Chapter 39

18:25 Sunday, October 20th, 1991

Short-term Parking, Terminal 3 (United)

San Francisco International Airport (SFO)

"God, you are a sight for sore eyes," Lenore said, and buried her face in the Gunny's chest. He looked down at her, and felt his love for her flow through his arms into her. She's tired. I think if I let her, she'd go to sleep on me, right here.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yes. Just wait until I get you into bed," she told him, and bit his nipple through his shirt. He felt her turn her head up to him, while he watched the crowd walk by their small reunion, detouring around her small bag and the two of them standing there. Obligingly, he kissed her. To hell with what they think. She's in uniform and obviously not some rental date.

Grinning, she disentangled from him, and laughed outright at the mock pout he made. "Where's the Beemer?"

"That way," he pointed. "Wanna tell me what's got you so tired?"

"You mean you carried a detonator on board a commercial flight?" he asked, incredulously. The Gunny started laughing as she realized that she had, indeed, done so. He took it from her when she showed him, at a stoplight, and told her what the markings on it meant. She nodded, and put it back in her bag.

The Gunny was chuckling still, as they walked in the house. "Your mail's on the table," he said. "Supper first or bed first?"

Lenore found the gauge and instrument catalogs she remembered she'd called for weeks before. Was it really so long ago? It seems like so much has happened. "Much as I'd like bed, lover, I think I'd better eat first. If we make love, I'll be asleep until morning, and then hungry as hell when I wake up." She busied herself flipping through the catalog. "Tell me about Asia," she invited.

"Good. I've got mushrooms and wine, I'll make that German Hunter's Chicken with Spätzle, okay? You get some wine going."

Lenore nodded, pulling the old clunky fridge open, and found the wine the Gunny had put in before he'd left. Balancing the catalog on the counter next to the toaster, she pulled the cork while reading up on three-inch face weatherproof fuel gauge indicators.

Behind her, the Gunny chopped mushrooms. "It was weird, Lenore, like everyone was courting me, wanting to make a good impression."

"Like they were sucking up?" she asked. When he didn't answer right away, she turned to him, and was surprised by the look in his eyes.

"Yeah," he said, wonderingly. "I've never experienced it like that before, but yeah. It's kind of strange."

She returned his gaze, and snorted one of her Gunny-snorts, and he laughed in response. "Okay," he said, "I'll get over the novelty." She returned to the catalog after pouring a glass. "I'll need a quarter cup of that for the chicken," he said, so she deposited the bottle next to him while she returned to her chair with the catalog and her own glass.

"It started on the plane. I got some forty-year old, looked like a freshly brushed Eagle Scout, wanting to be sure I wouldn't think he was an idiot or an ass-kisser. Him, I figured to be sincere, but the plant managers at both places were really bad about it. I think they'd have offered to get me someone to warm my bed if they thought I'd go for it."

Lenore put the catalog down. "You'd better not," she said, levelly.