The Perfect Gift

by Mark Stewart

  NAOMI ARRIVED at Moorabbin airport by taxi. She paid the fare and collected her luggage from the back seat.

  Although she spied several light planes anchored to the ground by ropes when the taxi past underneath the arch and the open large metal gates, Naomi stood in the dark watching the tail lights of the taxi dim from view.

  Then they were gone.

  Feeling a cold shiver run down her back, Naomi looked around. The small airport looked deserted. The word ‘mistake’ hung heavy in her mind. Naomi wrapped her arms across her chest in an attempt to stay warm.

  ‘Maybe Kaite’s right,’ she thought, shivering in the pre-dawn air. ‘There’s nobody here.’

  Naomi glanced across the tarmac at the airport’s dark control tower. It seemed abandoned. “This place is only forty-five minutes from Melbourne CBD. My enthusiasm has waned,” she mumbled, trying to rub the goose bumps from the surface of her arms.

  Clutching her knapsack tight in one hand, a small suitcase in the other, Naomi lifted her head, squared her shoulders under the sudden weight and walked to the closest office block.

  After trying to open the locked door to the first office, Naomi looked through the window into the total darkness. She held her breath hoping to hear a noise. She felt the dying cold breeze sweeping her cheeks. The clang of something metal against the flagpole around the other side of the building caught her attention.

  The clanging sounded intermittent at best. Deciding to investigate, Naomi walked towards the noise. Rounding the corner of the building she spied three flagpoles. A floodlight from the building poured light onto a narrow concrete path. A twin-engine plane sparkled in the security lighting. Naomi marveled at its near new condition. A small square box with holes in the sides was on the ground near the front wheel of the plane.

  ‘Obviously, someone is loading the plane,’ Naomi thought. She moved into the shadow of the building to watch.

  The idea of smugglers or just plain illegal goings on stirred her spirit. Naomi reached for her mobile phone, her index finger hovering above the number zero. Three quick jabs will have the cops listening to any illegal jargon she might uncover.

  “Bad idea,” she mumbled. “The light from my phone could easily give my hiding place away.”

  Naomi suddenly felt bold, slipped the phone back into her jeans pocket and slid along the building’s wall, praying the large box on the ground belonged to Earl Stanton.

  The distance between the office door and the tip of plane’s wing couldn’t have been any more than several large steps. Standing next to the opened office door and hearing nothing, Naomi looked in. A single 60-watt incandescent light globe lit the deserted internal office space which looked no larger than a small shed. Naomi entered and dropped her bags onto the grey carpet. Her reflection in a small mirror hanging on the wall watched her every move. Naomi noted her face looked nervous. She’d dressed in the dark so as not to wake Kaite. Naomi pulled a hair tie from her top pocket and quickly tied her hair into a tight ponytail. Watching her shoulders slump, she faked a grin at the mirror.

  The image in the mirror did the same.

  “This is a stupid idea,” she mumbled. Remembering the vow, she told Kaite, the image in the mirror wagged a finger at her. “I can do this. I’ll run the outback farm using an iron fist. I’ll show those farm boys who the boss is, even if it’s only for two weeks. Look out boys Naomi Fitzgerald is on her way. Goodbye Brandt, you heart breaker you.”

  Naomi heard a cough. Turning on her toes, she faced the office door. The man casually leaning against the doorframe watched her every move. His six foot two-inch frame took up most of the space. He wore faded blue jeans and a white-collar shirt. His handsome, tanned face seemed to grin at her. His azure coloured eyes glistened from the overhead light globe.

  “Can I help you, Miss. Fitzgerald?”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “Are you a movie star?” asked the man.

  “No, I’m not. Why do you ask?”

  “Movie stars talk to mirrors. I thought you were rehearsing some lines to a smash hit production.”

  “You watch too many movies,” mocked Naomi.

  “I don’t watch them at all, including westerns.”

  Naomi saw the man’s lazy smile deepen. She’d never seen a more natural or provocative grin on a man. It seemed to reach out to her, saying, come and get me. Her body started to tingle at the thought of falling asleep in his arms under countless stars on a clear night. She sighed inwardly. ‘What a fantasy.’

  “What do you do in your spare time?”

  The man’s grin turned into a chuckle.

  “I don’t see the funny side of my question,” jeered Naomi, slamming her hands onto her hips.

  “Wearing your type of outfit, I felt positive you’d be staring in a western movie.”

  “You sound like a real jerk. Believe me; I’ve known a few in my time.”

  “Is there anyone in particular?”

  Naomi scoffed at his remark.

  “Don’t turn defensive on me; I’m only making conversation.”

  “My personal life is none of your business.”

  The man stepped into the office and walked towards the filing cabinet at the wall opposite the door.

  “Stay away,” blurted Naomi.

  “I’ve been given permission to be in here. Have you?”

  “If you’re Mr. Stanton, yes I have.”

  The man looked her up and down. “Did you buy a new outfit?”

  “If you’re so hooked on what a person wears you should take a look at yourself sometime.”

  The man fell silent staring at his short-sleeved white-collar shirt, faded blue jeans and dirty boots.

  “Did I scratch an open wound? I must advise you a coiled length of rope clipped to your brown belt doesn’t help you to look fashionable. I must add your oversized brass buckle could use a good polish.”

  “My family is in a little financial trouble.”

  Naomi’s face took on a touch of crimson. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m attempting to say you’d look great in anything, even if you had to borrow my dirty belt for a while.”

  “If you’re trying to apologize, I accept.” She pointed to his belt buckle. “What’s the inscription read?”

  “Read?”

  “What’s the word on your dirty brass buckle?” Naomi barked.

  “Oasis,” replied the man starting to chuckle again.

  The corners of Naomi’s mouth quivered slightly. Remember your vow, she warned inwardly. No man will try to run your life again. She successfully painted a picture of Brandt in her mind so she could give the man in the room a heartless stare. She couldn’t tell if he tried to make a pass at her or soften her up for a surprise attack.

  The man opened the filing cabinet and started to rummage through a drawer full of papers. He eventually found a notepad, closed the drawer, turned and brushed past her on the way to the table.

  Naomi frowned at the touch of their arms. His skin felt hard from a lifetime in the sun. His shoulders were square and solid. She decided the man had seen a lot of hard work over the years. Standing in front of him she cast a shadow over the page he started writing on.

  “Are you still here?” he asked, looking up.

  “Yes, I’m still here. I’m waiting on information. Do you know Earl Stanton? If you do where can I find him?”

  Naomi felt her knees buckle at seeing his natural lazy smile again. She groped for the table’s edge.

  The man stood, reaching out his hand. “I don’t think you’re about to jump me. I’m Trent.”

  “Naomi,” she replied.

  They shook hands.

  “Naomi Fitzgerald, yes, I heard you say your name to the mirror. What makes a beautiful girl come here at this time? I’m sure you didn’t come here to talk to yourself in a mirror.” Trent started to chuckle yet again.

  “Do you think it’s funny?”

  “Not on the least, sweetheart.”

&nbs
p; “I’m not your sweetheart. Tell me, why were you laughing?”

  “You, being so gorgeous, I thought you were a movie star,” he replied.

  Naomi gagged on her next breath. His sentence took her by surprise. She felt angry at being flattered, frustrated and embarrassed at the same time. She couldn’t remember a time when a man didn’t throw himself at her.

  “I’ve already stated why I’m here. How many different ways do I have to say I’m looking for Earl Stanton before you’ll answer my question?” Naomi pulled the neatly folded newspaper add out of her top pocket, dropping it onto Trent’s notepad.

  “I don’t think you’re the right person for the job,” he argued.

  Naomi leaned on the table. She easily resisted the urge to kiss the man. Whether Stanton felt happy or not he was going to give her this two-week job. “How do you know?” she hissed.

  “I just know.”

  “Tell me where Stanton is. I want to hear his argument myself.”

  “He’s at the Oasis.”

  “It doesn’t make sense. The article in the newspaper reads I have to be here at 5:00am. Now you’re telling me he’s at a place I’ve never heard of.”

  “Lady, don’t waste my time. I have a lot of work to do before I get home.”

  “Where is home?”

  “I’m not saying.”

  “Or you won’t say?”

  Trent stepped over to the filing cabinet, locked it then walked towards the office door.

  “I gave up sleep to be here at this lousy time of night, the least you can do is tell me where I can find Stanton?”

  Trent shrugged, stepping out into the cool air. He raised his shirt collar as he walked to the plane. Naomi watched him push the large box gently into the plane and close the cargo door.

  “Is Stanton in another building?” Naomi asked, marching over.

  Trent looked her way. “You sure are a stubborn woman.”

  “I am not. I’m a determined one.”

  “He’s not anywhere around here. He’s at the Oasis.”

  “Yes, you’ve said. If you’d be kind enough to point me in the direction of this, ‘Oasis place,’ you keep referring to, I’ll be on my way. We’ll never see each other again.”

  Trent pointed north.

  “Thank you,” jeered Naomi.

  In the sudden temperature drop of the new day, Naomi rubbed her bare arms. Retrieving her bags from the office, she gave the man a sour look.

  “Are you planning to walk there?” asked Trent. He let go of another slight chuckle.

  “I don’t think it’s any of your business,” jeered Naomi. She turned her back, setting herself to walk off.

  “Now look who’s being pig-headed?”

  “How far is it to the Oasis?” Naomi growled.

  “Four hours.”

  “I can handle four hours of walking.”

  “Four hours of flying time.” Trent trotted over. Grabbing her bags, he placed them on the ground next to the plane. “I’m about to depart for the Oasis. After I’ve made a quick phone call and provided, the boss says okay, I’ll take you there; deal?”

  “It’s a deal.”

  Naomi watched Trent gaze longingly at the sky. She saw him shake his head before checking his watch for the fifth time.

  “Is there something wrong?” Naomi tried hard to use a caring voice. It sounded the opposite.

  “Maybe,” he mumbled.

  “The word isn’t a proper answer.”

  Trent grabbed his faded brown leather jacket from inside the plane, handing it over. “Here, put this on, you look cold.”

  Naomi felt grateful for the gesture, slipping into the oversized jacket. She wondered how he could tell in the half dark she felt cold. Or in fact, why should he even care?

  “The old thing looks better on you than me!” exclaimed Trent.

  Naomi grinned, trying to convince herself the knocking of her knees came from the cold, not from the smell of his manly after-shave trapped in the jacket’s collar.

  “Miss Fitzgerald, are you okay?”

  Looking at his handsome, tanned face made her feel worse. “Yes. Why?”

  “Your face looks a different shade. I’ll make my phone call. It won’t take long.”

  Naomi shook her head to ward off the impulses raging through her body. She mustered every ounce of willpower to avoid jumping at Trent. ‘I’m just a sucker for a pilot.’ She fumed at her thoughts. Her knees caused her legs to turn to jelly. She needed to sit. Finally, Naomi gathered some decorum.

  “It must be the cold,” she croaked.

  Taking her by the hand, Trent grinned. Leading her back into the office, he gestured at a seat in the corner near the door. Before stepping over to the desk, he placed her bags on the floor and helped her to sit.

  Naomi sat looking into his striking deep blue eyes. ‘Don’t you dare lose it, girl,’ she ordered inwardly. ‘Control yourself. Remember your vow to Kaite. No man will ever again ruin your life. Discovering the perfect gift is the only way she’d ever change her thinking and allow a man into her life.’

  “I’m concerned about the weather,” announced Trent through the phone. “I’ll be back on time if the fog doesn’t roll in.”

  “Time?” Naomi echoed the word louder than she wanted. She didn’t like people listening in on her private conversations. She inadvertently found herself doing the same.

  Trent glared at Naomi. Raising his finger to his lips, his friendly eyes looked cold. “I detest people echoing my words.”

  Naomi decided not saying another word might be the best course of action.

  Trent nodded a few times at the phone before mumbling the word okay. When he slipped the mobile phone back into his jeans pocket, his friendly look quickly returned.

  “I mentioned to Mr. Stanton we’ll arrive on time if the fog doesn’t ground us.”

  “Is it a bad thing?”

  “Girl, what planet are you living on?”

  Naomi clenched her fists then folded her arms across her chest.

  Trent held his hands up, grinning. “We have to get back to the Oasis ASAP. Those letters mean as soon as possible.”

  “I know what ASAP means.”

  “Good to hear. I guess I should start by saying a brief summary of the Oasis.”

  Naomi began her summary starting at Trent. Obviously, the man wasn’t a beer slurping, gut aching, two-timing rat like Brandt. He looked tall, dark and handsome. He resembled someone you’d only read about in a romance novel. His friendly dark wind-swept face could easily melt any lady he came into contact with. She focused on his black hair and blue eyes. They locked gazes. He grinned. She grinned back. He chuckled. Naomi echoed the sound. She wanted Trent to take her in his arms, melting his lips into hers. She quickly started up a fantasy about how his lips might taste.

  The shrill of the man’s mobile phone interrupted her thoughts.

  Trent moved away a few metres, pulling the phone from his pocket.

  Naomi started to study the photos on the wall. There were three prints. Each depicted the same B52 bomber taken from various angles.

  Trent caught Naomi’s attention when he looked up. She easily picked up shreds of the conversation. He pointed to her a few times before slipping the phone back into his pocket.

  “Are you going to let me in on the conversation?”

  “No.” Trent strolled out of the office and into the pre-dawn mist.

  “You don’t have to be so blunt about it,” Naomi stated.

  She followed the man to the twin-engine Piper Cherokee. Her knowledge of planes was sketchy at best. Her father owned a restricted license. On her sixteenth birthday, her father took her up for a sky tour of Melbourne. He piloted a plane similar to this one on that day. Happy birthday, she remembered him singing. Three weeks later when her father drove towards Moorabbin airport, he died by the hands of a drunk driver. Naomi turned her head away when a tear rolled down her cheek.

  Trent stepped to her side. “Are you o
kay?”

  To Naomi, the tone of his voice seemed to float on air. She stared directly at him. Instead of Trent’s face, she saw only her father’s. She missed his gentle words, the way he laughed. Her mother kept to herself after the accident. Finally, after refusing any help, she took her own life two months after Naomi turned twenty-three. Thanks to Kaite, she has enjoyed life. They could be found at a different pub every Saturday night. At times, Naomi wanted to drink her life away. Eventually, she and Bill were drawn together which ended in disaster at the altar. Soon after that horrid day, she met Brandt. She shook her head. He happened to be sweet at the start. As she fell in love, he started changing. He’d stay away from her for days on end; when he came home, he smelt like a perfume bottle. He explained it away by insisting he bought her an expensive bottle of perfume which leaked over everything. His excuse only washed the first time. Kaite talked her into following him for a few days. They both took several days off work and discovered him in the arms of another woman. Naomi sighed heavily. She so desperately needed to unburden her horrible memories of Brandt.

  Trent casually waved his hand in front of her face. “Earth to Naomi Fitzgerald, are you okay?”

  She shook her head, glaring. “Shut up,” she whined.

  “Excuse me?”

  Naomi back stepped away from Trent. She felt drawn to him in a way she never expected. It wasn’t his fault her life ended up in a mess.

  “We have to get going,” urged Trent.

  “I thought you reported we’d be grounded due to the fog?”

  “I did.”

  “You lied. I don’t like liars.”

  “I didn’t lie. Plans have changed since making the decision to wait for the fog to lift. If we leave now, we’ll be okay. I’ve been in touch with the Oasis. They gave me instructions to wait five more minutes for any stragglers to arrive before taking off.”

  “Stragglers?” questioned Naomi.

  “Anyone who might turn up hoping to snag a two-week job,” explained Trent.

  Naomi looked around at the empty airport. “No one else seems to be arriving.”

  “You’re it. You do realize the job is only for two weeks?”

  “I only want to stay for two weeks.”

  Trent snorted, studying her clothes. “By the look of you, I’ll be amazed if you make two days.”

  Naomi stared the man down. “Want a bet?”

  “What have you to offer?”

  “When you lose we have to dance together in front of two witnesses,” advised Naomi. “You’re too large to know how to dance.”

  “If I win you have to give me a kiss before I fly you back here.”

  “Sounds like a fair bet,” said Naomi.

  They shook hands to concrete a gentleman’s agreement.

  “If you are employed as a pilot who runs errands for Mr. Stanton how come you know so much about this job I’m taking? Stanton seems to have a lot of faith in you.”

  “I know the Stanton’s very well. They trust my judgment.”

  Trent locked the office door. Picking up Naomi’s luggage he led the way to the plane’s door. Placing her bags into the plane, he waited patiently for Naomi to scamper on board before locking the side door. While Naomi buckled her seat belt, Trent slipped into the pilot’s seat. He reached out, flicking the ignition switch to the on position. Both engines slowly whirred to life. Inside a minute, the plane was stationary at the end of the runway. The occupants of the plane sat in the dark listening to the drone of the two engines building up speed.

  CHAPTER NINE