A Promise of Grace

by Lynette Sowell

  “I bet Pinecraft is quiet compared to where you’ve been, maybe a bit boring.”

  “Quiet, yes. Boring, no.” He let himself glance down the line to where Rochelle was handing out cupcakes and serving up desserts.

  At last, there was a lull in the line, so Silas went to get two bottled waters, one for him and one for Henry. Rochelle was picking up a bottle of water herself.

  “What a crowd.” He pulled two bottles from the large steel bucket of ice.

  “Yes. It’s been a blur.”

  “Ah, I was wondering . . . how would you like to go for a flight?”

  Rochelle paused. “A flight?”

  “Yes. I’m making a trip to Atlanta, flying my clients, Mr. And Mrs. Kingsley. Their son had a heart transplant recently, so they’ve been going back and forth. Mr. Kingsley said if I ever wanted to bring a friend, I could. So, consider yourself invited.”

  He could see a spark ignite in her eyes at the offer. “Oh, I’d love to take a flight. But . . .”

  “It won’t cost you anything, except keeping me company on the flight back to Sarasota the same day.” He decided to strike out and shoot for the moon. “We could have supper there, downtown, before flying home.”

  Pink shot to her cheeks as she glanced around the park area.

  “I’d love to. As long as my schedule cooperates.”

  Silas wanted to let out a whoop, but restrained himself. “We fly out a week from Thursday. We’ll leave late morning, be in the air a couple of hours, then have time to spend downtown before flying back to Sarasota after supper.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I can do it then.” Her smile warmed his heart.

  12

  Rochelle met Silas at the small private airport at the appointed time. Her stomach turned over on itself, flipped right-side up, then flipped over again. She didn’t think she’d feel this way without even lifting off the ground yet.

  The plan was simple, she reminded herself. Fly with Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley to Atlanta. She and Silas would then have supper out somewhere special, then he would fly her and Mr. Kingsley back to Sarasota while Mrs. Kingsley remained in Atlanta with the couple’s son, recovering from a heart transplant.

  Emma and Betsy exclaimed over the fun she’d have.

  “I’ve always wanted to fly,” Emma said.

  “Make sure you order a special dessert at supper so you can tell me about it,” Betsy said.

  Rochelle concentrated on the idea of an elegant dessert. Silas told her they’d have supper at La Boheme in Atlanta, a legendary restaurant. He’d made reservations, too.

  Was this what some would call a date? He called it a belated birthday present, as hers was in March and he hadn’t arrived in Sarasota yet.

  “It’s only right we go. I’d always wanted to take you flying,” Silas had admitted.

  She locked her van and carried her tote bag with her, heading toward the area marked “Office,” where Silas said he would meet her before they went to the tarmac to board the plane.

  She pulled open the door and stepped into the quiet bustle. Silas stood by the counter and greeted her first with a grin.

  “You ready?”

  She nodded. “I’m nervous.”

  “You’ll never forget this. I still remember the first time I ever went up in a plane. An old crop duster biplane, open cockpit, back in Ohio.” Silas picked up a clipboard and a pen. “Follow me, Miss Keim. The Kingsleys will be meeting us in about an hour, and right after we’re cleared, we’ll take to the skies.”

  Rochelle followed Silas out a side door, then down a set of steps and along a short sidewalk, through a gate and onto the airfield. Several planes stood lined up side by side on the tarmac.

  A light breeze came from the south. Not cool, but enough to make the gooseflesh pop up on her arms. She rubbed them and tried not to shiver.

  They continued along to what looked like a small jet. It gleamed white in the morning sun and had a set of propellers.

  “Here’s the Cheyenne.” Silas unlatched the door, opened it, and a set of steps unfolded. “Make yourself comfortable while I start my preflight checks.”

  She was about to get onto a plane. And Silas Fry would be the pilot. Well, she’d never imagined anything like this happening. Not even in a dream.

  And supper to follow, with Silas? Just the two of them.

  Just friends.

  But she hadn’t heard of Silas flying any other friends anywhere else, just them.

  Stop thinking so much and enjoy yourself.

  Rochelle climbed up the steps, and ducked her head a smidge so she didn’t bonk it on the doorway.

  Two pairs of seats at the front of the plane sat back to back. Beyond the first pair, she glimpsed a control panel and wide front window. Two more pairs of seats toward the back, with a table of sorts between them.

  At the rear of the plane, a small flat-panel television had been bolted to a panel running floor to ceiling. To the right of the panel was a compartment, likely for carry-on bags.

  She maneuvered herself into the nearest seat. When the Kingsleys arrived, she’d move to the rear of the plane, or wherever was most convenient for them.

  “Okay,” Silas said. He angled his body so he could slip through the space between the front seats. “Need to make some checks here, then I’ll go over the outside of the plane.”

  Rochelle nodded.

  “You nervous?” He stopped his forward movement, placing his hand on her arm.

  “A little. No, a lot.”

  “I’ll take good care of you. I always check and double-check. The weather is perfect for flying today. And God is always watching us, keeping us in His care. If we didn’t have the knowledge of Him, how frightening life would be.”

  “Sometimes it is, even with the knowledge.”

  Silas paused for a moment. “I’d have to agree with you.”

  “Anyway, I don’t want to keep you from your checks.” She stared at his hand on her arm, then tapped her tote bag. “I brought some studying to do.”

  “Studying? You’ll be studying? Don’t forget to enjoy the view.” He removed his hand and continued into the cockpit area.

  “Oh, I won’t.” She ought to have brought a camera. Wait, her phone had a camera. But wasn’t there some rule about not using phones during flights? She knew that much. She’d have to ask. When Silas wasn’t busy, of course.

  She moved toward the back of the plane, where the table was, then pulled out her book and her notes, then immersed herself in Florida state law and standard care practices for patients.

  A pair of voices outside, one male, one female, pulled her out of her notes. She couldn’t quite make them out from where she sat, but she’d meet the Kingsleys soon enough. Rochelle glanced at the clock on her phone. Almost time to leave. Her stomach quavered as footsteps sounded on the steps outside.

  A woman entered the cabin first. “Hello, you must be Rochelle Keim. I’m Amanda Kingsley.”

  “Nice to meet you, Amanda. And thank you for letting me ride along.” She almost admitted she’d never flown before, but thought better of it. She didn’t want to think about how wealthy these people must be, to own a plane like this and have it at their disposal.

  “Our pleasure,” Amanda said. “Oh, this is my husband, Ted.”

  Rochelle shook hands with both of them. “Silas tells me your son has been in the hospital.”

  “Yes,” Amanda said. “He had a heart transplant about three weeks ago and if we get good news today, we might be bringing him home to Florida in one more week.”

  “Oh, how wonderful for your family. I’m happy for you.”

  “Thanks, we’re so grateful. We’re also thankful we found your Silas, too. Our regular pilot had a family emergency of his own to see to recently, so Silas has been a true godsend for us.” Amanda smiled at her husband. “Imagine, a Mennonite pilot!”

  “Have you ever been up in a Cheyenne?” Ted asked.

  “No, this is actually the first time I’ve e
ver been in a plane.”

  The couple looked at her as though she’d just said she could turn herself invisible.

  “Imagine.” Amanda shook her head. “You must be incredibly excited.”

  “Yes, and nervous, too.”

  “Nothing to be nervous about,” Mr. Kingsley said. “This Cheyenne is in tip-top working order. So much more convenient to travel with. She also has a lot of kick to her.”

  Rochelle nodded. This couple reminded her of some of her housecleaning clients. Warm, kind, and wealthy.

  “I see you’re a student.”

  “Yes, I’m in nursing school, finishing my degree program the semester after next, Lord willing.”

  “Wonderful. I admire nurses. I don’t know if I’d have the stomach to do what some of them must do.” Amanda frowned, then her expression brightened. “But the nurses taking care of our Benjamin are truly gifts from God. When you see a little one, your little one, lying in a bed, so helpless . . . and you know you don’t have the skills to help him.” She pulled a tissue from her leather bag and dabbed at her eyes. “Pardon me.”

  Mr. Kingsley reached across the aisle and squeezed his wife’s hand. “You have wonderful skills, my love. Once we bring Benjamin home, he’ll do even better. Nothing like sleeping in your own bed.”

  “It hardly seems like weeks, more like years.” Amanda focused on the floor, then snapped her attention back to Rochelle. “Now, please, make yourself comfortable. There’s a bathroom in the back, behind the panel, if you should need it on the way.”

  Rochelle’s face flamed. “Thank you.”

  “The mini fridge under the table there has some bottled water, and I think some sodas, too.”

  Rochelle nodded. “Again, thank you for letting me come along today.”

  “Well, it’s no trouble at all. Silas thinks so highly of you, we suggested he ought to invite you to come along, have supper out with him.”

  Oh. So, the idea hadn’t quite been his. Not that he’d have asked her to come along after fishing for an invitation from the Kingsleys. Still, her face burned.

  Silas climbed back into the plane. “Almost ready. One more check outside, and I’ll close the door, then we’ll be on our way once the tower clears us.”

  Ten minutes later, true to his word, Silas had closed the door, sealing them inside the plane.

  “Ladies, Mr. Kingsley, please buckle up and I’ll let you know when we’ve hit our cruising altitude. Good weather and visibility. There might be a little chop as we ascend, but once it’s over, we’ll have smooth sailing until Fulton County.”

  Rochelle took a seat in the back, facing forward, so she was looking at the backs of the Kingsleys’ seats as they faced forward.

  A whining noise began, then a buzz and hum as the propellers began to turn. The noise filled the cabin.

  “Rochelle,” Amanda, turning in her seat, called out above the sounds. “Do you want some gum?”

  “Gum?”

  “Chewing gum . . . it’ll help pop your ears when we go up.” She waved a stick of gum.

  Rochelle slipped out of her seat belt, grabbed the stick of gum as the plane began to roll forward. “Thanks.” She skittered backward and plopped onto the leather seat.

  After fumbling with the gum, then her seat belt, Rochelle watched the buildings pass by the window as Silas taxied the plane to the runway, covered with all sorts of different colored strips and lights and symbols.

  In the background, below the engine’s roar, she could hear Silas’s voice as he communicated with the tower. Then, gravity held her back in her seat as the engine’s thrust took hold and the plane shot down the runway, faster, faster, with fence and parking lot and tarmac flashing by.

  A bump and a jolt, then they were airborne.

  She clutched the armrests.

  Oh, Lord, I can see down on the treetops and palm trees.

  It all grew smaller and smaller. She chewed more vigorously as her ears began a curious pop-pop-pop. She leaned on the armrest closest to the window. There was the parking lot. The top of her van.

  She scanned the horizon. Miles away, the shimmering Gulf of Mexico.

  So beautiful.

  Lord, we’re so small. What tiny creatures we are, from heaven’s viewpoint. What is man, that Thou art mindful of him?

  She tried not to think of the thousands of feet of empty air between them and the ground. She was flying! Rochelle couldn’t help but grin.

  * * *

  A perfect flight to Atlanta. Just like last time, the Kingsleys hired a vehicle to take them to the hospital, but first dropped Silas and Rochelle off in the bustling downtown area of Peachtree Center.

  “We’ll send the car to pick you up and return you to the airfield,” Ted said. “In two hours. Or, stay as long as you like.”

  “Thank you.” Silas made a note of the time. Right around four now, then a pickup around six would have them back to the airport before seven. An evening flight home to Sarasota.

  Rochelle’s face glowed. She exited the rear of the vehicle after saying good-bye to Mrs. Kingsley. Then she looked at Silas, expectantly. “This is all so . . . so big.”

  He shut the car’s door, and it glided away from the curb. “Isn’t it?”

  What had he thought, reserving a table at a swank downtown restaurant for them? It seemed like a good idea at the time, to make their brief stop in Atlanta special.

  “Look at these buildings.” Rochelle tilted her head back to study the buildings which rose up high on either side of them. And a shopping center.

  “Something else, huh?” Silas shook his head. “We can walk around after supper, if you’d like to.”

  Rochelle nodded. “Yes.” And then, her stomach growled. “Sorry.”

  He laughed. “Well, our reservation is at four-fifteen. There’s La Boheme, a few doors down.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  Silas wanted to offer her his arm or take her hand. But he reminded himself this was friendship, making up for lost time. And if Belinda were here, he wouldn’t be thinking of holding Rochelle’s hand or offering her his arm.

  He did, however, open the door for her, and she passed into the restaurant’s softly lit reception area.

  A hostess clad in black and white stood at a wooden desk. “You have a reservation?”

  “Yes, it should be under Fry. Silas Fry.”

  The woman scanned the listings in front of her, then frowned. “I’m sorry. What time was it for?”

  “Four-fifteen, an early seating.” He’d called last week, after inviting Rochelle and making the suggestion of supper in the city.

  The hostess lifted her computer pad and turned it so he could see the listing. “I’m finding nothing under Fry. We did have a server error last week and lost a few entries. I can fit you in around seven-thirty.”

  “I’m sorry, it won’t work. We’ll be leaving the city before seven.”

  “I apologize. Perhaps another evening?”

  “Perhaps.” He didn’t look at Rochelle’s face. A simple supper, and now they had no plans to be anywhere.

  They left the restaurant and stepped onto the sidewalk. Silas squinted from the brightness. “Well, take heart, I will find us a place to eat supper.”

  “I’m sure you will.” Rochelle continued to take in her surroundings. A tall, glittering building stood not far away. “I wonder what that building is.”

  “A hotel, maybe? I don’t know.”

  “I don’t mind walking somewhere, to stretch my legs.”

  They ambled north, along Peachtree Street.

  “We could always go to the mall.” He glanced at her and grinned.

  “You flew me to Atlanta to go to a mall?” She laughed aloud.

  Yes, she could still catch his jokes.

  “No, of course not.” He studied the sensible sweater she wore over her short-sleeved cape dress. “Are you warm enough? It’ll be a bit chilly later, since we’re so much farther north.”

  “Yes, I’ll
be fine. We’ll be indoors most of the time anyway.”

  He stopped there on the sidewalk. A few other pedestrians passed them by, one or two giving a curious look at Rochelle’s kapp.

  “All right, I have a confession to make.”

  “What?” Her eyes sparkled. She was expecting another joke.

  “I have no idea where we are, or what’s nearby. I only chose La Boheme because Ted suggested it.”

  “We can stop at the next restaurant we see. Maybe they can let us look at a menu.”

  Silas liked to plan. In Africa, plans and timetables often got upended. Life in the States could, too. This time, though, he’d wanted this to be special for Rochelle. Right now, his plan had collapsed, except for his flight plan to take off at seven forty-five tonight.

  “Sounds good.” His own stomach had begun rumbling as well. What a duet they made, when hungry.

  Crossing to the next block, they saw a sign hanging from a historic building on the corner: Mama’s Kitchen: Comfort Food.

  “Let’s go here,” Rochelle said, placing her hand on Silas’s arm. The touch made him break his stride for a second.

  “Comfort food. Sounds good.” He led her to the door where they stopped and perused the menu taped to the glass. He’d budgeted plenty for supper for two in a city, and these prices would leave him some money to spare.

  “Meatloaf, fried chicken, beans and cornbread, and more,” she read aloud. “And dessert, chocolate cake, peach cobbler, or strawberry shortcake. I think I might want one of each.”

  “Me too.” He held open the door for her. “Shall we?”

  “We shall.” She stepped into the restaurant ahead of him.

  All the while, it seemed to him as if the years dripped away and vanished like morning dew.

  13

  After supper, which they ended up not being able to finish because of the generous portions, Rochelle and Silas took a short stroll around the block, and past the edge of Olympic Park. She had never seen anything like it before; they had just enough time before twilight descended to enjoy a few more sights.

  Rochelle carried the doggie bag of leftovers. The restaurant had an insulated disposable bag, and the server assured her the food would keep warm for hours until they arrived home. All the way to Sarasota, even.