Flying Home

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “Be careful of the seats,” Christian warned, sliding behind the wheel. “Leather and Chinese don’t mix.”

  “I know, I know.”

  As Christian drove through Las Vegas, Liana ate her Chinese food with the plastic fork provided. He’d bought her favorite, curry chicken, but had ordered fried rice instead of regular white. She closed the rice carton with distaste and opened the chicken, careful not to spill it on her black suit or Christian’s precious leather seats. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation, even as the spicy flavors brought her mouth to life.

  Weaving through the post rush-hour traffic, Christian babbled about his job, a girl at work that he was thinking about asking out, and how much it had cost to repair a scratch in the paint on his car. There was no pattern to his speech, and he punctuated his stories with unexpected exclamations. His voice was a welcome relief from the monotonous sounds at the office.

  Sometimes the continuous tapping at work was more than Liana could endure, and she had to envision herself elsewhere to survive the day. When she’d first started in the cubicles, her daydream had been a quiet beach with nothing but the occasional cry of the seagulls to interrupt her peace. Then two summers earlier she had taken a vacation to Catalina Island in California, where the beaches had been filled with boisterous people and the constant roar of the waves hurling themselves up the beach. After a while, the rise and fall of the white-crested waves had been as bad for her as the tapping on the keyboards—too much rush and hurry. She’d gone home disappointed and had begun to dream of a remote cabin in the mountains.

  Last summer she had stayed in her brother Bret’s cozy new cabin in the mountains of Utah. She wanted to hike over the soft, fragrant layers of pine needles and escape Nevada’s penetrating heat. It had been wonderful—at first. Then at night the wind singing through the trees became a constant sound, somehow hauntingly familiar, as though someone had only muffled the tapping from the keyboards. After three sleepless nights, she went home early, resigning herself to never escaping the cacophony of the accounting office. From that time on, she’d hated her job.

  “Here we are,” Christian said, all too soon.

  Swallowing a bite of chicken, Liana gazed at the new three-story building liberally dotted with impressive windows. Large gold lettering on the front window next to the double glass doors spelled out Goodman Electronics. “What did you say the company does?”

  “They sell televisions, DVD players, that sort of thing. Austin also runs a charity organization to help orphans in Ukraine. His grandmother started it. But that doesn’t have anything to do with his job here.”

  “Well, I hope they’re not too big.” The larger the company, the more work she would be in for.

  Setting aside the remains of her chicken, Liana grabbed her black briefcase, climbed from the car, and walked with Christian to the doors. Almost immediately, a buzzer sounded and they were let inside.

  Behind the wide, room-length reception desk sat a lean man dressed in a dark business suit. He was tilted back in the chair with his hands behind his head and his feet on the desk. His eyes were fixed on the monitor in front of him, as if nothing could tear him away. Black hair covered his head, the corners arching high in the front—a sign of intelligence, her father used to say—and the tanned, chiseled face already sported a five o’clock shadow.

  He moved as they approached, languidly pulling down his arms and coming to his feet. He was tall—at least a head taller than Liana. His eyes stayed on the screen a few seconds longer, and Liana wished she could catch a glimpse of what so fascinated him. Then his face turned in their direction, his welcoming smile echoed by a friendly gleam in his black eyes.

  Individually, his features weren’t anything to speak of—his nose was too large, his chin too wide, the forehead too high—but taken all together he was positively the most arresting man she had ever seen. Liana didn’t know if it was because his eyes were the color of midnight or if it was the way he looked at her. Certainly he wasn’t the most handsome man she’d met. Take Jim Forrester, for example. That man had the blond good looks of a surfing king, though his merits were decidedly spoiled by his certainty of his beauty—not to mention the existence of a Mrs. Forrester. Liana never allowed good looks to impress her.

  “Austin, this is my sister, Liana Winn,” Christian said. “Liana, this is Austin Walker.”

  He walked around the desk, offering his hand. She looked up into his face and murmured something, schooling herself to show nothing of her momentary admiration.

  Austin’s eyes didn’t leave hers. “Are you the wonder woman who’s going to free me from this accounting mess?” His voice was low and rich, with a hint of familiarity that made her uncomfortable.

  “That depends.” She averted her eyes from his stare. “Where are the papers so I can get started?”

  The smile on Austin’s face faltered but steadied almost immediately. “Right this way.” He took an ID card hanging from his waist on a thin retractable elastic cord and swiped it through a metal reader near the door next to the reception desk. “Through here.” He held the door open for them.

  As Liana passed, she caught a whiff of Austin’s cologne, or perhaps it was only fabric softener someone had used on his white button-down shirt. The scent reminded her of hiking outside Bret’s cabin—a slight fragrance of pine mixed with the freshness of a mountain breeze. The scent was gone almost before she could identify it. She slipped past, felt his gaze boring into her back, and wondered why he so disturbed her.

  It’s not just him, came an unbidden thought. She remembered Jim Forrester and Mr. Koplin. They were only a few in a long line of men that made her feel uncomfortable. Truth be told, the only men who didn’t make her nervous were her brothers, Christian and Bret. Liana forced the thoughts away and continued down the hall. Men were irrelevant. She didn’t need anyone. No, not even Christian, who had called her Liana from her first day in America—instead of Lara, the legal name she detested. Not even Christian, who had held her shaking body while she sobbed for her mother during those first weeks and months after the plane accident, and who had eased her hunger with ice cream stolen from the freezer in the middle of the night when she had been too upset to eat her dinner. Not even Christian, who had promised never to leave her—a promise she couldn’t bear to elicit from his parents, the aunt and uncle who had adopted her. If she kept telling herself she didn’t need him—or any of them—it might become true.

  “It’s that one over there.” Austin slipped around them and opened another door with a swipe of his card.

  The accountant’s office was dim, lit only by the darkening light coming through the wide, unshuttered windows. Austin flipped on the overhead lights, and the room sprang from the shadows. To one side sat a nice oak desk, and beyond the desk, tall oak filing cabinets lined one wall. A high oak bookcase bordered the opposite wall, and a narrow table held a vase of flowers. But the most obvious piece of furniture was a small round plastic table in the middle of the room, standing awkwardly alone, unattached to any chair and of notably different quality from the rest of the furniture.

  “Everything should be here on the table,” Austin said. “I had a secretary make hard copies of everything and do the best she could to organize it.”

  Liana grimaced at the mounds of papers and files lying on the small table. Though neatly organized, the stacks were also thick and numerous. Generally, she preferred to leave everything on the computer until the final go-through. Everything except her tallies of numbers. Those she liked to have on tangible paper—either on her adding machine or, in the old-fashioned way, with pencil and pad.

  “I know it looks like a lot,” Austin said. “But I can help. I’m good with numbers. I’m just not sure what to file or when.”

  Carefully, Liana set her briefcase on top of one of the stacks. She looked around the room and spotted a chair behind the desk. Thankfully, it was padded.

  “There’s a chair.” Austin started for it at the same time
she did.

  “I can do it.”

  Their hands touched on the back of the chair, and Liana pulled away hard. The chair shot from the horseshoe desk toward the table, banging into it. “Wheels. What a nice invention,” she said, not meeting Austin’s gaze. She felt like an idiot.

  Ignoring the men’s polite chuckling, she sat down to work. After a while Christian and Austin started whispering, breaking her concentration. “Isn’t there somewhere you two can go for about forty minutes?” she asked.

  “Uh, yeah.” Austin motioned Christian to the door. “We have an employee lounge where we can catch a little TV. And I should check my e-mail. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m only stealing your company secrets.” Her eyes returned to the papers.

  Austin hesitated, but Christian pulled him away. “She’s joking.”

  “Of course she is.”

  Liana didn’t look up until they left. Though she was alone in the room, she still felt Austin’s midnight eyes upon her.

  CHAPTER 2

  Austin led Christian once more down the desereted hallway. “You didn’t tell me your sister was so . . . ” Austin hesitated, searching for words that wouldn’t offend his friend.

  “Beautiful?” Christian supplied.

  “Well, she is attractive.” When Austin had first caught sight of her in the surveillance monitor, he was stunned at her appearance. She was a slender woman who walked with an undeniable assurance, a woman confident in her own skin. Her medium brown hair should have been ordinary, but it was thick and wavy, nearly long enough for her to sit on. Her face was gently heart-shaped, with prominent cheek bones and smooth, soft-looking skin. The form fitting black suit she wore emphasized slender curves and contrasted with her large eyes, the color of a clear morning sky.

  He had been reluctant to look away from the monitor to greet them, knowing that surely the reality would never live up to the image on his screen. The perfect woman. Such a woman might make the perfect American family a believable concept. And he didn’t believe.

  In person she was exactly like the image on the monitor—except that as she greeted him, her face became hard, all traces of warmth locked away from view. She was still beautiful but in a cold, corpse-like way that Austin associated with old movie actresses who had already lived out their youth and now waited only to die.

  He was accustomed to admiring glances from women, or at the very least, offers of friendship, but not even a glimmer of interest sparked in Liana Winn’s eyes. From her first glance she made it clear that she did not care about him as a person; she was here only as a favor to her brother. Under her cool stare and crisp acknowledgment, Austin knew an awkwardness that had not been his since junior high school.

  “Ah, here we are,” Austin said. They had arrived at the employee lounge. The room featured three beige leather couches grouped in front of a huge plasma screen, the company’s latest best-seller of which Austin was particularly proud.

  Christian made an exclamation of approval and immediately sank into one of the couches, remote in hand. But he didn’t turn on the television. “About my sister . . .”

  Austin sat on the other end of the couch and waited. He realized he’d been quiet far too long in the hall and that Christian had correctly interpreted his silence. “It was good of her to come.”

  Christian seemed to be struggling with what he wanted—or didn’t want—to say. He shook his head. “Truthfully, she didn’t want to, but I’m her favorite brother.” He grinned.

  “Hey, I’m my sister’s only brother,” Austin said. “At least your sister has a choice.”

  Christian’s grin faded. “Actually, a lot of her choices were forced on her. She’s had a hard life. That’s why she can sometimes be . . . rather distant. But I promise you, she’s as good with numbers as I am with designs.”

  A silence fell between them, and Austin figured Christian was as much at a loss for words as he was. But Austin was also curious. During the five months they’d known each other, Christian hadn’t talked much about his family, and now after meeting Liana . . . well, she was a mystery that intrigued him.

  “That reminds me,” Austin said into the awkwardness. “The board approved your designs for our magazine campaign this morning.”

  Christian propped his foot on the wide coffee table. “I knew they were good.” In another man Austin might have considered this response arrogant, but Christian was simply Christian. He was as willing to admit when his ideas stank as when they were brilliant.

  Christian pointed the remote at the television, and the screen flared to life. For a long while they watched in silence, but Austin couldn’t focus on the lawyer show that played out before them. His thoughts were on the woman sitting alone in another room at a round plastic table filled with papers.

  “So what happened?” he asked finally, unable to stop the words that insisted on tumbling from his mouth. “Did she break up with her boyfriend? Lose her job?”

  Christian pulled his gaze from the television. “I think she was a policeman once and—”

  “No, not the show. I mean your sister. You said she had a hard life.”

  Christian’s expression became pained. With a flick of his wrist, he muted the sound. “I was afraid this would happen. Austin, I consider you a friend, and I love my sister, but believe me, you don’t want to get involved.”

  “I’m not involved. I’m just curious.”

  Christian sighed. “Well, I guess it won’t hurt to tell you a little. She does hate her job—her boss is a real jerk—but that’s not what makes her. . . .” He shook his head. “Anyway, what I meant by a hard life is that her parents died when she was only four.”

  “Parents?” Austin was mortified at his own ignorance. “We’ve played racquetball every week for four months. You never said your parents were—hey, wait a minute, didn’t you mention having dinner with your parents this Sunday? For your mother’s birthday, I think it was.”

  “That’s my mother. Liana’s real parents were my aunt and uncle. Lived in India, of all places. I never even met them. Apparently, there was some bad blood between my mother and my aunt—they didn’t talk for years—but we adopted Liana when they died. It was really hard on her. She didn’t talk for almost a whole year after she came to us, except to tell us to call her Liana.” Christian’s unfocused eyes stared into the air near Austin’s right ear. He was obviously reliving the past. “Wasn’t even her name,” he added softly, shaking his head. “Just a nickname she’d picked up. It was really sad.”

  Austin felt terrible. He had pried where he shouldn’t have pried. Sorrow welled up inside him as it always did lately when he heard about someone dying. His grandmother’s death last year had left a wound that still felt fresh, but he couldn’t begin to imagine the sorrow Liana had experienced at such a young age.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, staring at the muted television set.

  “It’s okay. Really. I’m glad she came to live with us. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s always stepping in to help me. I just wish I could do more for her.”

  Austin nodded but remained silent—though a dozen more questions sprang to his mind. He was relieved when Christian turned up the volume of the TV, making it impossible for them to talk comfortably.

  After a few more minutes, Austin stood and removed a couple of sodas from the corner refrigerator. He tossed one to Christian. “Uh, if you don’t mind,” he said, raising his voice so it could be heard over the television, “I’ll run up to my office and check my e-mail there. Won’t be but a few minutes.” He thumbed over his shoulder at the door.

  “Sure. I’m comfortable here.” Christian unscrewed the cap on his bottle.

  “Should I look in on your sister, do you think?”

  Christian checked his watch. “It’s only been fifteen minutes. She’d just be annoyed.”

  “Okay. I’ll be back in a few.”

  “Take your time.” Christian’s eyes h
ad already returned to the television, his drink halfway to his mouth.

  Austin went up to his third-story office that smelled of furniture polish and air freshener. Obviously the cleaning crew had hit his office while he’d been out. He entered the space between his double-sided oak desk and sat in the black leather chair. A few clicks of his computer brought up his e-mail. The third message was from his charity’s main employee in Ukraine, and he read it while another fifty messages were downloading.

  Dear Mr. Walker:

  I’m e-mailing you to confirm that we did receive the shipment you sent. I went myself to assure that it was dispersed to the orphanages. Much thanks was given to me, and this I now pass on to you.

  I also want to give you thanks for letting me work for you. The directors are most helpful to my dilemma now, and I hope to be finding documents about my sister soon. Even if it was not to one of these orphanages that she went, other orphanages will now treat me with respect because of the incentives I can give them. You have been very generous with me.

  It is my deepest hope that my sister was adopted by a nice Ukrainian family, since foreign adoptions were not allowed at that time. I pray she is still alive. Although my little Sveta was healthy when we left her at the baby orphanage, I cannot be sure that she did not become ill later or develop a disease. Perhaps that is why she was transferred to a different facility. I wish I was knowing exactly when it was that we left her at the orphanage. I think I was fourteen or fifteen, but it may have been earlier or later. I remember only that it was very cold and snowy outside. I remember how she clung to my neck and how my tears fell onto her cheeks.