Like Slow Sweet Molasses (40 page)

“I’m
at the airport not five steps from boarding myself.” He retraced his steps back
up the concourse. “You just did catch me. Otherwise, star-crossed lovers are
what we’d be.”

Angela
felt the jerk and looked out her window at the lights streaming by in the
distance. “
We’re moving. I have to go.”

“I
love you so much, Angela and can’t wait to hold you close. Hurry home to me.”

“
I’m
on my way and love you, too, Chance.”

“I’ll
wait here.”

It
was her turn to laugh. “
We’re pitiful if we can’t say bye. It’s not like
we’re two teenagers with a schoolyard crush. Okay, here goes. One, two, three.”

“Bye,”
they sang happily and terminated the signal.

The
flight was uneventful and as boring as soup without salad or a hamburger sans
the fries. Angela filled her time flipping through the airline magazine and
watching every other tick of the second hand on her watch. Fifteen minutes the
pilot announced. That’s how long it would take before they were on the ground
in New Orleans and Chance smothered her in his arms. A satisfied smile twitched
her lips and faded just as fast at the tufts of smoke pouring from the engine
on her side of the plane.

“Oh,
God.”

Her
finger wouldn’t stop pushing the call button as she desperately sought the
staff’s attention. The flight attendant to answer rebuffed Angela with a stern
smirk. Neither woman said a word as Angela directed her attention outside of
her window. Her eyes bulged and her jaw dropped as she reached to test Angela’s
seatbelt before racing back to the cockpit entrance to sound the alarm. Shortly
thereafter, the pilot’s calm voice informed them of a problem in-flight and
therefore ordered everyone in crash position complete with life-jacket regalia.
The oddity of it all was they were over land not water. Further explanation
educated them of extra loops above the Gulf to lighten the fuel load, a routine
to, hopefully, minimize the threat of fire and explosion upon landing.

Angela,
resolute that if she was to die on this flight, it wouldn’t happen without her
hearing the voices of her loved ones, called her parents and drilled down the
fear in her voice. Her mother answered with the spunk of someone deep into a
good time, laughing and talking to someone in the background.

“Mama,
I just called to say goodnight.” She rushed the conversation. “Will you get
Daddy right quick?”

“
It’s
noisy where you are. Are you having fun?”

“Not
yet. Where’s my Daddy?”

“
Lee,”
Connie yelled. “
Your daughter’s on the line.
” To Angela, “
he’s on his
way.
”

“Hurry,
I really have to go.”

“
Cookie?
You’re missing a good time.”

“It
was a lot of fun dancing with you tonight. Goodnight, Daddy.”

“
Sleep
tight. Want to talk back to your mother?”

“No.
Go back to your party. Love you both.” Angela pressed the end call button and
called Chance next.

“My
Angel.” His greeting held her in high esteem. “Time is standing still. I want
to hold you so badly.”

“
Chance?”

“I
won’t let you out of my sight for a very long time. You’ll wish—”

“
Chance,
listen to me,”
she interrupted him although she loved what he said.

“You
were a bad girl to leave me…breaking my heart nearly killing me. Your
punishment will fit the crime,” he promised.

“
Brock?”

Chance
instantly shut up. Angela, only three times in their entire acquaintance,
called him by his given name. She was in distress—he realized that now. “Angela.”
He left his seat to stub the toe of his shoe in agitation against an
undeserving garbage can. “Talk to me.”

“
I
love you so much and I’m sorry for causing us to lose precious time. Always
remember that I love you in opposition to the rules I set down to safeguard my
heart.”
She had to speak up to be heard over the sirens and wails going on
in the cabin.
“My heart is and will always be yours.”

“What’s
all the noise?”

“
I’m
talking to you with my head tucked between my legs—”

“Naughty
girl.” He chuckled. “Wait until I—”

“Chance,
we’re preparing to land…one way or another.”

“What?”
There was an underlying tremble in his voice. “What do you mean?”

“
One
of the engines is on fire. We’re set for a crash landing, Chance. I love you. I
had to call to tell you that before I-I—”

His
temper flared.

“Don’t
you say that! Don’t even think it!” Looking out the window even from his
distance, he saw the complement of emergency vehicles blasting down the tarmac.
“I love you, Angela Rose Munso. We’ll be together. Just hold on. Do you hear?
Hold on.”

“
I
am holding on, Chance…”
a fit of coughing choked off her breath
“
…
to
the love you’ve shown me.”
She cleared her throat tasting diesel vapors in
the air. “
I took life for granted just like older people condemn the younger
generation of doing.”
 
The coughing
worsened with every breath.

A
deathly silence occupied space on the line.

“Angela,
talk to me. What’s happening, now?” His rationale was the more information he
digested—the clearer his objective became. An opening showed itself and his
feet triple-timed him passed an airport worker who nonchalantly keyed in the
code to the concourse walkway. Chance jetted down the ramp to take the worker’s
exit to the maintenance area, racing right out into the blackness his eyes
searching the inky sky.

“
The
cabin’s…getting…smoky.”

“I
see the plane, Angela.” He galloped down one runway to get to the barricaded
one stacked with rescue teams. “You’ll be okay, Angel.” He pushed his legs
faster.

“
It’s
unfair to put you through this. I—”
She strangled and was gone.

“Angela,”
he screamed into the mouthpiece, unbelievably distraught at the one scenario
wholly out of his control. “Don’t hang up, Angel,” he pleaded to a dead line.

“Hey!
Only authorized team members allowed.”

Chance
flashed his badge and credentials and blurted, “The woman I love is on that
plane,” hoping for understanding. Protocol was of no consequence for he wasn’t
thinking as a tried and trained professional. He was a man in love.

The
hard-helmeted airport policeman, his clean shaven face sculpted into a
permanent frown, gave Chance his back, halting all arguments on the subject.
Surprisingly, he glowered over his shoulder. “No farther than this point or
I’ll have you forcibly removed.”

Chance
exhibited his gratitude in an explosion of handshakes and back pats. They left
him alone staring at the blinking lights of the approaching plane as the wings
dipped high and low emphasizing the rocky descent. The dime in the sky was the
moon—shiny, silvery and bright, its aura glowing in the ebony night. Its
illumination gave him hope against hope that the plane’s destiny was a
successful landing. A metallic banging assaulted the atmosphere denoting the
urgency of the moment, fraying his last nerve. The plane, now so close he could
see the mangled engine and read a couple of the bold I.D. letters exposed on
the belly of the beast, whooshed over his head.

The
rescuers loaded up to trail it down the runway dangerously close to the
scattering debris and leaping sparks. Chance felt wind gusts from the reverse
thrusters and heard the groaning brakes trying to stop the behemoth prior to
its running out of runway. As soon as it came to rest, half on-half off, he was
a missile in sight of its target. There was no stopping him from entering the
chaos of the tangled hoses snaking the grounds, spraying foam on the heated
skin of the plane and its engine. Billowing smoke teared his eyes and heavy
acrid smells burned his nostrils. The excited voices exiting the slides on the
other side of the plane was a magnificent boost to his dwindling morale for
there was hope Angela was one of them.

Angela
hit the slide for the daring escape glad to be alive to feel the pain along her
cheekbones where her knees repetitively hit with every stomp of the brakes.
Fresh air had her gasping as she crashed into fleeing bodies log jammed at the
bottom of the ramp. A foot pool cued her. Yells of distress echoed gloomily,
dicing to bits the smoggy night surrounding the plane. She forced herself to
crawl over the side of the inflated tube and chanced a drop of about five feet.
As it was not her time to die, it was also not her time to break a bone as she
thudded to the ground below. Rescue workers flagged red cone sticks at the
able-bodied passengers pointing them to the escape route along perimeter for
transport to safety by bus.

She
waited her turn in line, looking back at the red hot smoldering plane as teams
worked furiously to get everyone off, coping with the turmoil of the close
call. The sparking bulbs on the life jackets were lightning bugs in the night,
playing hide and seek with the darkness. People still gagged and choked for
oxygen because of evaporating combustibles while scampering to load the
transits. Cries and commands battled each other for attention in the
terror-ridden blackness. That noise receded into the background as a familiar
voice sliced through the din of racket.

“Angela!”
Chance’s throat was raw from screaming her name. People coming out of the
darkness, their beacons of hope flashing wildly were one race: sooty. “Angela!”
Every call deposited an awful tasting residue in his mouth.

“Chance!”
Her heart beat madly. “Chance, over here.” It was impossible to see very far in
the murkiness.

“Keep
talking, Angel.” The lines strung every which way threw him down to his knees
where he crawled a good distance. “I’m coming.”

“Chance!”

What
captured his attention was her light blipping where her heart was as she
materialized from the hazy cloud. He was on his feet, running to her, arms wide
open. “I’ve got you,” he reassured when she rammed into his chest, her touch
sapping the oxygen from his lungs making it hard for him to catch a breath.
“I’ve got you.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Over
here!”

An
EMT coached Chance through the blockaded triage area asking him a myriad of
questions when he showed up on foot with Angela cradled to his chest. A near
disaster explained the slew of local media out in full force responding so
rapidly to feed the public’s hunger for tragedy. Her wrestler’s grip on his
neck assisted him in shielding her from the cameras prying eyes on their hike
to the emergency vehicle. He freed her arms from his neck first then the black
cashmere overcoat for the technician’s ease at checking her vitals, and watched
her shiver in the cold while sitting on the ambulance’s ledge in her attractive
burgundy-red social dress that slithered up her shapely thighs. Something solid
bumped his body as he draped the coat over his arm drawing his interest to
investigate: her heels and tiny evening bag. Clumps of hair dangling at her
shoulders with stone-studded pins entangled and flinging wildly about her
charismatic eyes when she moved enticed Chance to work them from her tresses.
The runs in her pantyhose led his eyes down to her bare feet pressed one on top
of the other to ward off the cold.

All
of this he took in in a millisecond.

Her
hands were trapped between her knees to quell their nervous trembles, a big
mistake for that posture over-exaggerated the shudders wracking her body. An
unexpected fit of laughter seized hold of Angela, bursting her artificial
euphoric balloon and causing an irrepressible cough that left her gasping for
air. Chance stroked her back. His gaze demanded action from the medic who
jumped to equip her with an oxygen mask plus instructions she refuted with a
headshake.