“Mate, you don’t know jack shit about my love life, so let it drop.”
“Rachel loved you, and you loved Rachel. You wanted her to live and she wanted you to have a life. Did you ever read her letter?”
“I said drop it.”
“Did you ever read it?”
“I didn’t have to.”
The two men sat in the swaying boat with the fishing lines extended. Geoffrey was relieved they returned to silence.
Of course, he hadn’t read the letter. What could it possibly it say that he didn’t already know.
It would say she loved him – feelings he already knew. They were childhood sweethearts – he the football star and she his cheerleader. She had been his first love and he hers. He didn’t need to see the words written to know she loved him.
She would no doubt thank him for trying so hard to save her, possibly thank him for staying with her until the end. Clearly, he hadn’t tried hard enough or he would have saved her and in the process, saved himself. His fight was for him as much as for her, knowing if he lost her, his own life would also be over. He failed. Guilt overwhelmed him – he should have tried harder.
The letter might tell him to move on with his life and find love again. These were the words he never wanted to face, not in her handwriting. There would never be a time he would be ready to move on.
The letter remained folded in his wallet. While ever he held the letter unopened, it held the power of saying whatever he wanted yet leaving the words themselves unsaid.
He didn’t need to move on and find love. He already had love, she died.
Right now, he needed a cab. More importantly, he needed his ride to the airport, put the last two weeks behind him and go back to the pathetic, empty excuse Prof David determined his life had become. And find another stupid blonde or brunette to share the next year with.
Finally, the distinctive yellow cab pulled up to the curb. Only as Geoffrey turned and reached for the handle of his bag, the doorman opened the car door for some woman guest of the hotel.
Unbelievable! She stole his cab!
Geoffrey glanced at his watch. He didn’t have time to be a gentleman and allow ladies first, he needed to get home and this woman was in his cab.
Lips pursed, he took the couple of steps towards the cab, wondering if anyone would stop him from yanking her out by the arm.
A hand brushed ash blonde curls from her face and clear blue-grey eyes looked up at him. “Are you going to the airport, too? I’ve been waiting for half an hour for this cab, I’m happy to share if you are?”
Her smile took the sting out of whatever he intended to say. The doorman placed his bag with the woman’s luggage in the boot. She moved over in the back seat for him to join her.
“Bec Garran,” she offered her hand.
“Geoff Swains,” he replied, shaking her hand and noticing the long, glossy black painted nails. He looked again at her face. Early thirties, well kept and classically presented in a pale pink knit suit and pearl earrings. Nothing matched the black nails.
“Where are you heading?” she asked, clearly wanting to make polite conversation.
“Home.”
“Can you be more precise or are you still looking for it?” A gentle laugh.
“Am I looking for what?” As infectious the laugh and lovely the eyes, Geoffrey had tired of superficial conversations and small talk.
“Are you going home, or are you still looking for what home is?”
“Lady ..” he started.
“Bec, Rebecca but my friends call me, Bec.”
“Rebecca,” he continued pointedly, “It’s been a tough couple of weeks and all I want to do is get to the airport, survive customs and go home.”
“Point taken.” Bec leaned into the far corner of the cab and shut her eyes for the rest of the trip.
Geoffrey avoided the judgement in the eyes of the cab driver. Yes, the woman who offered him a ride to the airport didn’t deserve his rudeness. At any other time he would apologize – his attitude had nothing to do with her – it was all about him.
“How long?” Geoffrey kept checking his watch, frustrated and anxious at traffic and chaos leading to the airport. They wouldn’t have more than five or ten minutes to get from the drop off to the check in. Luckily, as a premium member, he would get fast tracked through – if the cad driver got them to the airport in time.
“Here we go, heaps of time,” why were cab drivers so cheerful?
He jumped out of the cab and removed the three bags from the boot as Bec paid the driver.
“Which terminal?”
“I don’t know,” now her poise dropped and he saw panic settle in.
“My flight to Sydney leaves in two hours, I guess I need to find the international terminal.”
“Bec, if you don’t mind me saying, if you are on the QFX34, then I’m on the same flight and we have five minutes to get to check in.” He picked up his bag and started a light jog. He couldn’t see her beside him or hear her close behind. Turning, Geoff saw Bec struggle with her two large bags. Damn, he didn’t have time for this.
“Layla, it’s Geoff, can you call the airline and confirm my flight and Rebecca Garran, yes G A R R A N. We are about five minutes away, please check us in online, call in any favors and buy us time to get there. Thanks.”
Geoffrey put his phone away as he rejoined Bec who raised her eyebrow.
“Don’t ask, give me those bags, you take mine. I’m not about to let the woman who helped me then miss her flight.”
Together, they pushed through the crowds and found the premium desk.
“Professor Swains, I can see you are checked through to Sydney. Are these your bags?”
“No,” he took his own smaller bag from Bec. “This one is mine. Do you mind fast tracking my friend through, this is her first time going international and she is a little nervous.”
“Certainly, Professor. Would you like to be seated together?”
Geoffrey thought quickly, he never looked forward to the long flight to Australia and he might end up with a worse companion.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” forced smile. Helping her had to be better than an apology.
From there, they sailed through customs. Neither Geoffrey nor Bec flagged any extra attention and she surprised him with her own membership into the Premium Lounge.
“More comfortable waiting here for our flight than outside,” she noted.
“I admit, I thought I would have to sign you in. Care to join me for a drink while we wait?”
Again, her throaty laugh. The poise returned, softened only by the curls bouncing around her face.
“So, Professor Geoff Swains, you clearly have a story.”
“Not so fast, Rebecca, call me Bec.” Geoffrey escorted Bec to a small table away from the bar.
“You don’t fly much – evidenced by not knowing which terminal to go to. You are not going on a holiday – especially not wearing an expensive suit. Yet you have airline membership. Your story is much more interesting than mine!”
“Professor Swains,” she began, stopping when he placed one hand over hers on the table.
“Bec, we have a long flight together. Call me Geoff and stop with the Professor nonsense.” Realizing what he had done, he quickly removed his hand and noticed her wedding band.
“Geoff. Let me extend the same courtesy. Your accent is Australian or New Zealand. If you are going home and we are flying to Sydney, I’d say Australian. Professor would indicate you are an academic but there are a number of universities in Sydney. One small bag would indicate you were here for a short visit, probably for work. Most academics don’t make serious money and semester breaks are the time to work on the research without students interrupting. So, if you are a member of the Lounge, either the university thinks highly of you, or, you enjoy your semester breaks more than most.”
She sat back in her chair, with a toss of her head she challenged him to respond. If she wanted to p
lay the game of “guess the stranger” then she picked the wrong man at the wrong time, his emotions worn thin after spending yesterday at his wife’s grave.
His face lost pretense of good manners and in a moment of frustration at the events of the past three weeks, he continued.
“The ash blonde hair hides the greys that started a couple of years ago when you turned thirty. You keep your hair long to stay youthful and to seem relevant in the boardroom where you know you only have a small number of years left to either make your mark or go off and have babies.
“You travel with a wedding ring, heavy luggage and no husband. Either you are leaving him, or he left you – probably because of the hours you spend at work. You think you can sum me up after one short car trip,” in his own pain, Geoffrey ignored the look of anguish across her face, “But lady you don’t have a clue.”
“Please excuse me,” Bec left the table.
Dammit. What happened back there? Inside a classroom, Geoffrey maintained a reputation of vicious and cutting remarks. But outside the classroom, he didn’t make friends but was never intentionally hurtful or rude.
Geoffrey waited for her to return until he heard their flight called. The next twenty-four hours would be uncomfortable at best. He walked slowly towards the terminal knowing the plane would not leave without a checked in guest, and giving himself time to create an excuse or apology sufficient to ward off further conversation.
“I’m sorry ma’am, the flight is full.” He almost didn’t recognize Bec at the desk. She had changed out of the skirt and jacket, despite himself, he admired how the curves of her body perfectly suited the yoga pants, sweater and comfortable slip on shoes. The long curls were tied back, showing off her slender neck. Stunning. Now, thanks to his own lack of good manners, off limits to him.
“Please, I need you to check again,” he heard the alarm in her voice.
“Excuse me, Bec,” he cut in. “I’m sorry for what happened back there. Let me buy you a drink on board to make it up to you.”
“Ms Garran, I’ve checked again, there are no other seats and all customers have checked in and are boarding.”
“Bec, please. I’m sorry.”
“Fine, thank you for trying,” Bec said and turned towards the boarding queue.
“Bec,” he tried again.
“Don’t” she brushed off his arm. “You don’t have the right to judge me, and you have no idea about me or why I’m leaving.”
They spent the first four hours on the flight from Boston to Dallas in silence. From her window seat, Bec’s gaze didn’t stray from the clouds.
Geoffrey rarely cared what a stranger thought about him. This time his guilt wouldn’t let up. She didn’t deserve the verbal onslaught and from her reaction, some of his words must have cut close to the truth. Prof David was right – Rachel would kick his butt if she was still here – not only for the way he treated himself but for the way he treated others. This woman did not deserve to feel the wrath of his loss and pain. He needed to make things right.
“You know,” he started, “The best thing about long flights next to strangers, is you can find it therapeutic to tell a stranger your life story, lay out all your troubles knowing you will never have to see them again.”
Bec turned her head towards him, the pain in her eyes deeper than his cruel taunts.
“Bec, I’m not expecting us to land in Sydney as best friends. Likely, you will never want to or have to see me again. Treat me as an insensitive, arrogant arsehole you can confess all to and not care what I think. Land in Sydney, this flight never happened and you can move on with your life.”
The calls to fasten seatbelts interrupted before Bec responded. They were landing for a two hour stop over before flying the long haul to Sydney.
“You want to play truth and consequences?” Her tone flat. “Do you really think you are ready for my truths?”
Geoffrey nodded. He recognized the pain in her voice and the void in her eyes.
“Then Geoffrey, I guess I’ll meet you back here.”
He lost sight of her getting off the plane. No matter, the longest part of the trip lay ahead of them and he remained determined to make her smile at least once before never seeing her again.
Truth and consequences
“I checked you out, online, you are a real piece of work.” Bec returned to her seat, defiant and composed.
“What did you find?” Geoffrey never searched for his own name. He lived his life – he didn’t need to read about it.
“Hundreds of photos of the great, Professor Geoffrey Swains attending galleries and theatre openings. Do you know what I found most interesting?”
He shrugged. “Those who can, do. Those who can’t, write about those doing.” He never felt the need to see what the online world thought of him. Peer reviews were brutal enough and the only ones which mattered.
“In every photo there seemed to be a different girl, young enough to be your daughter, on your arm. Do you have any daughters, Professor Swains? Or are these girls the way you try and stay young?”
“Touché, Ms Garran. Touché. I assume you are ready to play truth and consequences. Shall we start on the subject of relationships, or somewhere smaller – like where we grew up and what we do for a living.”
“There’s nothing to tell. Small family, my parents are still happily married and travelling the world. I’m a consultant.”
“Is that all you are going to tell me?”
“You are the smart one, tell me what I am missing.”
Geoffrey took a sip of water, and guessed she only shared the happy truths.
“You want a marriage like your parents. Anything else would be settling for second best. They are best friends as well as your parents. If you had brothers or sisters, you would have said. Therefore, I’m guessing once they got their perfect daughter, they didn’t need a big family to make them complete.”
“Professor, I’m impressed,” her first wry smile, “I was the child they were expected to have, and as soon as I left home, they were happy to continue their lives together. Your turn.”
“I grew up in England, moved to Australia to study and am now a Professor in economics.”
“That’s it - all you are going to tell me?” Now the blue eyes were sparkling. He nodded.
“If your parents were monied, you would have studied in England and worked for one of the blue-chip companies there. Without money, you would have always been a product of the class system. Moving to Australia made you different and people noticed you because of your accent,” Bec continued as he gave her a slight nod.
“You either moved at the end of high school or for university. Study came easy, being noticed even easier and so you stayed at university where you will always be the esteemed Professor and not some poor smart kid from the block.”
Geoffrey sat back in his seat, shell shocked. None of those points were in any authorized or unauthorized bio. As far as his colleagues and the academic press were concerned, he grew up in England and was a product of Australian education system.
“I have to hand it to you, Ms Garran. Either your researching skills are better than my students and colleagues, or you are an excellent judge of human character. I came to Australia for my final years of high school. My parents sacrificed to send me to a boarding school so I started university with the right pedigree. I never intended to become an academic, but my job has given me the opportunity to work around the world.”
For the next couple of hours, they talked as old friends. About changing work practices, about the differences between different English speaking cultures. Bec cleverly sidestepped any questions about her career and why she was travelling to Australia. Geoffrey avoided any possible conversations about the women in the photos.
The cabin started to darken as passengers turned off their lights for sleep.
“Well, Professor, I think we successfully concluded round one of our game. If you don’t mind, I’m going to get some sleep before we
continue our conversation.”
“Bec,” he tucked the travel blanket around her. “We don’t need to continue the conversation if you don’t want to.”
“Professor, you can’t get away from me so easily!” She finally gave him the throaty laugh he had worked for. “I have a feeling your truth has been waiting a long time to come out. I look forward to hearing all about it after some sleep.”
Sleep eluded Geoffrey. Even lying in an airport bed reminded him of trying to rest in a hospital room.
This time, instead of Rachel, he watched Bec. As she turned in the chair, several curls escaped from their tie and drifted across her face. He resisted the urge to push them aside - a move reserved for lovers and they were not even friends.
She was right, his truth had been hidden for years.
He suggested the truth and consequences game as an interesting way to amuse them during an uncomfortable and long plane trip together. Most people easily talked for hours about themselves, he’d tune out and accept her story without having to give up any of his own.
Bec surprised him by not letting him off the hook without sharing. And the more he shared, the less he wanted to exit the plane and never see her again.
She stirred and stretched in her sleep, the blanket dislodging and falling from her shoulders as she rolled away from him.
The soft curve of her back barely visible through the folds of the grey sweater and hair.
This, this gorgeous and engaging woman here next to him was the reason he only dated students. Students were young, ambitious and even those who thought they were in love with him quickly learnt he was emotionally barren and they were better off without him.
He avoided any chance to meet or date a woman he could love. She would have to have grace and elegance, a sharp wit to keep him on his toes. She would match him in conversation and on the tennis court, share his passion for the arts and sport.
Better not to try.
As he watched Bec stir again and face him, he started to doubt himself. What if he did find love again?
Trusting his Heart Page 2
