A Brush of Wings (25 page)

ASPYN STEPPED OUT
of the restroom at the Entebbe Airport in a pilot’s uniform. She carried a thick packet of paperwork, her expression stern. She had no room for error. None at all.

With crisp steps and a practiced confidence, Aspyn walked to the gate where Flight 2933 from Entebbe to Nairobi was in the final stages of its pre-flight check. Marcus was still twenty minutes away at least.

“Can I help you?” A gate attendant looked at Aspyn.

She ignored the woman and walked straight to the boarding door. With a flick of her badge, the door opened.

“Hold on!” The gate attendant, a wiry man with what seemed like years of experience, ran up to her. “You need clearance!”

Aspyn released a loud breath. She turned and held up her badge for the man to see. “I’m the captain of this plane.”

The man wrinkled his face, baffled. “No, you’re not. The captain and first officer are already on board.”

“That’s impossible.” Aspyn handed the man her paperwork. “See? Flight 2933. That’s my name.” She gave him an impatient smile. “Someone’s made a mistake somewhere.”

This time the man took her paperwork and scanned the top page. He reached for his wall radio and asked the other pilots to return to the gate. “There’s some kind of mix-up. I need to see your orders again.”

Thank you, God, it’s working.
Ember stayed in character. Confident. Certain. Biding her time until the confusion could be cleared up and she could get to her spot in the cockpit.

It took five minutes for the pilots to exit the plane and join the group at the gate. By then the attendant had called management. Three officials from the airline were almost to the gate. “We need to figure this out.” The attendant looked nervous. Like he fully expected to lose his job if he didn’t sort through the paperwork and make the right decision.

One of the pilots looked at Aspyn. “Who are you?”

She smiled in a way that was just short of condescending. “I’ve worked for this airline for three years. You and I shared a flight my first month with the company.” It was true. But that was a different mission.

The management team arrived. One at a time they asked to see Aspyn’s credentials. Confused by the mix-up, they checked the credentials of the other two pilots as well.

“This is ridiculous. We were supposed to push back ten minutes ago.” The taller of the two pilots rolled his eyes. “We were assigned this flight.” He pointed to Aspyn. “I’ve never seen her before.”

“Her paperwork checks out.” The leader of the management team lined the counter with papers from all three pilots. “We need to understand what happened.”

“Would someone call the main office?” The shorter pilot was frustrated, too. “If she’s a pilot, she’s never flown with us.”

“Yes, I have.” Aspyn remained calm. “The gentlemen don’t remember. It was three years ago.” Aspyn reached for her papers and in the process she knocked down all three stacks. The papers mixed together as they fell to the floor.

“Perfect.” The taller pilot raised his hands and let them fall to his side. “We’ll never get out of here at this rate.”

Another five minutes passed while the group picked up the paperwork and sorted it back into three stacks once more. “I apologize.” Aspyn looked at the faces in the group. She was running out of ways to stall. “I’m as frustrated as the rest of you.” She held up her flight orders. “Clearly I’m the captain of this plane.”

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted movement. She glanced over and felt overwhelmed by gratitude. It was Marcus, running through the concourse, pushing Mary Catherine in a wheelchair.

She nodded to the other pilots. “Let’s line up our orders. Something must be wrong with one of them.”

“Yes, we need to see them all together.” The leader of the management team nodded, terse. He turned to his peers. “Every line needs to be matched up until we find the mistake.”

Aspyn watched as a different gate attendant helped Marcus and Mary Catherine board the plane. At the same time she pulled a piece of paper from lower in her stack of documents. “Wait a minute.” She slapped the page on the counter. “I’m wrong. Flight 2933 is next week. I’m a few gates down today.”

The men surrounding her remained speechless. “Let me see that.” The main manager reached for Aspyn’s documents. “I’m sure today’s date was on the Flight 2933 orders.”

“Hold on!” Aspyn grabbed her paperwork before the man could take hold of it. “I better check in at the other gate. I need to follow protocol. I don’t usually fly that flight.”

Aspyn was gone before the men could figure out what she’d actually said or what it meant. When she turned the corner she stepped into a restroom, dropped the paperwork into the nearest trashcan, and vanished.

Mary Catherine was one step closer to making it home alive.

MARCUS PRAYED EVERY HOUR
of the journey. Twice Mary Catherine’s fever returned but not until they were en route to Amsterdam. He used the medicines Ember had given him to bring it back down again.

A good thing. Someone with a fever coming from Africa would never be allowed to fly. Along the way he explained a number of times that Mary Catherine didn’t have an illness. She was headed home for a heart transplant. They needed desperately to make it back to Los Angeles.

In Amsterdam they were delayed due to mechanical difficulties. But like before, in a matter of minutes, someone fixed the plane. Marcus used the time to call Dr. Cohen and explain the situation. The doctor promised to meet them at the hospital as soon as they arrived.

During the layover, once in a while Mary Catherine was strong enough to sit up on her own, strong enough to talk to him about Uganda and the children and how she was glad she’d gone.

“They called me mama.” Her eyes shone, despite her weariness. “It was the best time of my life, Marcus.”

He held her hand. “I’m glad.” He just wished she would’ve told him about her heart before she left. Maybe she could’ve spent half the time there and come home sooner. Marcus kept his thoughts to himself. Those days were behind them. All that mattered was getting her to the doctor.

Mary Catherine was quiet for a long while. She lay her head on his shoulder, her hand still in his. After several minutes she looked at him again. “I should’ve waited. Gone to Africa later.” They were minutes from boarding the plane in Amsterdam. She looked right at him. “All of this . . . it’s my fault. I should’ve waited.”

“You?” He chuckled, relieved that she was well enough to talk. “You aren’t happy unless you’re falling from an airplane or darting on a bike through LA traffic at some crazy speed.” He kissed her forehead. “You never would’ve waited for Africa, Mary Catherine. You had to go.”

Her smile was so sad. “True. Maybe that’s why I didn’t tell you. So you wouldn’t talk me out of it.”

“No.” He ran his hand along her cheek. “That’s not why.”

She looked down; her eyes seemed fixed on a spot in the distance. As if she was lost in those long-ago days before she left. After a while she looked at him again. Tears welled in her eyes. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.” She blinked and two tears rolled onto her pale cheeks. “That’s why.”

“I know.” He kissed her fingers. “But I can handle the situation with your heart. Nothing . . . could ever hurt as much as watching you leave.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, clearly fighting her sorrow. When she looked at him again she couldn’t speak. Instead she mouthed two words, the same two words she’d said every hour since he’d come for her. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m here now. You’re here.” Marcus cradled her to himself. “Rest. We can talk later.”

She slept until they boarded the plane, and again for most of the flight to Los Angeles. On Tuesday night at seven thirty they landed at LAX, and thirty minutes later he pulled up at the emergency room entrance to Cedars-Sinai hospital. They took her back immediately to where Dr. Cohen was waiting.

Marcus watched them wheel her away. “You have friends in the waiting room,” a nurse told him. “Stay with them. We’ll come get you when she’s stable.”

His head pounding, arms and legs heavy with exhaustion, Marcus found Sami and Tyler. The three of them hugged and Marcus explained what little he knew. Mary Catherine was with Dr. Cohen. They were working to save her life.

“We need to pray.” Tyler put his arms around Sami and Marcus and the three of them took turns begging God to bring healing to Mary Catherine. When they finished praying, her parents arrived. Sami had called them as soon as she received Mary Catherine’s email.

Sami introduced the older couple to Tyler and Marcus. Mary Catherine’s father shook Marcus’s hand first. “You rescued our girl.” His voice broke. “How can we ever thank you?”

“It was my privilege.” Marcus took a deep breath, still weary from the trip. “I went for her as soon as I heard.”

They talked for a minute about the urgent trip, and then together the five of them settled in to wait for news. One hour became two, and Marcus thought about her parents. He doubted they had any idea why he had gone to Africa or how strongly he felt for Mary Catherine.

Finally Marcus approached Mary Catherine’s parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Clark . . . could I talk to you in the hall, please?”

Her parents followed him to a private place in the hallway. Marcus wasn’t sure if this was the time, but he had to explain his presence. He was hardly just their daughter’s friend. “Has Mary Catherine told you about me?”

Mr. Clark smiled. “Everyone knows you, Marcus.” He patted Marcus on the shoulder. “You’re quite an impressive athlete.” A smile lifted the corners of his lined face. “Our daughter has talked about your Youth Center. Very impressive, young man.”

“Thank you.” Marcus smiled. Clearly these people had no idea of the depth of his feelings for Mary Catherine. Of course, before this the two of them had never been officially an item.

Marcus cleared his throat and looked at the Clarks one at a time. “Ma’am . . . sir . . . I’m in love with your daughter. I have been for a while now.” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “There’s no one like her. I believe God brought us together and . . .” The weight of the situation settled on him. Marcus blinked back tears. “I believe she’ll get through this. And when she does . . .” A tear slid down his cheek and he wiped it with the back of his hand. “When she does, I’d like to marry her.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to find control. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long few days.”

Mary Catherine’s mother put her hand on Marcus’s arm. “That’s wonderful, Marcus.” She looked at her husband. “We couldn’t be more thrilled.”

Her encouragement seemed to breathe strength into him. Marcus smiled. “Good.” He looked at each of them. “I’d like to ask for your blessing.”

Mr. Clark smiled, and for the moment the gravity of Mary Catherine’s health seemed to lift. “Son, you have our blessing. Absolutely.”

“Thank you.” Marcus exhaled. “That means so much.” He went to shake Mr. Clark’s hand again, but this time the man held out his arms. The two embraced, and then Marcus hugged Mary Catherine’s mother.

Marcus told the two of them a little of the history between him and Mary Catherine. And then after a while the three of them returned to the waiting room with the others. Tyler and Sami both smiled at him—as if they had guessed about the conversation in the hall.

He returned the smile and together they settled in to wait for news. Another hour passed. Marcus had no idea what they were doing to her or whether it was helping. Most of the time he stayed quiet, praying silently, asking God that Mary Catherine might have another chance at life. At the three-hour mark he closed his eyes and covered his face.
I love her, Father . . . this world needs her light. Please let her live.

Finally, ten minutes later, Dr. Cohen joined them. His expression looked dire. “She’s very sick.” He shook his head. “I have to be honest . . . I’m not sure if we can save her.” He explained that they’d started her on several medications intended to take pressure off her failing heart and saturated lungs. In addition she was now on a breathing tube. They’d done X-rays and a CAT scan. The details weren’t nearly as impactful as the last thing Dr. Cohen said before leaving the room.

“I’ll say one thing. If Mary Catherine wins this battle it won’t be because of anything I do.” He paused, his expression serious. “It’ll be nothing short of a miracle.”

Somehow, the doctor’s words made Marcus feel better. Everything was going to be okay.
Please, God, let it be okay. Let her live, Lord. Please.
If they needed a miracle, Marcus had to believe they would get one. Because God was clearly already working miracles for Mary Catherine.

Otherwise she would’ve lost this battle days ago.

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