The stewardess brought Allie a glass of champagne. Its mate was on the tray she balanced.
I waved her off. “Water.”
As the stewardess retreated, Allie frowned and stared at her glass. “I don’t feel like celebrating now.” She set the glass on the ledge near the window.
There was a little table hidden in a pocket under where she set the glass. I pressed the latch for mine and pulled it out, being certain she watched how it was done. She picked up the glass, sipped off a small portion and then mimicked my motions. Once her glass was on safer ground, and the cabin staff returned to the front of the plane, I leaned back to press my palm over the worst of the pain. She probably hated me for tempting her along on this trip.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” I lied.
She studied me, taking one more sip before grimacing and setting the glass down again. “You wouldn’t know this, but I used to volunteer for a mobile veterinary service in northern Illinois. One of the farms had an old dog named Charlie. He hid a limp from his owner so well, his regular vet didn’t even notice it. But I was new and saw the way Charlie couldn’t walk in a straight line. He’d compensate for it by taking two steps sideways before moving. His owner thought it was just something the dog did because he was getting old.”
I set my hand on my knee, determined not to show any more weakness.
Her eyes followed the motion. The frown on her face tightened.
“After finishing with the horse I’d been called out for, I asked if I could pet Charlie. The man warned me he bit folks who’d get too close.” Her expression twisted into a question, but it didn’t beg for an answer.
I speculated instead. “Let me guess, the dog was in pain.”
“That’s right.”
She let the silence fill the air around us. I should use it to admit my secret. But I didn’t.
Once she’d let enough time pass, she continued. “I took my time. He had a broken rib that was almost healed, but that poor thing had suffered so long, he…” she trailed off, obviously broken-hearted over the poor animal’s pain.
Was I wrong about her? “How’d you get Charlie to trust you?”
The corner of her mouth went up. Then she picked up her glass and slipped out of her seat to kneel on the floor between us. “I sat like this and waited for him to approach.”
This close, I caught the scent of the perfume she wore. I’d captured notes of it before. The first time was when I bumped into her before I stole her ride. It distracted me then, now it tempted me to touch her.
“That’s all?”
A shoulder went up. “Animals can’t talk, and despite what some people think, they don’t really understand words. However, they do understand body language. I showed Charlie I’m not a threat. That’s how I was able to help him.”
She took a sip of her champagne. Her eyes darted to mine.
I motioned for her to hand me her glass. The tart flavor burst on my tongue.
There was over half of the glass remaining. I passed it back to her. And opened my water.
She stared at it for a moment and lifted it slightly. “Here’s to our marriage?”
Her throat was fascinating to watch as she swallowed. She stared at the carpet for a moment, then looked up at me and smiled.
The glass in her hand was offered gently. Instead of forcing it into my space, she held it within hers.
That old dog hadn’t had a chance against her wiles. I unbuckled and shifted forward so I wouldn’t have to bend against my wound as I took the glass from her hand. “To my beautiful and smart wife. May she always think of me kindly, even if I don’t deserve it.”
She wouldn’t understand my toast because I spoke in my grandfather’s tongue. He was born in Gallura on Sardinia. The dialect he’d been born to was spoken centuries before the modern Italian.
I only used it around him and the immediate family there. Or, if I needed to keep my own secrets.
When I completed my toast, I emptied the glass. The stewardess offered a refill, but I refused. “We’re ready to retire. Please?” I motioned for her to prepare the back suite.
She did as asked.
