Finding You (Finding You Series Book 1) (20 page)

A million questions couldn’t be answered. Kyle had told me he loved me, though. That would get me through the long flight and then we would be talking to each other in just a few hours.

Finding 32B was easy. It was in the last row of seats at the back as requested. I stashed my overnight bag above and squeezed into the seat, eager to look out the window. Kyle struck a lonely figure in the observation area. I missed him already!

People of all ages filled the plane. A young baby cried in its mother’s arms as the woman made her way down the aisle, trying to juggle a cabin bag as well as the young infant. They settled in a seat opposite me and for a split second, we both looked at each other and smiled.

She has her hands full. I wonder where her husband or partner is.

The beautiful little bundle snuggled into the woman, tugging on my heartstrings. I wanted a baby of my own before I was too old. My biological clock was setting off its alarm to tell me it was time. All that seemed possible now.

I looked at my cell, anxiously aware that we were now running fifteen minutes late as the stragglers ambled on board, obviously not in too much of a hurry to get the trip underway. I, however, needed to get this show on the road so that business could be taken care of. In and out.

Finally, the doors closed and the engines fired up, ready for takeoff. They screamed loudly as the plane taxied out onto the runway.

The lump in my throat hindered my breath. My tongue was as dry and raspy as a sand dune in the hot, parched desert. I followed Kyle with my eyes, inscribing his handsome features mentally, one last time, until the plane turned away from him and he could be seen no longer. I gripped the armrests, holding myself steady, fighting the urge to stop the plane and get off. My love was back there. What the eff was I doing?

G-forces set in as the pilot pushed the throttle forward. My head felt drugged as everyone was pulled against their seats. I closed my eyes and tried to go to my happy place. In seconds we were thrust into the air by the two Rolls Royce engines, severing any contact with the island and Kyle. We ascended towards the heavens until the aircraft reached its expected altitude and then everything leveled out again. The “no smoking” signs flicked off and everyone was free to move about the cabin to stretch their legs and go to the bathroom, which seemed strange considering we’d only just left the airport.

I rose and stood in the queue, not to use the potty but to gather my senses and escape for a minute. Fatigue hugged me as the overweight man in front struggled into the cubicle. The young mother across from me was breast-feeding her baby, playing with its tiny hands as it looked up at her. The staff were already preparing in-flight meals. Everyone was in their own little world doing whatever it was that gave them purpose. I felt like a zombie, my purpose having been left down on the tarmac. Turbulence jerked me backward and I wondered how the big man inside was coping with the cramped conditions and air pockets.

Below, land had vanished and water was our only friend for the next five hours.

The overweight man exited, wiping his wet hands on his pants, causing a silent “eeww” in my head. Body odor lingered heavily so I cut my breathing down to a shallow gasp to avoid gagging. My stomach was on the verge of an ulcer as it was.

The reflection in the mirror was a portrait of a woman running on vapors. Tired and lethargic, the heavy bags under my eyes gave it away. Sleep hadn’t factored into my holiday after meeting Kyle. When we were together I didn’t want to sleep. I hadn’t needed it. Even after a solid few hours last night I still looked like crap. Crying like a baby definitely didn’t help.

I miss him already. I wonder what he’s doing.

Back at my seat, I had company. A man was sitting in the aisle seat. Shuffling past him, he spoke, “I hope you don’t mind me sitting here. The stewardess said it would be okay. I was accidentally assigned a smoking seat and I suffer from asthma so it was impossible to stay there. I didn’t realize anyone was here. I can move if you wish.”

“No, you don’t have to move. It’s fine, really,” I politely responded, not wanting to hurt the man’s feelings. I had hoped to be a snob and lose myself in some music but it looked unlikely now.

“So were you on holiday at Sapphire Island?” he opened, breaking the ice.

“Yes. I’m from Australia, which is where I’m returning. I’ve been on the island for two weeks but I have to return home urgently. My trip has had to be cut short, unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope everything is okay.

“Mmm.” What more was there to say? The stranger hardly wanted me to blurb everything out like a raving lunatic. Or did he?

“What’s a beautiful woman like yourself doing flying solo?”

Before my brain could actually communicate with my mouth, I was babbling like a moron.

“Well, actually I met a wonderful man on the island, whom I had to leave behind. He’s an actor and he’s filming a movie there. We fell in love. Once I return to Australia and take care of some business, I’m going to join him in Los Angeles. I miss him terribly already,” I said, looking out the window, picturing Kyle’s face and wondering what he was doing. Maybe I needed someone to talk to after all, to help take my mind off things. We’d only been in the air around twenty-five minutes. It was going to be a long day.

“You really care about him, don’t you, ma’am? I can see it in your eyes when you talk. He must be very special. It isn’t every day you find true love. It took me forty years to finally find the woman of my dreams. It hits you right away and you just know that you want to spend the rest of your life together. Well, we did, anyway. She passed away last summer from cancer. I was there when she died. Her strength was truly amazing right to the very end and I felt so helpless because I couldn’t make her better. The doctors said they did everything they could but I don’t believe that for a minute. I never did trust modern medicine.”

Okay! It appeared the stranger needed to unload more than I did.

My own worries disintegrated as I listened to the stranger pour his heart out.

Healing comes from the strangest places and from the strangest people. During our conversation, I discovered that the man was called Jeremiah. His father, a Native American Indian who had lived off the land on a Navajo Indian reservation, had been a medicine man, and Jeremiah felt that if his father had been alive when his wife was sick he would have healed her, without a doubt.

Enthralled in the story of Jeremiah’s life and the brutality of growing up in the desert, I was soon transported out of my world and into his.

The lines on his face looked like they had been engrained into his skin with a knife. It was weathered and leathery from the sun and his long hair, tied back in a ponytail, was thinning on top. Grey streaks highlighted the dark, almost black strands. Wisdom filled his ebony eyes that narrowed as he revisited his childhood. His body sat beside me but his mind was a million miles away. I could see the distance as he spoke.

He told me how simple life had been for the tribe that he’d grown up with. His father had often been away chanting some prayers or making a potion for somebody ill. One time as a child, his father had let him tag along to see what it was all about. Proudly, he had walked for miles with his mentor, excited at witnessing such a privilege as a healing.

As they had finally neared the tent of a desperately ill woman in a tiny tribe at the foothills of the surrounding mountain range, Jeremiah instantly smelt the rank odor of decaying flesh. It was a smell that was still with him today, carved into his memory. A smell so intense and encompassing that he retched a couple of times before entering.

Inside, a gravely ill woman lay on a bed made of straw and buffalo hide. Her skin was pallid and her half-closed eyes fell back into her skull as she tried to see who had come by. Jeremiah’s father told him later that the woman had an abscess on her leg, which had gone septic. The infection was fast spreading through her whole body and if Jeremiah’s dad hadn’t acted quickly, the woman would have surely died that night.

Jeremiah watched his father place ancient Indian spiritual items around her bed before chanting a prayer. The woman’s eyes were just open enough to see the fear of death in them. She eyed Jeremiah and tried to smile but she was too weak. The small boy walked over to her bed and held her almost lifeless hand. It had felt cold, clammy, and inhuman but he had held it anyway, hoping his father could perform some miracle.

He watched intently as his father mixed up a brown paste and set about putting it on the foul, weeping abscess. He covered her whole leg in it, wrapping it up from toe to thigh when he was finished.

“It was really amazing to watch. It was like my father had some magical power that he could cast over people. From that day on, I always looked up to him and admired him with a newfound greatness.” The pride in Jerimiah’s voice was evident.

I sat riveted to his every word, listening to his amazing story, intrigued to learn what had become of the lady.

“Did she die?”

“Heavens no! My father rarely lost a patient. He gave her a liquid to drink before we left and told her we’d come back and check on her in the morning. I had been a little concerned and had doubts in my mind as to whether such a sick person would recover but I hadn’t let on to my father. The next day when we went to visit her, it truly was a miracle. All the color had returned to her face and she was sitting up in bed, smiling and talking to her child.”

“He must have been a wonderful man,” I enthused, feeling like I’d known him, too.

Jeremiah turned to me and added, “You make sure you return to your man, who is very lucky to have found such a beautiful woman. You are not only beautiful on the outside but I sense you are a good person within. You have to live your life to the fullest with the man of your dreams. Don’t delay your affairs in Australia.”

I nodded mutely, shocked that a complete stranger could read me like a book and offer the advice I so needed to hear.

Everything is going to be okay. Look at what this stranger has lived through. He’s a survivor like me.

We chatted idly when suddenly the engines began coughing and spluttering. The plane jerked forward, thrusting my head into the seat in front. Warm liquid trickled down my face and into the corners of my mouth, where I tasted the sweet, familiar, sickly liquid. Blood.

Baggage dropped from the overhead compartments and the “fasten seatbelt” signs came to life.

Jeremiah and I looked at each other, wondering what was going on. The aircraft seemed to be descending as the engines still regurgitated. Momentarily, they stopped and then restarted again. Passengers looked around in fear, waiting for reassurance of some kind.

“Sounds like engine trouble!” Jeremiah had come to his own conclusions.

An elderly woman a few seats down started panicking and screaming “Oh my God! This is it. We’re all going to die.” More passengers screamed.

I turned to where the young woman and the infant sat. The mother still cradled him in her arms, only now she clung to him in desperation as if she was afraid she would lose him.

The flight attendants had been urged to buckle up. We were on our own.

Praying it was just bad turbulence, most people tried to remain calm aside from the still screaming elderly passenger who was starting to piss me off. I hated flying as it was and hearing her hysterics heightened my own fears.

The whine of the engines stopped, leaving a gut wrenching, horrific silence in their wake, and it was at this point when both the engines cut out that I knew we were in real trouble. The reality of death not only surrounded me, but everyone else on board. The nose of the plane took a severe dive, instilling chaos. The aircraft began surging towards the ocean at an alarming rate as if the pilots had totally lost control and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

If ever there was a time to swear, now was it. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

A runaway food trolley careened down the aisle, narrowly missing passengers before crashing into the wall of the cockpit.

The cabin became an explosion of screams as panic set in.

Jeremiah grabbed my hand, which seemed like the appropriate thing to do at that time. I squeezed it tightly, happy to have something human to cling to. A scream tried to escape, but terror caused my voice box to restrict. Everything was in complete disarray as more bags fell from above and anything that sat at the back of the plane rolled down the aisles towards the front. I imagined the flurry of panic inside the cockpit to save ninety-two lives.

Funny the thoughts that fly across your brain in a life-or-death situation. Kyle. My parents. The young infant across the aisle. Jeremiah. They all scrambled for a space in my head.

Please let the back of the plane be the safest. Please!

A voice came over the speaker and I clung to it with hope.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We have problems with our engines, which we are attempting to rectify. If this attempt fails, we will try to bring the aircraft down safely in the ocean. Please stay as calm as possible. Please put on your life jackets and assume the crash position.”

Stay calm! How can we stay calm? We are about to crash into the ocean and all he can do for us is ask us to stay calm? My God! I’ve survived years of physical and mental abuse, only to be killed at sea in a plane crash. What is the meaning of all this? Will someone please tell me what the bloody meaning of all this is?