Johnny Winchester: River Hunter (6 page)

“Good morning,” she greeted, getting up from the bed.

“’Morning.  Coffee?”

“I don’t really like coffee,” she answered.  “But a
cup of tea would be nice.”

“Hmmm.  I thought all Americans drank coffee.”

“A common myth,” she responded.  “Perpetuated by
the British aristocracy to give the impression that a Yank just can’t
appreciate a good cup of tea.”

“But no milk or sugar?”

“No, just black.”

“I see.  So you really aren’t that appreciative of
tea.”

“Actually, milk and sugar just mask the taste.  A
true connoisseur drinks it black.”

“As you wish,” he bowed his head slightly as he went off
to the
Keurig
machine while she shuffled to the
bathroom. 

The tea, black, was on the bed table when she returned.

“Thank you,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You seem to be feeling better today.”

“I do feel better.  Having my fibromyalgia medicine
really helps.  Until last night, I hadn’t had any since Tuesday
morning.  I’m not sure which was worse, the aching from the accident, or
the aching from the fibro.  But I should be back to normal in a couple
days.  Well, fibro-wise.”

“The other injuries may take a bit longer.  By the
way, the NTSB inspector is here in Anchorage and will want to talk with you
sometime today.  I reckon we just wait until we get a call from him.”

“I’m a little worried about talking to him,” Suzi said
anxiously.

“It will be difficult to have to recount everything, I
would imagine.”

Suzi paused, obviously debating whether to
continue.  “It’s not just that,” she finally said.  “It’s, well, the
pilot and Lou, in the front seat, both commented that the instruments had gone
haywire.  I could only see the compass, but it was spinning like
crazy.  Manning – the pilot – said we were in some sort of vortex, but he
didn’t need the instruments to fly.  Then the engine just died.  If I
tell the inspector that, he’ll think I’m crazy.  I’m not the Bermuda
Triangle type, so I’m thinking I’m crazy!”

Contemplating her words, Johnny was quiet.

“See, you think I’m crazy, too,” Suzi accused.

“No, really I don’t.  I’ve seen a lot in my
travels, a lot of things that aren’t ‘scientific,’ but seem to be true,
nonetheless.  People talk a lot about these vortexes and I’ve heard
there’s supposed to be one in Alaska.  I was just trying to remember
exactly where it is.”  With that, he turned back to his laptop, tapping
and
mousing
until he found what he was looking
for.  “Yes,” he confirmed.  “From what you said about where the plane
went down, I’d say you were right at the edge of this vortex.  You should
tell him what you observed and what the pilot said.  He can come to his
own conclusions.  I’m sure he’s heard some wild stories, and he probably
won’t bat an eye.”

Encouraged, she flashed that smile of hers and he
thought he would just plain melt.  Instead, he suggested ordering
breakfast.  While they waited for room service, Suzi turned on the news
and Johnny returned to his email.  After breakfast, Suzi went into the
bathroom, got dressed, and, as before, needed help with the sling. 
Securing the strap around her neck, Johnny noticed that her long, silver hair
was tangled.

“Shall I brush the tangles from your hair?” he asked.

Sighing, she replied, “Actually that would be really
nice.  I tried to comb it out after I washed it last night, but clearly,
it requires two hands.  The brush is on the bathroom counter.”

Retrieving the brush, Johnny sat her down at the desk,
stood behind her, and tried to brush her hair, but stopped after the second
stroke.

“There’s still quite a bit of dirt in your hair,” he
commented.

“I couldn’t wash it very well, what with only one good
hand.  It’s driving me a bit crazy, but a brushing should help.”

Stroking his chin for a moment, he then went into the
bathroom, leaving Suzi wondering if she’d said something wrong.  When he
came back, he chased her from the chair, picked it up, and carried it into the
bathroom.  There was some scraping and sliding, then he came out again.

“I fixed up the chair so I can wash your hair in the
sink,” he said, rather pleased with himself.

Helping her into the chair he’d wedged between the
bathtub and the edge of the sink, Johnny turned on the water, waiting for it to
heat up.  Wetting her hair with the hot water, he then put a large blob of
shampoo in his palm, lathered it between his hands, and worked it into her
hair.  Starting at the nape of her neck, his strong hands massaged slowly
and gently, but firmly enough to dislodge all grit, grime, and grains of
sand.  Then he worked the shampoo through to the ends of her hair, and
rinsed it.  Starting again, the shampoo, free from so many impediments,
lathered more thickly, and as he worked it through the long, silver strands of
silky hair, his fingers experienced an unexpected, but familiar, sensation, not
unlike the gentle caressing of a prized catch.   Afraid he was
lingering long enough to be noticeable, he immediately rinsed her hair again,
then ran his fingertips over every last bit of her scalp, looking for any dirt
he might have missed, then ran them through to the ends of her hair, until he
was satisfied that it was clean.  Sliding the chair back to its four legs,
he grabbed a towel and rubbed it gently over her head, drying the hair as best
he could.  Picking up the comb laying on the vanity, he then carefully and
gently combed out all the knots until it laid, tamed, across her shoulders and
down her back.

“There,” he declared.  “Don’t know that I got every
single grain of dirt, but it’s definitely better than it was.  How does it
feel?”

Suzi took in a big breath, as big as her fractured ribs
would allow, and blew it out into a slow sigh.  Unsure that she was able
to give answer, she hesitated, calming herself.  She’d been completely
intoxicated by the feel of the large, powerful hands gently massaging her head,
working through her hair. ‘How do I feel,’ she wanted to say, ‘do you make
house calls?’   Gathering her wits as best she could, she managed to
reply, “Very good.  I really appreciate it.”  She hoped she sounded
considerably calmer than she felt.  She needed some chocolate.

“My pleasure,” he said, wishing he hadn’t put it quite
that way.

“I think it’s time for another cup of tea,” she said, getting
up from the chair.

“Why don’t you go sit and I’ll fix you one,” he
offered.  “Black.”

So Suzi went back to watching TV, Johnny went back to
his laptop, and they both waited for the NTSB inspector to call.  The
hours crept by, interrupted only by the arrival of room service with a light
lunch.  By late afternoon, Suzi’s fatigue took over and she fell
asleep.  Two hours later, she awoke to a silenced TV and an empty room.

Initially, she thought Johnny had finally gathered
enough of a good story for his show and had left.  But his belongings were
still there, strewn about; of course, he could send someone for them. 
Looking about her, she hoped for at least a note saying good-bye and maybe who
to expect would come for his things, and, come to think of it, what her new
flight information was.  Stiff, achy, she pulled herself off the bed, a
movement that sent daggers of pain through her ribs and shoulder, and looked
around.  No note.  Even worse, her pain meds sat on the bed table,
closed tight with that darned child-proof cap.  It wasn’t like she
couldn’t find a way to take care of herself.  She’d raised her sons, held
down a job all these years, relied only on herself.  Shoot, she’d faced
her fear and come here all alone to take her sightseeing flight, to see the
Alaskan tundra; well, maybe that wasn’t the best example.

Fixing a cup of tea, black, she sat on the couch with
the child-proof bottle, sipping tea and grasping the bottle in her teeth in an
attempt to open it, by turns.  From her vantage point, she could see the
sun begin its fall towards the horizon, highlighting the fluffy clouds with
pinks and yellows.  She’d certainly seen some beautiful sights here; she
told herself she needed to remember them along with the less pleasant memories.

As far as she knew, the NTSB guy hadn’t called and she
guessed she would have to call the front desk in the morning to have them track
him down and tell her what she was to do.  She guessed she would also need
to call them to come open this stupid medicine bottle.  Johnny’s absence
tugged at her heart, she didn’t understand his leaving while she was asleep,
leaving without a word.  But the tug was one she knew well and was very
good at ignoring; she’d get over this just fine.

As the sun touched the earth, melting slowly into the
horizon, Suzi had the small plastic barrier keeping her from pain relief
between her teeth, wrestling with the cap when she heard the click of the key
in the lock.  The door swung inward and Johnny appeared.

“Nixon strikes again,” he said, grinning.

“Well, what do you expect?  I wake up, in pain I
might add, and you’re nowhere to be found!”  She had to admit to herself
that she was very glad to see him.

“I went for a little walk-about,” he said.  “I
needed some exercise and I thought I’d be back before you woke up.”

“I see.  I don’t suppose you’d open this,” she said
with a tone of sarcasm.

Still grinning, he commented, “It’s covered with
slobber.  Yuk!”

“This coming from the man who gets covered with
fish-slime all the time!”

Wiping the bottle, quite ceremoniously, on his shirt, he
opened it and shook out two tablets into her hand.  “You’re right.  I
guess I can handle this.”

Removing his light jacket, he made himself a cup of tea,
and sat in the chair across from the couch.  “I’ve a bit of news for
you.  They found the plane this morning, so the NTSB chap went out there
to inspect the area today.  He made an appointment to talk with you
tomorrow morning at eleven.  I told him we’d meet him in the dining
room.  I hope that’s okay.  You were right, no one else survived.”

Falling silent, he stared at the floor, very near the
spot where Suzi chose for her averted gaze.  Composing himself, he
continued.  “My crew is packing up tomorrow morning.  They’ll hike
back to our vehicle and drive back to Anchorage.  Pete and Dave agreed
that we’d regroup early next week and head out again.”

“I’m sorry I ruined your schedule,” Suzi said
sincerely.  “I really didn’t mean to be a problem.  Though if you
hadn’t rescued me, well, I doubt I would have made it another night.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”  Fidgeting a
bit, his right knee beginning to bounce slightly, he worked up his
courage.  “There’s one more tidbit that I’m not sure how you’re going to
take.”

“Oh?”

“On my way out for a walk, I went by the front desk to
let them know you’d be alone for a while, just in case.  Mrs. Pike was on
the phone.  With your son.”

“What?  Ashe? (Johnny nodded).  Why would he
be talking to Mrs. Pike?”

“Apparently, Mr. Manning, your pilot, was a hero in
L.A.  He was an airline pilot and landed a crippled passenger plane with
no injuries.  Then he retired here.  The story has gone national and
your name was released as a survivor.  Your son heard it on the news and
called the hotel.”

“It didn’t occur to me to call him.  Course I don’t
know his number without my phone.  There’d be nothing he could do anyway
and that would drive him crazy.  Did you talk to him?”

“Yes,” he nodded.  “I reckoned that I was right
there and you were asleep, so I took the phone.”

“Was he upset that he found out that way?”

“It was hard to tell what upset him the most.  He
had to call around to relatives to find out what hotel you were at, then he
ended up talking to me, and, to top it all off, I told him I was staying with
you.  I thought he’d be relieved that you weren’t alone, but...”

Suzi laughed, a hearty laugh that was soon checked by
the sharp pain in her ribs.  It was the kind of laugh that invited the
hearers to laugh along with her.  “I bet you got an earful!”

“You’d win that bet!  He wanted to know how you
were, who I was, how I’d gotten involved, and was I literally staying in your
room.  Said he was a cop so if I took advantage of you or hurt you in any
way, he had the means to hunt me down.”

“He’s rather protective,” she said with a wry smile.

“Protective!  I thought he was going to challenge
me to a duel.  Get out the foils and fight to the death!”

“I’m in big trouble now.  Ashe, bless his heart,
worries about me all the time.  He hates it when I do something off my
routine and don’t tell him.  Of course I would have called him when I got
home.”

“Well, I told him you’d call when you got up from your
nap.  Use my phone, I have international calling, and I put his number in
for you.”  Johnny brought up the phone number and handed her his cell.

So Suzi called her son, told him all she could remember,
answered all his questions as best she could, and assured him that Johnny was
being the perfect gentleman and a great help.

Ending the call, she asked, puzzled, “Are you flying to
Spokane with me?”

“I hope you don’t think that too presumptuous of me, but
I want to see that you are home and safe before I go back to the river. 
Besides, if I let you go off by yourself, who will open your chocolates for
you?  Carry your luggage?  Put your seat belt on?”

“Ok, ok.  You had me at chocolate!” she
declared.  Johnny had a point, though enough strangers would help a
middle-aged woman with stitches and a sling, but she had to wonder if his
humanitarianism, stretching all the way to Spokane, would show up on this
episode.  The camera had been rolling most of the time she was in his
camp, the drama since then would make a good story, and she knew from watching
his show that he was very good at telling a tale.