May The Best Man Wed. Darlene Scalera
have work to do.” She returned to her report, clicked the recorder to make a note.
He propped his elbow on the armrest and leaned over to scan the report on her lap. His arm pressed against hers. The fine hairs of her flesh might as well have been exposed nerves.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here. A Second Quarter Departmental Survey on the Effective Utilization of Potential Product Preferences,” he pretended to read, “as Defined by Targeted Consumer Dynamics within the Mid-Atlantic North American Quadrants Including but Not Excluding Those Market Bases—”
“Okay, okay.” Savannah snapped off the recorder. Her other hand gestured surrender, and let her slide her arm away from his. “You talk the talk, Walker.”
“Please. You’ll make me blush.”
“McCormick said you had a brilliant business mind.”
“Merely an example of that ‘younger sibling’ infatuation championed by my mother the other night.”
“McCormick said you were a natural—much more so than he could ever expect to be.”
“I was the oldest son. My father had annual reports read to me while I was in utero.”
“What happened?”
He made his features into a stern mask. “I was a grave disappointment.” Pain flashed in his eyes, belying the doomed baritone of his pronouncement.
“Seven years is a long time.”
He rested his head against the seat. “Depends on your perspective, Slick.”
“And what’s your perspective, Walker?”
He inclined his head to her. She saw the amber and gold in his green eyes.
“That a lifetime isn’t long enough, Slick.”
She studied his face for an extra beat before turning to her papers.
“You ever fly, Slick?”
She wasn’t going to get any work done. “Of course.”
“How ’bout fly the plane yourself?”
“Be the pilot?” The alarm in her voice gave him his answer. She tried to focus again on the figures in front of her only to sigh and raise her gaze to him. “I suppose you have?”
“Flew my first solo about five years ago.”
The idea of voluntarily putting your entire existence thousands of feet in the air was incomprehensible to her. “Why?”
“Why?”
“Why’d you learn to fly?”
“Simple. Because we’re not supposed to.” He smiled the smile that forced her to stare at him.
“Not supposed to what?”
“Man’s not supposed to fly.”
“I agree with you there.” She returned her attention to the numbers on her lap.
“Yet we do. Some buttons, some fuel, a machine and, there you be. Breaking all kinds of natural laws. Man just can’t resist.”
She drew up, looked aghast as his strong arm reached a breath away from her breasts. He slid up the shade on the small side window that she’d purposely left closed.
He settled back in his seat. She breathed again. “Shouldn’t be at all.” He smiled at the patch of view exposed by the side window. “Moving above the earth higher and faster than you ever dreamed, steering right into the clouds, coming out above them. The light like heaven.”
She turned her head to the window, but she didn’t see what he saw.
“Everything else falls away. The boundaries, the shoulds, shouldn’ts, everything you thought you knew, thought you understood…no more.” He leaned his head on the seat, closed his eyes. “Then comes the big trick when you’re up there among the clouds and the light, and you have to make yourself think you’re in control when you now know you have no control at all. And never really did. No one does.”
He was quiet, and she thought him done. Still she stared at him.
“What’s it like?”
His eyes stayed closed. “You’re scared beyond imagination, beyond everything, exhilarated, sweating and feeling as if you’ve never tasted one pure breath until that moment. You ever feel that, Slick?”
Once. She was unable to look away from his face. When I opened my office door four mornings ago and found you. The fear washed over her as frightening as it’d been the first time. His eyes opened.
She had been afraid then. She was afraid now.
“No,” she lied.
“Nooo?” He repeated the word with a sad drawl. “Never? Not one moment when everything became confusion and chaos yet so clear and real you didn’t know if you wanted it to end or to go on forever?”
She shook her head.
“Not even when you fell in love?”
“Love?” She declared flatly. “Sounds like lust to me.”
He tipped his head back and laughed so boldly she found herself smiling.
“Ms. Sweetfield?”
The assistant pilot stood at the front of the cabin. Savannah stopped smiling as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.
“We’re number two in line for takeoff.”
“Thank you.”
The assistant disappeared back inside the cockpit.
“Bet you don’t know his first name either?”
Her eyes met his of emerald. “Are you going to move or am I?”
“Stan.” He rose to plop into the row directly across from her. He reclined, sprawling his long legs out into the aisle. “How’s this?”
“You should put your seat in an upright position.” Savannah tucked the microrecorder into her purse, made sure her cellular was turned off.
“Did you turn your cell phone off?”
Cash shook his head. “Don’t have one.”
“You don’t have one?”
“Hate the damn things. Reception doesn’t work half the time in the mountains anyway.”
Savannah set her paperwork on the floor underneath her seat, placing her purse flat on top. She checked the trays in front of her a final time. “Law, I couldn’t survive.”
“It’s a primitive lifestyle, but I’ve adapted. Man versus nature and all that, you know.”
“Yes, you’ve got that caveman mentality about you.”
She didn’t hear Cash’s reply. The plane began to taxi. She clasped the armrests, braced herself against the seat.
“Ahhh, my favorite part,” Cash declared.
She glanced over. “Put your seat belt on.”
The plane moved forward.
“It starts so slow, you don’t think its ever going to happen.” His voice was like poured wine.
“It becomes stronger little by little. The power, the strength surrounding you, building, starting to surge.” The plane gained speed. “Faster and faster.”
As if in response, the plane quickened. Savannah tightened her grip on the seat’s arms. The air outside began to moan.
“No more than wind now. On the edge. Not here. Not there. Unable to know if you can stand it.” All was Cash’s voice and the scream of air and the assault