“Out of the plane. Do you think the hole in the toilet is big enough?”
“What the—Shanna, stop.” He grabbed her hand. “We’re at forty thousand feet. You’re not jumping out of the plane!” It was highly unlikely she’d be able to open any doors anyway, but that didn’t seem like the most important thing to point out.
“But I have to. Don’t you see?”
The plane shook again; they both grabbed the edge of the sink.
“It’s me,” she said. “I’m causing this. My technology ruining curse. It’s going to crash the plane!” Her chest lifted and fell with her rapidly increasing breaths. “If I don’t get away, I’m going to kill everyone on board!”
That was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard … but he also understood why she thought so.
“Move!” she barked. “I need to find a way—I need to—”
He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into his arms. “Shhh. It’s not you. It’s just a little wind.”
For a second, it looked like she’d tear herself away. If she would, he’d let her. But then she settled into his embrace, like a little bird realizing this was not danger, but shelter, and her rebelling subsided to only slight shivering.
“Turbulences happen all the time,” he cooed, gently brushing her hair with one hand. “There are thousands of planes in theair right now, and most of them will get a little shaken up by the time they land. And you’re not on those planes, are you?”
She lightly shook her head.
“See? It’s calming down already. Everything is going to be fine.”
“But my curse …”
“No curse can conquer the forces of nature,” he whispered into her hair.
She sniffled, her face rubbing his shoulder. One of her hands moved from lying limply by her side to seeking out his; cautiously, hesitantly. He wrapped his fingers around hers, a slight warmth spreading across his wrist as their bonds touched.
Minutes passed as the plane settled, and they stayed in their embrace. Shanna’s shivering subsided, but to his strange satisfaction, she didn’t move away. She was soft and warm, and Simon leaned his chin on the top of her head, her light strawberry smell teasing his nostrils.
And he wondered, in the back of his mind, if she was the only one who’d needed comfort.
Chapter 8
“Granny.” Shanna climbed up on the sofa, settling on the sea of colorful spools of yarn Gran was using for her knitting. “Do I have a mommy?”
“Of course you do, dear. Everyone has a mommy,” Gran said. “Why?”
“At school, Ingrid asked me what my mommy’s name is and what she does. And I couldn’t remember.”
Gran put down her knitting and let Shanna nestle into her lap. “Your mommy had to go.”
“Where?”
“Far away.”
“Can I go after her?”
“Maybe one day, dear.” Gran caressed her hair. “Maybe one day.”
***
Shanna leaned her face against the shuttle car’s window, watching small waves lap at the shoreline which, four days ago, had only been a picture on a postcard. The city of Wellington rose around her, white houses hugging the low hills, gleaming amidst lush green vegetation—palms and pines and little bushes with vivid red blooms all huddled together. A few clouds sped across the otherwise perfect blue sky, indicating the wind they’d felt as they exited the airport.
The shuttle made another stop before their hotel, letting out the other passenger group. Shanna smiled and waved them goodbye. “Have a pleasant stay! Oh, and,”—she wagged her finger at the young man who’d presented himself as Taylor—“you let Uncle Gene know, for me, that strawberry ice cream is far superior to chocolate.”
After more waves and smiles and goodbyes, she turned to her two companions.
