Night Flight Read online

  The last time she had visited the room had been filled with policemen, and her presence had been awkward. There was so much she had wanted to say to him, but none of it was appropriate for that time and place. He had given her back her life, but he had given her so much more. How could she thank him for that? And later she began to worry that the things she had to say to him would never be appropriate, that they would only embarrass him, that he might not want to be reminded, any more than she did, of the nightmare of treachery and deceit that had brought them together. So she did not come again.

  Now he had come to her.

  He glanced at the violin case. "Off to Boston?"

  She nodded. "The audition's tomorrow."

  He smiled. "Good for you."

  That smile, that voice, were the same as always. And as always, they made her feel strong inside.

  She said, "You look good."

  "Coming along."

  His eyes lingered on her, and the expression there made her smile. He said, "You look different."

  In her neat beige suit, with her hair tied back by a yellow scarf, she didn't just look different. She was almost unrecognizable.

  She answered simply, "I am different."

  He nodded, understanding. For a time nothing more needed to be said.

  Then Dave dropped his eyes and said, a little awkwardly, "Listen, I don't know if they told you . . . they kept it out of the papers. . . . They found the drop, just where you said it was. They confiscated the stuff."

  For a moment Cathy did not react at all, and then she shook her head slowly. "No. No one told me." She tried to muster a smile, but it faded almost before it began. "What do you know? Sometimes the good guys do win, after all."

  Dave answered, "Yeah. Sometimes." But he wasn't smiling either.

  The awkwardness Cathy had always dreaded would edge between them began to surface. She glanced away, trying to think of something to say. She wondered if it were possible that someone who had meant so much to her only a few weeks ago could have no place in her life now. He had created the woman she was today, but perhaps he preferred the woman she used to be. And in truth, they had never had anything in common at all . . .

  She said, "Are you going to be out of work long?"

  His smile turned rueful. "Well, about that ... I decided to take an early retirement. Actually, we all felt it was the best thing to do."

  Cathy found that she approved of the decision, as though it were hers to approve or disapprove. And she wasn't very surprised. "What are you going to do?"

  "To tell the truth, I don't know. But I'm kind of looking forward to finding out."

  Cathy smiled at him, and said, "When I get back from Boston—if I don't get the job—I'm going to start looking for my own place. Jack is almost fully recovered and—well, I think we both need to start building separate lives. We've had some long talks."

  Dave said, "I'd like to meet Jack sometime. I feel like I owe him a lot."

  "He owes you a lot," Cathy said. "And in a way—I think you already do know each other."

  They smiled at each other, understanding and needing no words. It was a good moment, but it could not linger forever.

  She lowered her eyes briefly. "Listen, I wanted to come see you, but I was afraid—"

  "I know," he said . "I understand. I thought maybe you wouldn't want to see me either, to be reminded — "

  "No, that's not true, I'm okay with that-"

  "I'm glad."

  She took a breath, and met his eyes. "I think about you. A lot.”

  He answered quietly, "Same here."

  And then, after the longest time, there was nothing left to say.

  Cathy glanced away reluctantly, and put her hand on the door handle. "Well. My flight is at three."

  He nodded and took a step backward, balancing with his cane. "I'm glad I caught you before you left. It gave me a chance to wish you good luck."

  "Thanks." She opened the door, then hesitated. "It was really great to see you."

  "You, too."

  She got in the car, and he closed her door for her. She arranged the violin case on the floor in front of the backseat and then started the engine. He still stood there by the door. She looked up at him. "Goodbye, Dave."

  "Bye, Cathy."

  She put the car in gear.

  "Hey, Cathy?"

  She stopped.

  He leaned down to look in the window. "It's a long way to Boston. You want some company?"

  Cathy smiled. For a long time she couldn't do anything but sit there and smile at him. Then she returned the gear shift to park, leaned across the seat, and opened the passenger door. "You bet," she said.

  When he was settled beside her, looking at her and smiling, he commented simply, "Traffic should be light on the way to the airport. Good day for a flight."

  Cathy nodded, sharing the smile, as she put the car back in gear and started out of the driveway. "It's a good day," she said, "for just about anything."

  ****************************************

  Visit Donna Ball at http://www.donnaball.net

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