Air Time

Epilogue

“Please make sure your seat backs and tray-tables are in the full upright position, and…”

Josh unlaces his fingers from mine and unclasps his seat belt. Flipping up the two armrests between us for takeoff, he shifts from his aisle seat into the middle seat next to me, and clicks on his seat belt again.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks. He threads his arm through mine, taking my hand again. He leans close to my ear. “This will all be worth it, I promise. You’re a good sport, sitting at another gate, keeping your eyes closed when we boarded. I told the agent it was a surprise.”

“You sure we can’t just drive, wherever it is you’re taking me?” I reply. I’m only half joking. When Josh showed off our plane tickets, I couldn’t decide whether to be thrilled or terrified. “Mystery destination” he’d said. All he’d tell me was I needed a bathing suit, flip-flops and sunscreen. And since it’s almost December, I guess driving is out of the question.

I cinch my seat belt tighter. And pretend. “I’m dandy, really,” I say. I can feel my smile is forced. “I’m just swell.”

The flight attendant walks toward us, counting whatever it is they count, and touching each of the overhead compartments. She smiles down at us. “The weather in Miami is beautiful,” she says as she passes.

I look at Josh. Miami? Maybe the flight attendant just let the cat out of the bag. Curiosity trumps fear, if only briefly.

He raises a palm, twinkling at me. “Not a chance. Connecting flight. And I told the crew about my little surprise.”

“I tried to get Penny to spill it,” I admit, checking my seat belt again. Maybe if we talk about something else, I’ll be distracted. “You know how secrets drive me crazy. But she insisted she didn’t know.”

“She doesn’t,” Josh says. “She’s expecting a postcard from us.”

So much for that idea. I’m not distracted. I’m freaking. Even my darling Josh can’t make my fear disappear. Even a secret romantic trip to a sunny destination won’t work.

I still hate flying. I lean my forehead against the plastic window, looking out as the last of the bags are loaded onto the 757. At least there’s my suitcase, the new one, still recognizable by the D-M baggage tag Luca gave me. What did he write on that note? May every journey end with your heart’s desire? My heart’s desire is to get off this plane.

The baggage handlers back away from the plane, then chug off in their empty cart. The cart, at least, brings a brief smile to my face. My secret weapon. And the clear victor in the cart versus Cessna battle. Guess they had to replace the cart that got mangled. And the plane. Which reminds me of plane crashes. Which reminds me of the lump in my stomach.

“It always feels like I may never come back,” I say, still facing outside. I can feel Josh looking at me, but I’m so apprehensive I can’t face him. “Like I’m taking off into somewhere unknown. Alone. Leaving my…security, you know?”

Josh’s roar of laughter surprises me. “This is the woman who faced down two thugs and a psychopath FBI agent armed with a.44 Magnum? The woman who risked her life for a friend? Yes, darling, I can see how much you crave security.”

He leans close and kisses my cheek, then turns my face toward his with one finger. “And you think flying is dangerous?”

The engines begin that whine, the wheels begin to move. I can feel my chest clench and I have to remember to breathe. For a moment, I can pretend it’s the plane parked next to us that’s actually underway. But it’s us.

Focus on Josh. Focus on Josh. Focus on Josh. And from the look on his face, he’s focusing on me, too.

“We’re together,” he says. “You’re not alone. Not in flying, not in your life.”

I look at him, so earnest and genuine. Devoted. Hilarious. Patient. Maybe, just maybe. A wisp of a thought dances through my mind, so ephemeral it almost escapes. My contract with Channel 3 expires next June. Maybe I should…consider…

“You’re not leaving. You’re arriving,” Josh continues. “And you need to know your journey is toward a new destination. Not away from an old one. You see? When you take off, that’s a beginning. Not an ending.”

“Well, folks, we are next in line for takeoff on runway L115.” A voice crackles over the loudspeaker, almost understandable. “ETA in Miami is two and a half hours, with connecting flights to-” the announcement pauses, and I can hear some unintelligible voices in the background. “More on that later,” the voice turns exaggeratedly jovial. “But we’re told the weather is clear and sunny at all final destinations.”

The plane slowly taxies down the tarmac, gradually picking up speed. And for an instant, I have a glimmer of what Josh means. I’ve done the same job for more than twenty years. Had the same life for more than twenty years. I love it, of course. And I’m happy. But if I don’t allow myself to take off, how will I ever get anywhere new? And maybe that’s how you know the real thing. If you’re willing to leave the ground. Let go. Fly.

“As I was trying to tell you, before our captain so rudely interrupted,” Josh says. “I think I know your problem, Miss McNally. I think it’s time for you to stop flying solo.”

“Well, yes, it is better with you here,” I say, and this time my smile is genuine. I curl both my arms around his, getting as close to him as I can despite the padded armrest between us for takeoff. “And you know, maybe I should think about-”

Josh reaches into the pouch on the seat back in front of him. And pulls out a little blue box.

A small, square, robin’s-egg-blue box tied with a white satin ribbon.

“No more flying solo,” he says again. And he hands me the package.

The roar of the engines fills the cabin, the gravity and velocity and speed pressing my head into the back of my seat. I feel the massive airplane, with me and Josh strapped inside, leave the ground and soar into the gray November sky, heading for a destination I still don’t know.

What do I know? I know what’s in this little box. And I know what I’ll say after I open it.

And where Josh and I will go after that? Well, we’ll have to take off first. And find out the rest when we arrive.