Once they were buckled in and the Boeing 737 rolled noisily down the runway, the men’s nervous laughter and vulgar comments—which Daniel had happily joined in on—quickly died down. She couldn’t see their faces from where she sat, but from the tension in the air, Marion sensed a cautious, collective breath being held. Then they were flying, the familiar swoop in her belly easier to manage now than it had been two months ago.
That’s when she heard a quiet sob. It came from the aisle, where Hal sat. Reflexively, she started to rise, but Daniel’s hand lowered onto hers and held her in place.
“They need this,” he murmured. “They’re getting used to the idea that it’s over.”
Shortly after, she peeked behind and saw the men were asleep, leaning against each other. Daniel, too, had a calmness in his expression that she hadn’t seen before. An acceptance, she realized. An understanding that what he had lived and breathed and needed so badly was now in the past, though it would always haunt his present. They both knew that.
There was vulnerability as well. He, too, was getting used to the idea.
“How are you feeling, Marion?” he asked, curling his fingers around hers. “You just had the adventure of a lifetime.”
“I was just about to ask you the same question.”
“I beat you to it. What’s on your mind?”
“Not much right now,” she admitted. “I’m glad we’re going home.”
“Are you sorry you went?”
“Not on your life!”
He laughed. “No? Helicopter crash, near drowning, being a hostage, et cetera, et cetera…”
“I’m not saying it was a restful vacation.” She smiled softly, remembering. “But no, I couldn’t possibly be sorry. Before all this, I couldn’t even read mystery novels without leaving all the lights on. And now… well, once I recover, maybe I’ll try something else. Not Vietnam, but…”
She exhaled, picturing the hospital ward with five patients piled on one cot. The stink of cooking fires mingling with the reek of bandages in need of changing. The inconceivable composure she had seen, the stoic determination on parents’ faces as they held their mutilated babies. They were used to that life. They expected it.
“We were lucky,” Daniel murmured, reading her mind. “The hospital didn’t get bombed while we were there.”
She nodded. “I feel… I feel like I just spent a lifetime on another planet. I feel like landing in Toronto is going to feel odd.”
A stewardess was slowly making her way down the aisle. Her orange dress was cut well above her knees, accessorized with a striped belt and a silver pin on her collar in the shape of airplane wings. Her thick black hairhad been back-combed into a loose beehive, and her makeup would have made Raquel Welch proud. When she paused at their row, Marion took in the young woman’s tall black boots and wondered how comfortable they were. Maybe she’d get herself a pair when she got home. Sassy could take her shopping for something… new.
The stewardess leaned down so her face was in Daniel’s, her false eyelashes blinking slowly. “May I offer you a drink, sir? A martini, perhaps?”
He glanced at Marion, who shrugged then nodded. She hadn’t had a martini in a couple of years, but it sounded like exactly what she wanted.
“My lady would like a martini, please, and I’ll have a beer.” The stewardess took a step down the aisle, but he stopped her. “Oh, and don’t wake the men behind me. They need their sleep. I’m sure they’ll order something real strong when they wake up.”
When the drinks arrived. Marion tasted hers and approved. She’d forgotten the nice, dry bite of a gin martini. Beside her, Daniel let out a satisfied sigh.
“Cold beer. What a miracle.”
One of the men snored quietly behind them, and it was a comforting sound.
“What are you going to do when you get back?” Marion asked.
“I’ve been trying not to think about that,” he admitted, taking a long gulp that just about finished the bottle. “I gotta find a place to live. I thought I might try to get the four of us into a place together. Might be good for all of us, you know, so we can talk about things.”
“Sassy might want Joey with her.”
“Joey’s a big boy. That’ll be up to him.”
“Of course.” She hesitated. “Are you going to check out the community health centres, do you think?”
He picked at the label on his beer bottle, easing up one corner. “Yeah. I will this time. I think I’ll be better able to cope now. Plus these guys will need me to show them it’s possible to move on. Can I go to whichever centre you’re at?”
“I don’t see why not,” she said, though she was sure there were rules about friends and family treating patients. She’d figure out what to do about that if the time ever came.
