A Website Featuring the Writings of Donna Schlachter 10/22/10
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A Website Featuring the Writings of Donna Schlachter 10/22/10 |
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Prov 10:9 |
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If it wasn’t for all the turbulence in Carly Turnquist’s life, she might have
enjoyed the flight. All she really wanted was to stand on solid ground again. Air travel had never been her favorite mode of transportation, and the last couple of bumps had only served to confirm her previous opinion -- flying was dangerous. Still, there was no way she would have passed up this chance at a working vacation. Working for her husband Mike. Vacation for her. Not to mention getting to spend some quality time with Mike’s son Tom. And, of course, getting to meet Sarah, the woman Tom said he hoped to spend the rest of his life with. Carly settled back in the high-backed jet liner seat and sighed. After two hectic weeks of preparing for this trip, she was more than ready to relax. Fingers still gripping the armrest tightly, just in case another sudden drop came, she closed her eyes, envisioning the vacation part -- sleeping, eating, reading. She opened her eyes again, and smiled at the man seated next to her. Mike’s eyes were closed as he took another of his famous catnaps. Somehow he could recharge his energy for hours with a five-minute nap. She squeezed his hand and was delighted when he returned the gesture. He turned his head to face her. “Are you okay?” Carly readjusted the small flight pillow behind her neck. “If you mean am I scared, I am.” “Nothing to be scared of, you know.” “I know. It’s all in my mind.” She looked out the window beside her. “Still, the ground is a long ways down.” “I guess I shouldn’t have asked you to come. I know how you feel about flying.” Carly sat up abruptly, folding her arms across her chest. “Like you would have just come here without me?” Mike laughed softly as he pulled her closer. “Not if I valued my life, right?” “Right.” She started to pull away. He tightened his grip and softly whispered into her ear. “Lean into me, and you’ll be safe.” Carly snuggled closer. She loved this man dearly, and even after ten years, it still felt like they were on their honeymoon. “I’m so excited about this trip. Although ...” She turned her face to his, saying, “I do feel just a tad bit guilty that you’ll be doing all the working, and I’ll be doing all the relaxing.” “It won’t be all work,” Mike assured her. “We’ll spend some time together. And you’ll get to spend some time with Sarah. Get to know her better. After all, before long she may be a part of this family, too.” “I hope they set a date really soon.” She paused. “But not too soon.” Mike laughed. “I want them to have a nice wedding.” “You mean, you want to plan a nice wedding for them.” “That’s what I said.” Carly drew back from Mike, touching his strong jawline with an index finger. “Get another nap. You’re going to need it.” A commotion arose from across the aisle. Carly peered past Mike and the man in the aisle seat to the younger woman in the window seat. The platinum blonde called for the flight attendant in a voice sated with urgency. Unable to get a clear view of the situation, Carly leaned forward, using the armrests to raise herself up slightly for a better view. She watched as the flight attendant hurried to the seat, bent over, and spoke in clipped tones. Something was going on, but what? Whatever it was, it was going on without her. She was trapped in the window seat, and, knowing Mike, he would say it was under control. After all, the attendants and crew were trained to handle such incidents, weren’t they? But what if it wasn’t a little incident? What if there was a bomb on board? What if they were going to crash? She clutched Mike’s arm. Seeing him wince from pain, she let up a little on her grasp, and whispered, “There’s something going on across from us. That young woman called out to the attendant, and, look, an officer from the cockpit is coming back to see about it.” She pulled Mike closer to her. “Are we going to crash?” Mike smiled. “No, we are not going to crash. I’m sure it’s something simple.” “I don’t think the pilot personally deals with food complaints. Find out what’s going on.” “The seatbelt sign is on, and I am not going to get in their way.” Carly sighed. Mike always obeys the rules. “The seatbelt sign has been on this entire bumpy flight. Change places with me so I can see down the aisle.” “You like the window seat.” “Not now I don’t. Please, Mike.” With a sigh of his own, he unbuckled his seatbelt, then stood in the aisle and waited for Carly to do the same. Then he slid into her seat and buckled up again. Carly remained standing in the aisle, intent on the action just a few feet away. The man in uniform bent over them, speaking in hushed tones. Carly had watched the couple board, the man leaving heavily on the woman’s arm. She’d wondered about their relationship as the blonde solicitously tucked a blanket around the white-haired gent’s knees. Was he her husband or her father? Carly could understand the attraction of the older man to the younger woman, but what did she see in a man old enough to be her father? Carly shuddered at the thought. It probably came down to money. The officer spoke rapidly to the woman as she frantically gestured with her hands. The older man was quiet and still. Carly tapped the shoulder of the man sitting in front of her. “What’s going on?” He looked up, a surprised expression on his face. “What are you talking about?” She pointed to the row in across the aisle. “There. What’s going on with that couple?” “I dunno,” he tersely replied and resumed his reading. People can be so obtuse. Carly checked the passengers across the aisle, one row up. They peered through the small space between the seats, intent on watching the officer. From their whispered questions back and forth, they seemed to be as much in the dark as she was. The officer cleared his throat, and spoke loud enough for all the passengers to hear him. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am First Officer Turner. We have a medical emergency. Do we have any medical personnel on board?” A rustling from the rear of the plane caught Carly’s attention. A young man made his way down the aisle, carrying a small black bag in one hand, clutching the seats with the other. It appeared help was on the way. Mike tugged on Carly’s hand. “What’s happening?” She watched as the man set his bag on the floor near his feet and opened it. “The guy from the rear of the plane has a medical bag and looks like he knows what he’s doing. He’s listening to the husband’s chest.” Carly swallowed nervously as she continued watching. She felt a little like a voyeur, but was determined not to miss anything. The presumed doctor held the man’s wrist, and then put two fingers on the man’s neck. He spoke to First Officer Turner, who gave curt instructions to the flight attendant standing nearby. She returned a moment later with a portable oxygen tank, and the doctor put the mask over the man’s face. “Now what?” Mike asked again. “I guess he’s still trying to find a pulse. He had the attendant to bring some oxygen, so that should be a good sign, right?” She smiled wanly at Mike. As much as she enjoyed the excitement, she really didn’t want anything bad to happen to the elderly man. “Oh no,” she groaned. Mike squeezed her hand. “What is it?” “The doctor just shook his head the way doctors do when it’s bad news and they don’t want to have to say the actual words. The wife is crying.” Carly sank back to her seat. Mike pulled Carly closer to him as they heard the doctor ask Turner, “How long before we can land?” Turner consulted his watch. “About thirty minutes, sir.” The doctor nodded. “The gentleman has died. We should move him somewhere else. And, if someone could sit with his wife?” He glanced at the flight attendant. She nodded. The first officer drew himself up, wiping his hands on his trouser legs. “I’ll let the captain know, and he will tell us what arrangements we can make to move the bo-- ” He glanced at the widow. “-- gentleman.” The doctor laid his hand on the widow’s shoulder. She stopped sobbing and raised her head to look at him as he spoke. “I believe he’s had a heart attack. Did you know of any heart condition?” She shook her head, but Carly was sure she saw a hint of a smile cross the woman’s lips before she put her hands over her face again. And the doctor’s hand remained on her shoulder as he waited for the first officer to return, and Carly could see his fingers rubbing her shoulder. Carly wasn’t certain if it was her imagination. But from her position, it looked like the widow leaned into his touch, and occasionally glanced at him from between her fingers. The Captain approached and took charge of the situation quickly. “Turner has filled me in,” he said brusquely. Looking at the widow, he lowered his voice a notch. “My condolences, ma’am. We’ll do all we can to make this as easy for you as possible.” She nodded her gratitude. “Thank you.” The captain continued. “We will move your husband to the rear of the plane. There are several empty seats back there. We’ll take very good care of him, ma’am. Don’t worry about anything. We’ve already radioed ahead to the Albuquerque airport, and they’ll have an ambulance there when we land. Because a doctor was in attendance and has pronounced the cause of death, there won’t be any need for an autopsy.” Another look of gratitude from the widow. The captain turned to the male passenger in the aisle seat and spoke quietly. Carly watched as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped into the aisle. The captain hooked his hands under the dead man’s arms, and the passenger grabbed his feet, losing a shoe in the process. Struggling against the weight and the slight turbulence, the two carried their burden to the rear of the plane. She watched the sad procession, then glanced back at the widow. There’s that smile again. The flight attendant took the seat next to the widow, offering her a pillow and blanket. Taking the blanket, the widow wrapped it around her shoulders, turned to the widow, and closed her eyes. Carly sat in her seat, her mind racing. Mike touched her arm. “What mystery is your brain conjuring up?” Carly turned to look at him, tipping her head to one side. “What do you mean?” “I can see your brain working. You’re brewing up some mystery or some puzzle to solve right now, aren’t you?” She frowned in response. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mike Turnquist. There isn’t any mystery here. The old man didn’t have a heart attack.” |
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This site was last updated 10/22/10