Oceans Apart (27 page)

Rarely did they keep to themselves the way Kiahna was, and the picture she made—sitting alone at the table—intrigued Connor.

“Where’s the rest of the group?” He caught his straw between his thumb and forefinger and took a long swig of iced tea. The conversation refreshed something in his soul, something that had been gasping for air in light of the troubles in his life.

“The other attendants?” Kiahna set her fork down and smiled.

“We go our own ways.”

“Oh.” Connor cocked his head. “How come?”

“They’re too fast for me.”

“Too fast?”

Kiahna gave him a sad smile. “Surely you know Western Island Air’s reputation?”

Connor thought for a minute. “Maybe not.”

“My crew flies nights, Captain Evans.”

“Connor.” His response was quick. For some reason it mattered that the girl sitting across from him drop the formalities. “Call me Connor.”

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– Oceans Apart –

“Okay.” Her smile was utterly guileless. “My crew flies nights, Connor. It takes more than Diet Coke for most of them to stay awake.”

The truth of what she was saying sank in. “Drugs?”

“Cocaine.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Cocaine before the flight, and men after. I do better to stay by myself.” Connor sat back and studied her. “Strong convictions, huh?”

“I guess.”

“Why?” He figured maybe she was married, living a quiet, con-servative life in which there would never be room for the racy lifestyle her peers were living.

“Faith, I guess.” She tugged on a slender chain she wore around her neck and pulled a simple cross from beneath her uniform. “I’m a Christian.” She let the cross fall back in place. “My parents used to say faith wasn’t something you could pretend about. It wasn’t real unless it looked like faith and acted like faith.” She folded her hands on the table in front of her. “I buried my mother three days ago, six months after we buried Dad.”

A hundred questions fought for position, and he asked her the one that jumped out in front. “How did they die?”

“Dad died of a heart attack. He was Irish; heart attacks ran in his family.” Her eyes fell and she stirred her straw in slow circles through her soda. “Woke up one morning and never made it to the breakfast table.”

Connor wished he could take away the raw pain in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She shrugged and gave a quiet sniff. “They’re in heaven, right?”

“Right.” Connor didn’t want to think about heaven. “Your mom?” Kiahna’s eyes fell to her drink again. “She was Hawaiian, a strong woman who would’ve lived to be a hundred.” She looked up. “But the cancer got her first.” She hesitated. “I think her body 208

– Karen Kingsbury –

gave up after Dad died. Her immune system shut down and cancer took over.”

Connor had the strangest desire to walk around to her side of the table and hug her. He tried to guess her age, and figured she couldn’t have been more than twenty-three, twenty-four at the most.

He took another sip of tea. “Are you . . . are you married?” She wore no ring, but that wasn’t proof. His own wedding ring was in his bag somewhere. He’d taken it off that morning before his workout and forgotten to put it on again.

“No. I live with a roommate, a flight attendant for another airline.”

“No siblings?”

“I was an only child.” Her smile warmed some. “My parents used to tell me they had just one baby because they couldn’t imagine ever loving another child as much as they loved me.” She lifted her eyebrows. “We were very close.”

Connor was still stuck on the thing she’d said a moment earlier.

She had no family? Only a roommate? A fiercely protective feeling welled up within him. How fair was it that a girl with such faith, such desire to live for God, had lost her parents and didn’t have anyone more than a roommate to come home to?

She seemed to read his thoughts. “It’s okay. I’m in school full-time. My roommate’s a good friend.”

“What are you studying?”

“Medicine. I’m going to be a doctor.” She gave a sideways nod of her head. “Maybe God will use me to cure cancer. So that people like my mother would have a chance to live.” Connor stared at her, speechless. She was amazing. Faithful, true, and with a determination that was all but extinct in the self-centered society they shared. He forced himself to focus. “How far along are you?”

“A year away from my bachelor’s.”

Connor tried to do the math. “So you’re what, twenty-two?” 209

– Oceans Apart –

“Twenty-one.” She lowered her mouth and took a sip from her drink, keeping her eyes on his the whole time. “I know . . . most people think I look older.”

“Definitely.” Connor was thirty-three that year, and the girl’s age reminded him he had no business asking about the details of her life. Bad enough that he was married and having lunch with a young, single flight attendant. But a twenty-one-year-old? She was barely out of her teens.

“I’m alone by choice, Connor.” She sat back. “I was in love once, a young professor at the college. But he didn’t understand. He wanted to marry me and take care of me, have me drop out of school so I could be there for him.” Her eyes didn’t waver. “But I don’t want that, not yet. I’m going to be a doctor; nothing’s going to stop me. Love and marriage, raising kids, all that can come later.” She softened some. “For now it’s me and God and my stud-ies. The flight attendant thing is the best way to pay the bills.” Their conversation shifted to the task of piloting a commercial aircraft, and Connor was impressed with how well she listened. He added intelligent to her list of attributes. Intelligent and driven.

When they were finished eating, she insisted on paying for her own part of the bill. Together, they moved into the concourse, intent on finding out information about the approaching storm.

They each had their pull-behinds, but their pace was unhurried.

She gave him a smile that held no pretense, nothing flirtatious.

“I like you, Connor. Most pilots are arrogant. But you’re . . . you’re easy to talk to.”

He felt the compliment make its way through his body. It was time to mention Michele. “That’s what my w—”

“Attention, please.” The voice was loud and made it impossible for Connor to finish his sentence. “Because of a storm system, the airport is closing down until further notice. Repeat, there will be no 210

– Karen Kingsbury –

landings or takeoffs until we’ve been given the clear from the weather service.”

Connor stopped and let his weight fall back on his heels.

“Great.”

“Maybe it’ll be gone in an hour or so.” Kiahna moved ahead toward the counter. “Let’s ask.”

Trailing a few feet behind her, Connor thought about how long it had been since he’d seen Michele, and how he would’ve visited her this weekend if it weren’t for the storm. But maybe Kiahna was right, maybe it would pass in an hour or so. One thing about that moment stood out even now.

How badly he had hoped she was right.

211

TWENTY-THREE

Connor drew himself from the memory and focused on his girls.

But he couldn’t shake off his thoughts.

The affair hadn’t been his idea any more than it had been Kiahna’s. He’d forgotten how determined he’d been to leave Honolulu, to get home and make contact with Michele. As intriguing as he found Kiahna, as much as she reminded him of a younger Michele, he had no interest in spending another hour with her, let alone a night.

No, what happened next, even at the time, had felt like some sort of orchestrated drama over which he had no control. He blinked and let the images from that hot August evening continue.

<

A line of passengers swelled around the counter. Connor stayed close behind Kiahna as she approached the gate agent from the side. “What are they saying about the delay?” The agent checked her computer. “Looks like nothing leaves until tomorrow morning at the soonest.”

“Excuse me.” Connor stepped forward. “I need to get back to Los Angeles tonight.” He glanced at his watch. “Are any of the flights cleared for takeoff? Mine’s supposed to leave in an hour.” The woman gave him a blank look. “We made an announcement.”

“Yes.” He gave a quiet huff. “But please . . . I need to get back.”

“Captain, the airport is shut down.” She pointed at the window.

“Those are hurricane-force winds. Phones are out along the coast.” She turned back to the growing crowd of passengers around her counter. “You’ll have to wait with everyone else.” 212

– Karen Kingsbury –

They found a bench not far away and sat down. Kiahna caught his eye and twisted her mouth up some. “I think it could be a few nights, actually.”

She barely had the words out of her mouth when another announcement came on. “Attention, please: The Honolulu Airport is now closed for the night. Officials will review the situation with the weather at noon tomorrow. The weather service has advised us that flights might be grounded for two to three days.” The traffic in the concourse froze during the message, but the moment it was over, passengers scattered toward the doors and a bank of phones along both walls. Connor watched them, running and fighting for position. He wasn’t sure whether to join the rush or sit back and wait for the crowd to pass. “Everyone needs a room.” Kiahna made a little frown. “It’ll be too late for most of them.”

“You think so?”

“The weather warning’s been around all day. Tourists planning to leave will have changed their mind and kept their rooms. Twice as many tourists for the existing rooms? At the peak of summer?” She stared at the throng of people moving past them. “Most of them will be sleeping in an airport chair.” He looked back at the gate counter. “I’ll call my supervisor and see what they want me to do.”

Five minutes later he was back with the news. “I’m in the same boat as the rest of them. The pilots’ club is full, no rooms anywhere, and no flights until tomorrow at the earliest.” He leaned back and stretched out his legs. “I better get comfortable.” Kiahna watched him, saying nothing. Now—years later—he could guess what she might’ve been thinking. Probably that the two of them had known each other for less than an hour, so maybe she shouldn’t make the offer. Or possibly that if she invited him, he would get the wrong idea.

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Whatever had gone through her mind, she made her decision and broke the quiet between them. “You could stay at my place, Connor. My roommate would be there; you could have the couch.” Instantly, two thoughts flashed in his head. First, he hadn’t yet told her he was married. Without his ring, she may have assumed he had no one waiting at home for him. Second, if the phones were out, he’d have no way to call Michele and tell her what he was doing, where he was going.

After that, a series of thoughts bombarded him, one after another. Thoughts that screamed for him to get up and run the other direction, ones that reminded him he was a married man and spending the night on this single woman’s sofa couldn’t possibly be a good idea. But she had a roommate. Besides, he wasn’t attracted to her; he merely needed a place to sleep. He sat up a bit and met her eyes. “Really?”

“Sure.” She slid to the edge of the bench. “It’d be safer than any place near the water.”

Safer . . .
The word played in his mind for a moment. He was quiet. What would Michele think? Maybe he should stay at the airport, wait for an opening at the pilots’ lounge, even find a few seats where he could stretch out at one of the gates.

“It’s okay, Connor.” She gave a light laugh at his obvious struggle.

“You’re a pilot for one of the largest airlines in the industry; I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t have a roommate. We won’t be alone.” She lifted her chin, and her tone held not a trace of teasing or flirtation. “A good night’s sleep is important.” He made a deal with himself. He would stay, so long as he told her about Michele. Between that truth and Kiahna’s roommate, there would be no room for danger.

“Okay.” He stood, and she did the same. “I should probably call home and—”

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– Karen Kingsbury –

Before he could finish his sentence, a teenage boy walking past and slurping something from an oversized cup, tripped, and fell flat out onto the concourse floor. As he did, his drink lid popped off and what felt like a quart of root beer shot from the cup and doused the front of Connor’s uniform.

“Hey!” Connor stepped back, arms out, shocked by the sudden cold against his chest.

Kiahna helped the boy to his feet and in a flurry of red-faced apologies, the teenager was gone. Kiahna turned to him and covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers. “You’re a mess.”

“Thank you.” Connor made a slow exhale. With a polite smile, he nodded at Kiahna and pointed toward the rest room. “Watch my bag, will you? I’ll be back.”

By the time he returned, Kiahna was laughing out loud. “Come on.” She set off toward the airport’s front door. “Let’s get you to my place so you can clean up.”

They were just out of the airport parking lot in her beat-up Honda Civic when Connor remembered about Michele. “Listen, I’ll need to use your phone. My w—”

Kiahna’s scream stopped him short.