Come Fly With Me

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson

  “Why’d she dunk you this time?” his da asked casually.

  Brodie wasn’t fooled. The man had the senses of a shark when it came to blood in the water.

  “I don’t have time to talk,” Brodie said. “I need to get some work done.”

  His da pointed at the chair opposite. “You’ve got five minutes for your old man.”

  Stifling his irritation, Brodie sat.

  The astute eyes of a man who’d raised seven sons met his. “What did you do?”

  There was no point in arguing his innocence, not when he already felt guilt eating at him. “I slagged off her plans for the museum and the plane rides. Then pretty much told her she was exactly like the rest of her wacky family.”

  His da took a sip of his tea while he mulled that over. “Now, why would you say something like that?”

  “Because”—Brodie ran a hand through his damp hair—“she wants to use our land to start her business, and I’m trying to protect my future. I’ve spent ten years saving and planning for that house build. She’s got no right to walk back in here and upend my life all over again.”

  It wasn’t anything he hadn’t said in the years since she’d left, but this time, it lacked conviction. Probably because he knew he’d deliberately poked the bear to get a reaction at the loch. Her throwaway words about love and forgiveness had affected him enough to make him lash out.

  “You know,” his da said, “out of all my boys, you’re the one who worries me most.”

  “Knowing Bain, I find that hard to believe.”

  His father chuckled. “Aye, that boy definitely has his issues, but you’re the one I fear is destined to live a life you don’t really want.”

  “Da.” Brodie leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees. “I’m knackered and in desperate need of some coffee. I’m also fairly certain I swallowed some loch water because now my stomach aches. If you have something to say, could you get to the point?”

  “Okay.” His father put his mug on the desk beside him. “You’re the middle son. You’ve spent your life keeping the peace between your brothers. It’s hardwired into your genes to go along with things for an easier life. You don’t even notice you’re doing it half the time.”

  “I didn’t go along with Katya’s idea to find a plane,” Brodie pointed out, ruining his da’s attempt at armchair psychology.

  “No, you didn’t.” He ran a hand down his face. “And I think I’m to blame for that.”

  Now he was worrying Brodie. “Da, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about here.”

  “That girl always made you take risks. The only time you went wild and got into any sort of trouble or tried anything out of the ordinary was with her. She pushed you, and it was good for you. But your natural instinct is to stick with what’s familiar. I think that’s why you never went with her. You were too busy holding on to a plan for your life that wasn’t even yours.” His father’s face twisted with guilt.

  “What do you mean, it isn’t mine? I think I’d know if I was following someone else’s plan.”

  “Would you?” He shook his head. “I pressured every single one of my boys to follow in my footsteps and become an electrician, and you’re the only one who did it.”

  Brodie shrugged. “It was no big deal. It’s a decent job.”

  “Aye, it is, but you never once considered any other path after you knew I wanted another electrician in the family. You were making me happy, keeping the peace. It was the same with your house. I spent hours telling you and your brothers that it’d been my dream to build my own place, but I could never afford to. Then, when Old Ben gave you the land, I laid it on thick about how lucky you were and how you couldn’t waste it. That you needed to build the house of your dreams—just like I always wanted to do.” He rubbed a hand over the spot where his heart lay. “Did you ever once consider an alternative use for the land?”

  “Why would I? Building a house is a good idea.”

  “Until Katya had another one, and suddenly you freaked out because you actually needed to think about what you wanted instead of going with the flow. That’s why you reacted the way you did. It wasn’t that you were set on your plans; it was because Katya was the only one to challenge them and make you think about whether they were yours to begin with.”

  “Da, you’re worrying me here.” The conversation felt a lot like a confession from a dying parent. “You’re feeling okay, aren’t you?”

  “Aye, I’m fine. It just seemed the right time to talk to you about this. Son, Katya’s the only one who’s ever made you think for yourself, but she was never known for her patience. If she’d given you a wee bit more time to consider her ideas for finding the plane, you might have gone with her. Instead, you panicked and told her she was as nutty as her family, so she stomped off in a huff.”

  Brodie sat back in his chair. “That’s oversimplifying it a tad.”

  “Is it? Without her, you revert to the status quo. I mean, here you are, setting up a business with Darach. Did you think about whether you wanted to do this, or did you go along with it to please him? Then there was the job on the oil rigs. Katya encouraged you to take it, but as soon as she was gone, you gave up your place there and stayed home to work with me. Don’t even get me started on the house. Son, seriously, why are you building a palace for one in Invertary? You don’t even have a girlfriend because you’re still married to Katya. Who’s going to fill that big house?”

  “I think you’re making a fuss about nothing,” Brodie told him. “I’m happy with my life.”

  “Are you really?” His da stood and picked up his mug, then turned toward the door into the front office. “Think about what I’ve said. I wouldn’t want you making any more mistakes because of me.”

  18

  1945

  Displacement Camp, West Germany

  * * *

  The sewing group at the camp had managed to get their hands on a German airman’s silk parachute to make Natasha the most beautiful wedding dress she’d ever seen. Unlike the other garments and material that made their way to the camp, there was an abundance of silk in the parachute, which meant the dress had puff sleeves and a full, voluptuous skirt. Wearing it made her feel like a princess.

  It also made her feel guilty seeing everyone go to so much trouble for a wedding that wasn’t even real.

  “You shouldn’t have done this,” Natasha said to Rasa, the Lithuanian woman who’d organized the dressmaking sessions.

  “Don’t be silly.” The older woman fussed with the hem of the dress, making sure it sat perfectly. “Weddings are to be celebrated. It’s a sign life goes on and the Nazis didn’t defeat us, that our spirit isn’t broken. Every wedding and birth in this camp is a reason for us all to celebrate.”

  Natasha felt grateful to the generous woman who’d lost her own husband in an extermination camp. “With your skills, your wedding must have been very beautiful.”

  A bittersweet smile curved Rasa’s lips. “My Jurgis could scarcely keep his hands off me. It was most inappropriate for the serious ceremony my parents arranged.”

  Natasha covered the woman’s hands with hers. “I’m glad you had that.”

  “Yes, our memories are the gold the Nazis couldn’t steal.” Rasa turned her toward the mirror. “Now, what do you think?”

  For a second, Natasha was breathless. “I don’t deserve this,” she whispered.

  “None of that nonsense.” Rasa patted Natasha’s hair. “We all deserve whatever happiness we can find. Right. You’re ready. Let’s go see how handsome your gentleman is today.”

  Holding up the skirt of her dress, Natasha followed Rasa through the stark gray corridors of the former SS barracks. Each doorway they passed was filled with the smiling, hopeful faces of those who’d lived through the horrors of hell. They called out their blessings and well wishes to her, while behind them, the ones too weak and ill to leave their cots added their voices to her day.

  As she picked her way through the rubble o
f a wall damaged in a blast, she thought of her parents and brothers. Of the people who should have been there to witness this day. Her father would have been disappointed in her. He’d planned a marriage between Natasha and the son of one of his doctor friends, to be held at the prestigious and luxurious Hotel Metropol in Moscow.

  “Are you nervous?” Rasa whispered as they made their way across the debris-littered courtyard to what used to be the commanding officer’s private dining room. As the only building in the complex with any semblance of style, it was used for all special events. “Your mother should have been here to explain about your wedding night. I’m happy to go over things with you if you’re uncertain about fulfilling your marital obligations.”

  There were no blushes from Rasa at the topic, not after everything she’d witnessed during the war. After seeing young women paraded naked in front of soldiers or raped for amusement before their death, what happened between a married couple on their wedding night was far from shocking.

  “Thank you, Rasa, but there’s no need.” Natasha didn’t want to tell the kind woman there would be no wedding night. At least, not in the way she meant it.

  As one of their fellow refugees held open the wood and glass door for them, Rasa took a peek inside. “He’s there, and he’s handsome as ever,” she gushed, sounding like an excited schoolgirl. “This is wonderful, Natasha. You’ll live a happy life with your man, far away from the damage of the war.” Her smile looked self-conscious for a second. “I had to look up Scotland on a map because I wasn’t sure where it was.”

  “So did I,” Natasha confessed, and they laughed together.

  Butterflies invaded her stomach as she walked into the officer’s quarters. The ornately carved wooden fireplace had been strewn with wildflowers collected from the local forest floor. Beautiful garlands made from greenery hung around the walls, and the remainder of the parachute fabric used for her dress had been draped over a table in the center of the room. More flowers sat in the middle of it, along with a brown paper package tied with string.

  Rasa nervously gestured to the package. “The women gathered what we could to help you start your new life. It isn’t much, but it might be helpful.”

  Tears at the generosity of people who had almost nothing burned in Natasha’s eyes. “Thank you, Rasa.” She hugged her friend. “And please thank everyone who contributed. I will take good care of everything they’ve gifted me.”

  “You can thank us by living a wonderful life with your husband in Scotland.” Rasa’s whisper was ferocious against Natasha’s ear. “This is our revenge—we will be happy.”

  “Yes,” was all Natasha could say.

  When she released Rasa, she took a deep breath and turned to the two men standing in front of the decorated fireplace. Ben smiled at her, looking as nervous as she felt.

  The other man, Ben’s commanding officer, gestured toward her.

  “Please take your place beside your intended,” he said in English.

  Natasha had never been more grateful to the woman who’d taught her the language before being relocated to America. One of the few taken in by the US, who had strict quotas for refugees.

  Smiling, she stood beside Ben.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  There was nothing else to do but nod.

  19

  “So, this is the spa restaurant.” Katya looked around at the classy interior of the renovated old church. “Is the food good?”

  Wishing he didn’t feel like a goldfish in a bowl as the other diners stared at them, Brodie nodded. “The best food in Invertary.”

  As a waitress led them to their table by one of the large stained glass windows, Brodie placed his hand on the small of Katya’s back, feeling her body move under the thin fabric of her dress. The urge to splay his hand wide in order to access more of her was almost overwhelming. He fought it off by reminding himself that this was Katya, and no good ever came from making things complicated between them.

  Like him, Katya had dressed up for their date. While he wore charcoal jeans, an open-necked pale blue shirt and suit jacket, she wore a short black form-fitting dress with thin straps and a scoop neckline. On her feet were black four-inch heels with tiny gold bows at the back, which she seemed to be having trouble walking in.

  When she’d almost twisted her ankle for the third time, he slid his arm around her waist to hold her up. “Where did you get those shoes?” he whispered.

  “Denise wouldn’t let me wear my Doc Marten boots. These”—she glanced down at her shoes in disgust—“are Prada.” She frowned up at him. “Apparently, she saved for a year to buy them, and if I damage them, I need to repay her with a life of servitude.”

  “She doesn’t just want to be reimbursed?”

  “No, because she knows I’m penniless. Plus, this way, she can make me suffer for a whole lot longer.” Her gaze was pleading. “If you’re going to retaliate for the loch, can you at least let me take my shoes off first?”

  “Sit down, Katya,” Brodie said with long-suffering as they reached their table.

  He pulled out a seat for her at the linen-covered table and she sank down into with a grateful sigh.

  As soon as they had menus in front of them and drinks ordered, Katya leaned toward him, her voice low. “I’m sorry for pushing you in the loch?”

  Aye, he bet she was. “Why is it your apologies always sound like questions?”

  She appeared to give this serious consideration. “Either because I’m not really sure I’m sorry, or I want to cover my bases in case an apology isn’t needed, or I’m not sure the person even wants an apology.”

  “You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this, haven’t you?”

  “I seem to spend a lot of time apologizing,” she said ruefully.

  “And yet, nothing changes.”

  “Are we going to fight or eat? People are watching, and I’d rather eat. I made the mistake of dropping by my parents’ house for lunch and the lectures put me off my food. Dad wants to shoot you again, and Mum thinks we should renew our vows.” She smiled with wicked amusement. “At the loch.”

  “I hope you hid your dad’s shotgun.” Brodie still had a scar on his backside from the last time.

  “He got to it first, and I couldn’t find it. Don’t worry, I told Dad we’ve matured, and we know what we’re doing this time.” Katya grinned. “I think he bought it.”

  When the waitress returned with their drinks—a beer for him and a glass of white wine for Katya—they ordered their food. Once she left, they lapsed into a heavy silence. While Katya occupied herself with studying the décor, Brodie studied her.

  Her waist-length hair fell in waves about her shoulders like a silken waterfall. The candlelight brought out the red hues in all that brown. The red hues in turn made her olive eyes appear emerald. Her skin was still as flawless as it had been ten years ago, and she wore minimal makeup. If memory served him right, it was probably just mascara, and lipstick—a soft pink shade that made her already plump lips appear fuller. Her short fingernails were varnish free, and her only jewelry was a gold chain around her neck.

  “Why are you staring at me?” she said.

  “I’d forgotten how beautiful you are.” Brodie saw no point in lying. Katya had always been beautiful to him, and their time apart hadn’t changed that.

  “Brodie,” she gently chided, her cheeks turning pink. “I don’t want to spend the evening arguing. Can’t we have a nice meal together?”

  Brodie rested his forearms on the table. “How about we pretend we’ve only just met, and this is our first date?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to pick me up? Because that ship has sailed.”

  “No, I’m trying to put on a show for everyone watching to make them believe we’re back together. Remember? The plan. The reason we’re here. The reason you were staggering around in Denise’s shoes.”

  “Okay,” she said slowly. “And you think pretending we don’t know each other will help?”
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  “It can’t make things worse. What do you say? Are you up for it?”

  A mischievous sparkle appeared in her eyes, reminding him Katya loved to play. She picked up her drink and sat back in her seat. “So, Brodie MacGregor, do you come here often?”

  “Now and then. One of my brothers fancies himself a pastry chef and likes to come here to critique the desserts. He often drags us along.”

  “One of your brothers? You have a few?” Her shoulders relaxed as she smiled at him, making it clear she was beginning to enjoy herself.

  “Six brothers. None of them as handsome as me, of course.” Brodie reached for his beer.

  “Is that right? I guess I’d need to judge that for myself. Maybe we could arrange a lineup?”

  “That sounds fair.” He took a sip. “So, what about you? What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a pilot,” she said almost defiantly. “Small aircraft.”

  “I thought people only flew small aircraft for fun. How does a pilot make a living from that?”

  Katya cocked her head, considering him. Perhaps wondering if he was setting her up for a joke at her expense. But in the end, she must have decided he was only playing his part.

  “I got my license at a flight school in South London. It was attached to a private airfield, where lots of companies and hobbyists kept their planes. It didn’t take long to figure out these people sometimes needed a pilot, and word got around I was reliable. And that I’d pretty much fly anywhere at any time. From there, a series of connections led me to flying small commercial planes in Europe and North Africa.”

  Despite his intentions, Brodie found himself intrigued. “What if someone wanted you to fly something illegal?”

  She stilled, her eyes turning dark. “How do I know you aren’t an undercover cop?”

  He spread his jacket wide. “No gun. No badge. And you’re more than welcome to pat me down for a wire.” Brodie couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun on a date.