We Ain’t the Brontës

by Rosalyn McMillan

  “I guess so.”

  “Good. So, I’ll pick you up at nine. I’ll have you back home by ten o’clock. And, Charity…”

  “Yes?”

  “Bring a bathing suit. We’re going to stop at a resort for a couple of hours. We can sit by the pool and then gamble for an hour or so. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

  “Yes. I haven’t had a vacation in years. That really does sound like big fun. I’ll see you in an hour.”

  I hurry into my closet and find my sexiest swimsuit, a black one piece. I locate a multi-colored fringed cover-up to dress it up a bit and hide my stretch marks. I pick out a pair of black sandals, and grab a few cosmetics. I put all of my things in an overnight bag and wait by the back door.

  This time, I remember to leave a few lights on inside the house and turn the porch light on. I’m wearing rust-colored print jeans with a tan shirt. I’ve got on a pair of ecru Gucci sandals. I put my hair up in a swanky French twist and hope that I look attractive to Herman.

  A part of me doesn’t know what in the hell I’m doing. I’m still in love with my husband, but am desiring the attentions of a man I’ve called a friend and confidant for most of my life. I’m so confused by my actions. If Herman kisses me, I wouldn’t be surprised if I kiss him back.

  After all, Herman is a very handsome man. He’s sexy as hell, smells good, and is articulate in every way. When he pulls up in my driveway wearing a pink linen short set with caramel lizard sandals, I’m tempted to run into his arms. I know better, and refrain from doing something so impulsive.

  “Are you ready to go?” he asks me as he stands on the outside steps.

  “I’m ready. Here, take my bag please.” I hand him my bag, grab my purse, and after shutting the door, lock up behind me.

  Herman opens the passenger door so that I can take a seat inside. A few seconds later, he’s stored my bag in the back seat and then slipped in behind the steering wheel. He starts the ignition and we’re off.

  He turns on the radio and Luther Vandross’ “A House is Not a Home” is playing. The sound system in his Benz is almost as clear as the one in my Beamer.

  Herman doesn’t tell me jokes this time. He’s dead serious about wooing me, and doesn’t mince words.

  “I’m not going to rush you into anything, Charity. I plan to wait until your divorce is final before I make any kind of amorous moves. I’ve waited this long for you; I can wait a little longer.”

  “I can’t promise you anything, Herman. You know how I feel about Jett.”

  Like a woman needing male companionship and a little sympathy, I tell Herman about Jett’s woman, Marla. I tell him how young she is. Herman can understand how I feel. He’s astonished that Jett got busted so soon. He thought that it would have taken Jett months before his true nature was revealed. But thanks to the twins, he was openly traduced.

  “It was stupid of him to go to a dance venue where the twins might frequent anyway. Do you think that he wanted them to catch him and come back and tell you?”

  “You know, I hadn’t thought about that.” I recline the seat and lean back. “It doesn’t matter. He told me to my face twice that it was over between us. I’m nobody’s charity case. I’m not going to waste my love on someone who clearly no longer loves me.”

  “Doesn’t it seem strange to you that a long lost daughter could cause this much of a problem in your marriage?”

  “That’s a good point. Our marriage should have been strong enough to withstand something like this. I can’t explain what happened.”

  “How about Jett’s motivation? How deeply does he really love you? Was he with you for convenience sake? Let’s say getting his hands on your millions, or was he here till death do us part?”

  I sit up. “Funny you should ask that. I’d hate to think that he was only with me because of the money, but the more I think about it, the more your theory seems right on target.”

  Herman lets me mull over that statement for a while as he navigates his way to the hangar. Once we’re there, he parks in his usual place, takes out my bag, and opens the door for me. I see more planes parked than usual. Herman points out the planes and explains them to me. There are three Cessnas, four Bellancas, two Monneys, one Beechcraft, and three Vipers. Smiling, Herman takes me over to his new plane, a white 2011 Cessna 162 with green and black stripes.

  He gives me a play by play tour of his new baby. I must say I’m impressed. This time I’m not scared. I know what to expect. And like Herman said before, he’s an A-1 pilot. I trust him with my life.

  This time he and I put on parachutes. It feels awkward and heavy, but I trust Herman’s need for precaution. He helps me strap mine on first, and then puts his on. I don’t feel cute wearing this contraption, but I go with the flow.

  I wait until Herman puts our things aboard the plane before he helps me up. I get inside and he straps my seat belt. This time he fusses with me like I’m his new baby. I must say that I love all of the attention.

  Then it’s Herman’s turn to strap himself in and put on his headphones. He does a checklist of the statistical instruments and calls the tower. He starts the ignition and pulls out onto the path leading to the runway.

  I can hear him talking to the tower, but am too busy enjoying the freedom of going flying again to pay too much attention to what they’re talking about.

  Minutes later, we’re on the runway, getting ready for takeoff. I love the feeling of racing down the cemented stretch of runway that allows the pilot to build up enough speed to lift his machine off the ground and fly high into the sky. It’s rejuvenating. It’s free-spirited. It’s breathtaking.

  Once we’re airborne, I enjoy viewing the sights below us once again. Everywhere I look, I see beauty. I see cleanliness. I see a miracle.

  Herman gives the tower his flight plan to the Bahamas. The weather is perfect and the sky is crystal clear. It’s a great day for flying, and I’m happy that Herman chose to spend these precious hours with me.

  While we travel, Herman points out the sights below. We pass over Mississippi, Georgia, Florida, and then hover over the Bahamas. At twelve thousand feet, we pass by other airplanes in the expansive sky. A few pilots in single planes wave at us. We wave back. However, by now the weather has changed. The sky has darkened to a steel gray. I hear the rumblings of thunder and feel a tad nervous. For some reason, there is a ton of traffic waiting to land today, and we don’t get permission to land. We have to circle the airport again and again before we get clearance.

  Suddenly it begins to thunder and lightning. The storm comes on fast and strong, and the small plane is swaying this way and that with the strong winds that come with inclement weather.

  “Herman,” I ask, “is everything okay? I’m getting kinda worried.”

  “Not to worry. This baby is built solid.”

  The moment he gets the words out of his mouth, lightning strikes the left engine. It catches on fire. The plane starts rocking and weaving badly.

  “Pronto 348, pull up. Pull up. I’m locating a runway for an emergency landing. Give me a couple of minutes.”

  “What are we going to do?” My heart is beating so fast, I can barely catch my breath.

  “Don’t worry, Charity. You’re safe with me.”

  “But I am worried.” I look at the blackened sky and wonder how the weather could’ve changed so quickly.

  The sky keeps lighting up with lightning. The smell of smoke and metal burning is beginning to fill the inside of the plane.

  “Herman, are we going to run out of air?”

  “No, but I’m afraid that we’re going to have to make an exit.”

  My words are shaky. “You mean jump out of the plane?”

  “Yep. That’s what the parachutes are for. Now, don’t be scared. I’ll guide you all the way down.”

  “Don’t be scared! Are you fucking crazy? I’ve never jumped out of a plane before. This shit isn’t cool, Herman. I didn’t sign up for this. You’ve got to think of something else
.”

  “We don’t have time, and we’re out of options. Now, I’m going to slow the plane down to about eighty miles per hour, take the plane below ten thousand feet, steer the plane in the direction of those trees, put the plane on auto pilot, and I want you to follow my lead.”

  “Herman! Herman! I don’t think I can do this!”

  “Calm down, Charity. I told you I’ll help you.”

  He opens the passenger door to the plane. We’re exposed to the elements, and my French twist is whistling in the wind. I can feel the rain whacking my face and smearing my makeup. However, at this point, I don’t give a damn how I look. I just want to be safe so that I can see my sons again.

  As he instructed, Herman steers the plane over a clump of palm trees. “We’ve only got a few seconds! Now, get ready. We’re going to have to step out on the landing gear and then drop. Don’t be scared. I’m going to hold your hand. Okay?”

  “No. It’s not okay.”

  “Charity, you’ve got to do this. Stop acting like a child. This is serious.”

  “You think I don’t know that?”

  “Okay, we’re running out of time. We’ve got to go now.” He stands up and unbuckles my seatbelt. He grabs my hand and helps me out the door. I’m trembling like I’m walking on pencils. “Okay, when I say jump, jump!”

  “Damn you, Herman,” I say through gritted teeth. “I got a feelin’ this is going to hurt.” I grab my purse.

  “Okay, now, jump!”

  “Whoooaaa! Dammit, help me, Herman. Grab a hold of me.”

  We start falling, falling, falling. My body feels like dead weight. Then I see the trees. “We’re going to hit them hard, Herman. Dammit, do something!”

  46

  Whoosh! We hit the palm trees like dead weight. My parachute is swinging back and forth between the tall and short palms. The next thing I know, Herman is yelling my name.

  “Charity, are you okay?”

  “I think so. Can you make this thing stop swinging?”

  Then I feel one final whoosh and I hit the tree hard. I feel the bone in my right leg break. I scream in pain. “Herman, help me! I think I broke my leg.”

  It seems like an endless time later, Herman is able to disengage himself from his parachute. He climbs the tree and helps me down. It takes him a few minutes to get me out of my parachute. I’m no help. I’m fighting him more than I’m helping him.

  Once down, we both breathe a sigh of relief. We look up at the carnage and shake our heads. We’re lucky to be alive. Our clothes are torn and ragged. Because the fabric was paper thin, Herman’s linen short set looks the worst.

  “Ouch,” I complain. I check my watch. It’s almost three, but it’s dark out because of the thunder and lightning.

  I balance my weight on my left hip. My right leg is bleeding badly. The excruciating pain is traveling fast from my leg to my brain. I don’t know what Herman plans to do. I’m too heavy for him to carry me. “What are we going to do now?” I ask.

  Herman speaks quickly. “I noticed from the aerial map that there’s a highway about three or four miles to the east of us.”

  I limp on one leg. “Well, how do you propose to get us there?” Both of us are getting soaked from the rain.

  “I’m going to make a hutch out of these branches so that I can pull you.”

  Before I can open my mouth, Herman has already begun to gather branches and limbs. I have my purse with me, so I open it up and get my cell phone out. It’s broken. “Herman, does your cell phone work? Mine’s broken.”

  He’s wrapping branches together and moving like a black MacGyver. I never knew that he could be so resourceful.

  “I’m sorry, Charity. I left my phone on the plane.”

  “Damn. We’re really in trouble.”

  “Not to worry,” he says, wrapping the branches with long strands of vine and strips from the bark of the banyan tree. “I’ll get us out of here shortly and flag down a car. Then we can get you to the hospital to get that leg set.”

  I decide that it’s futile to argue with him. What the hell do I know about survival techniques? So, I just sit and watch him expertly crafting the hutch. In less than two hours, he’s finished.

  The hutch, interwoven with branches and palm leaves, is approximately six feet long, with two extended poles on one end so that he can pull it.

  “It’s ready,” he says, nearly out of breath. “Go ahead and lay on it.”

  I do as he advises. I feel him lift me up. “Herman, I know you’re tired. Don’t tell me that you’re not. How are you going to rev up enough energy to pull me four miles?” I can barely see his face in the semi-darkness.

  “When I get too tired, I’ll stop and take a break. Meanwhile, stop worrying. We’ll make it.”

  I plop my purse across my chest and hold on to the sides of the hutch. I feel Herman lift me up and start pulling the contraption due east. The sounds in the area are ominous. Birds are hovering overhead and squawking, and the sound of crickets is deafening.

  I try not to complain as Herman heroically guides the hutch through the brush and toward human contact. It takes three and a half hours to reach the two-lane highway. By now it’s pitch black. Thankfully, the rain stops. My leg is throbbing like a toothache and I’m hungry as a grizzly bear. I have to give it to Herman; he hasn’t complained once.

  I train my eyes to look out for snakes. However, snakes don’t really bother me that much. What terrifies me are mice and rats.

  There is very little traffic on the road that is glistening like black diamonds. It’s eerily deserted. I know that if I were driving down this road, I wouldn’t pick anybody up. But I hope for the best.

  After seven cars pass us by, the eighth car stops. It’s an old Chevy El Camino. The driver’s name is Alex.

  Herman explains what happened to his plane and how we got to this point. Alex is understanding and offers to drive us to the nearest hospital on Grand Bahama Island. The hospital is about twenty-five miles away. Alex and Herman help me in the back of the El Camino. Even though it has stopped raining, it’s very humid out. I’m sweating and crying at the same time.

  “Here, Miss,” Alex offers. “I’ve got a pack of peanuts. Would you like some?”

  My smile is as wide as the Mississippi River. “Thanks, Alex. I really appreciate it.”

  I take my time and enjoy each peanut one by one, savoring the nutty flavor and texture. Alex drives about seventy miles per hour and we reach Rand Memorial Hospital Emergency on East Atlantic Drive in twenty minutes.

  Herman jumps out and goes into the hospital for a wheel-chair. Alex and Herman help me into the chair. Herman and I say thank you to Alex and bid him good night.

  When Herman wheels me up to the admissions counter, I fill out the paperwork and then wait for my turn to be called. Herman and I watch television and half listen to the broken English of the Bahamians.

  Forty minutes later they call my name. I hand the woman my insurance card. I fill out a few more forms and am asked to wait again. Ten minutes later, my temperature and blood pressure are taken. Then I’m wheeled into the triage area. I’m introduced to a nurse, who checks my leg. Herman is there with me.

  “Dr. Williams will be in in a few minutes, Mrs. Evans.”

  “I’m very sorry for what happened, Charity. I don’t have any idea how an engine on a brand new plane can catch on fire.” He holds up a hand, “I know, I know. The lightning. Even so, what are the odds that it was going to hit my engine? About ten million to one, I’d venture.”

  “Talk to the pillow,” I say and close my eyes.

  The doctor comes in and introduces himself. He cuts off my jeans up to my mid-thigh and X-rays my leg. He tells me it’s broken, and that he’s going to put a cast on it immediately. “Do you want a specific color?” he asks.

  “Pink,” I say, smiling.

  “I’m going to give you a shot for the pain.”

  “Thank you.”

  I get the pain medication and a tetanu
s shot and they put on the cast. Then they fit me with a pair of crutches. I feel like a mummy as I walk around the small cubicle. I test them out. It’s a little awkward, but okay under the circumstances. That done, I’m ready for Plan B. How are we going to get home? Herman already has the answer.

  “I contacted a pilot friend of mine back home. He’ll be here to pick us up by nine. We should be back in Memphis before midnight.”

  I rub my leg. It’s starting to itch already. “Great. I thought we were going to have to spend the night here.”

  “No way.”

  “We’re thinking the same thoughts. I want to go home. Now.” I put on a pitiful look. “I’m sorry to act like a baby, but nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”

  “I know, Charity, and you have the right to be angry.” He signals one of the nurses. “Can I use the phone again? I need to call a taxi.”

  Herman manages to get a taxi to drive us to the airport. Once there, we wait for almost an hour before Herman’s friend, Vincent, arrives. To tell the truth, I’m scared to get on another plane, but I know that I want to go home.

  Vincent tells me not to worry and to take a nap if I would like. He’ll have us home in no time at all. We all get aboard the small four-seat aircraft. I think there’s no way that I’m going to go to sleep, but I do. When I awaken, Vincent is landing the plane.

  Herman and I get out and, working with my crutches, manage to get into his car. We say good night to Vincent and drive off.

  I fall asleep again. When I wake up, we’re in my driveway. Herman helps me out of the car and to the back door. I get out my keys and Herman opens the door. Thank God I left the lights on.

  Once inside, I kiss Herman on the cheek. “Good night. Call me tomorrow.”

  “I’ll call you around noon. I’ve got a funny feeling that you won’t be waking up early.” He smiles. “Good night.”

  I lock up and turn out the lights. I struggle with the crutches down the hall to my bedroom. How in the hell am I going to take a shower with this cast on?

  I turn on the television and strip. I leave my pile of clothes on the floor and make my way to the shower. It’s awkward, but I manage to get the job done. I lotion down my body and put on powder. I hop into my room and reach inside my top dresser drawer for a gown. That, too, is a feat.