Chapter Six
The last years spent apart had made them appear different, but deep down inside, Charlotte and Martha Jones were still the Jones sisters. They were alike in many ways that would perhaps surprise them. They both were of above average intelligence. They both had a gift of perseverance or as others might see it, stubbornness. Their father had instilled in them a gift for speaking and a rare insight into the minds of others. Their mother had passed on to them a drive to succeed and features that while not beautiful were pleasing. Their grace had been assured by years of dance lessons. It had been their mother's joy to dress them identically as children and they had been often mistaken for twins and certainly were recognized as sisters. In their early teens, however each girl went her own way with her looks, make-up, and dress as if denying any sibling connection.. They were both determined to achieve their goals, and not afraid to bend their talents and wills towards those goals.
Judge Jones, had he bothered to look in on his daughters that evening would have been pleased to see both girls working diligently on their computers. Stacks of papers and books attested to scholarship in progress. Only Martha was doing homework. Charlotte had something grander and more dangerous on her mind.
Gordon paused at the door to his father's workroom. Jeff was on the phone and from the look of concentration on his face, it must be a business call. His father, however, looked up to give the young man a quick smile and a wave to come in. Gordon tapped his books to indicate his own kind of business and went up to his room. Alan was spread out gracelessly on his bed in his room, nose buried in a biology textbook.
"It's just me kid. Dad's on the phone." Gordon grinned at his brother who abandoned the schoolbook and fished a motorcar magazine out from under his pillow.
Gordon contemplated initiating a wrestling match with his brother, but with a sigh decided not to. Not that Alan was in his league, but the kid had gotten a few more muscles than last year and tended to be a slippery customer. He had to be as the youngest of five brothers.
Gordon sat down at his desk and pulled open the drawer to pull out a thick white envelope. He tapped it thoughtfully on his hand. In it was an application to the Naval Academy. A similar envelope with another embossed seal on it sat propped up in front of his computer. The application to Air Force Academy. Didn't need to do more than sign it and toss it into the mail. The name of Tracy and flying opened doors automatically. Not only his father, but nowadays the reputations of his three older brothers were weighty.
The only problem with the Air Force is that he didn't want to go. He wanted the sea. He wanted the deep blues and azures of the depths, not the bright blue of the sky. No one asked him what he wanted. It was just assumed. Explained that this was what Tracys do. Expected of him. Gordon gritted his teeth. Forced on him.
The Air Force Academy form was chucked in his desk and he pulled the papers from the other envelope and with the guilty pleasure of going against his father started to meticulously fill in the form.
In his workroom, Jeff Tracy hung up the phone thankfully. One of the trials of having business in the Far East meant phone calls at odd hours. He rubbed his ear automatically while stretching and popping cramped back muscles. He looked at his watch and sighed, 11:30, well so much for an early night. He had at least an hours more paperwork that the call had generated, maybe even two. He picked up his pen and then paused. It was a school night and much as he hated reminding teenagers about their need for sleep (especially since he was going without it), he should go and see if they were at least pointed in the right direction. He missed having the older boys around. Scott was so efficient about taking care of his brothers that he had not noticed it until he had left to go to the Academy. Then Virgil and John just stepped into their oldest brother's shoes leaving Jeff more time to handle his business. He spent as much time as he could with his boys, but sometimes it wasn't always possible. Jeff sometimes envied Scott's skill with the two youngest. However, Jeff didn't think his idea of discipline was giving the young boys wedgies or wrestling them to the ground to be tickled unmercilessly.
Alan was already hunched in his bed, blanket up around his ears and one bare foot hanging out over the side of the bed. Peeping out from under the bed was a motorcar magazine featuring a sleek looking car with an even sleeker looking blonde woman in a bikini posing with it. Thank God Alan was more interested in the car than the scantily clad woman. He turned off the light and got a muttered grunt that he translated as his youngest son's goodnight.
"Goodnight Alan." He replied.
Gordon was still up sitting at his desk writing. Surprisingly enough his room was relatively neat. When sharing a room with John or Alan, Gordon's part of the room always looked like it was the site of a tornado aftermath. Now, when it was all his own space he kept it neat. Not clean, but recognizable as a bedroom.
"Gordon..." Jeff spoke warily. He was never sure how Gordon was going to react at any time. "It is getting late."
Gordon looked up with a start, how did his father creep up on him. Did he know what he was doing. Did the old man read their minds? Virgil had him convinced that he did, not realizing that Jeff knew a guilty look when he saw one.
Gordon took a deep breath, maybe this was his chance. "It's my application for the Academy." He meant Naval Academy to him it was 'the Academy'.
He was rewarded with a large smile on his father's face. The same kind of smile he bestowed upon his son when he got his gold medal.
"Good for you son!" Jeff felt pride overflow in his heart. He knew that the boy would love flying as much as he or his brothers did. "I'll be so proud to pin your wings on you, just like I did for your brothers."
Gordon swallowed. His father wasn't listening to him. "Father, about the Air Force..."
"Don't worry son, I'm sure your brothers can tell you the lowdown on how to survive your first year. Not easy, mind you, but we Tracy men do well. Well, don't stay up too late." Jeff went to hug his son in a rare burst of physical affection, but Gordon ducked past it to put his hand over the papers.
Jeff felt confused. Well, Gordon was just probably nervous about the whole application. Not that it was a real problem. Luckily, the boy had his senior year to settle down and stop being so jumpy.
"Good night, Gordon." Jeff turned at the doorway as he left.
"G'night." The reply was as inaudible and as grunted as Alan's. Teenagers.
Gordon thumped his head on his desk a few times accompanied by a few choice words that would earn his mouth washed out with soap if Grandma ever heard them. He looked at his watch, it was too late to call Em, but he would see her tomorrow in the library. Maybe her gorgeous sister would be there, too.
The last years spent apart had made them appear different, but deep down inside, Charlotte and Martha Jones were still the Jones sisters. They were alike in many ways that would perhaps surprise them. They both were of above average intelligence. They both had a gift of perseverance or as others might see it, stubbornness. Their father had instilled in them a gift for speaking and a rare insight into the minds of others. Their mother had passed on to them a drive to succeed and features that while not beautiful were pleasing. Their grace had been assured by years of dance lessons. It had been their mother's joy to dress them identically as children and they had been often mistaken for twins and certainly were recognized as sisters. In their early teens, however each girl went her own way with her looks, make-up, and dress as if denying any sibling connection.. They were both determined to achieve their goals, and not afraid to bend their talents and wills towards those goals.
Judge Jones, had he bothered to look in on his daughters that evening would have been pleased to see both girls working diligently on their computers. Stacks of papers and books attested to scholarship in progress. Only Martha was doing homework. Charlotte had something grander and more dangerous on her mind.
Gordon paused at the door to his father's workroom. Jeff was on the phone and from the look of concentration on his face, it must be a business call. His father, however, looked up to give the young man a quick smile and a wave to come in. Gordon tapped his books to indicate his own kind of business and went up to his room. Alan was spread out gracelessly on his bed in his room, nose buried in a biology textbook.
"It's just me kid. Dad's on the phone." Gordon grinned at his brother who abandoned the schoolbook and fished a motorcar magazine out from under his pillow.
Gordon contemplated initiating a wrestling match with his brother, but with a sigh decided not to. Not that Alan was in his league, but the kid had gotten a few more muscles than last year and tended to be a slippery customer. He had to be as the youngest of five brothers.
Gordon sat down at his desk and pulled open the drawer to pull out a thick white envelope. He tapped it thoughtfully on his hand. In it was an application to the Naval Academy. A similar envelope with another embossed seal on it sat propped up in front of his computer. The application to Air Force Academy. Didn't need to do more than sign it and toss it into the mail. The name of Tracy and flying opened doors automatically. Not only his father, but nowadays the reputations of his three older brothers were weighty.
The only problem with the Air Force is that he didn't want to go. He wanted the sea. He wanted the deep blues and azures of the depths, not the bright blue of the sky. No one asked him what he wanted. It was just assumed. Explained that this was what Tracys do. Expected of him. Gordon gritted his teeth. Forced on him.
The Air Force Academy form was chucked in his desk and he pulled the papers from the other envelope and with the guilty pleasure of going against his father started to meticulously fill in the form.
In his workroom, Jeff Tracy hung up the phone thankfully. One of the trials of having business in the Far East meant phone calls at odd hours. He rubbed his ear automatically while stretching and popping cramped back muscles. He looked at his watch and sighed, 11:30, well so much for an early night. He had at least an hours more paperwork that the call had generated, maybe even two. He picked up his pen and then paused. It was a school night and much as he hated reminding teenagers about their need for sleep (especially since he was going without it), he should go and see if they were at least pointed in the right direction. He missed having the older boys around. Scott was so efficient about taking care of his brothers that he had not noticed it until he had left to go to the Academy. Then Virgil and John just stepped into their oldest brother's shoes leaving Jeff more time to handle his business. He spent as much time as he could with his boys, but sometimes it wasn't always possible. Jeff sometimes envied Scott's skill with the two youngest. However, Jeff didn't think his idea of discipline was giving the young boys wedgies or wrestling them to the ground to be tickled unmercilessly.
Alan was already hunched in his bed, blanket up around his ears and one bare foot hanging out over the side of the bed. Peeping out from under the bed was a motorcar magazine featuring a sleek looking car with an even sleeker looking blonde woman in a bikini posing with it. Thank God Alan was more interested in the car than the scantily clad woman. He turned off the light and got a muttered grunt that he translated as his youngest son's goodnight.
"Goodnight Alan." He replied.
Gordon was still up sitting at his desk writing. Surprisingly enough his room was relatively neat. When sharing a room with John or Alan, Gordon's part of the room always looked like it was the site of a tornado aftermath. Now, when it was all his own space he kept it neat. Not clean, but recognizable as a bedroom.
"Gordon..." Jeff spoke warily. He was never sure how Gordon was going to react at any time. "It is getting late."
Gordon looked up with a start, how did his father creep up on him. Did he know what he was doing. Did the old man read their minds? Virgil had him convinced that he did, not realizing that Jeff knew a guilty look when he saw one.
Gordon took a deep breath, maybe this was his chance. "It's my application for the Academy." He meant Naval Academy to him it was 'the Academy'.
He was rewarded with a large smile on his father's face. The same kind of smile he bestowed upon his son when he got his gold medal.
"Good for you son!" Jeff felt pride overflow in his heart. He knew that the boy would love flying as much as he or his brothers did. "I'll be so proud to pin your wings on you, just like I did for your brothers."
Gordon swallowed. His father wasn't listening to him. "Father, about the Air Force..."
"Don't worry son, I'm sure your brothers can tell you the lowdown on how to survive your first year. Not easy, mind you, but we Tracy men do well. Well, don't stay up too late." Jeff went to hug his son in a rare burst of physical affection, but Gordon ducked past it to put his hand over the papers.
Jeff felt confused. Well, Gordon was just probably nervous about the whole application. Not that it was a real problem. Luckily, the boy had his senior year to settle down and stop being so jumpy.
"Good night, Gordon." Jeff turned at the doorway as he left.
"G'night." The reply was as inaudible and as grunted as Alan's. Teenagers.
Gordon thumped his head on his desk a few times accompanied by a few choice words that would earn his mouth washed out with soap if Grandma ever heard them. He looked at his watch, it was too late to call Em, but he would see her tomorrow in the library. Maybe her gorgeous sister would be there, too.