by Sandra Scott
The word seat belt filtered in from somewhere overhead. Obediently, Andra clasped hers together and pulled tight.
Since then, that frosty phone conversation had revisited her many times. Like a bully, it picked on her, forcing the occasional nightmare she’d had prior to their nuptials to reoccur with alarming frequency.
Her vision cleared. The front cabin came into sharp view, along with the slowing trickle of remaining boarders. Andra bit her lip.
“What a time to grab a sports magazine,” she whispered. “If Jayson misses this flight, I’ll kill him.”
Yes, he’ll be dead—and you’ll be flying off to Greece alone.
A tiny smile broke out at Lady Andra’s response. She imagined her husband would rather throw himself under the aircraft’s crushing wheels than let her fly off to Athens without him. Deliberately, she depressed her panic button and put her total focus on him.
Despite the fact that he was only three years her senior and sometimes goofy as hell, at twenty-nine, Jayson’s maturity went beyond his age. He was what her elderly family members called an old soul, and it was that particular character trait that had convinced an independent woman like herself to come to love him.
Immediately, her mind revisited the last forty-eight hours. Intense lovemaking had consumed that first night as husband and wife.
“The plane ride’s going to be more than eighteen hours,” Jayson had whispered in her ear after the third time, somewhere around two o’clock in the morning. “I want to make sure I have my fill of you before then.”
Her laughter answered him, its sound somewhere between a chuckle and a purr. His strong hands lifted her onto his outstretched body. Straddling him, Andra arched her back as their bodies fused to become one again.
“Still,” he’d said, his busy hands capturing her breasts, “there’s always the airplane’s restroom.”
They’d slept away the next twenty-four hours.
“A penny for your thoughts, Doc.”
At the inviting voice, she grinned mischievously. Slowly, her eyes opened. Standing over her was the stuff sensual dreams were made of—well, at least hers. If her dark pigmentation had allowed it, a blush would’ve burned both cheeks until they were fiery red.
Jayson’s eyes studied her parted lips and then lowered to her silk blouse, which covered the pebbly effects of her lustful musings.
His lips curled in an animal-like manner.
“Or maybe I should give you a hundred dollars for your thoughts. They seem to be expensively juicy.”
“Whatever!” Andra said dryly. “I wouldn’t take a million for them. They’re all mine.” She waited for her husband’s eyes to return to hers. She then shook her head. “Now, Mr. Theonopilus, I don’t believe ministers-in-training are supposed to ogle females in such a lewd, suggestive way.”
He lifted his left hand, wiggling the finger that sported his wedding band. “When it comes to you, baby, I’ve got permission—from the Big Guy.” His roaming eyes scanned her face and returned to her blouse. His soft growl was both a warning and a promise. “So, Doc, even the things we’re going to do in that bathroom will be ordained by God himself.”
Jayson’s seductive threat gut-punched Andra. Delicious images of their coupling inside the plane’s enclosed lavatory flooded her brain. The first-class cabin shrank until they were the only people aboard.
“Well—”
“Welcome aboard.”
The cabin widened to its normal dimensions when a blonde flight attendant appeared at Jayson’s side. Her lightly tanned skin glowed as she watched him, and her sparkling blue eyes displayed a mix of professionalism and desire.
“Sir,” she said, her tone familiar, “we’re just about ready to take off. Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”
Andra compared the female flight attendant to Keven, her male counterpart. Although both had recited the same customary words, assuring a passenger that great customer service was just one request away, the delivery had been world’s different.
At the woman’s brashness, she stirred angrily, causing the attendant’s blue eyes to dart her way. After studying Andra for all of half a second, the leggy attendant immediately dismissed her.
“Come, sir; let me assist you to your seat.”
The flight attendant’s voice flowed like molten gold, her words dripping in honeyed persuasion.
Jayson paused to wink at Andra, only to rearrange his expression into pleasant indifference. He faced the enamored woman. “No bother,” he said. After lowering himself into his seat, in one fluid motion he clasped together the silver buckles of his seat belt and took Andra’s hand. “Here’s my seat—next to my wife.”
The woman’s disapproving eyes shifted back to Andra, taking more time to scrutinize natural shoulder-length locks, dark skin, and matching brown eyes. In a microsecond, the flight attendant’s baby blues turned, changing from simmering warmth to glacial heat once they dropped further to the brown and cream-colored fingers intimately entwined.
“Of course, sir,” she said, stiffening. Her quick expression displayed a threat of future neglect and avoidance. “Of course!”
Throwing her nose in the air, the flight attendant stalked off to assist other passengers.
Andra clamped her mouth around her giggle. She shrugged. “Well, hubby, I guess the bathroom rendezvous is out,” she whispered. “If we get caught by her, she might just have us arrested for indecent exposure in a public place.”
“Let her.”
Casually looking about, Jayson reached over to undo Andra’s top button. When his fingers slipped to the next button, she swatted at him. He chuckled, pushing her hand aside. “Are you wearing anything under there?” he asked. Lifting her blouse, he peeked inside. His lips lifted in devilish delight. “Oh yeah.”
Displaying more firmness, she slapped his hand. “Stop it.” She giggled. “It’s none of your business what’s under there, sir!”
“Uh-huh—you’re wrong, Doc,” Jayson said, settling back into his chair. He closed his eyes. “Everything about you is my business.”
Wetting her lips, Andra returned her attention to the round window, noting that the luggage tram and its loaders were gone. As if on cue, the intercom aired three musical chimes that should have evoked excitement in traveling to a new place, but to Andra sounded much like a warning to turn back. It was followed by the captain’s voice. Nestled inside his cozy airplane cockpit, he welcomed his passengers with reassuring words that floated throughout the cabin, their sole purpose to mentally prepare his human cargo for takeoff.
Behind her, someone coughed, a newspaper rustled, and passengers spoke quietly. Beside her, Jayson shifted for comfort and sighed. Suppressing her own sigh, she mentally said goodbye to her peace and greeted a more ominous feeling.
She chewed on her previously moistened lips, which were now arid from worry.
The overhead intercom went quiet. Its silence indicated her trip into the future would soon begin—an unknown future that she dreaded more than anything she’d ever experienced.
Tapping into what was left of her inner strength, Andra attempted to vanquish her fears about landing in Athens the next day and meeting Jayson’s foreign family face-to-face.
She coughed at the sudden blockage in her throat once she found out her strength reserves were empty.
2
Andra woke, gasping for air.
Her abrupt climb from the depths of a rapidly fading nightmare made her dizzy. As her eyes darted about, her mind refused to register its surroundings. When she saw Jayson silhouetted against the dimly lit airplane cabin, her memory abruptly returned.
“We’re on our way to Greece,” she mumbled. Straightening, she leaned forward, rubbing her grainy eyes. Jason’s blurry form came into better focus. “What time is it?” she croaked.
“It’s going o
n one o’clock in the morning. Babe, you okay?” Frowning, Jayson dropped his sports magazine into his lap and reached up to switch on her individual light. “You have another nightmare?”
Blinking beneath the overhead beam, Andra allowed her eyes to fully adjust to the waking world. Embarrassed, she nodded, turning toward the plane’s window. Within its circle, she glimpsed her reflection against the night sky’s blackness, noting the worry etched on her doppelganger’s face as it stared back. Turning from the troubling expression, she fell against Jayson’s chest just as he reached for her.
She sighed, marveling that he’d chosen to love her despite crossing paths with countless beautiful women of his own color and heritage.
The love they shared was a miraculous thing, yet it was also terrifying. She truly believed God had gifted Jayson to her; still, she also understood that falling in love with him came with a price that grew more expensive the longer they remained together.
Andra had to believe she was up to the challenge.
Upon hearing his sigh, she bravely looked up.
“Same nightmare, Doc?” Jayson asked. At her nod, concern shaped his next words; they came out slowly, causing his Grecian accent to become more pronounced. “The truth is, your nightmares started day one of our marriage. They’ve become more frequent.”
Feeling she’d just been pronounced guilty of an unknown crime and not wanting to admit to him that her nightmares had started before they were married, Andra remained silent.
“Can’t you remember—”
She shook her head, cutting him off. Pulling away, she exhaled unevenly. “Jay, I tell you, it’s vague, only darkness around me. The air is swirling, stormy,” she whispered. “The only thing for sure is that whatever this is, it’s not good. Something bad is coming.”
“Is there a problem here?”
At the voice, Andra jumped. Beyond Jayson’s head, steely blue eyes came into view. Maybe that something bad has just arrived.
The flight attendant’s soft tone failed to hide her inner conflict, which seemed to house a tug-of-war between performing her required duties and her personal distaste for the couple. Her sapphire eyes pierced the night, their glacial hardness showing contempt at Jayson’s embrace of Andra.
Refusing to flinch beneath the weight of the attendant’s stare, Andra instead placed the woman underneath her personal microscope for a closer look. Under the right circumstances, the flight attendant would have been considered a beauty; her sparkling blue eyes and generous lips, if allowed, had the ability to curl into a winsome smile.
However, at the moment, her lips were drawn in a straight, unforgiving line across her face.
Jayson glanced toward the attendant. “We’re okay,” he said. He placed a kiss atop Andra’s mussed hair. “My wife’s had a bad dream. That’s all.”
Upon hearing the word wife, the flight attendant stiffened. The tips of her pencil-thin lips pulled downward. “Well, please keep it down,” she hissed. “You’re disturbing the other passengers who are trying to sleep.”
With a short rustle behind Andra’s seat, a silver mane popped into view, causing all three to turn toward it. A tall and sturdily built gentleman who looked to be in his mid-fifties rose as high as the airplane’s ceiling would allow.
“You know,” he said, yawning through his heavy Texan accent, “you’re right.”
His pale blue eyes stared intently at the flight attendant, who, at his words, glared at Andra and Jayson with an “I told you so” smirk on her face. The older gent cleared his throat to regain the woman’s attention.
“You’re right on target. You do need to keep it down. These young’uns ain’t disturbing nobody. You’re the one stirring up all the commotion. Now, skedaddle and go about doing whatever it is you do.”
The flight attendant bristled at his command. “Who do you think you are?” she said, only to clamp her mouth shut.
Having to provide excellent customer service has gotta bite at times, Andra thought wryly.
The man perused the flight attendant’s rigid form fit within her starched white blouse and straight blue skirt. “Who am I? Someone who could buy you a hundred times over.” He dismissed her with a jerk of his head. “Now, scat.”
The blonde woman’s previous condescending sneer disappeared, replaced with a tight-lipped glare. Mute, she pivoted within the aisle, only to trip in clumsy haste. Her face reddening, she calmly righted herself. With a haughty lift of her chin, she stalked off toward the rear area, where the other off-duty flight attendants now gathered.
Andra gawked at the silver-haired gentleman until his eyes lowered to meet hers, his smile devilish under her mute scrutiny. A second later, he chuckled outright.
“The little filly’s had that coming for quite a while now,” he said. Sliding over a bit, he folded his arms, one on top of the other, across both headrests. “I’ve seen the way she’s been treating you since we first took off.”
For a contemplative moment, the man’s silver brows wrinkled. He lowered his head, allowing his chin to rest upon his stacked arms. “It’s jealousy, plain and simple.” He paused, seemingly delving deeper in thought. “She’s like those wild Texas stallions—you know, the ones you guys probably see on TV. I see them on the regular. Well, what she needs is a strong fella to ride her like one until she breaks.”
Andra choked back a laugh, while Jayson freely let go of his. The man’s head lifted at the jovial sound.
“Figuratively speaking, of course,” he added gruffly. He returned Jayson’s smile. “However, literally couldn’t hurt either. I wouldn’t mind takin’ on such a chore, you know?”
At the couple’s bemused silence, the man winked suggestively and lowered one hand over the seat, shaking first Jayson’s and then Andra’s hand.
“Anyway, the name’s Harlan Orlando Grainger. They call me Hog for short. I’m in Texas cattle,” he said, his voice confident that they knew what he meant. Andra did know—he meant money. “And please spare me the jokes—I’ve heard them all before, especially ‘You’re a hog in cattle?’” He snorted ruefully. “Man alive! Can’t those morons come up with something new?” When a new giggle erupted from Andra, Harlan good-naturedly cleared his throat again. “Got off the subject, didn’t I? Well, anyway, I’m considering broadening my investment portfolio—jumping outside the cattle box.” He chuckled at his own joke. “So what’re your names, youngsters?”
Jayson produced a delighted chuckle as well, most likely at being called a youngster. “Jayson and Andra Theonopilus.”
“Ah,” said the older man, nodding. “And what line of work you guys in?”
“Well, Mr. Grainger—”
“Hog, young man,” the older man said, breaking in.
“Well, Hog, I’m going to school for my PhD in theological studies,” Jayson said. His tone then went from humble to pride-filled. “My wife, Andra, is a resident in internal medicine at Good Samaritan Medical Center in West Palm Beach, Florida.”
The Texan stared at Andra with one eyebrow lifted in surprise. “Doctor, huh?” He pondered the information for a moment. “Never would’ve guessed it.”
Andra straightened. “Why? Because I’m black?” she asked.
“Well, she does talk!” Hog said good-naturedly.
Sharply, she pivoted in her seat to face him directly, just in time to see him swat the air between them.
“Oh, settle down! No, not only because you’re black but because you’re black and a woman,” he declared. At her heightened astonishment, Hog chuckled. “Sorry, but that’s the way of the world, darlin’.”
“But,” Andra sputtered, her mind searching for an appropriate answer that was both respectful and rebuking. “But what you’re speaking is Ice Age philosophy. That’s cold—”
He cut her off with another swat. “Cold?” Hog’s other bushy brow lifted. “Let me explain somethin
g to you, little lady. You can’t set a thermometer to gauge imaginary degrees of the truth. Hot or cold, the truth’s the truth. Anyway, the statistics don’t lie.”
Silently mulling over his words, Andra had to admit the older man was right. She’d come across a report somewhere with dismal findings that backed up the Texan’s observation: although more African American women applied to and got into medical school than their male counterparts, the total average for her race and gender was still below the averages for other prominent racial groups.
Still, did he have to say it out loud?
Begrudgingly, she met his eyes, conceding to his point.
“Besides, seems to me you have a colder issue to deal with.” Hog jerked his head back toward the narrow doorway the flight attendant had disappeared through. “Or should I say, you two have to deal with.”
“Look, Mr. Grainger.” At the older man’s corrective glance, Jayson amended the name again. “Hog, we’re very much in love, and—”
He too was cut short as the Texan straightened. When the older man disappeared from their sight, Jayson rose to peer over the headrest.
Settling into his roomy seat, Hog wiggled his broad shoulders to get more comfortable. “Yeah, you do have love goin’ for you, I must say. Still,” he continued, plucking his Stetson from the empty seat next to him and placing it on his head, “truth be told, sometimes it’s not enough. But sometimes it is. I guess we’ll just have to see.” Hog shifted the hat forward to cover his eyes.
Jayson gave a slight cough at being dismissed by the shifting of the Texan’s expensive hat and sat down. His glance was apologetic, prompting Andra to return it with a sympathetic smile. Then, in sync, they both twisted toward the crack between their seats at Hog’s throat clearing.
He let out a long yawn for good measure. “Maybe now’s a good time you young’uns take a bathroom break. While it’s available.”
Her cheeks warming, Andra glanced at Jayson, speaking softly. “You think he overheard us talk about—”
A low reply came from the other side: “I didn’t hear nothing.”
