Grounded Andrew stood at the foot of the carpeted stairs watching his wife descend them uncertainly. Two steps from the bottom she seemed to lose her balance and standing against the wall, he put his arms out and caught her. Her body swayed into his, he steadied her, her head on his chest. “Hey there! What is this?” Anne collapsed against him, feeling his warm body and his arms about her, holding her. Suddenly coming down the stairs she hadn’t felt well, kind of sick and dizzy. She waited till the world righted itself, but now she just didn’t want to leave this haven of security, her head on Andrew’s chest, feeling safe, somehow. She looked up into his brown, troubled eyes. “Annie?” his tone resembled a father rebuking a wayward child, “Is there something I need to know?” He smoothed her soft hair back, caught the silver Bret that held her long brown tresses from her face, allowing them to sweep majestically down her back. “What did Dr. Linstrum say today?” Anne still stood pressed against him, now recovered, her heart throbbing in her chest. She was certain the pilot could feel it trying to escape the confines of her blue dress. “Um, he said that we are right.” “About the baby?” Anne had a mixed series of reactions. She remembered touching Andrew’s head in the hospital when she barely knew him, or cooling his fever, or holding him tenderly when he had been grief stricken over the loss of Eric Clemmens, but now certain that she carried his child, she suddenly flushed. “Yes, about the baby.” There was nowhere Andrew could go, because had he fallen backward he would have gone through the wall. He had suspected something of this nature. Anne sick in the morning hurrying out of bed to take care of business, or just not feeling right or acting a little differently. It had taken them seven years to have a child. His schedule was still hectic, her teaching job kept her busy, but they wanted a baby. Andrew thought he wanted a daughter and if they had one they would name her Rachel Lorraine after his sister. David and Rachel had moved to Texas when his job had offered to relocate him. Sara was in accounting school in New York; Katty was still in high school in Texas. Only Andrew and Anne stayed behind, comfortable in their jobs, fulfilled. Now there would be a baby. Tonight was March 15, Anne’s birthday, and they were going to have dinner. “So are you okay?” he wanted to know. She thought about it for a moment, looked up at the picture of Rachel, David and Katty on the wall at Andrew’s head, the picture of Anne and Andrew at their second anniversary party. “I’m okay,” she said, not wanting to move. “I like this. I suppose I really should get out of your way so we can leave.” “Hmmm,” said the pilot reflectively, “yes I suppose you should,” and made no move to disengage her. Instead, he put his mouth over hers and she let him kiss her gently at first, then with more fervor. “You happy about the baby?” he asked, not giving her time to respond before tightening his grip and letting her response lead him. “Sure,” she finally said when he pulled his head back, and gave her a questioning look. “So when’s dinner?” she wanted to know, “I’m hungry. I really am.” “Now if you like. How about Chinese food.” Anne suddenly swayed in Andrew’s arms. Her face drained of its color and she felt her stomach turn and bit her lip. She shook her head. “No?” he quickly interpreted. Anne thought she might lose her lunch right there on the spot. But she steadied herself, relaxed, closed her eyes, and willed the nausea to pass. It did. “What then?” questioned the concerned pilot? “You know what I really want?” said the pregnant Anne Crance; “I really want a hamburger! Can you imagine? My birthday dinner and I want fast food!” Andrew smiled then chuckled. He stroked his wife’s hair, held her, and watched the color slowly return. “You’re sure?” “Never been so sure in my life, sweetie. Never.” “Then hamburgers it is,” announced the pilot. “Let’s go.” Andrew entered Jon’s sparsely furnished office one week later and wearily sat down in one of the hard plastic chairs, placing his heavy chart case at his feet. This morning the case seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. Sitting back, he nodded in greeting to his boss, and closed his eyes for a few moments. He sighed, letting his hands fall limply on his knees. His eyes felt like sandpaper behind his glasses and he waited in silence for John to finish his conversation. John hung up the phone and looked up. Catching a glimpse of the pilot’s face, he got up and went to a coffeepot and pored a cup of the strong brew for his friend and most senior employee. Andrew had been John’s first pilot twenty years ago. Andrew accepted the cup, curled his fingers around its warmth and brought it to his lips. He felt the hot burning sensation enter his body, perhaps exhausted more with the effort it took to drink it than with the fact that he was just tired. He put the cup down on the edge of John’s cluttered desk. “You wanted to see me?” John finished writing a note to himself on a piece of white stationary with a flag on it and looked up. “Yeah.” The two men fell silent. “How is everything going?” Andrew looked around as if perhaps the walls had ears and blinked, steeling himself against the inevitable questions. “Okay, I suppose. Everything’s just okay.” John sat back in his chair, reached into a white bowl for a piece of hard candy and popped it in his mouth. “Andrew,” he tried to smile, “you look like I’m about to fire you.” The pilot tried to smile, his eyes lightened a little. “Sorry. It’s just that I’m pretty tired. Perhaps I do look a bit under the weather.” “I’m not going to fire you. I can promise you that. The last person to go before the company does is you, Andrew. But anyway, don’t look so disconsolate, actually, I called you in here because I need you to do me a favor!” The man who had been flying in some capacity since the age of sixteen nodded quietly, waiting for his friend to continue. “Andrew, I’m calling in our backup pilot. I need to get my hours up and I can’t do that and run this place at the same time. I need you to run this place for me. Besides,” he seemed to grow quieter, ”I want you home with your wife right now. I know you’ve both been through hell and well I just think it would be better if you were with Annie right now.” Andrew suddenly blinked back tears. “I know what happened,” John interveened, sparing Andrew the need for response. “She lost the baby. I’m really sorry, Andrew.” Andrew remembered that night; both of them violently sick, the memory of it making him shudder. “She wanted a hamburger. We both were fine and then suddenly not.” The owner of the small air transport company shook his head, afirming Andrew’s story. “You feeling any better?” “Oh, yes, much better. She’s better, just we’re both a little disappointed about the baby, that’s all.” “Andrew, I hope you don’t mind if I pull you off the flight schedule for about two weeks or so.” “No, John, I don’t mind. I think you’re right. Anne’s still depressed, I think. She puts a good face on it, but I can tell. She’s trying.” “Yeah. We lost a baby once. Melanie miscarried. It was hard on her.” “Oh? I had no idea.” “Not something we talk about much, obviously. It was a long time ago, but I remember. I still think about that baby sometimes.” “Yes I think I’ll always wonder if it was a boy or a girl.” Andrew felt better knowing the reason for John’s call. He had spent so many years working for this company it was hard to think of losing is job. Getting in the car and driving to work this morning had not been its usual joy, but instead had been a more anxious ride. The last week of agony and disappointment mixed with the financial slump did not serve to make Andrew feel much like flying. Now he relaxed a little knowing he would at least be employed. “Did you get enough sleep last night?” inquired the owner of the Charter Company watching Andrew rub his eyes. Andrew had to smile despite everything. “Yes, I did. I wouldn’t come in if I hadn’t.” “Hey,” comforted the pilot’s boss and friend, “I know. I trust your judgment. I really do. I didn’t mean to imply…” “I’m sorry. I think all that sleep deprivation is catching up with me, but I could take one of the local flights later today if you like.” John heard the hopeful hint in Andrew’s voice. Briefly, he considered his offer and shook his head, sadly. “No.” John’s voice was firm. “I think you shouldn’t. What do you really think, Andrew? You’ve been flying for a long time. The sickness and the sadness, not a good combination. Isn’t that what you always teach your students?” The pilot nodded. “Okay, then. Sorry. It sounds like I’m lecturing you.” “You are,” affirmed Andrew Crance, feeling suddenly relieved. “I would tell any student pilot to be ready to give 120 percent and, well, honestly, I’m really not up for it. I’m glad you called me on that. We don’t want to risk someone’s life here” He leaned back in his chair and wearily closed his eyes, more relieved than ever. “Now who is lecturing?” John Foster smiled at his friend who smiled back. “Besides, Andrew, your wife would kill you if you didn’t come back. She wouldn’t be happy with me for letting you take the plane when you’re not in tiptop shape. And you haven’t even been drinking!” A look lightened the serious mood and John slipped easily to another lighter but equally important subject. “You guys going to make the bills this month? Kind of personal, but I don’t want you living on the street, not after the last week of hell.” Andrew’s hands clinched uneasily. Money for him was a very private issue even if he and his boss were on good terms and their company was on slippery financial footing. Thank god he and Anne stil had some reserves. He decided he was too tired to begrudge John his personal concern. Maybe if he had felt more energetic and had less to worry him he might be angry, but now he just sighed and answered the question. “Should be okay.” “Well, don’t worry,” the man reassured his best employee,” I’ll pay you the same. You’re worth every damn penny we make in this business.” Andrew smiled, and laughed, the comment taking him off guard. “So when do I start?” “Monday. Go home and spend the weekend with Annie. I know you’re both still pretty worn out, I know food poisoning isn’t any fun. Just take it easy, go rock climbing, whatever.” “Maybe she’ll want to go flying.” “Andrew!” John spoke to his senior pilot as if he were four years old and was in need of reprimanding. “I don’t want you to do that!” Andrew who knew John Foster had to be under a great deal of pressure, smiled a little, rubbed his eyes. They still felt like sandpaper. There was something light in them and they weren’t entirely dull or angry. “I won’t take her flying, John. I promise.” They exchanged a look, and Andrew got up and pulled his heavy chart case onto his hand. “That thing is heavy, isn’t it,” John said unnecessarily watching Andrew struggle with it. “The pilot’s cross as it were. I suppose,” he continued, hiding his own regret in a sip of his bitter cold coffee, “that’s because it’s usually with you in the plane, not in my office.” Andrew felt sad for a moment. He would miss his little plane even if not to fly it was the correct decision. “Don’t worry,” comforted the owner of the company, “she’ll be waiting when you get back. I’ll take care of your Cessna for you.” Andrew slipped his key into the door and entered the house. It was well lit and smelled of freshly baked dough. He had to stop and realize that the smell didn’t make his stomach turn. Coming into the kitchen, he saw Anne sitting quietly at the table. The look on her face betrayed her inner feelings. “It’s alright, honey. Everything’s okay.” “What happened? What did he say?” Andrew came and put his arms about her. He pressed his cheek against Hers. “I have a job, sweetie. He’s taking me off the flight schedule to run The office for two weeks. He needs to work up his hours.” “That means you’re going to be here?” “Yes, I’m going to be here.” “Oh, Andrew,” her tone was relieved, she turned and kissed him. “I’m sorry, I should not be so happy, I mean…” “John said I need to be here with you. He’s right.” She stood up to meet him. He embraced her warmly, held her tightly. “Oh, Andrew, I’m SOS sorry. I miss her and I’m sorry.” She put her head on his chest and wept. He stroked her hair, buried his face in it. Now his own tears came freely. He was still tired and worn out from the ordeal, which had led to her miscarriage. Their tears mingled. They said no words for a while, then she dried her eyes on her sleeve and laid her head on his chest and held him. “Oh, Andrew,” she felt compassion for him, remembering his own agony. If she had lost the baby, he had not been spared his own misery. “I only wish we hadn’t eaten those hamburgers. I think of that sometimes.” “It’s okay, he comforted her, “it’s over now. You know Dr. Linstrum said there was something wrong with the baby, remember. It’s why you weren’t feeling well. You were probably going to lose it, but I’m sorry for you, I know how much you wanted this.” Anne stood straight up; looking at him suddenly dumb struck remembering something he had said earlier. “Andrew, did you say that John took you off the flight schedule?” He nodded. “Andrew! That’s like taking candy from kids! You consented?” “In the interest of health, dear. Besides, John really is right.” Anne had to wonder about this decision. Perhaps that decision showed more than anything his commitment to their relationship. Long ago they had both decided that this was his work. She had been content with it for the most part, not really wanting someone underfoot all the time. Two independent lives had come together to form one life, and as hard as that had been, sometimes the long hours and being away for weeks at a time could still get to her. She had always born it. She had known what she had signed up for. Andrew stroked her hair knowing the story in her eyes. “When I married you didn’t I promise to love you and to be with you?” he asked. “It will be fine, honey. Besides,” he blinked, and smiled. He put his finger under her chin and turned her face to him as if she were some willing plane following his skilled movements, “next time, you’re coming with me!” The previous two weeks had passed in quiet uneventfulness. They were both recovered and Anne was feeling better. She had worked everyday and Andrew had been home at night after doing the paperwork and making the phone calls. John had sped in and out between flights and Andrew had nodded to him. Driving home at night he had been relieved to come home and find Anne up and about, organizing, cleaning, if a bit tempered. Something, however, was distracting her. Sitting over coffee in the evening, Andrew’s eyes were tired, but they lovingly followed his wife as she brought some cake to the table. She sat down and caught his gaze. “I did the test today,” she said cryptically. “The test?” “Our test. I’m fertile. We could try again.” “You’re sure you’re ready for that?” Anne nodded. God could give them another baby, though certainly she would never forget this one. “As long as you want to,” she said touching his fingers, catching his gaze. “Whenever you like.” That night she curled in to the bed beside him, she was warm, he was sleepy. She stroked his head, his face, and his hair. “Get your rest,” she whispered provocatively. “Hmmm. Okay.” She turned and kissed him gently, tucked him in, he slept. He awoke in the morning to her gentle pressure on his lips. He lay supine, comforted, warmed by her body. “Morning?” he whispered. “Morning. It’s morning.” She curled next to him, stroking his hair, his face, his cheek, and his neck. Her hands softly caressed him; he slowly awoke to find he desperately desired her. He pulled her to him, kissed her slowly, lazily, touched her, and soon they lay together, drinking each other in, and he moaned softly and collapsed into contentment on her breast. “Annie,” he whispered hoarsely, still under her spell, “you are impossible. I can’t behave myself when you do that!” She traced his shoulder, his chest, made him shudder with her fingertips. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean!” Andrew’s plane touched down four hours before Anne went into labor. John met him at the plane. “Andrew, your wife needs you. You’re about to be a father and I’ve been dispatched to escort you to the hospital! Hop into the limo!” Rachel Lorraine, born December 28, was eight pounds 3 ounces, 24 inches long, with a pair of healthy lungs and a head full of Anne’s brown hair. The parents breathed a duel sigh of relief. Finally, they had their wish, and along with the special place for their new daughter, there would be a special little corner for the child God had almost given them.
Copyright © 2003 Shelley J Alongi |