Spies & Sweethearts

Chapter Two

Chapter TwoEmily clutched her pocketbook in her lap and stared out the airplane window. The macadam glistened with rain that spattered the baggage handlers tossing suitcases into the hold. Her heart skittered with each bump that sounded from below. Surveying the other passengers, she nibbled her lower lip. Men in suits, many carrying briefcases, women in their Sunday best. Air hostesses adorned in navy-blue dresses and jaunty pillbox hats walked the aisle providing assistance and direction.

Minutes ticked past. The plane filled, yet the seat next to her remained vacant. Who would share the journey with her? Would it be an experienced traveler or a first timer like herself?

She opened her handbag and checked its contents for the umpteenth time. Lipstick, tickets, notification letter, notepad, pencil, and a pocket-sized New Testament from Joan who’d stopped by last night for a final hug.

Their conversation replayed in her mind, and she smiled. Always supportive, her friend brushed away Emily’s concerns with jokes and laughs. Brazen to a fault, Joan made more than a few suggestions about the opportunity for Emily to meet men during her new venture.

“Everything all right, miss?”

Emily glanced at the stewardess whose name badge read ANN and nodded. “Yes, thank you. Just a tad nervous. I’ve never flown before.”

The woman’s face creased with a smile. “You’re going to love it. The feeling of speed and freedom. The sky is gorgeous above the clouds, like swimming in a sea of whipped cream. I flew for the first time three years ago and decided then I wanted do it for a living. And here I am.”

“Did you ever consider becoming a pilot?”

“Heavens, no. I’d much rather interact with the passengers than be stuck in the cockpit for hours on end.” She patted her well-coifed hair. “So many people going to Washington, the airline has added four flights each day. Are you going down there to work?”

“Yes, but that’s not my final destination. Once I complete my training, I’ll receive an assignment. It’s kind of exciting, yet nerve wracking not knowing where I’ll serve. I’m usually organized with plans and lists, so having someone else take care of things is…well…”

Ann patted Emily’s shoulder. “I understand. Sit back and relax. I’ll take good care of you, and we’ll be landing before you know it.”

“Wait!” A muffled shout sounded outside the craft, and footsteps clattered. Seconds later, a tanned, sandy-haired man carrying a duffle bag appeared, his face red and perspiring. Out of breath, he sagged against the door, his ice-blue eyes searching the plane.

Averting her gaze, Emily studied her hands. Please don’t sit here. Please don’t sit here—

Waving, Ann pointed to the vacant seat next to Emily. “Sir, here’s a spot, but you must hurry. We’re about to close the doors and take off.”

Emily’s heart sank, and she looked up.

The man nodded, his mouth set in a thin s***h. He clumped down the aisle, shoved his bag under the seat in front of him, and dropped next to her with a grunt. Strapping himself in, he crossed his arms and glared at her.

Her neck stiffened. It wasn’t her fault he nearly missed the plane. Two could play his game. She looked down her nose at him, then turned and watched the activity through the tiny circular window.

Next to her the man shifted, sighing every time he moved. It was going to be a long flight. Better to focus on her destination, away from the irritated passenger who she’d never see again once they landed.

She tucked her hair behind her ears and settled into her seat then opened her purse, withdrawing the slim, leather-bound Bible. The tissue-paper pages rustled as she turned them. Delighted to see the Psalms were included in the volume, she found her favorite and began to read silently.

“O Lord, thou hast searched me, and known me. Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off. Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways.”

The archaic language touched her heart, and the tightness in her chest eased. When would she learn to turn over her day to the Lord? Always rushing to get where she was going or worried about the next thing. She smiled. He was in control.

“I don’t remember anything funny in the Bible.”

Her gaze shot to the man beside her. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re grinning as if you read something amusing. That’s not the Bible I know.”

“Then perhaps you haven’t read it in full, because I know of several stories that are quite droll. But I’m smiling with joy, not entertainment.” She c****d her head. “When was the last time you looked inside the Bible?”

A muscle in his jaw jumped, and he shrugged. “A while.”

She tucked a finger between the pages and closed the Bible. A touchy subject apparently. “Why are you headed to Washington? I’m going for new job.”

“How nice for you.”

“You must be traveling on business. With the war on, no one is taking vacations. The whole country seems to be working day and night. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Sure. Look, are you going to talk the whole time we’re in the air?”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Not if you’d prefer silence, but I have one more question.”

“Yes?”

“Are you always this rude to people you’ve only just met?”

j

Gerard’s face heated. The woman had spunk; he’d give her that. And she was right. He’d allowed a poor start to the day to color his attitude, pouring disdain onto anyone close by. First, the cab he’d taken to the airport broke down, and the wait for a replacement was interminable. Then after finally arriving at the airport, a comedy of errors sent him to the wrong gate, not once, but twice. Sprinting the last hundred yards to the plane in dress shoes was an athletic feat Olympian Jim Thorpe would have been proud of. Now, he was being asked questions he couldn’t answer.

He held out his hand. “I apologize. My morning did not have an auspicious beginning, and I’ve taken it out on you. I’m Gerard Lucas.”

She flashed a smile and grasped his hand. “My name is Emily Strealer. Perhaps I’m at fault as well. I can be a chatterbox when nervous. This is my first time on an airplane.” Dimples bracketed her mouth, and her eyes sparkled. Porcelain skin shone even in the dim light of the aircraft.

“You’ll be fine. Technology has come a long way since the Wright Brothers.”

“Are you a pilot?”

“Yes. I did some crop dusting in my younger days, so the air force seemed to be the right place to enlist. I didn’t want to end up in the trenches. I’ve flown mostly Thunderbolts, but I managed to get my hands on a Mustang a couple of times. Now, that’s a fast plane.”

“I imagine being a fighter pilot is dangerous. You must be very brave.”

He narrowed his eyes. How many times had some simpering gal hung on his arm, batted her eyelashes, and given him that line? This girl’s tone seemed matter of fact. Maybe she didn’t chase flyboys. “No braver than the next guy. We’re all just doing what has to be done.”

“As are we all.”

“Do you have anyone in the service? Brother? A sweetheart?” Gerard held his breath. Had he offended her again? He had no right to ask about boyfriends.

She shook her head, and a shadow crossed her face. “I have two sisters. The eldest lost her husband at Pearl Harbor. And there’s no one special in my life.”

His thoughts tumbled. Why was he relieved she didn’t have a beau? “I’m sorry about your brother-in-law. The nation lost a lot of good people that day.”

A nod, then she nibbled her lower lip. His gaze shot to her mouth, small, tinted with light pink lipstick, and kissable. He almost reared back in the seat. Where had that idea come from? Yes, she was attractive, but he didn’t usually go for redheads. Leggy blondes were more his type. Betty Grable or Gloria Graham. Either of them was the ticket.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. This is your captain. We’re cleared for takeoff and will be in the air shortly. Sit back and enjoy the ride. We’ll try to avoid any bumps.”

“Bumps? What bumps?” Miss Strealer’s eyes bugged, and she gripped his arm.

Gerard patted her icy fingers. Where was the spirit he’d seen earlier? “He’s kidding. Well, kind of. There’s something called turbulence which happens when two masses of air moving at different speeds come together. The phenomena can cause the plane to rock a bit if we happen to fly through.”

“Will it cause us to crash?”

“No. We’ll be fine.” Great, they got a pilot with a sense of humor. Gerard rolled his eyes. Probably some old codger left over from the last war. He pried off her hand, and placed it in her lap. “There is no need to worry.”

The aircraft taxied down the tarmac and lifted to the sky. Gravity pushed him against his seat, and he closed his eyes. Takeoff was his favorite part of flying. Feeling the power then overcoming the pressure. Knowing he was in control. He’d miss being a pilot, but the new assignment promised greater challenges, more danger. Just what he needed.

The plane reached cruising altitude. He leaned toward his seat mate. “Now, that wasn’t too bad, was it?”

A smile was back on her face, and her eyes glowed. “Exciting and fun. I don’t understand the physics, but overcoming the pressure to get airborne was incredible. A sense of…I don’t know…victory.”

“My thoughts exactly. Now you know why I fly.”

She pointed to the cotton-ball clouds outside the window. “You get a whole other perspective up here, don’t you? By all appearances the clouds are cushioning us, but in reality, they are just masses of water. I don’t think I’ll look at them the same after this.”

“Seems like you’re getting bit by the flying bug.” He grinned. Not nearly as annoying now that the woman wasn’t quizzing him about God or war business; she was enjoyable to be around. Too bad a relationship wasn’t in the cards at the moment. He might change his mind about what type of girl he stepped out with.

Hours passed. Nearing their destination, the aircraft began its descent.

Seconds later, the plane bucked, and Gerard’s head whipped toward his lovely seat mate.

Miss Strealer gasped and gripped the arms of her chair, her face ashen.

The pair of stewardesses staggered in the aisle. Dishes rattled, and a woman in the back cried out.

Gerard rubbed his face. Apparently, the flight was not going to be a smooth one. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I feel rather foolish reacting like this. My sisters would say my behavior is proving them right…that I should stay home where I belong.” She spoke through clenched teeth.

“Nonsense. The first time I experienced turbulence, I almost lost my lunch.”

She giggled. “I doubt that, but thanks for trying to make me feel better.”

“What?” He widened his eyes in mock innocence. “You don’t believe me?”

“No. I was warned about pilots. Always weaving stories in an effort to impress the girls.” She smirked. “Although I guess claiming to get sick isn’t exactly awe-inspiring.”

The airplane touched down and raced down the tarmac before rumbling to a stop near the terminal.

In Gerard’s peripheral vision, Miss Strealer hunched into her seat, eyes closed, and lips moving. Praying? Was she a believer or just a desperate flyer grasping at straws?

A bang sounded on the hull, and the stewardess opened the hatch, fresh air filling the cabin.

“We made it.” He tapped her shoulder.

Miss Strealer’s eyes popped open, and a tentative smile tugged at her mouth. “Yes, we did. Thanks again for being such a good sport. Babysitting a Nervous Nellie was not on your to-do list.”

He chuckled, and she pinked as she stood. Stepping into the aisle, he gave her room to precede him out of the plane. They descended the steps, and she stumbled, falling against him. The floral scent of her shampoo invaded his senses as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder to steady her. She fit against his side perfectly. He gulped and released her as if burned.

Had she tripped intentionally? Was she being coy? He froze. Maybe she was a test, a part of his new assignment. Was he being watched? Now, who was being nervous?