Hidden Identity. Alice Sharpe
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Tears burned behind her nose.
“You’d be willing to do that?” the man asked.
“Yes.”
He took a steadying breath. “Thank you.” He glanced at the money order still clutched in her hand. “You keep that. This is on me.”
“I couldn’t let you—”
“Please.”
“You two choke me up, you really do,” Bobby said with a new grin that made the first one look anemic by comparison. “You both have some papers to sign while I refile the flight plan and then we’ll be off. But I have to warn you Mr.—”
“Smith. My name is Jacob Smith.”
“I’m going to have to refuel at your destination before we fly back here. You’ll have to pay for the extra time and miles—”
“Just tell me how much,” Smith said, waving away his waiting taxi. “And hurry.”
Chelsea was happy to let the two men work out the details as she did her best not to shiver in the weak spring sun. Eventually everything was settled and she was ushered into the helicopter and directed to sit in the second row of seats, closest to the door. The space behind her was piled with duffel bags and taped-up boxes of every size.
Under the pilot’s direction she strapped herself in her seat and set aside the roses. As Jacob Smith stood outside talking on his cell phone, Bobby gave her instructions about what to do when the time came to throw the flowers, then closed the cargo door and ran around the aircraft to climb aboard. She expected Smith would claim the seat next to hers, but he slipped into the front with the pilot. Given his anxiety, it made sense to her that he would want to sit as far forward as possible. She was grateful for the semiprivacy of their turned heads.
Once the switches were thrown and the blades started revolving, conversation was out of the question, although Bobby had pointed out the headset they could use to communicate once she put it on. Frankly, right then she didn’t want to talk to anyone. In her mind she reviewed the directions she’d given him, taken from Steven himself when she asked him to tell her about the happiest day of his life.
He’d responded, “Today. Here with you. Now.”
There’d been a long pause as she lost herself in his kisses. Eventually she’d rephrased the question. “Okay then, the happiest day before we met?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “That’s easy. There’s this little cabin not that far from here,” he’d said, and then proceeded to describe a mountain getaway in such detail she could not only see it in her head, but was also pretty sure she could find it on a map. “It was one of the last places I visited with my parents. I’ll never forget it.”
Once she’d finally accepted his death and the repercussions that would live with her forever, the need to somehow bring peace to her life became imperative. She’d thought of visiting the lake where his plane was entombed in water. But then she’d remembered this cabin and chosen past joy over current pain.
The helicopter rose off the ground and her stomach lurched. Ninety minutes. She retrieved the bouquet of roses, glanced at the gold foil handwritten note she’d attached to the stems and clutched them to her chest. Their perfume bathed her face as she closed her eyes.
* * *
SOMEHOW, DESPITE THE loud and constant whirring of the blades, she managed to fall asleep, but awakened with a start. Gazing out the window, she saw little but tree-covered mountains in every direction. Where were they? She put on the headset. She could see the tops of both men’s heads but there was no conversation going on between them.
“Are we getting close?” she asked.
Bobby threw her a thumbs-up. His voice crackled through the headset. “We’re almost there. Look down. See the river?”
This time when she gazed out the window she glimpsed the unmistakable glitter of water winding its way through the trees.
Bobby’s voice came through the comm system again. “Remember to wait until I tell you to open the window. I’ll get down close, but first I’ll circle the area so you can check it out.”
“Sounds good.”
“I told you not to do that,” Jacob Smith interjected.
“We’ve been over this already,” Bobby snapped. “Like I said, this part of the flight is Chelsea’s.”
“You will go nowhere near that house, is that clear?”
“Why not?” Chelsea asked.
“It’ll...waste time,” Smith said, his voice tight.
“No, it won’t,” Bobby insisted.
“It’s okay, do as he says,” Chelsea told Bobby. She was looking for peace and closure, not arguments. “I’m fine.”
Smith’s grunt sounded smug. Or maybe just relieved. But the tension between the two men was palpable. What had gone on while she slept?
Within a few minutes, the trees began to thin and a small meadow appeared, just as Steven had described, right down to the wildflowers carpeting the ground and the old rock wall bordering three sides. She sat forward as a small cabin came into focus. Bobby headed straight for it despite Smith’s continued insistence that he stop. She tried to ignore their bickering. A curl of smoke drifted upward from the chimney and that surprised her for some reason. Silly that it should—Steven hadn’t been here in years and hadn’t known who owned it now or even if it was still here.
Broad stone decks surrounded the small residence while budding tree limbs brushed the roof. She could all but feel Steven sitting beside her, eagerly looking out the window, pointing out details, his breath warm against her cheek. Her hand pressed against the glass as her gaze swept over the meadow they once again circled. The river where Steven had caught his first rainbow trout glistened nearby.
The last time she’d seen him he’d asked her to marry him. After her enthusiastic yes, they’d made love and somehow it had been different, more profound, perhaps, more meaningful than ever before. Afterward, they’d talked for hours about the kind of house they’d build. Looking at this cabin, it was clear he’d channeled his vision from this very spot.
“Goodbye, my love,” she whispered with her fingers against the glass.
“It’s time, Chelsea,” Bobby said. She took off the headset, craving solitude. The chopper moved away from the cabin toward the river. Was someone inside the cabin, watching their departure and wondering why they’d been subjected to this noisy intrusion? No matter, the chopper would be long gone before anyone had a chance to complain.
She unclipped the straps that held her in her seat, scooting forward a little to slide open the window as the wind immediately whipped her long dark hair across her face. The river below flowed in endless rhythm and she pictured a young Steven, fishing pole in hand, walking the grassy banks.
Was she angry with him? Yes. He’d omitted key facts about himself, been cagey, maybe even dishonest, and that went against everything she’d thought she’d known about him. But mostly, she just felt alone and cheated and sad.
Loud voices yanked her attention back to the front of the helicopter. She could only see Bobby’s face and he looked livid. A sudden jerk was quickly followed by a distinct shudder, and now they made a slow turn back toward the meadow. Her stomach rolled. In her rush to find something to hold on to, the roses fell from her grasp and slid across the floor. Peering between the front seats, she saw Smith’s hand close around Bobby’s wrist as he clutched the control stick. The shouting between them continued while the chopper’s erratic movements became even more pronounced.
She scooted back in her seat, refastening the buckles with shaking hands. The headset slid toward the door with the roses. She hooked it with her foot before raising her leg and grabbing it. She pulled it over her ears and winced as the shouts became unbearably loud and heated.