Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
“I’ll get him,” Jameson said, already walking toward William’s room.
Scarlett dressed, listening to the sweet sounds of Jameson singing to their son as he got him up for the day.
With Constance’s wedding last weekend, and her upcoming travel, it had made sense to acclimate William to a bottle, which came with the added benefit of getting to watch Jameson feed their son, which she did about ten minutes later. The bond between the two was undeniable. Jameson was the recipient of William’s biggest smiles when he came home, and the one he favored when he was fussy. Even now, William held the bottle with one hand and tugged at the buttons on Jameson’s uniform with the other. She didn’t mind the blatant favoritism, though, especially knowing that it might be a year or more before they would see each other again.
Would William have any memory of Jameson? Would they have to start all over again? It was hard to believe that such a primal bond could be weakened by something so indefinite as time.
“Would you like me to fix you some coffee?” Scarlett asked as Jameson cradled their son in a kitchen chair.
“I’ll grab some at the station, thank you,” Jameson answered with a smile, glancing up at her before turning his adoring gaze back to their son. “He really has the best of both of us, doesn’t he?”
Scarlett slipped her hair over one shoulder and looked down at William. “I’d argue that your eyes are a great deal more handsome than mine, but yes, I think he does.” Their son had her black hair, but Jameson’s sun-loving complexion. He had her high cheekbones, but Jameson’s strong chin and nose.
“Stanton blue,” Jameson remarked with a grin. “I hope all of our kids have them.”
“Oh? Were you planning on more children?” she teased as he tugged her down onto his empty knee.
“We make such pretty babies that it would be a shame not to,” he said with a quick, gentle kiss.
“I guess we’ll have to see about that once we’re all in Colorado.” She wanted a little girl with Jameson’s eyes and reckless ways. Wanted William to know the joy of having a sibling, too.
“I’m going to take you fishing,” Jameson promised William. “And I’ll teach you to camp under stars so bright that they light the midnight sky. I’ll show you the safest places to cross the creek, and when you’re old enough, I’ll teach you how to fly, too. You just have to watch out for the bears until I get there.”
“Bears!” Scarlett’s jaw dropped.
“Don’t you worry.” Jameson laughed as he wrapped his arm around Scarlett’s waist. “Most of the bears are scared of your grandma… The mountain lions, too. But she’s gonna love you.” He glanced at Scarlett. “She’s going to love both of you just as much as I do.”
Reluctantly, Jameson handed William to Scarlett and they all stood.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said, wrapping his arms around his wife and son.
“Good.” She lifted her face for a kiss. “We’re not done discussing the phonograph.”
Jameson kissed her soundly, then laughed. “The record player goes.”
“As I said,” she replied with an arched brow, “we’re not done discussing it.” Scarlett wasn’t superstitious, but most pilots were, and taking the record player home to Jameson’s mother felt like inviting bad luck.
“We’ll talk about it when I get home,” he promised. He kissed her again, hard and quick, then brushed his lips over William’s and walked out the door.
“We’ll talk about it means Mummy is going to win,” she told William, tickling him gently.
He gave her a belly laugh that she couldn’t help but return.
…
Jameson rolled his shoulders, attempting to ease what had become a permanent ache in his muscles. Their objective, a target on the German border, had been accomplished, and though the three bombers they were escorting had come under fire, they were currently over the Netherlands and whole. That’s what he called a good day.
He glanced at the picture he still kept tacked beneath the gauge and smiled. It was the same one of Scarlett that Constance had given him almost two years ago. He knew she thought it was bad luck to take the record player home, but he had all the luck he needed in that picture right there. Besides, there wasn’t anyone he wanted to dance with besides his Scarlett, and there would be plenty of time for dancing once this war was over.
“We’re making good time,” Howard said over the radio, using their designated squadron channel.
“Don’t count your chickens,” Jameson replied, looking to the right where Howard flew as blue lead about two hundred yards off. The only thing he liked about the astern formation was flying lead alongside Howard. Today, he was red.
But he was right, they were making good time. At this rate, he wouldn’t make it home before dinner, but he might make it in time to put William to bed.