Queen of Hearts

by Sheryl Wright

  The groom moved with Pam who passed him by without a comment, and Erin knew she wouldn’t say another word. She never did when she was wrong. That was Pam, and knowing it just underlined how much she wanted to talk with Ally—to talk, listen, explain. How was it that she missed her so much? Last night, she’d awakened in a sweat, aching for Ally, wet and excited, and it was all she could do not to search out the wing of the castle where the queens were in residence. Maybe she could find a phone in the house and call her. She had spotted one in the library. But she didn’t even know her number. She debated just coming straight out and asking Pam. The temptation to reach out was as strong as her feelings. How could it be like this after such a short time and why the hell had she pushed her away?

  At last night’s elimination ceremony, she’d watched Ally as she named her three choices. Deep inside she’d prayed Allyson would name her, but looking at her, seeing she never once looked her way, she knew it wouldn’t happen. When Pam called her as planned, she debated just walking to Ally’s side, begging her to reconsider but Pam had laid down the law with her in a secret and emphatic face-to-face. Pam needed her. Needed her to watch and learn which of her two final choices was truly the one. She knew it was Pam’s way but wondered how it was she could tell who had developed feelings for Pam but Pam could not? Was it the litigator in her who wouldn’t or couldn’t trust what she saw and heard to make her own choice? Or did she just not trust anyone? Whichever it was, the truth of Pam’s actions saddened her. It was all she could do not to scream at Pam to just trust her gut.

  Part of her hated Pam for putting her in this position while another repeatedly reminded her she had agreed to this. Agreed to this role. Accepted it as part of her job. No matter how she felt and for whom, Pam was her boss. And when all was said and done, she still had to go home, still had a job to return to, a job where Pam was in charge.

  * * *

  Ally, a master at the barbecue and a disaster in the kitchen, stood vigil over the steaks on the grill while Bobby Ann set the table, Teresa flipped the salad and KC regaled them with high-flying tales. Their adventures always sounded much more fun coming from her. The woman could spin the most routine of sorties into harrowing acts of bravery, the stuff of legend. To her own recollection, they both had been young and stupid, and lucky enough to get away with their mistakes. As the camera rolled, she could only hope the FAA or Transport Canada didn’t take her too seriously and decide to investigate. Thank goodness for Granddad’s team of legal beavers at the ready to defend any and all misdeeds committed by the Parker clan. Adding in her own caveats, she said lightly, “Just know, no animals or humans were hurt during the commission of our youthful indiscretions.”

  Even stoic Teresa was enjoying the fun. “I love the part about circling the water tower to read the town name so you guys could figure out where you were.”

  “Oh, that’s nothing,” KC scoffed. “Did Ally here ever tell you about our first year flying fire patrol? She was in a spotter plane, an old DeHavilland Otter, and gets her ass good and lost in the smoke and realizes she’s gonna run outta fuel long before she can reach the base at Longlac.”

  “Where’s that?” Bobby Ann asked.

  “As far north as you can drive before you run outta roads. To give you an idea of the distance, it would take less time to drive to Miami from here than it would to drive up there. Anyway, old Ally’s here’s in a real pickle. Almost outta go-go juice and no way to make it home. Now I woulda declared an emergency and let ATC help me out, but Parkers don’t think like the rest of us, and she’s sittin’ on a bigger pair then anyone I know.”

  “What did you do?” Teresa asked, intrigued.

  Ally just smiled, piling the steaks on a plate, finally admitting, “Something stupid.”

  KC, always the storyteller, explained, “Your girl here decides she needs gas and if you can’t reach a place to get aviation fuel, why not mogas.”

  “Mogas?” Bobby Ann asked. “I assume that’s motor gas, as in for cars?”

  “You got it. Anyway, Ally heads for highway 11. That’s the Trans-Canada Highway. Spots a gas station, lands that big bird on the highway and taxies up to the pumps and tells the bug-eyed kid working there to fill’er up! Can you imagine?”

  “Oh, my lord!” Bobby Ann was flabbergasted while Teresa looked more bemused than amused.

  “You can’t do that?” Teresa asked.

  “Think about it, T. KC’s talking about a fairly big plane, not some little Piper. What would you think if that American Eagle commuter plane we flew in on landed on the I95 and rolled into the service center?”

  “I’d think they lost their mind.”

  Laughing, KC agreed. “That’s pretty much what the kid thought. Someone did call the cops, but Ally here was off the ground long before the Northwest Patrol could catch up.”

  “Lucky for me, the young man working there wrote my tail number down wrong. He was either watching out for me or dyslexic. The Provincial Police knew I did it, but without proof, they couldn’t make a charge stick.”

  “You guys!” Bobby Ann teased. “I love these stories, and I’m so glad you two didn’t get yourselves killed. It sure sounds like you came a little too close more than once.”

  “Hardly,” Ally said, passing the plate of grilled steaks to Bobby Ann. “The most dangerous part of flying in the far north are the black flies, mosquitoes, and low time pilots. Which, I will admit, we once were.”

  “It sounds like you approve of that sort of thing?” Teresa stated simply, but KC took offense.

  “Hey, writer girl. It may sound like we were ass—”

  “KC!” Ally warned, not wanting her notorious expletives to be recorded as the camera team, with Connie at their side, caught everything.

  “We were acting juvenile, okay—but flying sixteen-hour days, seven days a week, working our butts off to make sure really good people didn’t lose their homes and animals and their lives, it’s grueling work. No one can handle a job like that for long, not to mention the emotional toll the fires take on you. You think you know what we’re talking about, but you haven’t listened to a forest cry after a fire. If you did, you would never question our antics. It’s the only way to cope.”

  Teresa was not moved. “I assume you’re talking about people or animals who have lost their homes or habitat. That’s sad but…”

  “No! Tell them, Al.”

  For the first time that day, Ally looked as bad as she had after learning of Erin and Pam’s betrayal. Desperate not to choke up she stalled, gulping down her unsweetened iced tea. Finally, she took a deep breath, explaining, “After a fire, the forest, the trees…you can hear what sounds like screams of pain. It’s the sound of moisture escaping the charred remains and if you ever thought trees were just things without a soul, those screams, which go on for days, sometimes weeks, will change your mind. You don’t just hear the screams, you feel them, and even the toughest of the guys break down. It changes you, changes the way you think about life. Nothing is insignificant afterward, nothing. Maybe a Buddhist monk could explain it better, but after the first time I experienced it, I cried for days. Not tears of sadness, but hard, falling down sobs. Maybe it’s why we still work the fires every year.”

  “We take turns every fire season,” KC explained quietly. “This year we’ll probably have to hire someone to take the Huey up for us, ’cause we’re so busy down here, but for all the work and the shitty conditions and pay, we’ll always find a way to help.”

  Recognizing this was a good time to shift the conversation, Connie interjected from behind the camera, “Bobby Ann, why don’t you tell us about your interest in cars? Not many women, even today, get involved in souping up cars for the track.”

  Ally was able to enjoy her supper and listen as Bobby Ann regaled them with her tales of growing up with three brothers and a dad all into heavy metal—cars, not the music. She talked about working in her dad’s custom speed shop and learning the ropes. It made for lighter conv
ersation and Ally could only thank her for the effort.

  With the focus off her for now, her mind automatically slipped back to thinking of Erin. She had battled herself all night, tempted to just march down to the dorm room and demand an explanation. Why had they made love if her only intention had been to guard Pam’s back? Why had she not simply explained her situation? She could understand that Pam may have warned her to keep that fact under her hat but why not come clean when things heated up between them? Question after question, and she had lain in bed broken and twisted inside, every inch of her aching, not just from the heartbreak, but from wanting her. Erin, how do I get over you? She had wanted to choose Erin to join her—so much so, she was ready to defy Pam’s warning and Connie’s plea just to stick it out. Never did she imagine this whole scripted fantasy thing would deliver a match who would take her heart so completely.

  Listening passively to Bobby Ann and KC flirt was a fun distraction. Much more so than having to cope with Teresa who, while slightly interested before now, now looked to be fighting her desire for all Ally had and her distaste for all she was. Because Teresa’s expectations of her had changed, Ally knew she would have to tell her directly, and hopefully off camera, that she wasn’t the one. Ally had more than enough women ready to lower themselves to be with her for the opportunities she and her family name could provide. No, Teresa. You have been kind and interesting, but it’s not gonna happen.

  Once supper was over, Teresa returned to scribbling away in her notebook while Ally cooked up dinner for the crew and Karen who was starting to feel better. KC and Bobby Ann, inseparable, cleared the table and reset it. While the crew dug in and enjoyed their meal, Ally opened a bottle of wine for her and Teresa, and uncapped two Sleeman’s Honey Brown Lagers for KC and Bobby Ann. She carried the beer and her wineglass to the outdoor couches and got comfortable, stretching her jean-clad legs and plunking her bare feet on the coffee table. It was time to relax. The summer breeze neutralized the day’s heat and made for perfect viewing weather.

  A Dash-8 on approach to the island airport flew low across the harbor on a direct path for runway two-six. Out of habit, she checked her watch, and Bobby Ann caught the fact that KC did the same. “Okay, you two. What’s up with that? Every time one of those commuter planes comes in you both check your watches.”

  KC didn’t answer, which in itself was strange, and Ally knew she had to say something. She was about to obfuscate and call it a habit or a pilot thing but KC, sitting across from her delivered an imperceptible nod.

  “It’s not just any commuter aircraft. They’re ours.”

  That confused Bobby Ann, and she asked, “You mean you own that plane? I mean, I suspected something when you flew us up north for the rafting adventure but…”

  “No, Bobby,” KC interrupted. “We own the airline. It’s the only one operating out of the island, and we bought it almost six months ago. Next week we’ll announce the change of ownership.”

  “Holy smokes, guys! I suspected you two were doing better than you let on but… Holy smokes and congrats. Oh my God, now I get why you needed to hire a pilot to take over flying the fire duty thing up north. You need to be here to fly the traffic thing and run the airline.”

  Ally applauded how quickly she connected all the dots.

  She turned to KC, sitting across from her, asking simply, “Will you keep flying the traffic patrol? I mean I get the idea you like to do that?”

  “I do, but it’s taking a toll now that I’ve been doing the reporting and flying. I have to be in the air by six in the morning, and I’m rarely back down before nine, and then I have to do it all again starting around four.”

  “Yikes. When do you find time to run the airline? I mean that’s massive. I’ve been watching those—what did you call them, Dash-8’s? come and go all afternoon. How many planes do you have?”

  “Eight so far,” Ally answered. “Right now we’re in review mode, watching and observing how things are currently running and who is contributing and who, well, isn’t.”

  “Even so, I watched my brothers run my dad’s shop into the ground, and they were working their tails off.” Bobby Ann was from Buffalo, which had been hit hard long before the 2008 recession and suffered deeply from the housing crisis.

  KC set her bottle down, sitting up to add her two cents. “Things are a little different up here. Our laws prevented the kind of thing that happened to you guys. We’re an oil-rich nation, so we weathered the storm, but it was fucking hard to sit up here and watch what you guys were going through.”

  “Yeah but I always hear about how bad the taxes are.”

  “Thirty-two percent of my gross annual income,” KC said with a nod. “But it covers everything, health care, old age pension, the armed forces, highways, airports, you name it.”

  “Geez!” She snapped her empty bottle on the table, “All that and great beer too. Sign me up!”

  With a wide smile, KC said suggestively, “I was hoping you would say something like that. Which brings us to the tricky business I know Ally here would never ask.” She looked over at the group still engrossed in enjoying their supper, and checked to make sure Teresa wasn’t too close before leaning in and motioning for Bobby Ann to do the same. “How would you feel about getting engaged to my buddy here?”

  Bobby Ann looked like she would choke. Ally jumped up to get her and KC another beer each. When she sat down again Bobby Ann and KC were sitting with their heads together in deep conversation. Ally topped up her wineglass, then stretched out again, letting them have their private talk. She knew exactly what the conversation was about but had elected to let KC handle it. She was a damn good negotiator, and on the plus side, had a personal stake in what would happen next considering her attraction to the fun-loving and intelligent woman sitting with them.

  When Bobby sat back, she had a wicked smile on her face and a spark of insight in her eyes. “You’re really up for this? I mean, we’ll have to carry this at least until the show airs and maybe until the season is out.”

  Ally nodded. “It’ll give Connie what she needs and, well, I get the idea you might like hanging out?”

  The wicked smile was back. With a wink for KC, she moved closer to Ally, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “God, I like the way you two think.”

  * * *

  Erin was beside herself. She couldn’t sleep without thinking about Ally. She had tried to broach the subject of calling her just to talk, but Pam had been Pam, shutting her down and laughing at her persistence. After her second sleepless night, she decided she would simply sneak into the library. Surely directory assistance had her number, or maybe it was already programmed into the phone. She couldn’t have imagined good old Granddad memorizing everyone’s number unless he had a cell and used that to call his grandkids. When she did finally get away from the group to slip back into the library the desk phone was gone. The hovering butler, Jarvis, explained he had been ordered to remove all the house phones. “To comply with the rules of the competition,” he told her. She wanted to kill Pam. Kill her and stuff her piece by piece into the crap they had mucked out of the stalls that morning.

  Tomorrow, Ally and her group would join them at the Parker Estate for the final ceremony. Today, Pam had gone into town to select engagement rings suitable for each of them. They would be displayed for the cameras before the ceremony, and the audience would have a chance to see just which one she thought suitable for each woman. If Pam decided she was ready to propose to either Charlotte or Denise, she would carry that ring into the ceremony. She knew Ally was probably doing the same thing, picking out a ring she would present as she asked someone else to be her bride. The thought was killing her. Would it be such a terrible thing to let her have a five-minute call with Allyson?

  Erin sulked all day, deciding this was not what she signed up for. The only thing keeping her from complete mutiny was the prospect that Pam would fire her ass. Then what would she have? A return airline ticket to Chicago, no job, and a comp
letely broken heart. The worst part was knowing tonight’s schedule was the overnight date. She didn’t know if the director would name Charlotte or Denise to spend the night with Pam and didn’t care. It was the thought of who Ally would choose to entertain. She couldn’t and didn’t want to erase the image of Ally in her arms, Ally naked and making love to her, with her, wanting her. Only now that memory was tainted by the image of another woman taking her place. She didn’t care who that woman was, just the thought of it was killing her.

  Jarvis, seeming more attuned to her plight, poured her a glass of single malt. “That is from Mister Parker’s selection. I believe it will numb your malaise, Miss Erin.”

  She accepted the drink, but didn’t trust her voice to speak.

  “The other ladies are enjoying the afternoon by the pool. Would you not rather be with them?”

  “No sir.”

  “Hmm, I see.” It looked as if he was about to leave her to her thoughts when he said, “It’s not my place to ask, but I have been with the Parkers since Miss Pamela and Miss Allyson were very small children. I do care for them and have taken a keen interest in their careers, and interest in that of young Constance too. May I ask, are you the Miss Erin Bogner, Pamela’s assistant at the firm?”

  That caught her by surprise, and suddenly she found a spark of hope. “I am. I’m not part of the competition. I’m not supposed to say so, but I think you already know that.”

  He nodded appreciatively. “And Miss Ally, I take it you have had the opportunity to meet in the course of things?”

  Seeing her chance, she pounced. “I did, and it’s Ally I need to call. I know Pam wants to follow all the rules but I, but…”

  “I see. Well far be it for me to interfere where Mister Parker’s grandchildren are concerned.” He turned to leave, and all Erin’s hopes looked to be leaving with him. At the door to the library, he wavered. “Miss Pamela is not expected back for some time. I would be remiss if I did not mention the telephone is sitting in the top drawer of the desk. Miss Allyson’s number is programmed on speed dial, number nine.”