Hangar 13

“Is the hangar always in use?”

“Usually.”

“We could go over when no one is there. That would save you the embarrassment of being ‘found out.”’

Mac saw that her eyes were dancing with amusement. “I’m going up for early lieutenant colonel and the last thing I want is someone besides my master sergeant knowing that I’ve come to consult a psychic.”

“A shamaness.”

“Yes, whatever. If my superiors got wind of this, they’d send me to the nearest military hospital to check out my mental stability. But I’ve got to put an end to those wrenches flying around. I’ve got an IG—an inspector general’s inspection—coming up in two months and I can’t afford any problems. The hangar is empty right now. Could you come over with me and check it out?”

“You mean, feel my way through the hangar?”

“Yes. Maybe you’ll get an impression or something.”

Ellie hesitated and then nodded. “I’ll try, but no promises. I’m blind as a bat when I’m not in an altered state to receive impressions.”

“I’ll take that risk.” Rising from the robe, Mac held out his hand to Ellie. Her fingers wrapped firmly around his and he gently pulled her to her feet. The simple touch of her hand sent warmth racing up his arm. He tried to ignore the sensation. Releasing her hand, he said, “Thanks for taking the time with me. I appreciate it.”

Ellie’s hand tingled where Mac had held it. “You’re welcome.”

“What is your charge for doing a journey?”

“Whenever I do a journey for someone, I leave it up to them to give me what they can afford. It’s on a donation basis only, Mac.”

“But—”

“Healers operate from a very different perspective,” Ellie interrupted, walking out of the room with him. “Unlike medical doctors, who expect financial compensation for their services, we often get other things in return.”

“What do you mean?” Mac asked as he followed Ellie back into the living room.

“Well, a lot of my clients are either elderly or are single working mothers with children. Both are on very tight, fixed incomes.” Ellie gestured for him to follow her into the kitchen. She opened the door to her pantry. “You see that row of canned fruit?”

Mac peered into the gloomy depths of the large, deep pantry and saw at least two dozen quart jars filled with various kinds of fruit. “Yes.”

“One of my clients couldn’t afford to pay me any money, so she gave me what she could.”

Impressed, Mac eased out of the pantry. “I’ll bet the electric company doesn’t want to be paid in jars of fruit.”

She laughed. “No, but you’re missing my point. Not everyone who wants healing can afford the money, so I was taught to accept whatever gift the person had to give. On the reservation, it’s common to bring groceries, blankets or other goods to the medicine woman. My mother often gave the groceries, the blankets and other items to the poor of our reservation because my father made a decent living as a plumber in the area.”

“You were taught to be generous.”

“Exactly. Being a healer means you live in the community and are a part of its fabric. I have another client who is very poor, but she came over and helped me plant my garden one evening. It was her way of paying me back for my services.”

“I wish the rest of the world could operate on that kind of generosity.”

“Like you said,” Ellie murmured as she walked Mac to the front door, “the electric company doesn’t want jars of fruit for payment. They want cold, hard cash.”

Mac turned as he stepped out onto the front porch. “I like the world you live in.”

“At least, that part of it.”

Mac nodded and smiled slightly. “There’s a lot to like about you, about your style of living,” he told her seriously. “I may not believe in what you do, but I can respect you for it.”

“That’s all I ask.”

“Then,” Mac said, opening his hand toward her, “I’d like to ‘pay’ you for your services by taking you out to dinner sometime afterward. What do you say?”

CHAPTER FOUR

Ellie stared at Mac, her mouth dropping open. In the span of seconds, she ruthlessly scanned his eyes; they looked warm and sincere. His mouth was drawn into a slight, hopeful smile that she would say yes. Stunned by the offer, she scrambled for an answer.

“Major, I don’t really think that’s appropriate under the circumstances.”

With a shrug, Mac said, “I think it is.” For some reason, he was drawn to Ellie. He had surprised himself when the offer spilled from his lips, but after he’d asked her, he was glad. He could see the wariness in her eyes. Could he blame her for that kind of reaction, based on her past experiences with a man who didn’t share her beliefs?

Compressing her lips, Ellie said, “I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re from two very different worlds. I think you see that.” She had made the biggest mistake of her life by marrying a white man who walked in a very different world than the one she had been raised in on the reservation. Ellie wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.

“I was raised to respect other people’s ways of life.”

Ellie shook her head. “I’ll do what I can for you, for the problem you have in Hangar 13, but I think we should keep our relationship strictly professional.” A part of her didn’t want to and laughed at her words. But the past was still too poignant, too painful, for her to risk any other kind of friendship with him.

Mac waited on the front porch, while Ellie went to get her purse. Ruby-colored climbing roses encircled the two dark green trellises that leaned against either side of the porch. Their fragrance was subtle and sweet. The sun had set, and the sky looked as if it was on fire, a combination of red and red-orange, thinning out to a light peach color. For some unknown reason, he was happy. It was a mood he’d felt very little of lately—unless he was flying.

As Ellie quietly reappeared with her shoulder purse and a green shawl across her arm, Mac smiled at her. She was right—they were exact opposites. Ellie was grounded, rooted in the earth. He was an unfettered eagle who loved the air far more than the ground. And yet he couldn’t help feeling some connection with her. He held his hand out.

“Want to ride over with me?”

Ellie looked at his hand. It was long and almost artistic looking. She had to remind herself that Mac Stanford was a throwback to another era. “Sure,” she said, and allowed him to cup her elbow and guide her down the walk. Her skin tingled wildly where Mac gently held her arm.

“You remind me of a bygone time,” Ellie told him, glancing up at his tall, proud form.

“Oh?”

“Military officers carry the weight of tradition on their shoulders. You’re a true gentleman.” Ellie felt him guide her toward a bright red sports car, a Corvette. She smiled to herself and thought the machine matched Mac’s world. He flew hot jets. Why not drive a hot car?

Mac smiled absently and unlocked the passenger-side door for her. “You mean, the fact I’d open a door for you? Escort you?” He gestured for her to seat herself. Amusement danced in Ellie’s eyes again, and he liked discovering how she thought or felt about things.

Ellie moved into the expensive, black leather seat. “I’m not saying you’re the typical Neanderthal male trapped back in the cave.”

With a chuckle, Mac shut the door. “That’s reassuring.” He moved around the rear of his sports car, opened the driver’s door and climbed in. Putting on his seat belt, he glanced over at Ellie. Her lips were still pulled in a soft smile. “I was just curious how you saw me and my world,” he said, easing the car away from the curb.

Ellie leaned back and enjoyed the ride in the sports car. It seemed appropriate that Mac was driving it; the instrument panel had a wraparound design, reminding her of the cockpit of an aircraft. “I think if this thing had wings, you’d fly it, too.”