She’d just leaned her head against the window to enjoy the pinks and oranges of the setting sun, when a loud thump shook the cabin.
“What was that?” Her fingers dug into Zach’s forearm.
“Probably something shifting in the luggage area?” Zach guessed.
Other passengers seemed to notice. A baby in the row behind her took in a few ragged breaths and let out an ear-splitting scream as the cabin speakers crackled to life.
“This is your pilot. We’re experiencing a small issue with one of the hydraulic systems. Nothing to worry about, folks. But as a precaution, air traffic control wants us to divert into Lexington. We ought to be on the ground in about twenty minutes, and we’ll give the ground crew a chance to check everything over. I’ll keep you posted as we get more information. For now, flight attendants, prepare for landing.”
Reagan let go of his arm and squeezed his thigh again. Not an unpleasant sensation. Under different circumstances, he’d be more enthused about her touch so close to his crotch.
“Something’s wrong with the plane. We’re going to crash, aren’t we?” She tensed, increasing the pressure of her fingers.
He downed the remaining swallow of scotch. “I’m sure it’s fine. The pilot said it’s just a precaution.”
Angie stopped by their row with a trash bag. “I need to collect all of your trash.”
He grabbed both of their cups, careful not to spill the wine Reagan had barely touched, and tossed them in the bag.
“What’s wrong with the plane?” Reagan asked.
“Like the pilot said, something’s up with the hydraulics. We’ll get on the ground and have them check it out. Nothing to worry about.” Angie smiled, a tight, close-lipped smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and continued her quest for remaining beverage service items.
“She’s lying, isn’t she?”
Zach took Reagan’s hand in both of his. “It’ll be fine. I promise.” Seemed like Reagan was seriously about to lose her shit. Talking to her didn’t seem to be doing much good. He cleared his throat and turned his full attention on her. “You want to try something for me? To help you calm down?”
Her body was tense, her spine ramrod straight. “Sure. Why not?”
“I picked up some breathing techniques during the time I spent at the monastery. Trust me on this.”
Worry wrinkled her brow.
He felt a bit awkward speaking the words aloud. “Focus on the tip of your nose.”
Reagan’s eyes crossed, the literal interpretation of his words, and he laughed out loud.
She ripped her hand away and swatted his arm. “Yeah, that helped a lot. Maybe I’m better off dipping into my Ativan.”
“Let’s try again. Close your eyes and focus your breath on the tip of your nose.”
Reagan closed her eyes for a split second and opened them again. “I don’t even know what that means. How do I breathe through the tip of my nose?”
“You still don’t take direction well, do you? Just go with it. There’s no right or wrong. Let it come to you.” Even in a panic, she was a bit of a control freak. She’d been like that back in high school, too. Until they started dating and he got her to loosen up and have a little bit of fun. Guilt pressed on his chest. He was probably the one responsible for her retreating back into her protective shell.
“Fine.” She closed her eyes and let her head rest against the cushion. “Breathing through the tip of my nose. Here we go.”
With each long breath in and out, her shoulders lowered, her breath slowed. Until the plane hit an air pocket.
Her eyes flew open, wide with panic, and she practically launched herself into his lap. “Are we crashing?”
“No. Just a little turbulence. You’re doing great. Tip of your nose, come on.”
She let her eyelids drift close again and resumed the steady in and out. The front of her shirt moved with each inhale and exhale, and he let his gaze float over this all grown up version of Reagan beside him.
She’d filled out since those memorable seven minutes in high school. Even back then she’d been a knockout. Her hair was lighter, streaked with different shades of blonde. He glanced at perfectly manicured nails. Not a hangnail in sight. A stark contrast to his callused, bronzed hands.
“Am I calmer? Do you think it’s working yet?”
Zach smirked and shook his head. “Keep trying. I think you’ve almost got it.”
Yeah, he’d had it bad for her back then. But even as a limit-pushing seventeen year old, he should have known he’d never get past second base with her. His dad didn’t belong to the country club or make significant campaign contributions to attend Senator Campbell’s pricey fundraiser dinners. Zach’s mom had left when he was twelve, so she’d never hobnobbed at the bake sale or hosted one of those stupid morning-after breakfasts the day after a Homecoming or Sadie Hawkins dance. The best Zach could do was find a way out, a way to create a better life for himself than his dad had been able to do. He’d found that better life when he picked up his first Nikon.
Reagan’s steady breath continued as the plane touched down, bounced up into the air again, then settled onto the runway. She opened her eyes as they slowed.
“Thanks for that. I’m not sure I actually got the breath flowing through the tip of my nose, but it did help.”
“My pleasure.” He meant it. If something he picked up on one of his travels helped someone, he was happy to share. The twinge hit his gut again. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore it. The plane stopped rolling forward, and he reached under the seat in front of him for his pack. “Wonder how long we’ll be on the ground.”
Reagan unbuckled her seatbelt and retrieved her purse. “Do you mind grabbing the bakery box?” She gestured to the overhead bin.
He stood up and pulled the pink box out of the bin above. Someone’s carry-on must have slid into it as they landed. One side of the box crumpled in.
“Oh no.” Reagan peeked inside to survey the damage. “I should have known better than to put this in the overhead bin.”
He could have told her that, but would she have listened? Probably not. “What were you going to do, hold it on your lap the whole way?”
“If that what it takes to get it to Teddy in one piece. Now I’ve got a squashed cupcake and a bent box.”
Zach cocked his head. “Yeah, looks like you’ve got a casualty. Maybe you should consider letting me get that little taste of heaven after all.”
4
The hundred or so passengers stranded at Lexington’s Bluegrass Airport milled about the gate area, waiting for an update. Reagan sat on a hard, plastic bench next to Zach, guarding the cupcakes like a rabid dog with a juicy bone. Restaurants had shut down an hour earlier, and Zach had been eyeing the pink box ever since.
“You said one of them got crunched. Let’s put it out of its misery.” Zach cautiously reached for the lid.
She was about to slap his hand away when an announcement blared over the speaker.
“For passengers on the diverted flight to Miami, the ground crew is unable to make a repair. Since we don’t have regular flights going in and out of this airport, we’re going to bus everyone over to Louisville so we can get you on a flight first thing in the morning.” Sighs, grunts, and groans sounded throughout the cramped gate area. “We’ll handle your checked bags. If you can grab your carry-ons and line up here at the desk, I’ll get everyone a hotel voucher and we’ll be on our way.”