Going Gone. Sharon Sala
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want something to read, or some snacks to take with us?”
Laura’s stomach was rolling. The thought of food made her want to throw up.
“No. Better not,” she said. “I feel kind of queasy already.”
“I have the meds your doctor gave you for traveling. You’re going to be fine.” He stopped the attendant. “Please, wait here a second. I’m going to get her some pretzels. Something salty might help.”
The attendant wheeled up to the storefront, then parked her out of the line of traffic as Cameron went inside the store.
Laura watched, noting his confident stride and the way he had of slipping in and out of the moving crowd, grabbing snacks, magazines and a couple of bottles of water. When he turned around to look at her and caught her watching, he winked, which made her smile. Just for a moment, the fear within her settled. She didn’t have words for how much she loved him.
A few minutes later he was back, and then they were off, negotiating the crowds, the rise and fall of conversations as they passed different gates, the continual announcements of arrivals and departures.
Anxiety returned with a vengeance. God, oh, God, she couldn’t believe she was about to do this.
All of a sudden Cameron’s hand was on her shoulder, as if he’d sensed she was already freaking out.
“Get out the meds the doctor gave you,” he said, and she did. He handed her a bottle of water as she popped them in her mouth and washed them down, then packed it back up. “Just breathe easy,” he said softly.
She closed her eyes and nodded, but it was easier said than done. Minutes later they were at the gate. Before she could wrap her head around their imminent departure, early boarding for those needing extra time was announced.
Cameron caught the frantic look on her face and took her hand.
“Laura, sweetheart, just close your eyes and picture home.”
And so she did, flooding her mind with images of the way sunlight came through the front window of her house in the afternoon and through the blue glass dish that had belonged to her great-grandmother Jewel. She thought of how the hardwood floors took on an amber gleam just after they were cleaned, and how the chime of the grandfather clock at the end of the hall reminded her of her childhood, counting off the hours until bedtime.
Her eyes were still closed when they handed the attendant their boarding passes. As they entered the jet bridge, fear of what she was about to do made her lose the connection to home. The inside of the covered walkway smelled of plane fuel and cold air. When the ramp began to slope downward, she felt the slight pull of gravity and panicked. It felt just like the plane had when it began to go down. She whimpered slightly and leaned forward, bracing herself for impact.
Cameron frowned. He didn’t know what was going through her mind, but he could tell it was bad. Her knuckles were white and her body was shaking.
“You’re okay, baby. You’re okay.”
She could hear voices. People were talking and laughing, nothing like what she’d heard before. No praying. No crying. She took a breath and finally looked. There was a family of three in front of them: a man, a woman and a small child in a stroller. It cleared the emotional confusion but not the fear.
The closer they got to the plane, the colder the air became. When they reached the end of the ramp, she had to stand up. The attendant stood aside with the wheelchair while the family in front of them folded up the stroller and tagged it for baggage. These were all simple ordinary tasks. She could do this.
And then she glanced toward the plane, saw tiny flakes of snow blowing in through a small gap by the open door and grabbed Cameron’s arm, her voice mirroring the panic she felt as she said, “It’s snowing.”
Cameron nodded. “Just tiny little flakes. Look, there’s nothing on the ground. It’s okay, honey. Just take my hand.”
“You go first,” she begged.
He stepped into the plane and paused, waiting for her to step across. He could see the horror in her eyes as she looked down.
“Look at me, honey. Don’t look down. Look at me.”
Their gazes locked, and she stepped in.
“Is everything all right?” a flight attendant asked, eyeing Laura.
“It will be,” Cameron said.
He’d gotten tickets in first class, knowing she was going to need all the pampering and room she could handle just to make the trip, then led her a few steps to their seats.
The flight attendant took their coats as Cameron got Laura settled in the window seat and buckled her up.
“You’ve already taken your pills, so you’ll feel easier soon,” he said, then gave her a brief kiss of reassurance as he settled into the seat beside her.
His lips were warm and gentle. He was familiar. She was safe. It was going to be all right.
She glanced out the window at the ground crew loading luggage and remembered opening all the suitcases inside their plane and using the clothes she found to stay warm. If it happened again, she wouldn’t be able to get to the luggage this time, because it was in the belly of the plane. Maybe there would be enough clothing in the carry-on bags. And then she caught herself.
What was she doing? The plane wasn’t going to crash. She had already had her plane crash and lived through it. Surely God didn’t let things like that happen twice.
A flight attendant stopped by their seats.
“Can I get either of you something to drink?” she asked.
Startled, Laura almost jumped, then focused on the question.
“Coffee? Could I have coffee? I can’t seem to stay warm today.”
“Certainly,” the attendant said, then looked at Cameron. “How about you, sir? Anything to drink?”
“Coffee is fine,” he said, and then turned his attention to Laura again as the attendant walked away. “It will be a while till they finish boarding and we pull away from the gate, but the meds will kick in before then. Do you want to go to the bathroom before we take off?”
She nodded and unbuckled her seat belt.
Cameron stood up, then helped her back up the aisle.
“She needs the restroom,” he said.
As Laura went in and locked the door, the flight attendant glanced at the bathroom, and then at him.
“Is she okay? Is she not feeling well?”
He flashed his FBI badge and then dropped it back in his pocket.
“She’s not sick. She’s scared.”
The attendant acknowledged the badge as she smiled sympathetically.
“Ah, is this her first flight?”
“No, but this is her first flight since a crash.”
The pilot was standing in the doorway to the cockpit, listening. When he heard that, he frowned.
“What crash was that?” he asked.
“Two weeks ago. A private jet went down in the mountains outside of Denver,” Cameron said softly.
“Ah, damn, I heard about the crash and that there was a survivor.”
“She’s the one,” Cameron said.
The bathroom door opened. Laura came out, then paused, a little startled by the people grouped in the aisle.
The attendant’s smile was just a little wider, and the pilot nodded his head.
“Welcome aboard, ma’am.”
Laura blinked, then glanced at Cameron. He pointed