Sometimes, there came days at Lambdatron when it just wasn’t possible to get any work done. This was one of them, and the fact that it was Tasteless T-Shirt Thursday didn’t help a bit, but between people sticking their heads in the office to pass along their good comments, and the phone seeming to go off practically incessantly, Jennlynn soon gave up on trying to do anything constructive. It would blow over soon enough.

Just at that moment, her visitors were Jon and Tanisha, unconsciously holding hands as usual – a sight so common around Lambdatron that it was unworthy of comment. She wasn’t even sure they realized they were doing it as much as they did. After several years, what really was noteworthy about the two – and which rarely happened – was to see one of them by themselves. They were almost always together; to find them separated was to know that there was probably a restroom involved.

"I thought the whole thing was very well done," Jon said.

"I thought she did pretty well," Jennlynn conceded about the hour-long WNN Newsmagazine presentation the night before, entitled The Fast World of Learjet Jenn. "There were a couple of minor points that I think could have been presented better, and a couple of her impressions that I don’t quite agree with, but they’re her impressions and I can’t fault them."

"So are you going to go through with that Fantasy Ranch thing?" Jon asked.

"Still up in the air and off in the future," Jennlynn told them. "It really still is pretty much pipe dream attached to a few firmer notions, but I thought that would be a good place to float the idea and see what kind of response I get. If it’s real positive, I may look at it a little harder. What I’ve got in mind is still a pretty big financial reach, even if the market is right, although I do have some interested backers."

"I can tell you that it’s fun to play out fantasies," Tanisha grinned. "But I think the kind of fantasies that you’d specialize in would be a little extreme for our blood."

"They don’t have to be," Jennlynn grinned. "The whole idea is that we can design to taste, and then throw in a few unexpected twists, just to make it interesting."

"You mean like when you had Danny hit on me up at the Redlite that time?" Tanisha grinned. "That really made it seem real."

"Exactly," Jennlynn grinned. "That kind of thing."

"It really seems strange to see you come out in a TV show like that," Jon said. "Especially as snappy as you were about it before."

"I’m still snappy about it," Jennlynn told them. "The reason I let Brenda get away with this is that she tried to show as much as she could of the whole me, not just the prostitute me, whereas me as a whore was all any of the other reporters were interested in. There were some parts of me that I didn’t let her see, but they’re not anybody’s business but mine."

"You mean, like Will, right?" Tanisha asked. "No one here even knew about him until he rode with us up to Chicago last winter. And you still haven’t said much about him."

"It’s for his own protection," Jennlynn shrugged. "He understands. He’s in an awkward position, being an Air Force NCO, especially considering who I am and who I spend a lot of time with. That’s why I asked you guys not to say anything about him around here."

"Jennlynn, are you going to marry him?" Jon asked flatly.

"Maybe," she conceded. "In a sort of way, we already are married, but we probably won’t do anything official until after he gets out of the Air Force. If he decides to go for twenty, that’s another eleven years. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, and it’s his decision. Beyond that, you two, still don’t say anything, even around here."

Jon and Tanisha looked at each other for an instant. "We understand," she smiled. "We won’t tell."

Jennlynn leaned back and looked at them. They were the most incredibly close couple she had ever imagined, and anyone who knew them as well as she did had no doubt that they did read each others’ minds, or at least something close to it, although they both adamantly denied it. As much as she loved Will, she and he both had learned that there needed to be some distance between them much of the time; she couldn’t imagine being like Jon and Tanisha with him. But to each his own; she’d seen Will more in the year that he’d been at Keesler than they’d ever seen each other in all of the rest of the time they’d known each other, and they hadn’t worn thin yet. They’d managed a weekend a month when she’d fly into Biloxi, staying as house guests of Claudia and Cindy and eating Cajun until they almost burst; beyond that, they’d had a couple wonderful weeks in the spring out at their home, and then again in the fall.

"I didn’t think you would," she replied as the phone went off. It was no surprise; there had been a number of calls all morning, some from media, and she’d tried to be polite as long as they didn’t pry and didn’t get beyond the topic of what had been on WNN Newsmagazine the night before. She picked up the phone and replied, "Jennlynn."

"Jennlynn, this is Angela," she heard. "There are a couple people here who would like to see you if it’s possible."

"Media?" she asked. Angela had been her front bumper against media for much of the last year, and had gotten pretty good at telling them to go away in a nice way. She’d only had to call security five times.

"No," Angela replied. "It’s a Jeff and Sheila Waldemer. He says you know him."

"Jeff? Good grief, what are they doing here? I’ll be right down!" She hung up the phone and said. "Gotta run, guys. It’s the guy who kept me from killing several reporters at Keesler last winter."

"The missionary?" asked Tanisha who like Jennlynn was also a preacher’s daughter. "He was a pretty cool guy."

"He’s one of the coolest dudes you’ll ever imagine," Jennlynn grinned as she got up and headed for the door. "Catch you later."

It took only a minute or so to get down the hall and out to the reception area. There was Jeff, tanned and balding like she remembered, and his wife, who he’d talked about several times but Jennlynn had never met. She was about as tall, had short black hair, and had a well-scrubbed simplicity about her. She looked just about exactly how you’d imagine a missionary’s wife to look, Jennlynn thought. "Well, gee zow, you two, what a surprise! What brings you here?"

"It’s a long story," Jeff conceded. "But we were in the neighborhood, and we thought we’d drop by."

"Well, come on back, we’ll find some coffee, and you can tell me all about it." She let out a breath. "Look, you two, I hope you won’t be offended, but this is Tasteless T-Shirt Thursday around here. It’s sort of a company tradition, like a dress-down day, but some of them get pretty tasteless." She glanced at Angela, who was wearing a pink T-shirt with the lettering, P.L.U.S.H. – Phoenix Lesbians United to Save Humanity. "Angela’s is kind of on the mild side."

"You may find it hard to believe," Sheila grinned. "But we have actually seen worse."

"Then you haven’t been out back at Lambdatron," Jennlynn laughed. "But let’s go out back anyway and get some coffee. Don’t be surprised at what you see; most of the people here are crazy anyway."

She opened the door for them, and they headed down the back hallway. "Jennlynn," Jeff said as they walked down the hall, "You seem pretty happy today, considering the last time I saw you. You were pretty morose then."

"It is a good day, and things have changed a little since I saw you," she explained. "For the better, I think." She stopped at a coffee pot at the corner of a large work room, grabbed three paper cups and filled them. "How do you take it?"

"Black will be fine," Jeff said. "It’s what we’re used to."

In a minute, they were in Jennlynn’s office. "Sorry about the mess," she said, looking around the room. There were scattered books, several piles of papers, several rolled prints, and others unrolled on a work table. "Around here, I’m considered a neatnik. Usually, we don’t go into the president’s office unless we’re wearing hard hats, steel-toed shoes, and HAZMAT suits."

"I have to admit," Sheila said with a grin, "This is not what I would have imagined the office of the nation’s best known prostitute to look like."

"Ma’am, a lot of things aren’t what they seem on the surface," Jennlynn said, a little more subdued. This was a missionary wife, after all, and had to be pretty straight. She remembered enough missionaries visiting the church from when she was a kid.

"Oh, I realize that," she said. "We watched that show on you last night. I think I learned a lot that I would have had trouble understanding otherwise. There were many things Jeff has told me about you that made sense after I saw it."

"I’m glad you understand," Jennlynn said seriously. "I was a little worried about how you might react to the people he hung out with for a while."

Jeff smiled. "I told her pretty much everything, Jennlynn," he said. "Right down to how bad I had gas after Claudia and Cindy stuffed us with so much great Cajun food. We’re not people to keep secrets from each other."

"I understand what you, and especially Sergeant Hoffman, were trying to do," Sheila replied. "It would have been very easy to misinterpret things."

"I’m glad you understand, ma’am," Jennlynn laughed. "Your husband was around some pretty weird people for a while. But he went through it with his head held high. I will admit, his jaw was hanging open from time to time, but he was cool all the way. Ma’am, I think you landed a keeper."

"I’ve always thought so," she grinned.

"So, what drags you two to this neck of the woods?" Jennlynn asked. "I understood that you were back in Bolivia and pretty busy there."

"Dreadfully busy," Jeff explained. "Jennlynn, a few weeks ago we had a Cessna 207 blow a jug over the jungle. I wasn’t flying it, but the pilot had no choice but to put it down in a river. It was a total loss, although everyone survived, praise the good Lord."

"There is that risk," Jennlynn agreed. "I had an engine swallow a valve years ago, but fortunately I was able to glide to an airport."

"It’s a risk we have to take with bush flying," he said. "The thing of it is, we’re understaffed, and operating on a tight string financially. It would cost almost the value of the aircraft to insure it each year, so we don’t insure it. Without that 207, we’re stretched very thin. Jennlynn, because of what happened last February, I’m a little better known than anyone else, so we were sent up here to raise money and to find a replacement. We’ve been traveling around church to church, raising a few hundred here, and a few hundred there. A few days ago, we . . . "

"How much have you raised?" she asked.

"About twenty thousand," Jeff said. "Actually, we’ve been doing fairly well. But Jennlynn . . . "

"You’re a 501(c)3, aren’t you? Got any idea how much you need?"

"We are, and there’s a 207 up in Greeley for forty-two thousand," Jeff said. "It needs a major badly, and some other work, but even with the needed work it’s the best deal out there."

"No problem, let’s go buy you a 207," Jennlynn said, picking up the phone and punching numbers furiously. "Angela, Jennlynn," she said. "I’ll be out of the office the rest of the day with Jeff and Sheila. We’re taking a little trip in Skyhook."

"Jennlynn," Jeff said, more firmly. "We did not come here to hit on you for money. You’re getting ahead of us."

"It doesn’t matter," Jennlynn said. "I had a call from my accountant yesterday. He was all up in arms about the fact that I need to either give some money to a charity, or give it to the IRS. I’d rather give it to someone I know and respect and helped me out in a real crunch, rather than just dump it on United Way, OK?"

"Jennlynn," Jeff sighed. "Meeting you was one of the crazier things that’s happened to me in my life, but I see God’s hand all through it. Now, will you please listen to me?"

"I’ve been getting carried away, huh?"

"Yes, you have," Jeff smiled. "You are one of the moodiest women I’ve ever seen, and I’m sure I haven’t seen all your moods. In fact, I don’t want to, and I’m sure Sheila would be even less happy about it if I did. It’s nice to see you in a good mood, but the mood I like to remember you in is as the professional who landed Southern one-eleven without a trace of nerves. Sheila and I have got something to say to you that you may well not like to hear, but we agreed to deliver the message."

"I’m sorry, Jeff," she said. "That’s the way I am, and an up mood like this is rare. I’ll try to keep it down."

"OK," he said. "Jennlynn, you remember the speech I gave to the press there in the terminal at Keesler, don’t you?"

"I think I’ll remember it as long as I live," she said. "I gave you the option of running and hiding, but you promised to stand by me. I never expected you to do it, much less quite that seriously, and I’m very grateful. It changed my own outlook on a few things once I had a chance to digest it, too."

"Good," he said. "The story of that afternoon, and that speech, is the core of the sermon that I’ve given in a number of churches in the last month. Jennlynn, last Sunday I gave that sermon in the Disciples of the Savior Church in Bradford, Michigan."

"Oh," she replied in a small voice, her mood deflating instantly. "You . . . know about that, then."

"I didn’t know about it when I gave the sermon," Jeff told her. "Jennlynn, I never made the connection until your father came to the pulpit with tears rolling down his cheeks. He and your mother told the whole congregation about all the guilt they’ve suffered over the years for one rash failure to listen and understand. We had a long discussion about it with the whole congregation present, and a longer one afterwards with just the four of us. Jennlynn, they are aware that you hold them in utter contempt for their actions, and they are aware that you have gone out of your way to remind them and the whole community of it from time to time. Jennlynn, they realize that you have done some things that they aren’t proud of, but they are pleased with much of what you’ve accomplished."

He let out a sigh. "Southern one-eleven leads that list, of course, but your doctorate, your business success, things like that are also on it. They are aware of the price you had to pay to accomplish those things. Jennlynn, they forgive you for what they see as the bad things that you’ve become, and they’re prepared to accept them. They asked us to tell you that they would appreciate your forgiveness, though they have no right to expect it. That’s the message Sheila and I came here to deliver, and we agreed to it because we respect you for those positive accomplishments so much that we felt you needed to hear it through."

Jennlynn looked down at her hands for a long minute. "Jeff, Sheila," she said finally. "You are right. I hold them in utter contempt, and I have been very bitter about it over the years. Their last words to me were, and I quote, ‘We don’t want to ever see you again, you little whore.’ Please understand, I never set out to be a prostitute at all, let alone the most famous one in the country. I wasn’t left much of a choice by their actions. I’ve spent a dozen years coming to grips with who I am, and who I have become. It has been very hard for me to learn to take pride in who I am. In fact, your words down at Keesler probably put in place one of the last pieces in the puzzle. I would not have done that interview you saw last night, had I not come to accept who I am with pride, and that includes being a notorious prostitute. After all that, forgiveness does not come easily. I . . . I will think about it."

"I understand that even that much is a major concession for you," Jeff said. "We can’t ask for anything more. Jennlynn, we did not come here to beg for money. We appreciate the thought about the 207, but we won’t hold you to your word. God sees the need and will provide somehow."

"You still don’t understand, do you?" she smiled. "Jeff, I think most people would consider the term ‘honest prostitute’ to be an oxymoron. It’s not necessarily so. This prostitute has always taken pride in following the law, in being honest, in giving fair honey for the money, and for the fact that her word is her bond. As much as I despise my parents, I learned that from them, and it’s a big piece of who I am. On top of that, I owe you a lot for standing up beside me at Keesler, and for standing up to me today. Like I said, let’s go buy you a 207."

* * *

"Sky Harbor Tower, Learjet zero sierra hotel ready for takeoff," Jennlynn said into the boom mike as she sat in the right seat of Skyhook.

"Ah, roger, zero sierra hotel, cleared for takeoff," came over the radio, followed by the words, "Party hearty, Skyhooker!"

She thumbed the mike button and replied, "Zero sierra hotel rolling." then let up on the button and said, "Smart . . . uh, mouth," over the intercom. "Must be somebody else watched WNN last night. I guess that’s what happens when you get a reputation. OK, Jeff, crack the throttles and turn onto the centerline, then bring them all the way forward smoothly. Rotation is about 100; it’ll tell you when it wants to fly."

"OK, Jennlynn," he said dubiously.

"Relax, first time for everything, and it’s really pretty easy," she said as she heard the CJ-610s spool up behind her, setting the three of them back in their seats. In seconds they were roaring down the runway; Jennlynn coached him through takeoff, gear up, and reduction to climb power, just like Mike had done for her a long time ago. She was handling the radios and the navigation and letting Jeff just fly the plane. There was a large cloud layer most of the way, would be until they neared the Front Range, so she had filed IFR just to get up where the sun was shining. Jeff didn’t have an instrument rating, so she would have to coach him a bit, but she was doing the hard work.

Even reduced to climb power, the white Learjet raced for the sky much like it always did. As they were leaving the Phoenix TCA and were handed off to Center, they punched through the top of the cloud deck and came out into the clear, high-altitude skies, with a white cloudscape falling swiftly below. "This is pretty neat," Jeff said. "It’s about as far away from flying a 207 in a jungle as you can get."

"Jeff, if I was down there, I’d be about as lost as you are here. But like I said, it’s really pretty simple, just different." She turned and looked over her shoulder at Sheila, sitting in the jump seat. "You doing OK back there?"

"Just fine," she smiled. "I can see why you get hooked on it."

"Darn right," Jennlynn grinned. "The only problems in life you need to worry about are the ones a pair of CJ-610s can’t get you away from at 500 miles an hour." But then, as she coached Jeff on up to Flight Level 290 and into cruise, she realized what she said had been intended as a wisecrack, but it had a bitter germ of truth to it. Until an hour ago, she hadn’t even thought much about her parents in the last few years, since the reunion in fact, when she’d thought the CJ-610s were taking her away from that problem once and for all. Even in the hassles with the press following Southern 111 and Keesler, and they were many, her mind had only occasionally slipped to the thought that her parents must have been squirming pretty hard. But that was all back in the past, far in the past.

This morning, Jeff and Sheila had dragged them out into the present. Damn it! It was a can of worms. Did she really want to reopen it? She’d spent much of a decade sealing it up, and until this morning, she was happy about having done it. There were a dozen years of hate and bitterness that had to be bridged, a dozen eventful years that had marked her irrevocably in ways that she could never have dreamed. She’d managed to bury the hate that still existed, put a shell over it – was it worth digging up?

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