said huskily.
Richard's mouth fell open. His wife smirked. Raising in his chin in indignation the mayor took his wife's arm and moved her away from the company of a woman such as Laura Roslin.
Shrugging but showing no concern, Bill pulled out his heavy lighter and brought the flame to her waiting cigarette. Unlike his case, the lighter was a simple stainless steel Zippo. She was sure there was a story behind it, and wanted to know.
Laura didn't care about the Adairs either. She blew out smoke through parted lips and looked Bill over again, from his oiled hair, to his perfectly knotted bow tie and his shiny shoes. "So you just dropped back into Adair again?" she said, trying to sound bored.
"Yep. Plane's out in the back field," he announced, then lit his own cigarette.
"And you arrived in evening dress?" she asked, astonished. How could she even consider marrying such a man?
He grinned, flashing his strong white teeth at her under his neatly trimmed mustache. "I always travel prepared, Miss Roslin," he said smoothly.
"You stand out like a sore thumb," she said, folding her arms and scanning the jovial crowd on the dance floor, in their checked shirts and denim work pants, prancing around to the rollicking music.
"So do you, but in the best possible way," Bill said, looking her up and down slowly. She felt stripped naked again, lit by lightning and rolling thunder beating with her heart.
“What brings you to our dance?" she asked breathlessly. "Broken down again?"
He drew deeply on his cigarette. "I realized I forgot something and needed to come back."
“You forgot?” she prompted, her tone deepening angrily. Jake sat between them, his head swiveling from one to the other, worry in his dark eyes.
"You remembered our dance, Mr. Adams," Ellen Cavil crowed, suddenly pushing between them, interrupting any explanation Bill was going to offer.
"That's what I was just telling Miss Roslin," he said comfortably, blowing his smoke away from the ladies.
Laura couldn't take another moment of this insufferable man, and now the minister's silly wife. She looked around and saw Billy lingering.
"Mr. Keikeya, would you do me the honor of a dance?" she asked.
The young man flushed bright red, but held out his arm for her. She took it gratefully, following him to the dance floor.
Bill watched her go, his smile fading. Ellen started to speak to him, but her husband joined them, whispering urgently and dragged her away, protesting.
Without Laura nearby, Mrs. Adair had no interest in remaining close to her husband and broke away to chat with a female friend.
Richard immediately oozed over to Bill and smirked at him. "I can't imagine there's anything in our dull little town which would interest a man such as yourself, Mr. Adams."
Both men watched Laura laughing up at her dance partner.
Bill knew his eyes would be hopelessly drawn to her forever, but Adair’s interest wasn’t necessary in his opinion.
Adair was an important man in town, however. And popular from what Tyrol had told him. Perhaps he shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions to the nature of his relationship with Laura.
“Your grandfather founded the town, I believe,” Bill commented in an attempt at polite conversation.
Richard Adair, however, wasn’t interested in niceties. “Yes, I can trace my ancestors back to the Mayflower. You wouldn’t understand such roots in this land as that.”
Bill managed to tear his gaze from Laura to squint at the taller man’s profile.
“With all that Mexican blood,” Adair continued, ignoring Adams’ intense scrutiny. Just who did he think he was? Coming into town, demanding respect--and Laura Roslin it would seem--just because he’d landed on his feet so successfully after the war. He was still no better than some dirty farm laborer under the fancy tuxedo.
“Laura’s family were good people too, but of course, since they died, she’s lost her way somewhat. I’ve tried to be there for her though. Such as a time like this, when she's making a spectacle of herself.”
Bill held his breath and felt his fists clenched involuntarily as he turned back to the dance floor. “You may want to remember I am here for her too, Mr Adair,” he ground out.
Every time Laura spun around the dance floor she looked over Billy’s shoulder to where Bill and Richard were still talking. No mean feat, given the young lad’s ridiculous height. It would be so much more comfortable to dance with someone of Bill’s stature...
Pushing that thought aside, she thanked Billy for dancing with her, feeling bad that she had also used him to escape a heart-wrenching moment in the first place. His smile back was sweet.
"I appreciate you asking, Miss Roslin. I wouldn't have the nerve to ask any of the pretty women to dance."
Tears in her eyes, she assured him that the pleasure was hers.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Richard lean close to Bill and say something, and then Bill's fist shoot out, knocking her former lover down.
Laura was frozen in her place on the dance floor; as was everyone else apparently. No one was rushing to Richard’s aid. Only Jake spun around and barked, but he was nipping at Richard's heels, not Bill's.
Bill, rubbing his knuckles, bent down and spoke in Richard’s ear before offering his hand. Richard slapped Bill’s hand away and scrambled up onto all fours, tentatively dabbing at the blood oozing from a cut on the side of his lip.
While Laura was wondering how she was going to approach the situation between the two men, a gruff voice broke through the party’s shocked silence. “Well, at last, some excitement in the town.”
Doc Cottle swept by, leaving Laura blinking through the cloud of smoke that lingered in the air of his wake. The crushing crowd had found their voice, and their murmuring inquiries drowned out the ensuing conversation between the three men.
“Would you like to leave, Miss Roslin?” Billy asked.
On the edge of the dance floor, Cottle held up two fingers in front of Richard’s face, testing his vision, while Bill tossed down his cigarette and ground it out under his heel. His face impassive, he clasped his hands loosely at his waist and watched the doctor complete his examination.
The party goers’ attention swung from the scene of the fight to Laura, and back again.
Yes, Billy was right, she should leave, but she also felt obligated to check on Richard’s wellbeing.
Yet, after an outwardly confident display of striding over to the men, it wasn’t Richard she found herself asking after. “Should you put something on that?” she asked, looking down at the dark shadow of a bruise already forming on Bill’s knuckles.
Her enquiry elicited an immediate whine from Richard. “He hit me!”
“Oh... Oh, yes.” She cleared her throat and managed to drag her gaze away from Bill. “How is he, Doctor?”
Cottle chuckled quietly. “I think the young lady has made her choice,” he announced to no one in particular. “He’ll live,” he then replied to her original question before he pressed a bandage against Richard’s mouth, stifling the taller man’s indignant splutter when he added, “I’m sure he deserves more.”
Smelling blood and the prospect of further titillating gossip, Ellen Cavil pushed through the crowd.
“Why don’t I get you boys a drink?” she offered. Before anyone could answer, she spun away.
Laura frowned. The Cavils regularly preached the benefits of an alcohol-free existence. She’d never known Ellen to touch a drop...
“Here we are,” Ellen said, returning faster than Laura thought was possible, balancing two glasses of what looked like Tyrol’s moonshine, a drink famous for putting hairs on the chest of even those who indulged regularly. The thought returned her to the barn, her hands gliding over Bill’s almost-hairless chest...
She snapped out of her reverie when Myrtle Adair finally returned to her husband’s side. She showed no sympathy. Instead, he was instantly subjected to a barrage of recriminations and accusations. Ellen joined in, and soon the three locals were bickering bitterly, any semblance of propriety in front of the crowd forgotten.
“Perhaps some fresh air...” Bill’s breath tickled the hair on her neck. He gripped her elbow, firmly leading her away from the scene of his making originally. Jake followed obediently.
Outside the barn, the night was clear and warm.
“I’m sorry,” Bill said after lighting two cigarettes and handing one to her.
She took a long drag on the proffered cigarette, sure she could taste him on its tip. “What did he say?” she asked.
Bill looked away, staring across to the field where his plane sat. “Let’s just forget it. The stars are beautiful here.”
“Forget it? There seems to be a lot of things you’re willing to forget, Mr Adams,” she snapped, suddenly remembering her earlier indignation.
“I haven’t forgotten proposing, Laura,” he said, his tone so deep and sincere that she placed a hand on his chest, fighting the imaginary pull he had over her. She simply wanted to melt into his arms and accept everything he promised. The silkiness of his expensive shirt beneath her palm reminded her of his wealth. He’d buy her grand gowns and jewelry and...
“And this would be how life as Mrs Adams would be? A party every night, where you keep me close by your side, ready to defend my honor?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t go to as many parties as people would imagine.” He grasped her hand and lifted it to his mouth, briefly kissing the back of her hand before he threaded their fingers together. “Come on. If we go further away from the party’s lights we’ll be able to see the stars clearer.”
Laura let him lead her to one of the hay fields. Rolls of canvas were lined up, ready to cover the spring hay once it was mowed to protect it from summer storms.
They were now much closer to Bill’s plane. Its silver skin glowed and winked in the moonlight, reminding her again that he still hadn’t offered her any explanation for his sudden departure from the town.
“They have no telephones in San Francisco?” she muttered, trying to hang onto her anger and bitterness rather than be swept away.
“I think they do,” he replied in a pleasant tone, ignoring her tetchiness and tugging her hand to lower her to the ground. They lay side by side, with little regard to their evening wear, staring up at the shimmering stars cascading across the dark sky. The canvas rolls pillowed their heads, making Laura fight a giggle at the thought of their choices of beds. No one would guess they were a millionaire and a schoolmistress.
Jake acted as a chaperone; jostling until he had prime position between them. The dog ignored Bill's grumble of protest.
They didn't speak for a long time, both content to stay lost in their own thoughts for a while. Laura expected Bill to make excuses or offer sophisticated advances, but he remained silent. She liked the sound of his steady breathing; it soothed her, and her anger washed away on its rhythm. The music and laughter drifted across from the carnival on the gentle night’s breeze, adding to the surreal ambience of the setting. Eventually they finished their cigarettes and stubbed out the butts.
Now and then, one of them would reach down to stroke Jake. Neither of them commented when they’d brush along each other’s skin instead of the dog’s soft fur.
It was Laura who broke the mood to speak first: “When I was a child I was always too scared to go outside at night. But after... Afterwards I would come out and stare up at the stars for hours just... waiting.”
“Waiting?” Bill prompted.
“Waiting for some sign that Susan and Martha were in a better place,” she said softly. She felt Bill’s gaze turn from the sky to her profile, but he never offered any of the usual platitudes, for which she was grateful.
“How many cars do you own, Bill?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shake his head slightly at the unexpected question.
“I mean something other than a farm truck,” she elaborated. “I know you own planes but you must have a garage full of autos.”
“No,” he denied.
“I want to just drive and drive without having to think about responsibilities or my destination,” she continued. “And I want to go so fast. I don’t think there’s a single truck in Adair that goes faster than Jake could run.”
Bill chuckled at her last comment, but instantly sobered at the tone in Laura’s voice as she went on. “We were the only farm girls in town who didn’t know how to drive. It wasn’t ladylike enough for mother.” She grimaced at the memory. "To her, we were young ladies who lived on a farm, not farm girls, and would behave accordingly."
Bill reached over Jake and found Laura’s hand again, giving it a quick reassuring squeeze. She tilted her head then, holding his gaze . “Maybe you could teach me how to drive?”
He remained silent for a long time before finally replying. “I can’t,” he rasped.
She sat up and wiped at her shining eyes. “Of course not,” she sneered bitterly.
She tried to shake her hand free but he held it tight. “I can’t because I don’t know how to drive,” he told her.
Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “But you fly...”
“Yes.” He shrugged. “Always had someone to drive me wherever I wanted to go, I guess.”
“Oh.” She wanted to believe in Bill so desperately... “Would you let me drive you? I mean, one day, if I learned how...”
His grin shone brighter than the stars. “Depends on how fast you wanna go. You might think I’m not much of a man if I get scared or sick.”
Her gaze drifted greedily to his body, remembering breathing in his heady masculine scent. How soft and feminine she’d felt when pressed against him.
“I don’t think I’d ever mistake you for a woman,” she said throatily.
He reached up and tucked a few wayward strands of her hair behind her ear. “If I promise to buy you a garage full of autos, will you come and live with me in San Francisco? I’ll hire someone to teach you to drive. I’ll even bravely offer myself up as a passenger now and then.”
“What else? You go out and work on your planes during the day while I wait at home, keeping house and preparing dinner?”
“There's no need for you to cook and clean. That's what the servants are for."
Servants...Laura gulped. That hadn't occurred to her for some reason. Of course they would have servants. If she wasn’t to keep Bill’s house, what would she do all day? Sudden images of decadently lolling in a huge bed with satin bedclothes twined around their naked bodies, like some Von Stroheim characters entered her mind--
She clung to what she knew, fighting off the frightening unknown: “I was always meant to keep house, be a good wife. And then...”
“There’s different ways of being a good wife, Laura. Keeping house isn’t the only--”
“I want you to understand, Bill. My mother... We were too clever, she’d say. She’d tell father how ridiculous it was to teach us the masters of literature. We’d never have any use for such a thing. We would marry, we would stay in Adair. After they died...”
She closed her eyes and Bill tugged her hand gently again, this time rearranging Jake to one side so she could settle her head comfortably on his chest. Without thinking, she looped her leg over his hip, drawing him closer still.
“I was only able to go to teaching college when they died. It was like honoring my father’s memory, but dishonoring my mother’s...”
Bill brushed his lips across Laura’s forehead. She’d gone to Des Moines after her family died. That fellow Adair had taken advantage of her vulnerability... The dull ache in his hand lessened.
“I have more money than I’d ever be able to spend in a lifetime.”
“I don’t want your money--”
He kissed her full on the lips, silencing her protests. “I have many charities,” he explained. “One of the charities is a school. It’s for wayward girls.”
“There’s no such thing as a wayward girl. There’s only girls without opportunities.”
He kissed her again, this time for a touch longer.
“I spoke with Tom Zarek, the man I’ve employed to run it for me,” he said when they parted. “You could continue to teach there after we’re married.”
“You’ve spoken to him already?” she breathed.
“Yes. I knew you wouldn’t be content to be just my wife.”
She leaned forward and initiated their next kiss. Lazily their tongues met, familiarizing themselves again with each other’s unique taste until eventually they parted to continue with their conversation.
“And he agreed to let me teach there? Without a reference? Or meeting me?”
“He has no choice--”
“Bill, you can’t just bully someone into employing--”
“If it means my wife will be happy, I will.”
She started to protest again but stopped herself. Her hand smoothed across his firm chest, so solid beneath the fine wool dinner jacket.
Staring up at the spinning stars, she felt close to tears. "I've always done what I had to do...To honor my parents, then to keep the farm running, the school...But maybe..."
His lips were on her temple. The choice was hers and his own fate was in her hands.
Slowly, she continued: "...Maybe we should embrace this world and this life and see what that brings us."
He squeezed her close. "I'm all for embracing," he said approvingly, and she gave him a nudge with her knee as a gentle reproach.
"No, no, I'm serious," she scolded him. She felt drunk on the night and his touch and found herself babbling as though she had downed a bottle of champagne. "I mean, I think that...I think that we should all look at every moment of every day from now on as borrowed time, and people should live the lives that they want to live before it's over. I need to stop spending the little time I have left worrying about what people think of me."
His next kiss was to silence her completely, and slowly, from the gentle pressure of his tongue in her mouth and his hands on her body -- they were everywhere, cupping her bottom, holding her hips, stroking her legs, moulding her breasts...
A familiar voice was suddenly calling out much too close. "John! John, where are you!?"
They parted guiltily and Laura slapped a hand over her mouth to cover her giggle. "Don't make a sound," she warned Bill in a hoarse whisper, everything she'd just said flying out the window. "She can't find us! My reputation is already in shreds as it is!"
But instead of keeping still and quiet, Bill leapt up, causing Laura's head to painfully clunk back on the canvas roll. "What the--" she grumbled.
He was gone, rushing off in the dark. Jake chased after him, abandoning her. She lay for a moment, stunned by shock rather than pain. That man. That damned man!
Then she scrambled to her feet and took off after Bill's retreating figure.
In heels, she could only keep him in sight, but she knew he was heading in the direction of his plane. And when she did finally catch him, Bill was not alone.
A tall thin bald man was comically wrestling with a shadowy, masked figure, while Bill had joined the fight. Another man, his freckled face flushed, was hanging onto the masked man's leg. As they dragged the man away from the plane, his mask was revealed to be a rubber clown's face, grimacing horribly. Mr. Haffner, the gym teacher, had been entertaining the children as a clown at the carnival, but why in the world would he be at Bill's plane?
Jake chased around all of them, barking. Suddenly, a pistol flashed in the dim light, being waved around the clown.
"Gun!" roared the bald man as the weapon swung in Bill's direction.
Laura, seeing it all from behind him, screamed, the note harsh and loud. Bill whirled, seeing her there and dove for her. The bullet whizzed over their heads as they fell to the ground.
The bald man knocked the gun from the shooter's hand. "Son of a bitch!" he growled. "Bill!?"
"Yeah, 'm okay," muttered Bill, muffled by Laura's hair. "Are you all right?" he asked her.
"Yes," she said, confused and angry at the same time. "What the hell's going on?"
He struggled to his feet, and helped her up.
She repeated, "What's happening, Bill?"
Bill didn't answer and wrapped his arms around her to hold her close. "Have you got him, Saul?"
"Yeah," Saul said, panting and sweating as he pinned the vicious clown's arms behind his back. The sandy-haired man rose and whipped out a pair of handcuffs.
"Let me cuff him up," he said.
Once the man was secured, Bill strode over and yanked off the rubber mask.
"Reverend Cavil!" gasped Laura.
"Of course," Bill said, keeping her close to his side despite the fact Cavil was shackled.
Laura couldn't understand. "Why--"
Drawn by the gunfire, all the revelers had rushed to the field. They gathered around and gaped at their minister in handcuffs.
Ellen pushed her way to the front. She added to the chorus of confusion. "What's going on?"
Doctor Cottle, wheezing and puffing, parted the crowd. "What do you think you're doing, young man?" he barked at Bill.
"We've just netted a Nazi agent, that's what," Bill said coolly, lighting a cigarette.
Saul pulled out his own crumpled pack of smokes and lit one. He squinted at Cavil's wife, who at the word 'Nazi' had gasped and was now wavering on her feet. Instead of fainting into the arms of her fellow townspeople, she drifted toward him, her shaking hand to her brow.
"How can this be?" she wailed. "What shall become of me?"
Saul caught her as she slumped. "Ma'am--"
Bill squinted at her. "Can't say, Mrs. Cavil. Your husband is going up to Des Moines to be questioned by these G-men." He nodded toward Saul and the sandy-haired man who was straightening his tweed suit.
"You'll need to be questioned as well," Saul said with a leer in his voice, "but we can do that right here in the comfort of your home."
"Go to hell, the lot of you," hissed Cavil. "I'm not talkin'."
"Bill, what in the world does this all mean?" asked Laura.
He gave her his big grin. "I discovered someone was sniffing around my prototype plane when it was in your barn. That's why I had to scat--"
She smiled back. He hadn't left her! He was protecting national security!
"I brought her back--" All the gazes lifted to the plane and that's when Laura noticed the name Phoenix had been replaced with her own in lovely cursive. "To set a trap for our little Hun," Bill said with satisfaction.
Laura's smile disappeared. He hadn't returned for her after all; she was just his cover. She turned her back to him, shaking in fury.
"Laird, why don't you take this minister to Des Moines," said Saul, who was still holding Ellen.
"Yes, sir," the other government agent said, but he looked uncertain.
"Careful, Saul," said Bill, still not noticing Laura's pique. "That one looks nearly as dangerous."
Ellen fluttered her eyelashes up at Saul.
"Don't worry, Commander," said Saul, not taking his gaze off her, "I'll keep a real close eye on her."
Sighing, Bill turned his attention to Laura, only to see her stalking away, Jake close at her heels.
"Hey, where you goin'?" he called after her ungallantly.
She whirled back, her nostrils flaring. What was one more scene before all of Adair at this point?
"I am going home," she said with a deadly slowness.
He came to her side. "No you aren't," he replied, just as convincingly.
She blinked at him.
"You're gettin' in this plane."
The crowd began to buzz.
He nodded toward Billy. "Give that boy the keys to the schoolhouse and let's get out of this place."
"Why in the world would I do that?" she hissed.
Bill pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "Because we've got a date at the courthouse first thing in the morning."
Opening the folded document, she squinted, cursing the lack of her glasses. She barely made out that it was a marriage license, signed by a superior court judge.
"What's this?" she sputtered anyway. She didn't seem to be doing anything but posing questions this evening.
"I'm not asking again," Bill said with steel in his voice and her hackles immediately went up again.
"You're ordering me to marry you?"
His grin returned. "I'm not a damn fool. I want to survive to enjoy the honeymoon."
A voice spoke up tentatively behind Laura. "Uh, Miss Roslin--"
"Yes, Billy?" she replied, but keeping eye contact with Bill's impish gaze.
"I'd be happy to take over. I mean, you do a swell job, and can't really be replaced, but I know if I were in your shoes--"
Bill looked at the younger man, outraged.
"That is to say," Billy stumbled on, "Mr. Adams seems to be making an offer too good to refuse."
She didn't have the energy to explain to Billy that the offer wasn't William Adams’ money or mansion or social position.
"I love you," she said to Bill.
"Good," he said, tears shimmering in his eyes. He took her hand.
Their emotions wrung out by the evening's surprises and shocks, the townspeople still managed a ragged cheer as Bill helped Laura up on the wing of the plane and into the rear seat. He carefully tucked her hair up in a leather helmet before putting one on too.
Sam lifted Jake up to Bill, and he placed the dog in beside Laura.
"Sorry, fella," Bill said, "I don't have a helmet for you."
Laura clapped her hands over Jake's floppy ears. "I'll take care of that," she announced, happy and excited.
Satisfied, Bill gave her a nod. He wedged himself into the front seat and pulled the canopy over their heads. Laird hurried to the propeller and gave it a spin when Bill signaled that he was ready.
Her head whirling at all she was about to do, Laura still waved to Sam and his girl, Kara. She hoped they could find the love she had. Perhaps with her whole farm for him to manage...What was she saying? She'd give it to him!
Her laughter bounced around the plane's cockpit, and Bill reached back to pat one of her hands gripping his seat.
He accelerated the plane and it bumped along the field, parting the crowd of partygoers. Then the ride smoothed, and Laura realized they must be airborne.
Her heart beat even faster. "Bill? BILL!" she yelled over the engines' roar.
"What?" he bellowed back.
"I think I'm afraid of flying!" She squeezed her eyes shut in terror.
"Don't worry," he yelled back. "You're starting the ride of your life!"
~ End
Authors: aussie and bugs
Genre: A/U (of the A/U), Romance, Humor
Word Count:17,700
Rating: M
A/N: So sorry, faithful readers. We will get back to Unavailable, we swear. But we needed a fic for about_time's 12 Days of Christmas, so we went to our favorites, the Adams!
IV.
Laura stood before her mirror and checked her appearance. She was a scarlet woman in more ways than one. The fine red silk slid along her curves. With every movement, the shimmering fabric slid along her swaying hips and nervously heaving chest. This was a gown which she'd purchased on a whim while taking a rare visit to Chicago, but had never gotten the nerve to wear in small town Adair. She could just hear Ellen Cavil, for one...
But tonight was the night to finally put on the revealing dress. She was going to show her hometown just who she was...And Bill Adams? She had to prove something to herself, more than him. He had flown out of her life without a word.
Ignoring the voice whispering in her ear, reminding Laura that she had hurtfully rejected his proposal, she snatched up her clutch. Sam waited below to drive them to the dance.
Jake was also waiting patiently by the truck.
"You can't go," Laura insisted to him.
He wagged his tail, stirring up the dust with its feathery hair.
Sam opened the passenger door for her. "No," she said again.
The dog kept his gaze locked with hers, his big brown eyes swimming with near tears.
“No,” she repeated.
Sam waited, not closing her door quite yet.
Jake continued to stare, his tail wagging.
"All...Right..." she muttered and Jake was up and onto the floorboards at her feet in a flash.
Then Sam closed the door and went around to the driver's side.
The ride to the Baltar farm was mercifully short in her farm truck.
"Is Kara going to be here?" she asked Sam to keep her mind from her empty barn and deep track marks that Bill's plane had left in her field as he'd taxied away.
"Maybe," he grumbled. "She didn't return my phone call. She won't be there as my girl if she does show up."
"She does seem to have trouble settling down," Laura mused, not really paying attention.
The Baltar farm was bright with glowing lanterns strung above the barnyard, lighting up colorful tents and carnival booths. Music pouring through the wide open doors of the potato shed. After ordering Jake to stay outside the barn, Laura was soon swept into the cheerful crowd of former students and old friends, reminding her why she loved this little town in the middle of cornfields.
Then she found herself face to face with Julius Baltar's son, the rather odd young man, Guy. He'd gone away to the country's finest colleges, but had been tossed out of all of them because of wine and women. His father both publicly berated and exalted his son, leading the boy to be even more petulant. He now spent his time in the back tool shed, tinkering with machines and often traveling to Chicago for 'supplies.'
"Miss Roslin," babbled Guy. "You look lovely tonight."
Guy Baltar had been in one of Laura's first classes she'd taught after returning to Adair. She'd often sensed his gaze on her, regardless of how many poor grades she gave him and little encouragement.
She awarded him now with a vague smile and turned toward the packed dance floor. Surely there was someone willing to dance with her...When no partner stepped forward--only shy glances from the town's men looked her way--she moved back outside for fresh air.
The Reverend Cavil and his wife were there, running the kissing booth to much raucous laughter from the boisterous crowd. Laura quickly turned her back so as not to be drawn into their scene. She was approached by Dulcie Franks, bringing a tall young man with her.
"Miss Roslin! I would like you to meet my nephew, Billy. He's visiting this weekend from Des Moines."
Laura shook Billy's hand, angry at herself how even the name Billy made tears come to her eyes.
The young man looked concerned, but his aunt prattled on. "Billy's attending the teacher's college in Des Moines, just as you did."
Laura forced herself to chat with Billy about his professors and courses offered there. "Do you know where you plan to teach when you graduate?" she asked.
"I graduate next week, and no, I don't," he said, the tips of his ears turning pink as his aunt not too gently elbowed him. "Uh...I was wondering..."
Laura smiled with understanding and felt sudden, irrational joy. She questioned him further about his studies. They strolled back into the shed to watch the dancers and hear the music.
Just when Laura was beginning to enjoy her evening, Dulcie called out, "Mayor Adair," drawing the tall man in to join her little group.
His wife was at his side, as always in these social occasions, but he still looked Laura over in a much too familiar fashion. She was angry for his poor wife and furious for herself. She'd worn this dress to send a message but she certainly hadn't intended Richard Adair to receive it.
Raising her chin, she exchanged chilly greetings with the Adairs. Guy Baltar joined them, acting in that ingratiating manner he had whenever a person of authority or power visited his family's farm.
Interrupting their stilted conversation, surprised gasps signalled a new, exciting arrival. Many of the partygoers’ heads bobbed close together to frantically whisper. Then, several turned Laura’s way, eyeing her new dress up and down again.
Laura snatched up a glass of lemonade from the refreshment table and tried to look as casual as possible. Surely it couldn’t really be Bill Adams... He had flown away three days ago. There was no chance he’d be returning to Adair, or attending their silly little barn dance... Was there?
But even without the buzz building around the partygoers, she knew he was. Her skin was prickling with awareness, anticipating his already-familiar stocky but muscular frame to appear by her side at any moment.
Baltar and Richard had fallen silent; they were looking at a man pushing through the crowd until he stood before Laura. Bill was wearing black tie evening dress, yet he didn't appear the least bit ridiculous or out of place. He wore the tuxedo like a uniform and perhaps for a fabulously wealthy person, it was.
Of all things, Jake was trailing after Bill, his tail wagging joyfully. The traitor!
"Mr. Adams,” she said coolly, “what are you doing here?”
“Mrs. Cavil invited me, if you remember.”
Laura’s eyes flicked automatically around the crowd of curious faces until she spotted Ellen strolling in with a studied casual air. While she snagged a glass of lemonade, the hunched figure of her husband was nowhere to be seen.
Richard stepped between Bill and Laura. "Mr. Adams, I presume," he said with his familiar sneer.
Bill looked the mayor over slowly, taking his time as he removed his monogrammed platinum cigarette case from his jacket pocket. Snapping it open, he offered the cigarettes to Richard first.
"That's me," Bill said with a smile which didn't go to his eyes.
"No, thank you," Richard said to Bill's offer.
Watching her hand as though it was a stranger’s, Laura reached over and removed a cigarette from Bill's case. "Thank you," she said huskily.
Richard's mouth fell open. His wife smirked. Raising in his chin in indignation the mayor took his wife's arm and moved her away from the company of a woman such as Laura Roslin.
Shrugging but showing no concern, Bill pulled out his heavy lighter and brought the flame to her waiting cigarette. Unlike his case, the lighter was a simple stainless steel Zippo. She was sure there was a story behind it, and wanted to know.
Laura didn't care about the Adairs either. She blew out smoke through parted lips and looked Bill over again, from his oiled hair, to his perfectly knotted bow tie and his shiny shoes. "So you just dropped back into Adair again?" she said, trying to sound bored.
"Yep. Plane's out in the back field," he announced, then lit his own cigarette.
"And you arrived in evening dress?" she asked, astonished. How could she even consider marrying such a man?
He grinned, flashing his strong white teeth at her under his neatly trimmed mustache. "I always travel prepared, Miss Roslin," he said smoothly.
"You stand out like a sore thumb," she said, folding her arms and scanning the jovial crowd on the dance floor, in their checked shirts and denim work pants, prancing around to the rollicking music.
"So do you, but in the best possible way," Bill said, looking her up and down slowly. She felt stripped naked again, lit by lightning and rolling thunder beating with her heart.
“What brings you to our dance?" she asked breathlessly. "Broken down again?"
He drew deeply on his cigarette. "I realized I forgot something and needed to come back."
“You forgot?” she prompted, her tone deepening angrily. Jake sat between them, his head swiveling from one to the other, worry in his dark eyes.
"You remembered our dance, Mr. Adams," Ellen Cavil crowed, suddenly pushing between them, interrupting any explanation Bill was going to offer.
"That's what I was just telling Miss Roslin," he said comfortably, blowing his smoke away from the ladies.
Laura couldn't take another moment of this insufferable man, and now the minister's silly wife. She looked around and saw Billy lingering.
"Mr. Keikeya, would you do me the honor of a dance?" she asked.
The young man flushed bright red, but held out his arm for her. She took it gratefully, following him to the dance floor.
Bill watched her go, his smile fading. Ellen started to speak to him, but her husband joined them, whispering urgently and dragged her away, protesting.
Without Laura nearby, Mrs. Adair had no interest in remaining close to her husband and broke away to chat with a female friend.
Richard immediately oozed over to Bill and smirked at him. "I can't imagine there's anything in our dull little town which would interest a man such as yourself, Mr. Adams."
Both men watched Laura laughing up at her dance partner.
Bill knew his eyes would be hopelessly drawn to her forever, but Adair’s interest wasn’t necessary in his opinion.
Adair was an important man in town, however. And popular from what Tyrol had told him. Perhaps he shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions to the nature of his relationship with Laura.
“Your grandfather founded the town, I believe,” Bill commented in an attempt at polite conversation.
Richard Adair, however, wasn’t interested in niceties. “Yes, I can trace my ancestors back to the Mayflower. You wouldn’t understand such roots in this land as that.”
Bill managed to tear his gaze from Laura to squint at the taller man’s profile.
“With all that Mexican blood,” Adair continued, ignoring Adams’ intense scrutiny. Just who did he think he was? Coming into town, demanding respect--and Laura Roslin it would seem--just because he’d landed on his feet so successfully after the war. He was still no better than some dirty farm laborer under the fancy tuxedo.
“Laura’s family were good people too, but of course, since they died, she’s lost her way somewhat. I’ve tried to be there for her though. Such as a time like this, when she's making a spectacle of herself.”
Bill held his breath and felt his fists clenched involuntarily as he turned back to the dance floor. “You may want to remember I am here for her too, Mr Adair,” he ground out.
Every time Laura spun around the dance floor she looked over Billy’s shoulder to where Bill and Richard were still talking. No mean feat, given the young lad’s ridiculous height. It would be so much more comfortable to dance with someone of Bill’s stature...
Pushing that thought aside, she thanked Billy for dancing with her, feeling bad that she had also used him to escape a heart-wrenching moment in the first place. His smile back was sweet.
"I appreciate you asking, Miss Roslin. I wouldn't have the nerve to ask any of the pretty women to dance."
Tears in her eyes, she assured him that the pleasure was hers.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Richard lean close to Bill and say something, and then Bill's fist shoot out, knocking her former lover down.
Laura was frozen in her place on the dance floor; as was everyone else apparently. No one was rushing to Richard’s aid. Only Jake spun around and barked, but he was nipping at Richard's heels, not Bill's.
Bill, rubbing his knuckles, bent down and spoke in Richard’s ear before offering his hand. Richard slapped Bill’s hand away and scrambled up onto all fours, tentatively dabbing at the blood oozing from a cut on the side of his lip.
While Laura was wondering how she was going to approach the situation between the two men, a gruff voice broke through the party’s shocked silence. “Well, at last, some excitement in the town.”
Doc Cottle swept by, leaving Laura blinking through the cloud of smoke that lingered in the air of his wake. The crushing crowd had found their voice, and their murmuring inquiries drowned out the ensuing conversation between the three men.
“Would you like to leave, Miss Roslin?” Billy asked.
On the edge of the dance floor, Cottle held up two fingers in front of Richard’s face, testing his vision, while Bill tossed down his cigarette and ground it out under his heel. His face impassive, he clasped his hands loosely at his waist and watched the doctor complete his examination.
The party goers’ attention swung from the scene of the fight to Laura, and back again.
Yes, Billy was right, she should leave, but she also felt obligated to check on Richard’s wellbeing.
Yet, after an outwardly confident display of striding over to the men, it wasn’t Richard she found herself asking after. “Should you put something on that?” she asked, looking down at the dark shadow of a bruise already forming on Bill’s knuckles.
Her enquiry elicited an immediate whine from Richard. “He hit me!”
“Oh... Oh, yes.” She cleared her throat and managed to drag her gaze away from Bill. “How is he, Doctor?”
Cottle chuckled quietly. “I think the young lady has made her choice,” he announced to no one in particular. “He’ll live,” he then replied to her original question before he pressed a bandage against Richard’s mouth, stifling the taller man’s indignant splutter when he added, “I’m sure he deserves more.”
Smelling blood and the prospect of further titillating gossip, Ellen Cavil pushed through the crowd.
“Why don’t I get you boys a drink?” she offered. Before anyone could answer, she spun away.
Laura frowned. The Cavils regularly preached the benefits of an alcohol-free existence. She’d never known Ellen to touch a drop...
“Here we are,” Ellen said, returning faster than Laura thought was possible, balancing two glasses of what looked like Tyrol’s moonshine, a drink famous for putting hairs on the chest of even those who indulged regularly. The thought returned her to the barn, her hands gliding over Bill’s almost-hairless chest...
She snapped out of her reverie when Myrtle Adair finally returned to her husband’s side. She showed no sympathy. Instead, he was instantly subjected to a barrage of recriminations and accusations. Ellen joined in, and soon the three locals were bickering bitterly, any semblance of propriety in front of the crowd forgotten.
“Perhaps some fresh air...” Bill’s breath tickled the hair on her neck. He gripped her elbow, firmly leading her away from the scene of his making originally. Jake followed obediently.
Outside the barn, the night was clear and warm.
“I’m sorry,” Bill said after lighting two cigarettes and handing one to her.
She took a long drag on the proffered cigarette, sure she could taste him on its tip. “What did he say?” she asked.
Bill looked away, staring across to the field where his plane sat. “Let’s just forget it. The stars are beautiful here.”
“Forget it? There seems to be a lot of things you’re willing to forget, Mr Adams,” she snapped, suddenly remembering her earlier indignation.
“I haven’t forgotten proposing, Laura,” he said, his tone so deep and sincere that she placed a hand on his chest, fighting the imaginary pull he had over her. She simply wanted to melt into his arms and accept everything he promised. The silkiness of his expensive shirt beneath her palm reminded her of his wealth. He’d buy her grand gowns and jewelry and...
“And this would be how life as Mrs Adams would be? A party every night, where you keep me close by your side, ready to defend my honor?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t go to as many parties as people would imagine.” He grasped her hand and lifted it to his mouth, briefly kissing the back of her hand before he threaded their fingers together. “Come on. If we go further away from the party’s lights we’ll be able to see the stars clearer.”
Laura let him lead her to one of the hay fields. Rolls of canvas were lined up, ready to cover the spring hay once it was mowed to protect it from summer storms.
They were now much closer to Bill’s plane. Its silver skin glowed and winked in the moonlight, reminding her again that he still hadn’t offered her any explanation for his sudden departure from the town.
“They have no telephones in San Francisco?” she muttered, trying to hang onto her anger and bitterness rather than be swept away.
“I think they do,” he replied in a pleasant tone, ignoring her tetchiness and tugging her hand to lower her to the ground. They lay side by side, with little regard to their evening wear, staring up at the shimmering stars cascading across the dark sky. The canvas rolls pillowed their heads, making Laura fight a giggle at the thought of their choices of beds. No one would guess they were a millionaire and a schoolmistress.
Jake acted as a chaperone; jostling until he had prime position between them. The dog ignored Bill's grumble of protest.
They didn't speak for a long time, both content to stay lost in their own thoughts for a while. Laura expected Bill to make excuses or offer sophisticated advances, but he remained silent. She liked the sound of his steady breathing; it soothed her, and her anger washed away on its rhythm. The music and laughter drifted across from the carnival on the gentle night’s breeze, adding to the surreal ambience of the setting. Eventually they finished their cigarettes and stubbed out the butts.
Now and then, one of them would reach down to stroke Jake. Neither of them commented when they’d brush along each other’s skin instead of the dog’s soft fur.
It was Laura who broke the mood to speak first: “When I was a child I was always too scared to go outside at night. But after... Afterwards I would come out and stare up at the stars for hours just... waiting.”
“Waiting?” Bill prompted.
“Waiting for some sign that Susan and Martha were in a better place,” she said softly. She felt Bill’s gaze turn from the sky to her profile, but he never offered any of the usual platitudes, for which she was grateful.
“How many cars do you own, Bill?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shake his head slightly at the unexpected question.
“I mean something other than a farm truck,” she elaborated. “I know you own planes but you must have a garage full of autos.”
“No,” he denied.
“I want to just drive and drive without having to think about responsibilities or my destination,” she continued. “And I want to go so fast. I don’t think there’s a single truck in Adair that goes faster than Jake could run.”
Bill chuckled at her last comment, but instantly sobered at the tone in Laura’s voice as she went on. “We were the only farm girls in town who didn’t know how to drive. It wasn’t ladylike enough for mother.” She grimaced at the memory. "To her, we were young ladies who lived on a farm, not farm girls, and would behave accordingly."
Bill reached over Jake and found Laura’s hand again, giving it a quick reassuring squeeze. She tilted her head then, holding his gaze . “Maybe you could teach me how to drive?”
He remained silent for a long time before finally replying. “I can’t,” he rasped.
She sat up and wiped at her shining eyes. “Of course not,” she sneered bitterly.
She tried to shake her hand free but he held it tight. “I can’t because I don’t know how to drive,” he told her.
Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “But you fly...”
“Yes.” He shrugged. “Always had someone to drive me wherever I wanted to go, I guess.”
“Oh.” She wanted to believe in Bill so desperately... “Would you let me drive you? I mean, one day, if I learned how...”
His grin shone brighter than the stars. “Depends on how fast you wanna go. You might think I’m not much of a man if I get scared or sick.”
Her gaze drifted greedily to his body, remembering breathing in his heady masculine scent. How soft and feminine she’d felt when pressed against him.
“I don’t think I’d ever mistake you for a woman,” she said throatily.
He reached up and tucked a few wayward strands of her hair behind her ear. “If I promise to buy you a garage full of autos, will you come and live with me in San Francisco? I’ll hire someone to teach you to drive. I’ll even bravely offer myself up as a passenger now and then.”
“What else? You go out and work on your planes during the day while I wait at home, keeping house and preparing dinner?”
“There's no need for you to cook and clean. That's what the servants are for."
Servants...Laura gulped. That hadn't occurred to her for some reason. Of course they would have servants. If she wasn’t to keep Bill’s house, what would she do all day? Sudden images of decadently lolling in a huge bed with satin bedclothes twined around their naked bodies, like some Von Stroheim characters entered her mind--
She clung to what she knew, fighting off the frightening unknown: “I was always meant to keep house, be a good wife. And then...”
“There’s different ways of being a good wife, Laura. Keeping house isn’t the only--”
“I want you to understand, Bill. My mother... We were too clever, she’d say. She’d tell father how ridiculous it was to teach us the masters of literature. We’d never have any use for such a thing. We would marry, we would stay in Adair. After they died...”
She closed her eyes and Bill tugged her hand gently again, this time rearranging Jake to one side so she could settle her head comfortably on his chest. Without thinking, she looped her leg over his hip, drawing him closer still.
“I was only able to go to teaching college when they died. It was like honoring my father’s memory, but dishonoring my mother’s...”
Bill brushed his lips across Laura’s forehead. She’d gone to Des Moines after her family died. That fellow Adair had taken advantage of her vulnerability... The dull ache in his hand lessened.
“I have more money than I’d ever be able to spend in a lifetime.”
“I don’t want your money--”
He kissed her full on the lips, silencing her protests. “I have many charities,” he explained. “One of the charities is a school. It’s for wayward girls.”
“There’s no such thing as a wayward girl. There’s only girls without opportunities.”
He kissed her again, this time for a touch longer.
“I spoke with Tom Zarek, the man I’ve employed to run it for me,” he said when they parted. “You could continue to teach there after we’re married.”
“You’ve spoken to him already?” she breathed.
“Yes. I knew you wouldn’t be content to be just my wife.”
She leaned forward and initiated their next kiss. Lazily their tongues met, familiarizing themselves again with each other’s unique taste until eventually they parted to continue with their conversation.
“And he agreed to let me teach there? Without a reference? Or meeting me?”
“He has no choice--”
“Bill, you can’t just bully someone into employing--”
“If it means my wife will be happy, I will.”
She started to protest again but stopped herself. Her hand smoothed across his firm chest, so solid beneath the fine wool dinner jacket.
Staring up at the spinning stars, she felt close to tears. "I've always done what I had to do...To honor my parents, then to keep the farm running, the school...But maybe..."
His lips were on her temple. The choice was hers and his own fate was in her hands.
Slowly, she continued: "...Maybe we should embrace this world and this life and see what that brings us."
He squeezed her close. "I'm all for embracing," he said approvingly, and she gave him a nudge with her knee as a gentle reproach.
"No, no, I'm serious," she scolded him. She felt drunk on the night and his touch and found herself babbling as though she had downed a bottle of champagne. "I mean, I think that...I think that we should all look at every moment of every day from now on as borrowed time, and people should live the lives that they want to live before it's over. I need to stop spending the little time I have left worrying about what people think of me."
His next kiss was to silence her completely, and slowly, from the gentle pressure of his tongue in her mouth and his hands on her body -- they were everywhere, cupping her bottom, holding her hips, stroking her legs, moulding her breasts...
A familiar voice was suddenly calling out much too close. "John! John, where are you!?"
They parted guiltily and Laura slapped a hand over her mouth to cover her giggle. "Don't make a sound," she warned Bill in a hoarse whisper, everything she'd just said flying out the window. "She can't find us! My reputation is already in shreds as it is!"
But instead of keeping still and quiet, Bill leapt up, causing Laura's head to painfully clunk back on the canvas roll. "What the--" she grumbled.
He was gone, rushing off in the dark. Jake chased after him, abandoning her. She lay for a moment, stunned by shock rather than pain. That man. That damned man!
Then she scrambled to her feet and took off after Bill's retreating figure.
In heels, she could only keep him in sight, but she knew he was heading in the direction of his plane. And when she did finally catch him, Bill was not alone.
A tall thin bald man was comically wrestling with a shadowy, masked figure, while Bill had joined the fight. Another man, his freckled face flushed, was hanging onto the masked man's leg. As they dragged the man away from the plane, his mask was revealed to be a rubber clown's face, grimacing horribly. Mr. Haffner, the gym teacher, had been entertaining the children as a clown at the carnival, but why in the world would he be at Bill's plane?
Jake chased around all of them, barking. Suddenly, a pistol flashed in the dim light, being waved around the clown.
"Gun!" roared the bald man as the weapon swung in Bill's direction.
Laura, seeing it all from behind him, screamed, the note harsh and loud. Bill whirled, seeing her there and dove for her. The bullet whizzed over their heads as they fell to the ground.
The bald man knocked the gun from the shooter's hand. "Son of a bitch!" he growled. "Bill!?"
"Yeah, 'm okay," muttered Bill, muffled by Laura's hair. "Are you all right?" he asked her.
"Yes," she said, confused and angry at the same time. "What the hell's going on?"
He struggled to his feet, and helped her up.
She repeated, "What's happening, Bill?"
Bill didn't answer and wrapped his arms around her to hold her close. "Have you got him, Saul?"
"Yeah," Saul said, panting and sweating as he pinned the vicious clown's arms behind his back. The sandy-haired man rose and whipped out a pair of handcuffs.
"Let me cuff him up," he said.
Once the man was secured, Bill strode over and yanked off the rubber mask.
"Reverend Cavil!" gasped Laura.
"Of course," Bill said, keeping her close to his side despite the fact Cavil was shackled.
Laura couldn't understand. "Why--"
Drawn by the gunfire, all the revelers had rushed to the field. They gathered around and gaped at their minister in handcuffs.
Ellen pushed her way to the front. She added to the chorus of confusion. "What's going on?"
Doctor Cottle, wheezing and puffing, parted the crowd. "What do you think you're doing, young man?" he barked at Bill.
"We've just netted a Nazi agent, that's what," Bill said coolly, lighting a cigarette.
Saul pulled out his own crumpled pack of smokes and lit one. He squinted at Cavil's wife, who at the word 'Nazi' had gasped and was now wavering on her feet. Instead of fainting into the arms of her fellow townspeople, she drifted toward him, her shaking hand to her brow.
"How can this be?" she wailed. "What shall become of me?"
Saul caught her as she slumped. "Ma'am--"
Bill squinted at her. "Can't say, Mrs. Cavil. Your husband is going up to Des Moines to be questioned by these G-men." He nodded toward Saul and the sandy-haired man who was straightening his tweed suit.
"You'll need to be questioned as well," Saul said with a leer in his voice, "but we can do that right here in the comfort of your home."
"Go to hell, the lot of you," hissed Cavil. "I'm not talkin'."
"Bill, what in the world does this all mean?" asked Laura.
He gave her his big grin. "I discovered someone was sniffing around my prototype plane when it was in your barn. That's why I had to scat--"
She smiled back. He hadn't left her! He was protecting national security!
"I brought her back--" All the gazes lifted to the plane and that's when Laura noticed the name Phoenix had been replaced with her own in lovely cursive. "To set a trap for our little Hun," Bill said with satisfaction.
Laura's smile disappeared. He hadn't returned for her after all; she was just his cover. She turned her back to him, shaking in fury.
"Laird, why don't you take this minister to Des Moines," said Saul, who was still holding Ellen.
"Yes, sir," the other government agent said, but he looked uncertain.
"Careful, Saul," said Bill, still not noticing Laura's pique. "That one looks nearly as dangerous."
Ellen fluttered her eyelashes up at Saul.
"Don't worry, Commander," said Saul, not taking his gaze off her, "I'll keep a real close eye on her."
Sighing, Bill turned his attention to Laura, only to see her stalking away, Jake close at her heels.
"Hey, where you goin'?" he called after her ungallantly.
She whirled back, her nostrils flaring. What was one more scene before all of Adair at this point?
"I am going home," she said with a deadly slowness.
He came to her side. "No you aren't," he replied, just as convincingly.
She blinked at him.
"You're gettin' in this plane."
The crowd began to buzz.
He nodded toward Billy. "Give that boy the keys to the schoolhouse and let's get out of this place."
"Why in the world would I do that?" she hissed.
Bill pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "Because we've got a date at the courthouse first thing in the morning."
Opening the folded document, she squinted, cursing the lack of her glasses. She barely made out that it was a marriage license, signed by a superior court judge.
"What's this?" she sputtered anyway. She didn't seem to be doing anything but posing questions this evening.
"I'm not asking again," Bill said with steel in his voice and her hackles immediately went up again.
"You're ordering me to marry you?"
His grin returned. "I'm not a damn fool. I want to survive to enjoy the honeymoon."
A voice spoke up tentatively behind Laura. "Uh, Miss Roslin--"
"Yes, Billy?" she replied, but keeping eye contact with Bill's impish gaze.
"I'd be happy to take over. I mean, you do a swell job, and can't really be replaced, but I know if I were in your shoes--"
Bill looked at the younger man, outraged.
"That is to say," Billy stumbled on, "Mr. Adams seems to be making an offer too good to refuse."
She didn't have the energy to explain to Billy that the offer wasn't William Adams’ money or mansion or social position.
"I love you," she said to Bill.
"Good," he said, tears shimmering in his eyes. He took her hand.
Their emotions wrung out by the evening's surprises and shocks, the townspeople still managed a ragged cheer as Bill helped Laura up on the wing of the plane and into the rear seat. He carefully tucked her hair up in a leather helmet before putting one on too.
Sam lifted Jake up to Bill, and he placed the dog in beside Laura.
"Sorry, fella," Bill said, "I don't have a helmet for you."
Laura clapped her hands over Jake's floppy ears. "I'll take care of that," she announced, happy and excited.
Satisfied, Bill gave her a nod. He wedged himself into the front seat and pulled the canopy over their heads. Laird hurried to the propeller and gave it a spin when Bill signaled that he was ready.
Her head whirling at all she was about to do, Laura still waved to Sam and his girl, Kara. She hoped they could find the love she had. Perhaps with her whole farm for him to manage...What was she saying? She'd give it to him!
Her laughter bounced around the plane's cockpit, and Bill reached back to pat one of her hands gripping his seat.
He accelerated the plane and it bumped along the field, parting the crowd of partygoers. Then the ride smoothed, and Laura realized they must be airborne.
Her heart beat even faster. "Bill? BILL!" she yelled over the engines' roar.
"What?" he bellowed back.
"I think I'm afraid of flying!" She squeezed her eyes shut in terror.
"Don't worry," he yelled back. "You're starting the ride of your life!"
~ End