The Calculating Stars (Lady Astronaut, #1)(70)
“Thank God.” He spun in his chair to face me. “I was all prepared to convince you that you needed to go.”
I brushed the hair back from his face. “See, you needn’t have worried. I’ll abandon you at a moment’s notice.”
He grinned, but the movement was pained. “Falser words were never spoken.” He slid his arms around me and pulled me close. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“I can’t yell when I go out on the floor. I want to. I want to scream and gnash my teeth. So thank you for giving me a place where I can be awful, and find my way back again.”
TWENTY-THREE
JUPITER ROCKET EXPLOSION IS LINKED TO HUMAN ERROR
KANSAS CITY, KS, Dec. 12, 1956—(United Press International)—Failure to transcribe a program correctly—apparently a human error—was blamed for Tuesday’s explosion of a second stage for the Jupiter moon rocket in a preliminary report.
The rocket flew off course and crashed onto a farm, killing eleven.
Government inquiries are scheduled to determine if the disaster was preventable.
I was not happy about leaving Nathaniel behind, but, as he predicted, the government scheduled inquiries about the crash.
Besides the IAC’s own work looking into the explosion, they also needed to prepare documents that laymen could understand.
The smart thing to do would have been to take a commercial plane to California, but I wanted to clear my head, and flying seemed an excellent way to do that.
However, Nathaniel insisted and maybe, occasionally, I can be not an idiot.
Whatever.
The end result was that I wound up on my first commercial flight.
I was not impressed.
The only good thing about it was that they served cocktails, which I couldn’t have enjoyed if I were the pilot.
The view was terrible.
The pilot bounced
twice when landing, and he didn’t even have any cross-winds as an excuse.
But just being able to stand up and leave the plane without running through a checklist?
That was nice.
Walking off the plane and seeing my brother waiting?
Glorious.
My brother stood with Doris, Tommy, and Rachel at his side.
It looked as if California continued to treat him well.
He had a tan and wore a light Hawaiian shirt printed with arcing hibiscus.
The kids had sprouted like weeds, and Tommy was nearly as tall as his father.
It had been three years since I’d seen them.
Rachel hung back a little, but she was grinning, with dimples in her round cheeks.
“Aunt Elma!”
Tommy wasn’t shy, though—never had been.
He was the first to fling himself across the space between us, rocking me back with the force of his hug.
“You came!
There’s a great place to throw gliders from our new house.
And I made a really cool one, and it’s not from a kit, either.”
Hershel rocked forward on his crutches.
“Easy, tiger.
Let’s get Aunt Elma home before you plan her whole itinerary.”
Releasing my nephew, I beckoned to Rachel.
“Do I get a hug?”
She nodded and submitted to an embrace.
I had to crouch, but not nearly as much as I had last time I saw her.
Doris rested a hand on her daughter’s shoulder.
“Tell her about your club, Rachel.”
Her face turned up toward me, with wide eyes.
“We started a Lady Astronaut club.
It’s really neat.”
“That’s great, sweetie.”
My stomach twisted as the reason that she was suddenly shy became clear.
I wasn’t just her aunt anymore.
I was Someone.
The Lady Astronaut had come to call.
“Maybe I can visit it, huh?”
Rachel nodded, and her eyes got bigger and brighter,
then she turned back to her mother, her hands pressed together like she’d won a prize.
What did I expect?
I hadn’t seen her in three years and now I was …
If I were an actual astronaut, I wouldn’t mind it so much.
I think.
It’s just that people called me “Lady Astronaut”
because I wasn’t allowed to be one.
That was the thing that rubbed.
The reason I was known at all was because I was agitating for a role I couldn’t have.
Having folks call me that?