Dean Vanheuven was standing by the hand-rail at the edge of the decking, running his eyes over the crowd. They all looked to be NASA employees or their plus-ones. Although there were a few of the women he didn’t recognize and one man he couldn’t name. Their hostess, Sian Sobell, kissed her husband Harry as he worked on the grill and wandered over to Dean. “It looks as though congratulations are in order,” he said with a smile, “When’s the baby due? Harry hasn’t said a word.”
Sian placed one protective hand on the bump. “Early June, so we’ve only started telling people today.” With her eyes twinkling, she added, “I’m glad he’s as good at keeping our secrets as he is yours.”
Dean felt a slight flush come to his face at this sally. He decided not to respond. “Who’s the blonde with Gordo?” he asked, gesticulating with his beer towards a bench seat across the yard. Gordo Cooper lounged there, his arm around the shoulders of a pretty young woman. Both were smiling and chatting animatedly, focused almost entirely on each other. Dean was wearing the loudest Hawaiian shirt he owned but Cooper was wearing a garment that drowned Dean’s out completely. Dean was surprised Cooper’s shirt hadn’t caused complaints about a noise violation.
“Ah. Officially, she’s a cousin visiting from Florida, Jenny.. Jenny Smoles, I think,” answered Sian, following Dean’s gesture.
The fact that Cooper’s marriage had failed before he joined NASA had become an open secret. After the skill and heroism of his first flight had made him a national hero, Cooper didn’t care too much about maintaining the image NASA insisted upon. Cooper’s flight with Pete Conrad in Gemini 5 had cemented his position. Hence Cousin Jenny and the others that had gone before her. Rumour said Trudy Cooper didn’t care but was getting on with her own life.
Dean passed over the relaxed scene and back to Sian Sobell, glowing vitality and calm assurance. He was struck by how she, a Black woman, was somehow slotting in and being accepted into Harry’s predominantly White world with effortless grace. “You’re a remarkable woman, Mrs Sobell,” he found himself saying then blushed at being so crass.
Her eyes twinkled. “Oh, you have no idea, sugar,” she replied, laughter in her Southern drawl, “No idea at all.”
Overhead, a fighter jet on a training exercise flew high overhead. The astronauts all looked skyward and tracked its’ progress. Dean looked too, glad of the distraction, the excuse to drag his eyes away from Sian Sobell. The plane banked and dived in mock attack.
The dive reminded Dean that, several thousand miles away, other men were flying similar jets over Vietnam, dropping tons of bombs and napalm on a near-invisible enemy below. It was hard to imagine, in spite of the near-nightly news items about the conflict. It was too far removed from the relaxed scene he was looking at. He knew better than most that the military were pressing for the involvement of ground troops, fighting troops rather than just the advisers sent so far. If that happened, there would be even more pressure on NASA’s budget. He prayed that it wouldn’t come to that, as much for the damaged lives he knew would inevitably accrue as for the impact on the space program.