by Jackie Ivie
“Ah! Broken neck. Would have been instantaneous. Poor fellow. So...after you saw him, there was a lightning strike?”
“It hit the meadow. ’Twas so bright, it blinded me for a moment. And the thunder knocked me off my feet. And...then I heard you groan. I was so relieved.”
“I see. That explains...quite a bit of this.”
He blew another sigh. There was a knock at the chamber door, the one leading to the hall. Ainslee craned her neck to watch as Neal passed her. She would have leaned over the chair’s arm to observe, but that might seem too unmannerly. So she waited. Listened as he exchanged words with another male. A lot of words. Something was said about Lady Blair. The poor woman. Ainslee should ask.
And she would...if she wasn’t so tired.
“They’ve come for the supper dishes, love. And look. They brought us a pot of tea. And more buttered scones. With honey. Hmm. Good thinking.”
Ainslee shook herself aware and watched the servants clear off the table. A silver tea service was placed in the center of it. An oil lamp was set beside it. She watched the flames glance off the silvered surface of the tea set. That was interesting. Mesmeric. The door shut. She barely heard it. Neal caught her yawning this time.
“It’s been a really long day. Full of all kinds of...stuff.”
He poured a cup of tea. Looked at it for a moment, and then moved his gaze to hers. Ainslee had a hard time focusing. Her eyelids felt leaden. She didn’t know what was the matter with her. He was so thrilling to be with, and yet...
“Ah. Darling. You’re exhausted. Come. I’ll undo some of the hooks up your back so you can breathe. Put you atop that great big bed of mine. Go grab my shower. We can talk tomorrow. The next day. Next month. We have time. We’ve got an entire lifetime of it.”
The mattress felt like a large hug wrapped about her. Something tapped against her throat. Neal glanced there, before picking something up. She was listening to the sound of his voice more than his words. She heard snippets. Everything felt too wondrously secure. Protected.
Warm.
“Oh. Look...out of my pocket. My spiral ring. This is...truly far-fetched...love. How did...bit of gold...time warp? And...the one spot...save me from a bullet?”
Ainslee murmured an answer.
“I love you. I’ll just...shower...back.”
I love you, too.
Her heart whispered it as she snuggled into pillows, inhaling the aroma of clean linen. Fresh herbs.
She slumbered.
She didn’t see a blaze of multi-hued light that sent slices of brilliance through the chamber, lighting it to a blinding level. She failed to hear or feel the crash of thunder that followed. And she completely missed Neal’s agonized cry.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The moment Neal put his signet ring on, he knew.
He knew!
It was the ring.
The same thing that had saved his life today was now taking it away.
Every hair on his body lifted, as if preparing for an immediate and close electrical surge. Clouds that had been dark came close, whirling, spiraling to pitch black. Tornado-force winds slammed him back into the rock wall next. The sluice of rainwater that had been a shower now pelted him with a blast of droplets that stung. A hole formed in the mass before him. Lighting continually flashed across the blackest area...right in the center. It grew closer. And then it started swirling.
It was just like the Bermuda Triangle incident. Only so much worse. This time, he knew exactly what he was losing!
Everything that mattered.
“Ainslee!”
Wind stole his cry. Neal couldn’t get the ring back off. Panic made him clumsy. Inept. He twisted and turned the piece of gold. Yanked on it. Lifted his foot to snag a skean dhu so he could cut it off. He’d father lose a finger than Ainslee. His whole hand. He’d cut off his arm if need be!
“No!”
This time Neal was vividly conscious as a vortex sucked him into it; conscious, and alert, and completely distraught. His cry echoed with anguish. The sound followed him. His body slipped and rotated along a frightening tunnel of lightning bolts that kept flashing. Blindingly bright. Leaving incredible color in their wake. The space spun faster. More rapidly. Moving sickeningly quickly.
And then the steering column of a Cessna Citation X materialized out of nowhere right before him. Neal grabbed for it, the move instinctual. That one act may have saved him. He didn’t know. But the moment he had the wheel, the vortex about him gave an immense groaning sound as if metal was bending and rending. Then it started slowing. The electrical lightshow turned into a series of random sparks that emitted a cloud-like vapor that fogged the view. Coated his face with moisture. Neal lifted a hand to swipe a palm across his eyes, and push back long hair that no longer existed. He replaced his hand on the wheel, then watched the fog become a reddish glow.
And then it dissipated.
Before his eyes, the view morphed from a steering column into a wide span of monitors, all blinking or fuzzy with skewed images. Switches. Gauges. Controls. Levers.
Oh. No.
It couldn’t be.
No.
No.
No!
Neal’s heart sent pain with each denial. It didn’t change anything. He gripped the steering wheel and fought a wave of grief so vivid, it nauseated. He’d received more than the pot of tea. Mere minutes ago. In his chamber. At Straith Castle. Neal had received the news that Lady Blair had taken an overdose of laudanum. The woman had ended her life. She had too much loss to deal with. She couldn’t handle the agony.
And right now, Neal knew exactly what that felt like.
No!
His chest was a mass of pain. Each heartbeat sent more of it, while every breath fanned the flame to a more torturous level. This wasn’t probable. Or possible. Or credible. But nothing changed the facts facing him right now. He was back in the Cessna Citation X. The cockpit was swinging wildly side-to-side, but didn’t overturn like it had been. Outside the glass, however, the world was a different story. The dark mass that surrounded them was still spinning. Emitting bolts of lightning. Flashes of brilliantly hued light.
But, wait.
A pin-dot of something appeared in front of them, in the very midst of all the dark. A tiny bit of light. Barely discernible. It grew. Became a glimpse of daylight. Ocean waves. Blue sky. The spot enlarged as they raced for it. Inside, the cockpit was awash with flashing red emergency lights. Alive with continual pings and buzzes. And Eric’s cursing.
“Damn it! Hold, you bitch! Hold!”
Eric?
Neal jerked his head to look at the co-pilot seat. Eric’s forearms were bulging with muscle as he fought to keep the plane on an even keel. The rotation of the cloud mass outside the plane began to slow. There were pauses between the lightning flashes. Now and again the darkness still surrounding them lit up, but it wasn’t close anymore. The view of sea and sky and sun looked to be several yards in circumference. And growing.
And pain seized his chest like he hit a wall. Neal had rarely prayed in his lifetime. He didn’t believe in an almighty deity covering the entire planet’s woes. He started praying now.
Please, God. I’m begging you. Please...? Please, put me back. Show me the way back. Please, God...
The view blurred. Went awash with moisture. Neal blinked tears back and tightened his jaw, and tried to absorb a hellish pain he hadn’t known existed. His heart was a solid ball of anguish. Fiery-hot. Acid-filled. It leached the mixture into his throat. Down his arms. Through his belly. His legs. Neal had never experienced such a combination. Nor anything at this level.
Please God. I’ll do anything. Make any sacrifice. Please...?
“Holy shit! We’re gonna make it!”
Eric’s triumphal words interrupted Neal’s concentration. “No!” He snarled it this time. The word came out loud. Angered. It resounded through the fuselage with a boom.
“Hey, boss! You’re back? Oh. Wow! I was s
o worried!”
“No,” Neal said again.
“Fifteen minutes ago, I thought you were a goner.”
Fifteen minutes?
“No,” Neal repeated.
“Not that I had time to check, but I was really afraid you’d bought it, man.”
“Fifteen minutes?”
It wasn’t conceivable. Neal’s voice reflected it. He’d been gone more than four days. Was it four days?
Could have been five.
He hadn’t been counting. He’d been living life. Truly living it. For the first time that he could remember. And...now?
He’d lost everything.
“Yeah. It was about that. You gave a strange cry, and then nothing. You didn’t answer me. You didn’t make any sound. Nothing. I really thought—well. It was about fifteen minutes ago – give or take. I don’t know for sure, because...well. I was fighting the Bermuda Triangle. Holy shit! Times two! We just went through a vortex in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle! And survived! Can you believe it?”
“No,” Neal replied.
His voice sounded lifeless. He only wished he could deaden the continual spurts of pain his heart kept sending through him.
“And look! Blue sky and sunlight! Dead ahead!”
A sizzling slithered through the row of monitors facing them. It was followed by colorful images as one-by-one everything came back on-line. The plane shot out of darkness and into what would have been blindingly bright light except they both still wore sunglasses.
How is that even possible?
Eric fished his communicator off the floor with his left hand without looking. He must have tossed it off at some point. Neal didn’t know. And he didn’t care. He was still trying to absorb hellish pain. It had reached his fingertips where he had them clenched about the wheel, his toes inside his leather shoes. And his heart just kept sending more. Because he’d found there was only one thing that mattered in the universe.
Love.
And he’d lost it.
Neal listened as the kid began speaking into his microphone.
“This is NC4082. NC4082. Enroute to Miami! Any traffic controllers out there?”
“This is Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood.”
The controller’s response came with a lot of static. Which was weird, but not as much as the fact that Neal was still wearing his headset along with the sunglasses.
“I can barely hear you, Fort Lauderdale. Come again?” Eric replied.
“This is Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood. State your call numbers please.”
“NC4082. Enroute. Aruba to Miami.”
“Miami? You’re a mite off course, bud. Did you say...NC4082?”
“That’s an affirmative,” Eric replied.
“We don’t even have you on radar. Wait a moment. You just showed up. You’re currently flying...east over the Atlantic. New flight plan?”
“What the—? Um. Yeah. New flight plan. And we’ll be landing at Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood rather than Miami-Dade. Turning west now.”
“Cancelling mayday.”
“You guys got our mayday?”
“Puerto Rico reported you missing over an hour ago.”
An hour ago?
“An hour ago?” Eric echoed Neal’s unspoken thought, his voice sputtering. “No way! This is too much. My watch says it’s nine thirty-five. On the dot.”
“Time check. Eastern zone. Ten forty-six, man.”
“What? Oh. This is too much. No way. We encountered something weird out here, guys.”
“Come again, NC4082?”
“We’re just flew through...something...uh. Not normal. We...experienced a really weird cloud. A lot of turbulence! We got sucked in! We barely made it out alive!”
“Come again?”
“We just flew through something in the Bermuda Triangle! Aren’t you listening? We just escaped a UFO! Or something weirder. I don’t know! We can’t have lost an hour. And you can quit laughing. It’s true!”
Neal clicked off Eric’s headset and spoke into his. “Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood? This is Neal Straithmore. NC4082.”
His voice was deep. Authoritative. Calm-sounding. Relaxed. None of his inner anguish came through. The change in the controller’s voice was instantaneous.
“Sir!”
“We will be requesting permission to land shortly. We will keep you apprised of our approach. Out.”
Neal clicked off the headset. Turned his head toward at Eric. The kid had a militant look to him. Neal didn’t blame him, but now wasn’t the time to divulge what had happened. Neal might never speak of it. A glance about showed absolutely nothing in the sky about them. They had clear visibility for miles. He banked the plane to the left, turning it around, watching the sun move from their front to behind them. The monitors all showed his action.
“Boss. You know what just happened.”
“Do I?”
“Well. Yeah. You were here. You saw it.”
“I don’t know what I saw.”
“We went through a time portal or something!”
“I don’t know that.”
“What would you call it, then?”
“Severe unexplained weather phenomena.”
“Oh. Come on, boss-man. That was real. We were caught up in something major! It was really dangerous. Touch-and-go. Pretty frickin’ scary. And they’re saying we were caught up in it for an hour? Holy shit! No wonder my arms ache. And you’re really gonna sit there and say nothing happened?”
“No. I’m saying I don’t know what happened. And until I know. I’m not discussing it.”
“Are you saying that to be politically correct? Because I’m not buying it.”
“I was blacked-out, Eric. I don’t know what happened.” And, just like that, I automatically have another good cover story?
“Sir. We almost died. In fact, I thought you had.”
The coast of Florida came into view. Not because of land mass, but because there was a distinct haze of smog visible in the sunlight. Neal’s shoulders sagged slightly. Looked like carbon footprint was still a problem. How was that possible...unless?
He’d dreamt it.
“What happened was real, man,” Eric said beside him.
Neal clicked on his headset again. Spoke into the microphone. “Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood? This is Neal Straithmore. NC4082.”
“Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood. We have you on approach.”
“Excellent. Permission to land?”
“You are cleared for your usual runway, sir. Over and out.”
There was a runway he usually used? At an airport he rarely visited?
Neal pondered that for a moment. Dismissed it. Someone could have set something up without his knowledge. He should have known about it, though. Sounded like he needed to check the chain-of-command at the board meeting.
Oh.
Wait.
They’d apparently lost an hour. The meeting he’d ordered had probably been cancelled. That was all right with Neal. He didn’t want to handle public speaking at the moment. And then he realized he faced a conundrum. He didn’t know which runway was the usual one. Neal considered that for a moment. Turned to Eric.
“Why don’t you take it in, kid?”
“You’re letting me land this baby? Really? Oh...sweet!”
“I think you earned it. Don’t you?”
Eric acted like a kid in a candy store, his face alight with dignity and excitement, anticipation…a real treat. He could handle it. Neal settled back into his leather seat. Lifted his hands. Yep. He was looking at forty-nine-year-old hands. And there was his spiral signet ring. He moved it about on his little finger. He decided to test things. The ring wasn’t remotely tight. Came off easily. He had a definite tan line. Neal put the ring back on. Flexed his hand.
Eric coasted them to an almost perfect landing. They taxied up to an enormous hangar. It had the Straithmore spiral logo on every side of the building. Including the front doors. It was painted in black. That was incorrect. His l
ogo design was trade-marked. They’d used all kinds of colors. Red. Green. Blue. Yellow. Rainbow.
Never black.
Black was a reminder of the issues facing the planet – and the culprit behind it: petroleum. Neal’s companies dealt in renewable energy resources. He sponsored technology to lessen, or even mitigate, carbon footprint problems. That was his trademark. Corporate mission. Political forum. He would never have a logo painted in black. Ever.
CHAPTER FORTY
The image across the hangar front separated as the doors opened. Eric taxied the plane inside. Parked it between a gargantuan 747, and a large-belly cargo plane. Both planes were fuel hogs and emblazoned across the sides with black Straithmore logos. Now that Neal looked at it closely, the end loop appeared to have a suspicious droplet hanging off one end.
It resembled a drop of crude oil.
Neal narrowed his eyes. Focused.
What the hell was going on?
He’d wanted financial dominance in the world, yes – but not at the expense of the planet. That had never been his agenda. Straithmore Enterprises was known as a sponsor of green incentives. Apparently, he’d been lax with his leadership. Somebody in his organization was sabotaging his efforts.
Neal wondered how far it went. How many members of his staff he’d have to fire. And then he wondered if he really cared enough to handle it.
Wait.
What?
Had he really just thought that?
Neal stared at the cockpit but wasn’t seeing anything before him. He was stunned into immobility. Making money was the driving force in his life. It always had been. Saving the planet was part of that, but secondary. Nothing else had been of any consequence.
And – right now – none of that even mattered. Because, even if he’d dreamt it, loving Ainslee had been too real an emotion. Too all-encompassing. Too wondrous. There was no descriptor vast enough for what she meant to him. Neal had been wrong all these years. He’d been blinded by the materialistic. He hadn’t known.
Love was the real force in the world.
It always had been.
Neal sucked in a breath as his heart pulsed painfully. As if he needed a reminder.