Kissed By The Wind
Shelley J Alongi

 

Andrew climbed easily down from the cockpit of his Cessna 172, setting his feet on the ground, covering the distance between the tie-down ramp and the airport
office at a brisk pace. Approaching the square, concrete building, he felt happy, free, exhilarated. It had been a good flight. 7:00 had come early, and his passengers
had been at the plane on time, all their papers in order. It was now 1:00, and his stomach reminded him that it had been a while since breakfast.

Stepping through the door, pausing at the water cooler for a drink, he turned his attention from the cup dispenser as someone called his name. His eyes
lighted as he saw his friend Karl Miller the mechanic coming toward him.

�Hello, Andrew! Back so soon?�

�Only for a while. I have to go back to pick up my passengers tonight at 7:00.�

�I was just going to get coffee,� Karl said, wiping his hands on his shirt and heading toward the door in the direction of the small airport restaurant, �want
to join me?�

�Okay,� said the young pilot, adjusting his stride to keep pace with his friend.

Karl sighed wearily.

�God, we�re busy. Everyone is scrambling to comply with Cessna�s latest air worthiness directives. Makes my job harder. We�re swamped down there.�.�

They entered the small restaurant.

�Yeah? Are you complaining again, Karl? You know you like it!�

�I suppose so,� he grunted, settling into the booth and then looking at the menu.

�Why are you looking at that?� Andrew teased, �you know you always order the same thing�cheeseburger, fries, diet Ccacola. You�ve been ordering that since I�ve worked here; five years.�

A group of pilots, laughing and talking, came through the door and congregated around a table in the middle of the room, effectively halting the conversation.
When the noise had subsided, Andrew and Karl ordered lunch and sat back to wait for it.

�Well,� Andrew began hesitantly, �Do you want to know about it?�

�About what?� Karl put down his water glass.

�The girl.�

�Girl?�

The mechanic�s eyes questioned the younger man whose gaze now keenly followed a Cessna 310 about to complete its approach.

�What girl, Andrew? Hey, Andrew, stop being a flight instructor and look at me!�

The pilot pulled his gaze back to his now interested friend.

�You know what girl. The one who helped me after the accident.�

�Oh,� Karl sputtered, through a sip of bitter coffee, �that girl.�

�Well, I knew you couldn�t be talking about just any girl.�

He smiled at his friend, showing two crooked teeth.

�You�re talking about Anne who rescued you like some beautiful
girl aiding a stricken knight in a fairy tale.�

�Um,� stammered the shy pilot, �I think it�s the other way around. Isn�t the knight supposed to rescue the beautiful girl?�

�Sure,� acknowledged Karl, winking mischievously, �but that�s not how it happened this time!�

Karl smiled knowingly.

�Don�t tell me, you actually called her!�

�I did.�

Andrew�s eyes lightened at the look of surprise on Karl�s already ruddy features.

�Remember you told me she climbed into the plane, she brought me my glasses, she helped me out so of course she would remember me?�

�I said that?� He tried to feign surprise, but they both knew he was being mischievous.

�You know you did.�

Karl frowned, Andrew shook his head and they both understood that Karl remembered the incident.

�It was kind of an accident,� Andrew said into the silence.

�Yeah, like meeting her was an accident. So tell me about this accident!�

�Cancelation,� said the experienced pilot shortly, looking into his cup of coffee. He added two creams and one sugar, stirring it, letting the spoon clink
noisily against the ceramic cup.

�One of John�s passengers canceled a flight, so I asked her if she was free for the evening. She said okay so we flew to Sandiego and had dinner.�

The mechanic pursed his lips in a whistle.

�My God, man, you, Mr. Shy Hotshot multiengine rated pilot, you just don�t ask the girl to a movie you put her in a plane and whisk her off into the sunset
to dinner! Wow, I didn�t give you enough credit.�

The pilot�s face reddened.

�She�s stunning.�

Karl watched Andrew�s brown eyes widen.

�She�s beautiful. I didn�t know.�

�Andrew!� Karl said, drawing out his friend�s name, as if the pilot had stumbled across some prize and still hadn�t figured it out.

�The last time you saw her you had been hit in the head by an airplane, or was it a fence.�

�Yeah, something like that,� he murmured, hiding in his coffee. �All I know, head injury or not, is that she�s stunning.�

�So what happened?�

�We talked. We both had early starts the next day so we flew back around 11:00 to the municipal airport and said goodbye.�

�That�s it?�

Andrew laughed, seeing the let down on his friend�s face.

�Oh, Karl you look happier when a plane passes inspection!�

�Well,� said the friend who had never known Andrew Crance to take any woman to dinner, except his own sister Rachel Kennedy, �at least that�s a start.�

Anne sat down at her desk with a cup of hot lemon tea in hand. It was cold this morning. All was quiet. It had rained all night, and now a steady dripping
could be heard outside of her window. She smiled a bit, sipping the lemon tea. Her computer purred into life, and she clicked on the Icon to check her
email. the usual junk mail, humor list, some teacher listserv, and then, a name that always brought her pleasure. [email protected]. She clicked on it with a trembling hand, smiled.

Hello Anne,

Well, as you can tell, I haven�t written in a while. You know how busy it is working for this charter company. I really enjoyed taking you to dinner, when
was it, four months ago? I bet you�ve graded a lot of papers since then. (Smile.) I finally got a little Cessna 150, smaller than the last
one. That means if I lose it, they�re�ll be less to lose. Of course, that also means that my odds are decreasing, too. Less plane, more chances for injury.

Could I call you? I have to come up to your part of the woods, soon, FAA business. More paperwork about the accident. This time I don�t want seeing you to be an accident.

Anne moved gracefully about the house, preparing it for him. She had picked roses out of her garden, made coffee, and had just put the chicken into the oven when the clock on her mantle chimed 6:00. He would be here at 6:30. She gave her house another inspection, everything seemed in order, the table was
set, the dessert was in the refrigerator, the trimmings were all in place. Andrew had been very happy to come to her house for dinner.

�I�ve never seen your roses. I�d like to see how you�ve arranged yours.�

Now, she hopped into the shower, lathered her hair, rinsed it, jumped out, and dried it and dressed. She didn�t really know why she was so nervous. Maybe she was just anticipating his arrival, his smiling face, his soft eyes. She put on a casual blouse and short set, she didn�t really want to dress up! She wanted to be casual and pretty, but most of all, she wanted to be comfortable. She moved about the house, lighting a few apple candles.

She had just put down her matches for the last time when the soft chiming of her doorbell got her attention. She looked up: 6:30 on the dot!

Well, at least he wasn�t late!

She opened the door to be greeted by a spray of roses.

�Hello Anne.�
She took the vase and lightly brushed the holder�s fingers, then moved it aside to see his face.

�They�re stunning!�

It seemed to be all she could say.

That�s funny, thought Andrew, coming in behind the vase, that is the same phrase I used to describe you to Karl. Stunning.

She didn�t quite know where to put the flowers, so she stood there in the middle of the room and let the pilot shut the door and turn to her.
He stepped past her, surveyed the room, saw the sofa, the two endtables, a chair, a bookcase, and the piano. He shook his head, deciding for her. He took
the vase out of her hand and placed it on top of the piano. He stepped back and surveyed his work.

�There!� he announced, �perfect! It brightens up your room.�

Suddenly, a sizzling noise caught her attention and she jumped.

�Burning something?� he wanted to know, laughing into her stunned green eyes.

She went into the kitchen, grabbed the oven mits, pulled open the door to be met by a flame. Her cry of dismay brought Andrew in behind her. He looked
in her cupboard and found baking soda, grabbed a handful and threw it on the fire that leapt from around the pan. She drew the pan out of the oven and
surveyed the damage. She sighed.

�My God, at least we caught it in time! Thank God the chicken�s not burned.�

He turned easily to her, as if being in her kitchen and interveening into her affair had been the most natural thing in the world.

�Do you have oven cleaner?� he asked, �I can get this for you. I�m not a stranger to kitchens. I don�t mind.�

Anne pulled out a platter, but it was Andrew�s hands that turned the bird out into its shiny, crystal surface while she ran for the oven cleaner. She sprayed
it and shut the oven, and then, thankfully, attended to the rest of the meal without event.

�Is there anything you don�t do?� she wanted to know as they sat down to chicken, rice, and a salad.

�Well,� said the aviator, mischief sparkling in his eyes, �I don�t teach English.�

Her sudden exhalation of laughter threatened to send her icetea either down the wrong pipe or across the room.

�I had that one coming. How are you, my drifter pilot?�

He eyed the chicken, slightly singed, the lemon sauce on the side, the ripe tomatoes, and the laughing girl.

�Your drifter pilot is starving. I�ve had quite a day. I�m ready for unwinding.�

They ate their meal in a pleasant silence. Andrew could feel himself relaxing after his long day. He could sense the peaceful existence here and decided
he liked it.

�Let�s talk about your plane,� she said refilling his glass.

Anne watched with delight as the pilot�s eyes lighted.

�You like planes, Anne? I have pictures.�

Anne had to laugh at the fervor in his face. She had said the magic word: plane.

Their hands brushed lightly as they worked to clear aside the remains of the meal.

�Where did you park your plane? Across the street in the baseball field?�

He laughed easily at her comment.

�No. She�s in the hangar. I brought my car tonight.�

He helped her clear the table and bring the dishes into the kitchen.
They worked in concert, and soon the kitchen was clean and they were picking out a movie.

�I see you like war movies,� commented the pilot, checking over her video collection with interest.

Anne nodded in agreement.

�anne, you are quite a girl, that is for sure!�

They chose �Flying Tigers� as their evening entertainment. As Anne had done on the day she had taken Andrew back to his house, she curled up on the recliner and watched him. He sat propped up comfortably on the couch, absorbed in the action on the screen. Anne sat silently, he turned to look at her once, their eyes met and did not look away immediately.

They said nothing during the movie, and when it was over, she went to the kitchen, pored two glasses of iced tea and brought them back. Andrew was sitting up now and he
took the glass from her hand.

�I want to tell you something,� she said comfortably. �I think you have very nice eyes and I love your hair. There,� she turned away from him, �I said it.�

�You always say what you mean, Anne. I like that about you.�

He concentrated on his glass.

�I always touched your hair when you were sleeping, or sometimes when you were sick or just lying there after the accident. Do you remember?�
�I remember.�
Anne drained her glass. The ice rattled as she put it down on a table beside her. She was amazed at the ease with which she had made that confession. He
didn�t seem to be dismayed by it.

�Well, if we�re being honest,� the pilot said easily, �then I�ll just tell you that the night in the airport when I saw you, I thought you were stunning.
I don�t think I�d really seen you before that night.�

�No, probably not. You were hurt very badly.� She couldn�t help interjecting some humor into the conversation. �Now you know! Do I pass?�

He shook his head.

�Oh, Anne, I definitely think you pass!�

He smiled and gripped her hand a bit tighter.

�Besides, you�ve never told me I shouldn�t fly anymore. I�ve gotten a lot of that in the past eight months.�

�Well, the way I see it, if anyone asked you to give up flying, it would be as if you were giving up part of what makes you who you are. I could see it in your eyes tonight when you showed me those pictures. Four months ago when you took me out to the Cessna, it was obvious you knew it like the back of
 your hand. The day you remembered the accident, there was a conviction that you would be back in the sky. Besides,� and here her eyes sparkled mischievously,
�I want to see that new plane. I want to go for a flight in it.�

�Yes, you do, don�t you.�

He got to his feet and she followed suit.

�We�ll go, Soon, I promise. Very, very soon.�

She walked with her new friend to her front porch. They stood by the rosebushes where eight months ago she had watched him crash land, not only on the wet
grass, but into her life. He swept the sky with his eyes, saw the city lights obscuring the moon.

�What a strange day that was,� he reflected quietly, directing his gaze toward the new fence across the street. �I�m sure you think about it a lot.�
�Many times a day,� she afirmed just as quietly. �You are right about that.�

�I do, as well.� His eyes drifted far away. �After the accident, when you left the house and Rachel checked in on me and got me back on my feet, I thought sometimes about how you just showed up at the right time. Perhaps it was the hand of god that brought you out there. Sometimes I think you were my angel.
When I hit my head, I was still in the harness. It was like fireworks or explosions in my head and all I could think of was getting out of the plane. I
had to undo the harness and then I had to climb over the bent wing and then there you were. When you came, everything just kind of went hazy. Sometimes,
I wake up at night and think about it.�

He stood and looked down at her, his brown eyes brimming with memory.

�In the hospital I just remember lying there and you would stroke my head. I don�t even know if it helped, but it was nice to have you there.�

�Perhaps you are right, Andrew. Perhaps I was your angel. We all need one once in a while.�

She came and laid her head on his chest and hugged him. He stroked her soft hair, let his warm hand rest lightly on her cheek.
He put his hand under her chin, turned it up to him, looked at her full mouth, wondered if his affection, no his fascination merited a kiss. She saw the
question in his eyes and stood up on her toes, putting her face up to his. In one swift movement he drew her to him, put his mouth gently over hers, let
it linger there for a moment. She let his warmth embrace her, tasted the gentle pressure of his kiss, the traces of the lemon sauce not entirely unpleasant.
After a moment, he stepped back, gently caught the small hand she put out to him. He let it linger in his, caught her eye, breathed in the serenity of
the moment.

�I�ll call you,� he said, dreamily. �I promise. And it won�t take eight months or another accident before I see you again.�

 

 

Copyright © 2002 Shelley J Alongi
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"