by Bill Orton
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I stopped the iPod. Across the aisle, Lori continued taking congratulations from the Team Lori crowd, total strangers and the cabin crew.
“This is your captain speaking,” came a deep voice over the speakers. “We have a lot of special people on board for this flight to Los Angeles, but please welcome Sergeant Lori Lewis on board.”
The roar of cheers and applause rose from the cabin. Lori stepped to the curtain at first class, and stood in the portal with the main cabin and waved. Another cheer went up.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Deployed
Lori stood on the light wood floor of Astrid Ullagård’s studio, in her government issue boots and US Army uniform, GI belt cinched at Lori’s narrow waist, staff sergeant’s stripes and US Army black, block lettering spelling out, “L LEWIS” on her chest. “Thanks for letting Ralphie bring me and my folks to LAX for the departure,” said Lori. “I know you’re gonna be okay.”
Larry looked at the floor, and then lifted his eyes to meet Lori’s. “I’ll be okay.”
“I know you will,” said Lori.
“Probably.”
“You’re gonna make more people’s dreams come true, Bix... just like you did for me.”
Emma walked into the studio and smiled on seeing Lori, stepping up to lightly hug her. Lori kissed Emma and gently wrapped her arms around both she and Larry. Ralphie stood in the doorway of the studio. “I was worried about you,” said Lori. “I thought you’d become someone else, but you just became a better you.” She kissed him. “It’s that good heart of yours.”
“And the arm,” said Larry.
“Yeh,” laughed Lori.
“Told you heart beats discipline.”
Lori kissed Larry as she pulled her arms from both he and Emma. “Little of both is good.”
“Good... bye,” said Emma. “Than-k... you.”
Lori and Larry each looked at Emma, who hugged Lori again briefly, and slowly walked back into the main living quarters.
“Take care of December,” sail Lori.
“Don’t get killed,” replied Larry.
Lori laughed. “Don’t worry, Bix. You haven’t seen the last of me.” She kissed him again lightly on the lips, and turned to join Ralphie.
Larry listened for footsteps on the marble and when the stairwell was silent, he walked to the Victrola, cranked the handle, and dropped the needle onto “The Charleston.”
### End ###
About the Author
Photo by Michael Palmer
Bill Orton is a writer and political aide, living in Long Beach, California, with his daughter, two cats and a dog. He no longer has a beard, but it’s a great recent picture.
Other work by the author available on Smashwords.com:
Lilac’s Book: Random Advice & Hippy Values, for Ages 12 to Adult.
Anyone wishing to invite the author to speak, to offer literary representation or to discuss adaptation to theatre, film, audio or the web may send email to [email protected].