by Tamie Dearen
“Finn…” He jolted when Steph appeared beside him with a sympathetic expression, her hand resting on his arm. “I’m afraid this is a lost cause. Laurie changes her mind about as fast as a glacier moves through the Arctic.”
“What can I do?” he asked Steph, the impression of looming danger weighing him down like a thick, wet blanket. “I can’t explain it, but I really feel like something bad is going to happen on that train.”
Stephanie’s head inclined like a curious puppy. “Tell me something, Finn. Why do you care so much?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m her boss. She’s my responsibility.”
“If you say so.” She returned to the table to pick up her trash. “Don’t you think you might have an overactive imagination? Since you know someone who was attacked, you’re probably worried for nothing.”
“Or maybe I’m simply aware of the danger,” he countered.
“You might as well take something for your anxiety, because nothing’s getting her on that plane.” Stephanie bit back a laugh. “I guess, she might do it if she thought someone else’s life depended on it. Otherwise, you’re out of luck.”
Bingo!
“Thank you, Steph. Thank you so much.” He pumped her hand so hard her whole body shook and ignored her confused expression in his hurry to reach his office. He didn’t have much time, if this was going to work.
“What do you mean, I ‘inspired’ you?” Laurie asked, not even bothering to hide the skepticism in her tone. She’d been busy tying up all the final loose ends for the fundraiser when Finn appeared in her doorway.
He strolled in and sat down in the chair in front of her desk, as if he owned the place. Well, technically, I guess he does own it.
“When I saw how you were willing to sacrifice to save money for the kids, I realized I was being selfish flying on the company plane. We’re talking $20,000 each way, in fuel costs alone.”
Her stomach twisted. “Please tell me you didn’t cancel the company jet.”
“I did, and it’s a good thing. One of our spina bifida patients needs to be transported for hip surgery.”
“It’s not safe for you to ride on a commercial airline.” She gave him her sternest look, one designed to instill terror in the strongest of wills. “I won’t allow it.”
“Most people don’t own a private jet, you know. A ton of people with cystic fibrosis fly commercial every day.”
So much for the stern look. She might as well have stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes.
She tried logic. “And some of those people get sick from the germ exposure, and some of them end up in the hospital—which you just left, by the way—and some of them die.”
His face clouded, but only for an instant. Then his dimples reappeared, mocking her efforts to reason with him.
“My doctor said the same thing, when I called. But I told her I’m going anyway. I have to.”
“No, you don’t. There’s no reason to take that kind of risk. Especially when you just got out of the hospital. Your resistance is already down.”
“I’ll probably be fine. Of course my doc is pretty worried. She gave me some steroids and extra oral antibiotics in case I get an infection.” He leaned back, propping his ankle across his knee. “The good news is I got a flight on Saturday, so I’ll have a few days to recover if I catch something on the plane.”
“No, no, no, no, no. This isn’t happening.” Laurie opened her water thermos and drank until it was half empty. She slammed it back onto her desk and glared at him. “What do you have to do?”
He blinked in confusion. “What are you asking me?”
“In the airport… on the plane… when you fly commercial… what do you have to do so you won’t get sick? Do you have to wipe down the surfaces with a disinfectant?”
“I think that’s right, but it’s been a while.” He sat forward, his brows knitting. “For sure, I’ll wear a mask. But if anyone recognizes me, I always take it off.”
“You can’t do that. You have to leave it on.” Hands on her hips, she frowned at him, but those taunting dimples flashed again.
“You don’t understand. Most people don’t know anything about CF, so I’m the most public face for it. If I wear a mask, some people are actually afraid of me—afraid of CF—like I might make them sick.”
“That’s ridiculous. Those people are a threat to you, not visa-versa.”
“I know that, and so do you. But not the general public. One of my most important jobs is educating people.”
“What good is it to educate people if you die in the process?” She meant for her question to sound rhetorical, but it came out with a bit too much force.
The dimples winked out of view. “I’ll tell you like I’ve told Branson and Cole and Jarrett… I’m not afraid to die. I’ve had a good life already. Every day I live now is just gravy. And when I pass, my work will go on… probably even stronger.”
Her stomach flipped over about a dozen times.
“You know what, Finn? That… what you just said… You know what I think?”
His brows arched together in the middle over his clear blue eyes, reminding her of an innocent little boy saying his prayers at night. “What?”
“I think that’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”
His mouth fell open, but no words came out.
She ranted on. “Do you have some kind of death wish?”
“I never said that,” he sputtered.
“No, you just made this big martyr-speech about why you’re not going to work hard to stay alive.”
“I’ve always worked hard to stay alive.”
He stood up and leaned forward over her desk, but she didn’t back down, meeting his glare with her own.
“Then why are you talking like an old man on his death bed? If you’re representing all those other people out there with cystic fibrosis who are fighting for their lives every day, you’d better start acting like it.”
“I’m only being realistic.” He jutted out his chin, his arms flailing with emotion. “The average lifespan for a person with CF—”
“Has absolutely nothing to do with how long you’re going to live.” She stood, her hands clenched. “Have you lived the rest of your life trying to do what the average person does?”
He blinked.
“Of course not. You set your goals way beyond what anyone could’ve expected. And then you surpassed them. All four of you did that. So why, all the sudden, when it comes to your life span, have you decided you can’t surpass the average? Huh? Answer me that?”
She raised her voice louder than she should’ve, and he answered in the same tone, “I’ll tell you why! Because I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep.” His shoulders sagged and his voice dropped. “I don’t want to let people down...”
“Well, right now, that’s exactly what you’re doing—letting me down—going on this stupid suicide plane trip.” She held on to the edge of her desk to steady herself as the room spun.
“It’s only a little risky.” His dimples flashed again. “I don’t really intend to die, you know.”
Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, holding her breath in a vain attempt to slow her racing heart.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
“Send me your ticket details, so I can get on the same flight.” As her rubbery legs gave way, she sank into her chair. “Somebody has to take care of you, since you’re obviously not going to.”
Chapter 14
Saturday morning arrived despite Laurie’s prayers, dashing her hopes that the world would end so she wouldn’t have to get on a plane. Other than the absolute inability to keep anything in her stomach, she was doing better than expected. Luckily, she hadn’t even bothered with breakfast, so her rather frequent trips to the airport terminal bathroom resulted only in dry heaves. She wondered whether either of the sedatives she took stayed in her stomach long enough to have an effect. With her pulse racing about a hundred miles an hour, her best gues
s would be no.
But watching after Finn was turning out to be a full-time job and a terrific distraction. Though Cole might be the most recognizable face of Phantom Enterprises, Finn was a close second. Each time someone approached to ask for his autograph, he would pull his mask off his face in order to talk. Laurie always intervened, explaining that Finn needed the protection of his mask and a safe distance from any possible germs. But Finn often countermanded her orders, laughing off her protective measures. This didn’t set well with Laurie.
He agreed to wear disposable gloves and allowed her to disinfect all the surfaces he might touch while in the seating area. But he drew the line when she wanted him to use the family bathroom so she could disinfect everything before he went in. Only when he promised to wash his hands for five minutes with soap and water and follow up with hand sanitizer did she allow him to go inside the men’s room by himself.
Fussing over Finn’s safety distracted her from the terror lurking in her mind. Perhaps she could convert her strong attraction for him into a more motherly feeling. Fat chance!
As long as she fussed and fumed, she kept her fear at bay. But when Finn was finally sitting quietly in his seat, reading a book, with his navy-blue Cambridge mask properly protecting his nose and mouth, the reality of her situation folded over her like an avalanche of snow. In a few minutes, they would be asked to board the plane, and she still wasn’t certain she could actually do it.
With her blood pulsing in her ears, she had no idea what Finn was saying. His brows furrowed deeper, and he finally pulled his mask down to expose his lips. “Are you okay?”
“Sure. I’m fine.” Her voice sounded like she was standing inside a tunnel. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Her statement was certainly true. She’d barely slept the last three nights since she’d made the airline reservation. Stephanie, true friend that she was, had researched online, exploring every possible method for dealing with aviophobia. Besides the prescription sedative, which was worthless when it didn’t remain in one’s stomach, they had settled on breathing exercises as being the most effective treatment. However, at the moment Laurie had forgotten to breathe slowly and found herself, instead, panting for air that seemed thinner by the second.
Hold your breath. She remembered Stephanie’s warning. When you start to panic, hold your breath.
She stuck her purse on the floor between her legs, sucked in a huge breath and bent over, pretending to search inside. When she couldn’t hold it any longer, she took another breath. Repeating the process, her dizziness finally subsided. When she straightened, she found Finn’s piercing blue eyes fixed on her, with obvious curiosity.
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Uhm… no. Guess I forgot to pack it.”
“What did you need? Maybe I have it. A pen? A protein bar?”
“It was… I was looking for… lip balm.”
“I have some.” His eyes lit up, obviously delighted to be helpful. When she started to object because of contamination, he pushed it into her hand. “You can have this one. I can always get another one later.”
Her relief that he bought her story far outweighed her guilt at the lie. She was way too embarrassed about her phobia to ever admit it to Finn. After all, she knew the statistics that verified flying to be the safest means of travel. Yet, data and common sense did nothing to calm the terror building in her head. If she could make it onto the plane, she could sit and quietly breathe into her paper bag. Finn hadn’t discovered until check-in that she’d booked herself a seat in the economy section rather than next to him in first class. Once the curtain was closed, he would never know she was panicking in the rear, as long as she kept it quiet.
Meanwhile, she needed to keep her mind occupied. She saw a few people sneaking selfies with Finn in the background, to which she didn’t object, since it kept their germy air at a distance. Finn noticed the efforts of one teen boy, and pulled his mask down for the photo, giving him a smile and a wave. Ecstatic, the boy was shouting as he ran back to his family.
When the pre-boarding was announced, her heart went into overdrive. Her muscles were coiled tight, ready to bolt to safety and let Finn continue on his own. But when he stood and gathered his bags, she remembered she had to carry one of his suitcases. As all of his meds and equipment had to be in carryon luggage, he had more than he could handle alone. Concentrating on her purpose, she told herself she could always get him settled on board and escape before the plane took off.
She was surprised how well the gangplank disguised the plane until she actually reached the doorway. She took a deep breath and stepped through, pretending she was inside a bus, rather than a flying deathtrap. Heading straight to Finn’s seat, she doused it with antiseptic spray. In addition, she wiped down the back of the seat in front of him, the tray table, the window, and the adjacent seat.
“Don’t touch anything.” She ordered as he moved to sit down, his crinkled eyes a testimony to the grin he sported under his mask. She continued, “Keep your face covered. Change your gloves if you touch anything. If someone close to you is sick, ask to move.”
“Yes, I know. I’ll be fine.” His brows furrowed. “There was an empty seat beside me. You should’ve let me upgrade your ticket, and we wouldn’t have to worry if someone was sick.”
“The whole reason we’re doing this is to save money for the kids, right? Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose?”
“It’s too late now, but I’d prefer to have you beside me on the way home. I’ll pay for it out of my personal funds.”
She barely heard him, because the sides of the plane were beginning to narrow. She forgot all about hiding her phobia, her only thought to escape while she could. She started back toward the door, but the flight attendant, a kind-faced woman who looked to be in her forties, stopped her.
“Ma’am. I’m sorry, but once you’ve boarded, you can’t get off.”
“I… uh… got lost.”
The woman’s face grew dark around the edges, and Laurie grabbed the wall for balance.
“Let me see your ticket.” She snatched it from Laurie’s slack fingers. “Seat twenty-four A. I’ll help you find it.”
Gentle pressure on her shoulders turned her body and moved her down the aisle. Soon she was sitting, though barely aware of her surroundings.
“Do you feel okay?” the flight attendant asked. “If you’re going to throw up, there’s a bag in the seatback in front of you.”
“My purse,” Laurie mumbled. “I have a paper bag.”
“It’s on the floor, right in front of you. Is this your first time to fly?”
“First time I remember.” Groping until she found the paper bag, Laurie put it over her nose and mouth, collapsing the bag with every gasping breath.
“Excuse me a minute,” the attendant said. “I’m being called to the front. We’re about to start general boarding. But I’ll come back to check on you.”
Laurie nodded, concentrating on breathing into the bag. How long was she supposed to do this? Would she eventually pass out from lack of oxygen? That seemed like the best possible outcome. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, trying to pretend she was in her desk chair at Limitless. But noises and voices intruded, spoiling her illusion.
Frozen and helpless, she sat on the edge of sheer panic. At some point, the bag slipped from her fingers, drifting out of her reach. She’d been wise to choose a window seat, since she couldn’t possibly have stood up to let someone get past her. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. Maybe I’m having a heart attack.
The flight attendant returned as promised and asked if she needed anything, but Laurie shook her head, unable to respond. Then the plane engine started, and her heart escalated until she could feel the pulse in her throat. Tears squeezed out of her eyes, and she swallowed a sob.
A hand reached around her, and she heard her seatbelt click into place.
“You have to wear this.”
Finn!
&n
bsp; He wasn’t supposed to be there. It wasn’t safe. She should send him away, back to his disinfected seat. But his warm hand touched hers, and she grabbed on, clinging for dear life.
Finn lifted the armrest between them, sliding his arm around her shoulder. She leaned into him as if she were trying to disappear into his side.
Why hadn’t she told him she had a flying phobia? In retrospect, he could see the signs, and now he understood why she’d insisted on traveling by train. But it hurt to know she hadn’t trusted him with the truth.
Yet, as terrified as she was, she’d agreed to fly, just to guard him against a possible infection. He ought to feel guilty about her sacrifice, but he still believed it was for the best. He couldn’t have kept her safe on that train. Never again would he fail when someone he loved needed his protection.
Someone he loved? Had he truly let himself fall in love with this woman, knowing nothing could ever come of it?
Her body trembled, and he wrapped both arms around her, squeezing tight until she stopped shaking. He ached to hold her close and keep her safe. He had to admit he’d never felt like this before. With Jill, he was constantly trying to pretend he didn’t have cystic fibrosis, or at least trying to hide the reality of it. But Laurie somehow approved of who he was—the real Finn, the man with CF and all that came with it. She hadn’t rejected him when she’d seen him at his weakest or treated him with kid gloves.
Yes, he loved her… no doubt about it. Wit and beauty. Integrity and compassion. A quick temper, but a soft heart. All wrapped up in a selfless soul with an appreciation for classical music. Who wouldn’t love her?
He loved her, but she mustn’t know. He’d hurt her deeply when he drove her away after their near-kiss. But it was for the best—she deserved a better life than he could offer. Right now, though, she was terrified, and he was to blame. So he would hold her for as long as it took to ease the panic… six hours straight, if he needed to.
