by Jane Peart
Even so, they had just picked up the dinner trays, reshelved them; secured galley cabinets and beverage servers, and gathered up all the containers from passengers lingering over second cups of coffee when the “FASTEN SEAT BELTS” and “NO SMOKING” signs, flashed on in the cabin.
The cockpit buzzer sounded and Robbie lifted the receiver. The copilot gave her the landing time, and she then turned on her hand mike to announce:
We are now making our approach to the greater Atlanta Airport and will be landing in approximately ten minutes. We ask that you adjust your seats to their upright position, extinguish all smoking materials, and fasten your safety belts. It’s cloudy and fifty-one degrees in Atlanta. Thank you for flying Trans-Continent Airlines. We hope you enjoyed your flight and will enjoy your visit in Atlanta.
After the plane landed and the last of the passengers had departed, Robbie gathered up her topcoat, handbag, and clipboard in order to leave with Jean. The cleanup crew was already on board to make the plane ready for its next flight. The two stewardesses walked through the landing bridge and into the terminal. In the stewardess lounge, they filed their flight logs and checked their mailboxes
“Here’s next month’s schedule,” Jean remarked as she stifled a yawn. “Wonder who I’ll be flying with?”
“Oh, no!” an exclamation of dismay escaped Robbie’s lips.
“What’s the matter?” Jean asked.
“Wouldn’t you know it? I’m on ‘reserve’ this weekend! That means I’ll have to drive right back from Cindy’s wedding Saturday to make it.”.
For Trans-Continent stewardesses, “reserve-standby” meant being available for call to take any flight in case of an emergency or sudden illness of the scheduled stewardesses. Every flight attendant had to take a twenty-four hour turn each six weeks.
“You can still go to the wedding, can’t you?”
“Yes, but I’ll have to rush back, probably before the reception is even over.” Robbie moaned.
“That’s too bad, but maybe you can still catch the bride’s bouquet!”
Robbie laughed. What Jean didn’t know was that Robbie bad caught the bride’s bouquet at Martie’s wedding three years ago—and so far no prospective bridegroom had appeared on her horizon.
Lisa Young, her other apartment-mate, was always telling Robbie that she was too particular—usually when Lisa was trying to persuade Robbie to double-date with her. “No man could meet your specifications,” Lisa had said in exasperation several times.
Was that true or just another of Lisa’s exaggerations? Was Robbie cherishing an impossible dream? Weren’t there really some men somewhere who wanted the same kind of enduring love that she did?
Chapter Two
The church was filled with afternoon sunshine, throwing dancing rainbows of light through the arched, stained glass windows. Fan-shaped baskets of crimson-throated gladioli were placed on either side of the altar steps. The deep tones of the pipe organ playing familiar wedding music gradually stilled to a hushed pause.
In the dressing room off the vestibule, Robbie and the other bridesmaids clustered in front of the mirror for a last-minute check of hairdos and velvet halos. When the first resounding notes of Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” were heard, each girl gave a final pat to her ruffled neckline, smoothed down the flounced taffeta skirt, adjusted her bouquet of ruby red roses, and then lined up to start the walk down the long aisle.
Over her shoulder, Robbie cast a lingering glance at Cindy, on her father’s arm, and was reassured by her look of radiant happiness. Robbie felt the sudden sting of tears and a peculiar ache in her throat at the expression on her friend’s face. As she moved into the measured steps of the processional, Robbie realized the truth of the old saying, “all brides are beautiful.” Cindy’s pixie-like appearance, transformed by love, had become beautiful.
Taking her place with the other bridesmaids and seeing Mike Gillespie’s adoring gaze at Cindy, Robbie could not help but wonder with longing if the kind of love these two shared would ever be hers. Robbie’s throat tightened as she watched Cindy lift star-bright eyes to her groom and repeat the solemn promises: “for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live.” Robbie knew that was what she wanted for herself someday. She would never settle for anything less.
A few hours later, Robbie let herself in the now strangely empty apartment. She had left Lisa still enjoying herself at the reception and, by now, Cindy and Mike were on their honeymoon. With both her roommates gone, Robbie felt somehow abandoned.
Like Cinderella forced to leave the ball, she thought ironically as she set down her suitcase. Because she was on reserve-stand-by, she had had to leave the reception early and drive back to Atlanta in time to report to the field. It had been hard to leave, with the sound of music and light-hearted laughter in her ears.
Oh, well, there was no potential Prince in sight for me, anyway. Contrary to Jean’s prediction, she had not caught the bridal bouquet—not that she believed in any of that silly superstition, she assured herself.
She went around turning on lamps to chase away the gloom of the November evening and to fight the melancholy that had been creeping up on her as she drove home alone. She went back to her bedroom, hating to pass Cindy’s bare one, now stripped of all her personal touches, looking bleak and forlorn. Robbie dreaded the thought of interviewing other prospects to move in and help her and Lisa share the rent. Most of all, she knew she was going to miss Cindy dreadfully. They were so close, not only because they had been in the same training class, received their Trans-Continent wings, and lived together for two years, but because they shared a common faith. While in flight attendant school, they had discovered that they were both Christians. That knowledge had created a bond amid all the new surroundings and experiences. Since then their friendship had been a wonderful, strengthening relationship. Their other roommate, Lisa, was easy to get along with and fun, but Cindy had been special.
Maybe I should look for a small place of my own— something I could handle alone, Robbie thought. She had always had roommates, sharing a room with her younger sister at home, then college and nursing school with Martie, and now this apartment with Cindy and Lisa. She did not look forward to the hassle of getting used to a new roommate and adjusting to someone else’s idiosyncrasies. With Cindy married and Lisa possibly transferring to Texas to be closer to her boyfriend at SMU, it might be a good time to think about a change.
However, the prospect of watching the newspaper for apartment ads and making the rounds to check them out seemed unappealing—even downright depressing! What was the matter with her? Robbie wondered crossly. Maybe there was nothing like a wedding to make one feel lonely.
She snapped open her suitcase and pulled out her bridesmaid’s dress, holding it up and surveying it severely. What would she do with a used bridesmaid’s dress, especially one which four other girls she knew had duplicates of? If she risked wearing it to a party, all four might show up wearing the exact copy! Even remodeling it seemed futile. So what then? Ditch it? Donate it to a thrift shop? Decisions, decisions! Robbie sighed. What she needed right at the moment was a nice, hot shower.
Under the warm needle spray, she shampooed her hair and felt some of the tension and fatigue ease. She resolved to fix herself something to eat, then go to bed early and get a good night’s sleep. Stepping out of the shower, she toweled off and wrapped herself in her cuddly, if worn, chenille robe that was softly comforting. She wrapped her wet hair turban-style and headed for the kitchen.
Suddenly the phone began ringing and she ran barefoot to grab the receiver. “Hello!”
“Field Operations calling,” the clipped voice at the other end identified himself. “Roblynn Mallory?”
“Speaking,” she said breathlessly, reaching for a notepad.
“You’re scheduled out tomorrow, Flight 224. 0900. Okay?”
“Okay. Destination?”
The voice chuckled. �
��Lucky you. Better pack a bathing suit. It’s Bermuda!”
Robbie hung up the phone and drew a long breath. All her depression vanished. Bermuda. A run she had always thought would be glorious—but so had several hundred other stewardesses far above her in seniority. She had never dreamed she would get the assignment on a reserve call. She knew the crews had a three-day layover there, and visions of coral beaches, cloudless skies, warm ocean breezes, and blue surf came floating into her mind.
She went at once to her closet to look for appropriate clothes to take with her. All of her summer things were zipped into plastic bags in the back of the closet, and it took her some time to pack for this unexpected holiday. For a “holiday” it seemed after all the trips through Chicago’s winters and Denver’s snowcapped mountain weather, and even Atlanta’s chill. By the time she had settled on a simple, wrinkle-proof wardrobe to see her through any possibility that the trip could present, Robbie realized she was famished and went to the kitchen to begin the search for food which her phone call from Operations had postponed.
The contents of the cabinets was not too encouraging—and exploring the refrigerator was even less appetizing. Peering into it, Robbie saw some diet colas, two cartons of fruit yogurt, some bananas that had seen better days, a dozen eggs, and a jar of pickles. There were also a fading corsage and a couple of packages of Lisa’s pantyhose, which, for some reason, she believed lasted longer if they were frozen before wearing. Since Lisa had been the only one of them home last week and was on a continual diet to keep her required weight, Robbie was not too surprised by the empty larder.
Settling for scrambled eggs, Robbie got out a small frying pan and stuck two pieces of whole wheat bread in the toaster. Breaking eggs into a bowl and whisking them briskly, she recalled with amusement Cindy’s culinary experiments. After she had become engaged, she had enrolled in cooking classes, and Lisa and Robbie had been treated, or subjected, as the case may be, to many elaborate menus. Some of them had been disasters, but others had turned out great.
Affectionately, Robbie remembered how conscientiously Cindy had prepared for her new role of wife. She had brought home books from Christian bookstores on the subject of marriage and its responsibilities as well as its joys. And Mike Gillespie was just as serious as Cindy was about the new life they were starting together; both had taken premarital counseling at their church.
As she washed the dishes after her solitary supper, Robbie thought of the minister’s words at the close of the ceremony today: “If true love and an unselfish spirit guide your relationship, you can expect the greatest measure of worldly happiness. The rest is in God’s hands, nor will He be wanting when you humbly submit those needs to Him.”
Was it possible to achieve those ideals in today’s world? Most of the people Robbie encountered seemed to have a rather cynical attitude toward marriage. The airlines gossip mill sizzled with tales of philandering married pilots and transitory relationships. It seemed to accept and give tacit approval to the rumored swinging single life lived by stewardesses and other flying personnel. Of course, not all airline employees felt or lived that way. Still, it was considered the exception, not the rule, to be faithful and to have certain standards, and those who did were looked upon as fanatics or nuts! Robbie sighed. Even Jean had questioned her ideas.
“Well, I don’t care! I know what I want and it’s worth waiting for!” Robbie announced emphatically out loud, then laughed. “Better watch it, girl, when you start talking to yourself!” She wrote a note to Lisa explaining about being called out on flight and stuck it on the refrigerator door. “At least, you don’t get any arguments when you do!” Yawning, she turned out the kitchen light and went to her bedroom.
The buzzer of her alarm clock awoke Robbie from dreams that were a mixture of the wedding, flight procedures, and scenes of turquoise waves swirling in lacy curves onto pink sand beaches. An hour and a half later, looking fresh and clear-eyed, Robbie was in Trans-Continent Operations, signing in on the crew sheet for her flight.
“Well, good morning,” a voice behind her said. It had a tantalizing familiarity about it, and Robbie turned around slowly to see Tyler Lang ambling toward her.
“You!” she gasped.
“Just checking out my crew,” he told her.
“Your crew? Flight 224?”
“The very same,” he replied lightly.
“Oh, no!” she exclaimed, then clapped her hand over her mouth.
Tyler threw back his head and roared with laughter. “Surprised, eh?” he demanded teasingly Robbie suppressed a nervous giggle. “Well, of course, 1 mean, yes. I didn’t think to ask about the pilot on this flight. You see, I was on reserve and—”
“You might have tried to get out of taking this flight if you’d known who was the captain?” he persisted.
His amused eyes met hers and, in spite of herself, Robbie laughed. “No. I’m just…well, it does seem rather a coincidence…” her voice trailed off.
“Fate, maybe,” Tyler said, raising an eyebrow.
Robbie was saved from further embarrassment by the arrival of another stewardess, Stacy Culver, who greeted them both and added her name to the crew sign-up sheet.
“Well, it looks like this crew is going to pretty-up the Bermuda landscape enormously,” commented T J., including Stacy in his glance. Just then the copilot, Clive Amory, and the flight engineer walked in, and the three men went to check the weather readings and file their final flight plan.
Robbie let out her breath slowly. T. J. Lang again. What kind of strange coincidence is this?
Chapter Three
“This flight is really fun,” Stacy commented as she and Robbie took their places at the plane’s entrance, ready to check boarding passes of oncoming passengers. “We call it the ‘Honeymoon Express.’ Bermuda must be the honeymoon capital of the world. We get a lot of newlyweds and people celebrating anniversaries. Some tell us they spent their honeymoon there and want to go back for their twenty-fifth or even their fortieth anniversary.” She rolled her eyes and said dryly, “Of course, we don’t get many of those these days! But anyway, there’s always a happy atmosphere on these flights.”
Robbie discovered that Stacy was right, as couple after couple boarded. Some were obviously honeymooners, the girl wearing a corsage, her young husband beaming. Other twosomes were more discreet. But there was plenty of handholding and starryeyed looks being exchanged even before takeoff.
“What did I tell you?” whispered Stacy. “Two by two just like into the Ark.”
As Stacy predicted, the flight, although busy, was very satisfying. First of all, there was the elegant special brunch of mushroom omelets, crisp bacon, pecan rolls, and fresh fruit, served with sparkling cider or dark, fragrant coffee. Robbie and Stacy took off their jackets and caps and donned attractive coverall aprons in Trans-Continent’s colors of azure blue and turquoise. The cabin hummed with the buzz of conversation, laughter, and good-natured banter among the passengers.
While most of them were enjoying a second cup of coffee, Robbie ducked into the galley to pour herself a cup of the reviving beverage and take a break.
“Any of that left?”
Robbie looked up and saw T. J.’s broad-shouldered figure filling up the narrow entry to the galley.
“Plenty,” she replied and reached for a coffee mug and handed it to him.
Stacy had carried the breakfast trays to the cockpit earlier, so this was the first time that Robbie had seen T.J. since their unexpected meeting in Operations that morning.
There was something about T J. Lang that both annoyed and attracted Robbie, and she found this very confusing and uncomfortable. She did not like feeling confused about people. Tyler Lang had a most peculiar and puzzling effect upon her.
“Your first trip to Bermuda?” he asked as he poured his coffee.
Robbie nodded.
“You’ll love it. Everyone does.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Great place for lovers,�
�� he remarked. His eyes on her were sparkling, his smile enigmatic. He jerked his head toward the First Class section. “They’re all so preoccupied with each other, you and Stacy should have a fairly easy job this trip.” When she made no comment, he inquired, “Got any plans for after we land?” After another pause, “If not, I’d really like—”
Whatever he was going to say, Robbie never got to hear it because, just then, Stacy stepped into the galley, her arms full of new magazines. “Would you believe that no one, but no one, is interested in reading the latest issue of Time or Newsweek?”
They all laughed. Then Tyler asked Stacy, “What are your plans for the layover?”
“Shop, what else? I’ve got a Christmas list a yard long. I can’t wait to get into all those fantastic shops. Wait ‘til you see the cashmere sweaters, Robbie; you’ll go crazy. And the prices!”
“I guess that answers my question.” Tyler chuckled and put down his coffee mug. “Well, ladies, I’d better get back and fly this plane. I don’t want to keep all those Hamilton shopkeepers waiting.”
After he left Stacy sighed deeply. “What a dream, right? I wonder who the current lucky lady is? Sometimes I’m tempted…I mean even if…as they say, his interest in anyone only lasts about three weeks, it might be worth it!” Stacy laughed. “No! Scratch that. On second thought my Pete’s more in my league. That is, if he ever gets through graduate school!”
At that moment, a stylishly dressed matron with exquisitely coifed hair and wearing a Cardin suit looked into the galley.
“Excuse me, but would you happen to have a deck of cards on board?”
“Sure, just a minute.” Stacy smiled accommodatingly and went to find the cards.
Left alone for the moment, Robbie tried to guess what Tyler Lang had been about to suggest when Stacy had interrupted. Offer to take me around Bermuda? Hardly! Why would someone like Tyler consider playing tour guide to someone like me? We could not be more different.
