Page 73 of Air Affair

Rory nodded. “Just now, I asked him to give me a sign that he heard me, and he squeezed my hand ever so slightly. I think he heard me.”

The doctor smiled at her. “Any reaction is a good sign. Keep talking to him. Maybe you’ll get something more.”

“Thank you, doctor,” she said wiping her tears.

“Of course, my dear. Take care, and I’ll be back to check on him in a few hours.”

He left, and she took some tissues and water from Hank’s bedside and wiped off her eye makeup as best she could, using a compact to check the results. Her face was red and puffy, but at least she no longer had black dripping down her cheeks.

Pulling her chair back over to Hank, she took his hand again.

“Did you know I almost died of pneumonia in this hospital when I was three?” she said, holding his hand to her cheek. “My family has a vacation home on the North Shore, and we were there over Christmas when I got sick. My father says I was in here a whole week. All I remember is the piles of candy my brothers brought me to cheer me up. And I remember the worried look on Papa’s face. It’s one of the few times I remember him looking worried at me instead of angry. I think he was worried he was going to lose me like he lost Mama. When I finally came home from the hospital, he had bought me a pony, even though I was too young to ride.”

Rory caressed Hank’s hand. No response.

“Papa’s upset, and he’s wrong about so many things when it comes to women in general and me in particular. But I hope someday we can reconcile. I don’t care about the money, but he’s my family. All I’ve ever wanted is his love. I don’t know if I’ll ever get it, but I have to hope.”

She kissed Hank’s hand. “Now you’re going to be my family. You’re going to be my husband, and I’m going to be your wife. And you had better wake up if you want to have any hope of getting me in your bed. Although I suppose a bed isn’t strictly necessary. A rooftop or a Jenny will do.”

She felt another squeeze, this one stronger than the last. “When we were growing up, Evelyn used to tease me about marrying a pilot, you know. Or a jockey. Or a racecar driver. Or perhaps a hot air balloonist. I always had a daredevil streak. When she and I race, I almost always win. I want it more, and I’m willing to take bigger chances.”

She poured herself a cup of water from the pitcher on Hank’s nightstand and took a drink. “Once, we were all at the circus, and after the show, I ran off and found the tent with the trapeze artists. When my nanny found me, I was asking them all about how to join the circus and learn to do tricks just like them. I lost desserts for a week for running away like that.”

She took another drink. Her throat was dry from talking. “I just want you to know who it is you’re marrying. I would like to say I’ve settled down since then, but really, I haven’t, as you well know. There are so many new and interesting types of trouble to get into. But I promise to be a good and faithful wife. I’ll be boring as bread for you if you’ll just wake up.”

She felt another squeeze. It ran through her like an electric jolt, prodding her to tell more stories. She talked for hours, stopping only to feed him some broth, slowly spooning it into his mouth and making sure he swallowed.

The doctor stopped by, checking his pulse and examining his head injury, but when she asked if there had been any change, the doctor shook his head and left.

At some point, Bill came back and asked if she was ready to go home. She told him she was staying and sent him on his way. Eventually, she drifted off sitting in the chair with her head resting against the bed, her hand still in his. She slept fitfully for hours, having one terrible dream after another until a squeeze on her hand woke her up in the darkness just in time to hear him murmur, “Rory.”

28

Through the mental fog that would not lift, Hank could hear Rory’s voice. He faded in and out of awareness. His body wouldn’t move. He couldn’t so much as lift an eyelid, but he knew she was there. The words she was saying slurred together, so he focused on the rise and fall of her voice and the feel of her hand in his.

What happened? Where was he? Why couldn’t he move? He was flying back from Philadelphia and then what? He had no recollection of landing at Belmont Park. Something must have happened to the airplane. He must be hurt. That would explain why he couldn’t move. Maybe he was in the hospital?

The haze descended once again, and when his awareness returned, he had to puzzle it out all over again. Then Rory asked him to squeeze her hand. He was sure that was what she’d said. It sounded crystal clear. All he had to do was figure out how to move his hand. His mind called out, but his hand didn’t answer. He tried again. Nothing.

She asked again, and, trying with all his might, he managed a twitch. He had to find his way out of this somehow.

Unable to think, he let himself drift with her voice. He caught snippets of what she was saying. There was something about a trapeze? He tried another squeeze, and she squeezed back.

He drifted off into sleep after that, dreaming of being trapped in his house. He wanted to go out the front door but every time he tried, there was another door, and he ended up right back inside. Finally, he gave up on the door and went out through the window. This time, he succeeded and was standing in the cool night air.

Slowly, he blinked awake. It was dark wherever he was. He was lying in a bed, but it wasn’t his bed. Someone’s hand was in his.

“Rory,” he said aloud, his voice thick and rough. It sounded odd to him, as if someone else was speaking.

“Hank?” she asked in a sleepy voice. “Hank, are you awake?”

“Rory, what happened? Where am I?” Dear God, his head hurt. There was something funny with his leg too.

“Oh, thank God you’re awake. I was so worried. You’re in the hospital, Hank. You had an accident when you were landing. Bill said something about the steering failing?”

He tried to remember, but it was all a blank. “I remember flying from Philadelphia. I remember seeing…Belmont Park. And then…nothing.”

“Don’t strain yourself. It’s not important. All that matters is that you’re awake and all right.” She kissed his hand.