by Jane Peart
“Well, you’re still young. You’ve got your whole life ahead. You could model for a few years and save the money you make. Then you could do whatever else you want, live wherever you want. I’d give modeling some serious consideration if I were you, Robbie.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Todd. I’ll think about it,” she told him.
During the tour, she and Todd Maynard had become good friends. Personable, enthusiastic, ambitious, and with a cheerful, outgoing personality, Todd had been a great traveling companion. He was also happily married with two small children, about whom he was always bragging. That had given Robbie a nice feeling of security as the tour had progressed and their business relationship had developed into a comfortable friendship. She had come to trust his judgment and follow his advice on various aspects of the tour routine. He was considerate and careful not to over-schedule her, which she appreciated. In spite of their hectic pace, they had managed to slip away occasionally, for a quiet meal or to go to church or just to walk in a city park. They had shared a lot of their thoughts, feelings, and Christian viewpoints in these times. Although Robbie had never told Todd about her heartbreaking romance with Tyler, he had sensed that she was at a crucial crossroads in her life.
It was nearly ten o’clock that night before Robbie finally got to her motel room. Her nonstop day had included a call-in radio talk show and a Jaycees dinner, with a long evening of after dinner speeches and some award presentations.
Maybe Todd was right. Anything would be easier than this, even the strenuous life of a model! At least, a good nights sleep is a job requirement for modeling.
She kicked off her pumps, took off her uniform, and lay down on the bed. She was physically tired and emotionally drained, grateful that Seattle was the last city on the rigorous tour. In the morning they would fly back to Atlanta and tomorrow night she would be in her own apartment, in her own bed.
Robbie dragged herself up and into the bathroom to take a shower. Afterwards she wearily pulled down the covers and got into bed with a deep sigh of relief. She could not remember when she had felt this worn out.
But, tired as she was, sleep stubbornly evaded her. For some reason, she tossed restlessly, unable to drift off. In the virtually soundproof room, the city traffic noises were dulled, but, somewhere in the distance, a siren shrieked in the night. An ambulance? A police car? A fire engine? Involuntarily Robbie shivered and whispered a prayer. She had been taught as a child in Sunday school to pray whenever she heard that sound. Someone somewhere was in trouble.
Strange, bow things like that stay with you, Robbie thought. Lately, she had felt removed from all the old familiar things. On the tour, everything was so rushed that she never seemed to have a minute to herself, never any time for private devotions, sometimes not even a chance to go to church on Sunday. She had promised herself that, once she got back to Atlanta, she was going to get it together and figure out what the Lord wanted her to do with the rest of her life.
Finally, frustrated by not getting to sleep easily, Robbie sat up and turned on the light. She was too tired to read so she decided to watch some television. Maybe there was a good old movie on that she could watch until she felt sleepy.
Now, Voyager was already in progress when she switched on the TV set. Robbie had seen it a couple of years ago, but the plot line was romantic and distracting. Robbie slid further down against the pillows. Her eyelids had begun to feel heavy when, in the middle of a scene, a news bulletin flashed on.
We interrupt this program to bring you a special bulletin. A Trans-Continent jetliner with eighty-seven passengers aboard was hijacked shortly after takeoff from Omaha en route to San Francisco earlier this evening. There was only a cryptic report to the tower from the plane’s captain, T J. Lang, that a man had broken into the cockpit and was holding the pilot and copilot at gunpoint, ordering them to take the plane to Canada. Stay tuned to Channel 14 for news of any further developments.
Robbie jolted upright, horrified. “Oh, dear God!” she gasped.
She threw back the covers and fell to her knees and began to pray as she had never prayed before. Any hijacking brought special terror to airline employees.
She felt numb and terrified as she stammered out words, sending up desperate pleas in disjointed phrases. Knowing that she would have to get her thoughts in order—that she needed to pray with conviction, with assurance, with true faith, to be effective—she got up and went to the drawer of the bedside table, opened it, and took out the Bible she knew would be there.
Her fingers fumbled to find Psalms. Reading one of the ancient prayers that had calmed fears for thousands of years would help to put her own prayers in perspective. She found the one she was looking for and began to read parts of it softly out loud.
Surely He shall deliver you….
His truth shall be your shield….
You shall not be afraid of the terror by night.
No evil shall befall you…
For He shall give His angels charge over you,
To keep you…
As she read the words her heart slowed to a normal beat, and she remembered how often she had been told that the Word itself has power.
She kept reading, turning the pages to Psalm after Psalm. She read ones that were her favorites and others that seemed particularly appropriate. The ones of David when he was fleeing for his life, in danger from Saul, were especially meaningful now.
She had turned off the sound of the TV set, just glancing at the screen occasionally to see if another news bulletin had broken into the program. Every so often, she would get up from the bed and turn the dial to see if she could get any more news on any of the other Seattle stations.
She lost track of time. She just kept praying for God’s help and for the hijacker, as well as for the safety of the passengers and crew. And Robbie prayed that somehow Tyler could bring the plane in safely without any injuries or loss of life.
Robbie thought of a prayer that her mother had sent her when she first had started flying. She took it out of her billfold, where she always kept it, and repeated it for Tyler.
The Light of God surrounds me;
The Love of God enfolds me;
The Power of God protects me;
The Presence of God watches over me.
Wherever I am, God is.
How I wish Tyler really knew the Lord, Robbie mourned. That was one subject which they never had talked much about. Sometimes, when Tyler had been her apartment waiting for her so that they could go somewhere, he would pick up a church bulletin from the kitchen counter, or idly flip through the Christian magazine she subscribed to, but he never had commented or asked any questions. Of course, she realized that had been one of her big mistakes. She had never really brought up anything they might disagree on.
Not that it mattered anymore. At least not for her sake. She realized it was for him that she wanted a real relationship to God. If he had that now, in his moment of extreme danger, he would be safe and secure—no matter what happened.
Robbie didn’t know just how long she had been waiting when she saw the “Special Bulletin” logo flash onto the TV screen. She quickly turned up the sound.
The hijacked Trans-Continent jetliner is safely on the ground in San Francisco. Channel 14 has learned that the gunman was successfully subdued and is now in the custody of police and airport officials. No one was injured and the deplaning passengers were unanimous in their praise of the bravery of the plane’s captain, T. J. Lang, in disarming the hijacker, aided by the copilot and flight engineer, and for the cool performance of the rest of the crew members in this emergency. In just a minute we will bring you an exclusive interview with the courageous Captain Lang.
A few seconds later, she saw Tyler’s face, a little haggard, eyes dark-circled with fatigue, but with the familiar sparkle lurking in them in spite of the ordeal he had just been through. Articulately and calmly, he reported the sequence of events of silent communication in the cockpit, quick act
ion, and cooperation of his copilot and engineer in wrestling the gun from the hijacker and subduing him. T. J. fielded questions and lavished compliments on his fellow crew members and the passengers.
The interview ended and, as Robbie reached out to turn off the set, tears were streaming down her cheeks. The long nightmare was over.
Thank God she breathed gratefully.
Chapter Eighteen
With the publicity tour over, Robbie came home to find that she had missed Atlanta’s beautiful spring. As she drove home from the airport, she was disappointed that, all along her street, the dogwoods were finished blooming and so were the azaleas.
But to her delight she found in her own yard the grape hyacinths she had planted with the bulbs which the nurseryman called “sweeties” were blooming in lovely lavender and yellow harmony. Robbie smiled, remembering the old man’s words when she had bought them: “Mebbe, if the Lord loves you, they’ll bloom together.”
Cyrano was on the porch railing blinking in the sun when she came up the stairs. At first he ignored her, as if letting her know that he was not about to greet her with much enthusiasm. But when Robbie left the front door open to admit the warm weather, Cyrano soon meandered inside, meowing for attention.
Robbie picked him up. Cuddling him in her arms, she listened for his inner “engine” to start the purring as she stroked him. It gave her spirits a badly needed lift.
Among the accumulation of a month’s mail Robbie found a note from Martie Evans that gave her a twinge of conscience and a twist of the old knife of pain in the wound that Tyler had made. Martie’s letter read in part,
Hi, friend. What gives? Have you eloped with your dream pilot and gone away to float on Cloud Nine, or what? I haven’t heard from you in ages. Let me know what’s happening, okay?
Love always, Martie.
Robbie had not had the courage to write or call Martie. The scars had not yet healed, and somehow she had not been able to talk to anyone about Tyler, not even someone as close and dear as Martie.
Robbie knew she was depleted in many ways. The physical toll of the strenuous tour, climaxed by the severe emotional trauma of the night of the hijacking, had lowered her energy level badly. She had asked for and been granted two more weeks of “R & R” from the airlines.
While the two weeks of rest did help Robbie recover from the extraordinary demands of the tour, her real battle in the days that followed was fighting the residue of hurt and resentment left by what she considered to be Tyler’s betrayal.
She discovered that getting over a broken relationship is hard work. She also learned from her struggle how deep her feelings for Tyler really were. Even after she had given up some of the anger, it had been replaced with a kind of aching sadness. Something precious had gone out of her life—forever. But there was a long period of emptiness to fill up. With what? That was the problem.
As she returned to her regular work routine, there were still other hurdles to get past. She tried having a few dates, but found herself restless and bored on most of them. Often she wished she were home reading instead. She tried making a list of things to do on her days off. She went through a stream of ambitious plans and brief enthusiasms, such as growing her own herbs in little pots on her kitchen windowsill and using them in gourmet recipes, attending a jazzercise class, taking tennis lessons, and having her colors done. She weeded out “deadwood” from her wardrobe and then promptly lost interest in clothes. It all seemed pointless and a waste of time. She began to see her activities as self-indulgent and longed to put some purpose back into her life. She always came back to the question, What does God want for me? What is out there in the world for me to do?
During this bleak time Robbie began making weekly long distance calls home. It somehow eased the loneliness she was experiencing just then. Talking to her mother and dad, her younger sister and brother about the trivial, inconsequential, everyday sorts of things that were happening at home helped to make her feel less abandoned. Robbie realized she had been so focused on her relationship with Tyler that almost everything else had taken second place in her life. Even though her phone bill multiplied, her sense of belonging and important values was renewed.
She began to consider seriously the possibility of quitting the airlines altogether, taking some refresher courses in nursing, and getting her graduate degree. Maybe she even would go overseas, eventually, as a medical missionary. She had considered that once. Wouldn’t that be more worthwhile than what she was doing now?
She had never meant to go on flying indefinitely, anyway. After three years, the thrill and glitter of the job had long’ since worn off for her. She had harbored the dream briefly that when she left, it would be for her marriage to Tyler. Now that dream was ended.
What does flying bold any more for me? Roblynn demanded.
What did she even have to show for the last three years? A small gold Million Mile pin on her uniform lapel—that was all. Roblynn smiled wistfully
Robbie knew stewardesses who had gone on and on, addicted to the lifestyle. Girls who loved buying their shoes in Rome, their sweaters in Scotland, their lingerie in France, and who spoke casually of lunching in Paris and dining in London. She did not want to become a professional “fly-gal.” It became too hard for them to adjust to earthbound jobs or even marriage. Girls who flew too long never seemed to be able to settle for everyday life.
As she thought back over her life to this point, Robbie remembered the Christian camp she had attended the summer she was sixteen, after her junior year in high school. She had been very much aware of making some decisions about college and a career. At the last campfire, a talk by the head counselor had impressed her strongly. He had urged them to seek God’s plan for their lives and to let Him use all the natural abilities and talents that He had given them.
She had brought home from camp that year a poster and put it on the wall in her room, where it had remained all during her senior year. The poster was dominated by a large colorful sunflower and the saying, “BLOOM WHERE YOU ARE PLANTED.”
I ought to be able to be a blessing on flight as well as anywhere, Robbie decided. I don’t have to make any huge change—not right away anyhow. Just by being the best me I can be—I can be a witness while flying, with other members of the crew and serving my passengers. It doesn’t matter where you are—just who you are and what you stand for. That’s what counts!
That conclusion took some of the pressure off Robbie. She began to relax, to work her flights with a new enthusiasm, and to look for possibilities for God to i work through her.
Even though her work life improved, her personal life remained stale and flat. On her days off, she took to haunting antique shops or prowling through secondhand stores. In one, where the sign outside promised, “WE BUY JUNQUE AND SELL ANTEEKS,” she found an old chest of drawers. It had about ten coats of paint on it, but the store’s owner told her that it was good birdseye maple underneath and showed her where he had peeled away the layers of paint to the wood. She bought it, took it home in the trunk of her little car, and hauled it up to the apartment. There it sat for days.
She had purchased all the materials necessary to strip, sand, and stain the thing, as well as the tools and the plastic drop cloth to protect the floor. But somehow she could not get the impetus to start on it.
Every time she came in from a flight, there it was, mocking her. One night, she could stand the sight of it no longer. The chest reminded her so blatantly of how she had let her broken dreams depress her and stifle her energy.
Even though it had been after eleven at night, she had slapped on the paint remover, opened all the windows to let out the harsh odor, changed into jeans and an old T-shirt, and then started scraping. It had been 4 A.M. when she finally had quit.
As the little chest began to take on a lovely mellow luster and finally was set in place between the two front windows in the small living room, Robbie took enormous pride in her accomplishment. The task had proved to be a catharsis.
She even hung the lovely Bermuda watercolor over the chest and felt only a kind of lingering regret over what might have been.
The brief lovely spring exploded into summer, and summer into an autumn of brilliant, sunny days alive with fall’s vibrant colors. But, with the beginning of October, Robbie began to experience an indefinable melancholy. She did not realize that her forlorn feelings were the legacy of sadness lingering from her shattered romance.
Driving home after her flight in an early dusk toward the end of the month, Robbie recalled with amusement a conversation she had overheard between two of her passengers after the end of the movie they had just finished viewing on board. Recently Trans-Continent had been showing Gone With the Wind on its Atlanta-bound flights. As Robbie had come down the aisle checking seat belts, she had heard a young man saying to his wife, “You women always think Scarlett is going to get Rhett back. But I’ve got news for you—it isn‘t going to happen. Scarlett isn’t going to get him back!”
Robbie laughed a little now, just thinking about what had been said. The man had been so emphatic! Maybe he was right. Maybe many women lived on fantasy. Maybe it was Scarlett s fantasy that she would get Rhett back, and, most of us women believed she would. But real life is not like fantasy, Robbie reminded herself. Not all her dreams or fantasies would bring Tyler back or change the things which had happened between them. It was time she got on with her life. Maybe the best thing, after all, would be to get out of the airlines completely and away from everything that reminded her of him and from the possibility of more chance meetings that just kept all her bruises from healing. Even her little apartment still had too many memories of happy times they had spent there together.
Cyrano was waiting for her in his usual place. Robbie picked him up, nuzzling her face into his thick fur and rubbing him behind his ears until the small purring sound deep in his throat indicated his pleasure. It was comforting to have something glad to see her, if not someone, Robbie thought ruefully. She remembered how Tyler had said he hated coming, into an empty, silent apartment.
