The Four Corners of the Sky_ A Novel - Michael Malone [60]
“I guess we can’t fight destiny,” Sam said.
“It’s not destiny, it’s Destin,” growled Clark. “It’s that damn D. K. Destin.”
Sam advised him, “Don’t blame D. K.”
That night on the porch, waiting for Annie to return from a party, they argued some more.
“You know what? I blame you, Sam! You’ve been behind this from the get-go! Secretly egging her on.”
“It wasn’t all that secret.” Sam smiled, pride in the corners of her mouth. “D. K. says Annie’s a natural.”
Clark slapped his hand on the porch rail. “He says he’s a natural too! You want Annie pushing herself up River Hill in a damn wheelchair for the rest of her life?”
“That was in Vietnam. We’re not in Vietnam, we’re in North Carolina.”
“We could be in a lot of places where Annie could get herself killed.”
“Why did you say that? I’m already worried. Where is she, why aren’t she and Georgette home? It’s after eleven.”
Clark showed her his watch. “It’s ten after eleven. Take it easy.” It was in this back and forth way that they calmed each other.
When the catalogue arrived from the Naval Academy (the Navy was the first branch of the armed services willing to train women pilots), it started the worst fight of the family’s life together. Clark accused D. K. and Sam of collusion in supporting Annie’s desire to go to Annapolis. “It’s all his macho Mach and fixing up damn Jack Peregrine’s damn Piper Warrior. And it’s you, Sam, with your ‘women can do anything,’ even stupid things like drop bombs for the U.S. Navy.”
“Nobody said I was going to drop any bombs,” Annie shouted. “What is it with you two and bombs?”
“Right,” Clark threw open his arms. “I’m sorry, those Tomcats aren’t carrying missiles. My mistake.” He swung an arm in outstretched irony, knocked over the salt and pepper shakers on the table, quickly sprinkled salt over his shoulder. “Have a life, have children—”
Annie yelled at her uncle. “You don’t have children! This is because I’m a girl! You think a girl can’t be a fighter pilot?”
Sam agreed. “You’re a Republican and a sexist pig, Clark Goode.”
To their shock, Clark, leaped to his feet, shouting. “I’m a Republican and I think a girl ought to have more sense! And D. K. should have more sense! And Sam, the Great Liberal, you should have more sense. But I’m a sexist pig because Annie wants to go learn how to fire Sidewinder missiles on poor bastards on the other side of the fuckin’ world?”
His outburst, indeed the length of his sentence, left Sam and Annie slack-jawed and produced an agitated growl even from Teddy. “Take it easy,” Sam advised.
“Excuse me. I was eighteen years old in Nha Trang and my friend’s head was blown off and hit me in the fucking chest. And I’m a sexist pig? Why do you want Annie fighting some idiotic war for fat rich bald men to make money blowing up other countries and then make more money selling them reconstruction?”
Sam handed him a baby aspirin from her pocket. “Take this before you have a heart attack! For God’s sake, Clark, it’s 1993. There are no wars anymore! The Navy’s a career for Annie, not an invasion.”
“Oh, fine! Then there’s no problem!”
Clark slammed out of the house in a temper so uncustomary for him that the aunt and niece looked at each other stunned. He didn’t come home till late that night and strode past them straight to his room.
But the next morning he was back in the kitchen, slowly making coffee as usual. He raised his mug when they sat down to breakfast. He said, “I guess the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.” He took Annie’s hand. “You want to join the Navy?”
The young woman squeezed his hand affectionately. “You joined the Army. You thought it was right to go to Vietnam.”
He moved his hands away to his glasses, took them off, put them back on. “I was wrong, Annie. There was nothing right about it. Nothing.”
She noticed his hands were old, freckled. “Yes. I want to fly jets. D. K. says I’m really good.”
“Of course you are.” He kissed her hands, one, then the other, pressing them together. “It’s just…” He sighed. “You want to fly, fine. Fly tourists