Flight of the Soul

By John Klopfer and Cynthia Klopfer

Unknown to them shadows surround Jack and Tiffanys world. Secrets that they felt were safely locked away suddenly rise to the surface. Tiffanys world shatters when her husbands plane crashes in the desert of Mexico while on a business trip. Her journey takes her through loss and the dark abyss of betrayal, anger and forgiveness. Jacks life flashes before his eyes as he struggles to find redemption after taking his wife for granted, being drawn into a sultry affair that will have lasting consequences. Both walk through their darkest nightmare and what they discover will change their lives forever.

The Flight of the Soul is reminiscent of William P. Youngs The Shack with lessons in wisdom and forgiveness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546229643

John Klopfer

John was born in Ohio, raised in Florida, and has lived in Tennessee and Washington State. He has spent most of his career working in healthcare as a nurse and administrator. John previously published a novel, A Quest for Immortality in 2009. Cindy was born in Colorado, lived briefly in Puerto Rico and then raised in Kansas, before moving to Florida as an adult. She earned NAIA recognition as a runner at Emporia State University. Cindy has been a teacher for 35 years. Their combined experience has enabled them to weave an intriguing tale that will keep readers on the edge of their seats. Though their characters are fictional, they bring them to life. In their spare time they enjoy traveling, photography, cooking, hiking and spending time with friends and family.

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© 2018 John & Cynthia Klopfer. All rights reserved.

Edited by: Debbie Callahan

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse   03/15/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-2966-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-2965-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-2964-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018902203

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Acknowledgement

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Six

Thirty-Seven

Thirty-Eight

Thirty-Nine

Forty

Forty-One

Forty-Two

Forty-Three

Forty-Four

Forty-Five

Forty-Six

Forty-Seven

Forty-Eight

Forty-Nine

Fifty

Fifty-One

Fifty-Two

Fifty-Three

Fifty-Four

Fifty-Five

Fifty-Six

Fifty-Seven

Fifty-Eight

Fifty-Nine

Sixty

Sixty-One

Sixty-Two

Sixty-Three

Sixty-Four

Sixty-Five

Sixty-Six

Sixty-Seven

Epilogue

About the Author

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

We would like to acknowledge the following four proof-readers. Their contributions enabled us to perfect our tale:

Donald Edgerton

Patricia Englefield

Dr. Daniel Lack

Jeri Beatty Thomas

DEDICATION

John’s mother, Patricia Englefield for giving him the gift of creativity, and the courage and wisdom to follow his dreams. The many life lessons she taught made this try possible. A mother eagle, always encourages the eaglet to fly.

In memory of Cindy’s father Robert Edge Edgerton and mother Shirley Edgerton. Without her father, Cindy wouldn’t have learned the importance of following her dreams. Shirley provided her with the determination to follow those dreams and to stay dedicated to bringing them to life. Together they encouraged her to never give up and reach for the stars.

ONE

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We set sail on this new sea because there is knowledge to be gained.

- John F. Kennedy

The empty glass rested in a small puddle, as Jack sat at the bar staring at nothing, gnawing on the last cube of ice.

Another Maker’s Mark and Coke? the bartender asked.

Jack gave a half frown and half smile as he nodded and replied, Make it a double with a slice of lime.

He loathed flying, therefore having a few drinks before takeoff became a ritual.

Whenever possible, he would take the extra time to drive on business trips. However, midweek trips across the continent allowed no such luxury. So, Jack sat and drank the apprehensions away.

Drinking did not used to be a regular habit. There was an occasional glass of wine with dinner or a couple of beers at a football game. Jack did not like the lightheadedness alcohol created, unless he was flying, he rarely drank. That was until the last few years when he had started to consume alcohol on almost a daily basis. The wooziness that used to deter drinking had become a benefit. For him, it was the king of stress relievers.

The lounge was casually located in the corner of the concourse; it possessed no walls, people busily scurrying to their flight could easily be seen. Its seven tall round tables and the long triangular bar were busy enough to keep three employees hustling. The speckled grey granite counter tops gave it the allure of being a classier place than an airport terminal bar could aspire to be. Several HD plasma televisions dangled from the ceiling tuned in to global sporting events. Jack found the televisions in restaurants and bars annoying; it added to the clutter. Few people watched them, especially with the sound muted.

The bartender placed the heavily iced drink and napkin on the bar. Picking up the drink, Jack dropped a twenty and five on the counter and sauntered over to a dirty window overlooking the runway.

Knowing that a slightly buzzed customer was likely to give higher tips, the bartender, a young effeminate acting man, with slick-backed black hair, always put extra ice in the glass – and went skimpy on the mixer, but heavy on the alcohol. For inventory purposes, to offset the extra alcohol in his drinks, he always made the drinks the waitresses were serving a bit weaker. The stronger drinks equaled the playing field, since the waitresses always showed as much cleavage as possible to enhance their tips.

Nervously, Jack pulled a cigarette from his top shirt pocket before remembering the federal regulations that prevented him from exercising his rights to pollute his own lungs. For a few seconds, he twirled it between his index finger and thumb before returning it to the pocket of his peach polo shirt.

His mind drifted to his first cigarette – he was thirteen. He and his older brother were in Dayton visiting their grandparents. Jack thought his grandfather looked sophisticated trying to make a point while waving a cigarette through the air as the smoke swirled eloquently towards the heavens. One morning, he saw an opened pack of Salem cigarettes sitting on the cluttered table beside the recliner in the den. A strange impulse came over him, and he took one. He held onto it for several days, wondering if it would be missed. Then one sultry evening, he climbed the cherry tree across the alley from the garage and lit up. From that day forward, every time he would put one in his mouth, he would swear it was time to quit.

In the middle of the concourse, he noticed a kiosk for e-cigarettes. This had been a consideration because they were less restrictive than tobacco. The constant smell of stale cigarettes on his breath would be another advantage of switching. Jack smiled, reflecting how his wife always claimed kissing him was like licking an ashtray. However, the initial startup costs and the chemicals swayed him away from them. E-cigs would also alter the illusion that he was soon going to stop smoking – it would be an admission of failure.

He noticed a girl of about five years of age sitting nearby, and suddenly a tinge of guilt swept through him for even considering subjecting an innocent child to second hand smoke. Momentarily, he stared at the freckled-faced girl, hoping that she would never ruin her life by becoming addicted to cigarettes. The girl’s father gave a nervous look because he was gazing at his daughter. Jack smiled and turned away.

Jack was envious of the father for having a beautiful daughter. It was his hope that by this time in his life, he would have been a parent. Financial constraints always seemed to get in the way. He felt it a sin to bring a child into the world that he couldn’t afford. Hopefully, with his business growing, one day soon, it would be possible. It appeared this may never happen with his wife’s biological clock ticking downward.

Peering out the window, Jack watched the cumulus clouds as they danced across the horizon creating an animation of characters. The most interesting one resembled an elephant rising towards the sun, with its trunk raised triumphantly in the air with both tusks splitting to the sides. Patches of grey provided the image with depth. Clouds often formed an escape for Jack, as they took him into a wild fantasy world.

Gazing onto the runway, his mind flashed back to his first flight. Jack was ten when he and his brother flew back north, to Ohio, to visit their grandparents for the summer. His older brother insisted on having the window seat; being the oldest and the biggest, he got his way. As older siblings often do, he tormented his brother throughout the flight. He was teased about flying saucers following the aircraft or the mountain that was too close and bolts coming loose on the wings. If Jack attempted to look out the window for confirmation of these horrid events, his brother would obstruct his view with his head. By the time they landed in Dayton, Ohio, Jack was terrified. When he saw the smiles on his grandparent’s faces, as they waited for him in the terminal, he regained his composure.

These vacations became routine throughout his childhood, even though his brother ceased tormenting him; he never truly felt safe until he felt the warm embrace of his grandparents’ hugs. Jack reflected on those flights – those were the days when men would wear suits, and ladies would don dresses. He laughed as he looked at his faded jeans and tweed sport coat, at the change over time.

That was a long time ago; his grandparents had both been dead for well over a decade. There would be no warm faces to greet him on his arrival this time, only his fire engine red Mercedes, smelling of stale cigarettes. After the dreaded walk to long-term parking, there would be the exhausting two-hour drive home.

The recollection was interrupted by a frail-looking, stooped over elderly, lady grabbing his right hand. Startled, Jack pulled his hand back forcefully. He considered her as she stood in front of him. Her thin greying hair was slowly turning to snow.

I will read your palm for five dollars, she whispered in a hoarse voice, revealing a toothless smile.

Jack winced. His first thought was of indignation. How dare this disheveled lady even think about touching him? There was no telling where her hands had been. The grime under her overgrown nails made no attempt to conceal itself. He stared at the dirt covering her sandaled feet. The Halloween orange polish on her toenails was fading and chipped. As she leaned close to him, he recoiled from her putrid breath.

After a moment of deliberation, he recalled a lesson from Sunday school years before: And I was hungry, and you fed me, naked and you clothed me, in prison and you visited me. Though he had not been inside a church since his wedding, he still held fast to many of the beliefs.

Pulling a twenty from his wallet, he softly placed it in her bony hand and smiled. I don’t need to know my fortune, he whispered, politely, but, please, take this and buy something to eat.

Time froze as their eyes locked. Though her cat green eyes sat deep in their sockets, they were hypnotic and danced with life. Jack carefully examined the crooked lines, which were etched across her forehead as if they were the reward for years of deep contemplation. The creases that ran like a river from her outer nostrils to the edge of her outer lips gave prominence to her high Cherokee cheekbones. He smiled as he held her cold calloused hand; though the area was bustling with people, it was as if they were the only two people in the world. Time stopped ticking.

Namaste, she whispered breaking the spell. Her expression demonstrated gratitude for human touch.

Namaste, he replied, familiar with the expression, yet unsure of its meaning.

At first, the lady attempted to refuse the alms for a service which she had not performed, but Jack insisted, and she reluctantly placed the money in the oversized pocket of her washed-out yellow dress.

As he turned to walk away, she called out to him, Sir, tonight you shall experience a great transformation. Have no fear for the spirit of God will be with you. Her voice cracked as she spoke.

Jack felt a cold chill ripple down his spine, as the hairs on his arm stood up. When he turned back to face the lady, she had vanished into the sea of faceless travelers. The only remnant of this peculiar lady was the scent of her cheap stale perfume lingering in the air.

Somewhat mesmerized by the experience, Jack returned to his seat at the bar, pondering the mysterious message. It was not like him to give into superstition, but there was a certain air about this lady.

This lady was just another part of a strange day. The morning started with the sound of an owl waking Jack – which was fortunate because he had overslept. As he rushed from the hotel to the rental car, he found a brown horned owl perched on a limb above the car, staring at him – the large yellow eyes remained fixated on its subject. The owl screeched towards Jack as it flew away. It was late afternoon by the time he finished his presentation. As he was leaving the meeting for the airport, Jack discovered a pamphlet on his windshield that read, Do you know what happens after death? Then as he turned into the rental return office, there was an old man blocking the street with a cardboard sign which read, Do you know where you are going when you die? The man shuffled to the side of the entrance way when Jack beeped the horn.

As the call for Flight 1313 rose above the clamoring in the bar, Jack took one last gulp, put the glass down, picked up his carryon bag and laptop, and started towards the plane.

Peering towards the long line waiting to board, he frantically darted into a gift shop to buy his wife a souvenir. It was an unnecessary ritual he felt compelled to play. On most trips, he would buy tee-shirts or coffee mugs; however, on more extensive trips, the bounty would be pearls or diamonds. He was slightly embarrassed that he had not purchased something while he was in town, but his business meeting lasted longer than anticipated. Keeping an eye on the distant line, he sorted through the selection of tees until finding an extra-large pink shirt with a picture of a cowboy getting poked by a cactus: "A poke from Tucson," it read. He smiled as he removed it from its hanger.

Early in the marriage Tiffany would always wear sexy nighties with fancy lace and not much else. As the excitement of youth escaped, she graduated into wearing oversized tees to bed, which were much more comfortable and practical. Whereas, Jack enjoyed the nightgowns, he found the tee-shirts equally sexy and enticing. In fact, anything his wife wore was appealing. When they had first met, he was love-struck. Their feelings of love had grown stronger over the years, even with the routine ups and downs of marriage.

Several months prior to this trip, he attended a motivational seminar. To get the electricity flowing, the speaker launched into the audience; he went to different people and stuck a microphone in their face and asked, What’s your passion? When he placed the mike in front of a daydreaming Jack, the quick response was, My wife! Truly throughout their courtship and marriage she had been his passion. The song for their first wedding dance was Bryan Adams’, Everything I Do, I Do for You. Tiffany was all the motivation Jack ever needed. There were times when due to the stress of work the passion waned, but it always returned.

For a few minutes, Jack sorted through the magazine rack until he found a Business News Magazine, that he would purchase, but never read. After surveying the books and picking up a pack of mints, he finally reached the checkout counter. There was a slight delay because the scanner could not read the numbers on the credit card. The clerk clumsily typed in the numbers, and the purchase was processed.

As he stepped out of the gift shop, he noticed that the line to the plane had disappeared. In a near panic, Jack sprinted, dodging idle people, wheelchairs, and baby strollers, towards the plane, arriving just as the customer service representative was getting ready to close the gate.

Standing by the entrance was the palmist, staring at him, as if she had been waiting. For a second, he hesitated, wanting to stop and ask her the meaning of his fortune. Instead, he smiled and nodded as he rushed through the gate. Have no fear, she mouthed. Again, Jack wanted to pause, but hurried onto the passenger bridge that would lead to the plane. The lady had a bit of a mystical demeanor which made him overlook the disheveled appearance. A blast of hot dry air slapped him in the face as he stepped from the bridge into the plane, making the air-conditioned plane seem colder than what it was.

TWO

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Life is What Happens to You While You’re Busy Making Other Plans

– John Lennon

Making his way down the narrow aisle, Jack noticed a weathered faced federal marshal, wearing a navy-blue suit and black cowboy boots, sitting somberly. The man had a marine haircut with a jagged scar across his right cheek. Next to him was a young man of not more than twenty-one, with what appeared to be a footprint sized bruise on the left side of his face. A light blue sweater stretched across his hands in a mock attempt to conceal the handcuffs. The young man peered helplessly towards Jack with the innocent deep brown eyes of a basset hound. His baby face begged the question, What possible crimes he could have committed towards humanity, or was it his response to the crimes that humanity inflicted on him that placed him in this predicament?

He recognized the federal marshal from the check-in counter. Jack had been in front of him. The man sneezed, and Jack turned to say, Bless you. The marshal grunted something that wasn’t intelligible and turned his head away from Jack. As instincts goes, Jack thought there was something unpalatable about this man.

Later, while in the bar, the same man was drinking a beer. In reflection this seemed strange that a marshal would be drinking on duty. It was more peculiar since, now he was in charge of a prisoner. Not liking to drink alone, Jack had approached him at the bar. He asked if he could join him, and the man whispered he preferred to sit in solitude. Jack sensed disdain in his voice.

Jack politely nodded, before being pushed awkwardly towards his seat by the shivering glare of the marshal.

Settling comfortably in a seat just a few rows behind the wing, he quickly pushed the 1 on the speed dial of his cell phone and waited patiently for his wife to answer.

Hello, a tempting whisper came from the other end.

Hey babe, he greeted, relieved to hear a friendly voice. I’m on the plane waiting for take-off. Jack put his laptop underneath the seat in front of him and his carryon under the seat in front of the seat next to his. Sounds like I woke you.

I must have dosed off, Tiffany said sweetly. I have been tired for the past several days. Perhaps it’s the weather.

I’m sorry, Jack said, Hopefully, your dream was filled with visions of your favorite man.

His wife laughed and said, The little girl who shows up in my dreams was so vivid today. She paused before continuing, She seemed uneasy, as if she was trying to tell me that everything was going to be okay – that I shouldn’t worry. Truthfully, it is a bit unnerving.

Dreams are just dreams, Jack reassured her, nothing to worry about. For a moment, he reflected on the old lady at the airport and the owl. Perhaps we need some salt to throw over our shoulders to ward off evil spirits, he thought to himself.

How did your presentation go? she asked, changing the subject.

Presentation was fine, he sighed, however, I’m not sure Mr. Kim is going to buy into our proposal.

What makes you think that? his wife asked, trying to sound encouraging.

It’s just a gut feeling. I don’t think he understands the financial benefits of what we can do for his company. Jack sighed. Kim seems to lack long range vision and is too focused on today.

"What makes you think he didn’t understand the proposal? Tiffany pressed, attempting to unpeel the layers of the onion.

I don’t know, her husband sighed, Probably because the last thing he said was, ‘I don’t understand.’ Jack paused, At least he didn’t leave me dangling with hope, saying that he would consider the plan.

Tiffany snickered, Guess he was pretty straight forward.

Even though the hotel is losing hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, Jack started, there is a tendency to settle for the known. Hoping that somehow a miracle is going to happen, and they will start making money. Jack moaned, This has been going on for five years. It seems as if Kim would be ready for a change of strategies. He stared out the window for a second. I just don’t understand his resistance to change.

Jack realized how fortunate he was to have a supportive wife. Several years earlier when he had grown tired of working in corporate healthcare, he toyed with the idea of going into business for himself. His dream was to create a consulting business that would convert non-profitable hotels into affordable Adult Assisted Living Facilities. His firm would do everything, from overseeing the remodeling and acquiring the proper licensure to managing the facility once it was completed. Tiffany encouraged him to pursue the vision. After finding a couple of friends that were willing to partner with him and a second mortgage, the dream became a reality.

Tiffany continued to work her job to ensure money was coming in during the lean years. After a couple of long years, the company had finally taken off, obtaining multiple inquiries which resulted in enough new clients to make the corporation highly profitable. The plan was for Tiffany to quit her job, so she could stay home and start a family. Even though the company was successful, and they had no debts that they couldn’t manage, she clung to the security of her job.

Knowing that her husband would obsess enough on the plane trip, she decided to move on, realizing that there would be plenty of talk about Mr. Kim over the next several days. Is the plane crowded?

Appears to be ‘bout three-quarters full. I think I was the last one on, so hopefully it’ll stay that way. He sighed, You know how I am about sharing seats. He noticed the flight attendant closing the door, he smiled in relief and said, Looks like I got my wish.

It wasn’t that Jack was opposed to people sitting beside him – in fact he had met many fascinating people on plane trips. The gregarious consultant rarely met anyone with whom he could not strike up a meaningful conversation. It was more of a comfort issue, especially on long flights. The airplane seats are crammed together and designed for passengers who are 5’7" and weigh less than 150 pounds, neither of which described Jack.

Sitting in the middle seat, his wife teased, knowing her husband’s aversion to sitting by the window; yet still wanting to be able to peek out.

Of course, he laughed. There was a brief pause, How was your day?

Just wonderful, she sounded excited. I have some fabulous news!

Jack smiled and asked, Is the news transforming?

There was a brief silence before she replied, What do you mean?

Is it going to alter our life? If it is, I’m not afraid. Talking in cryptic language wasn’t anything new to them – they would often do it to each other. It kept their minds sharp as well as added some extra intrigue into the conversation. He debated on whether to tell her about the soothsayer.

The flight attendant announced over the intercom for all passengers to turn off all electronic items, including cellular phones.

Got go honey, Jack sighed. Will the news wait until I’m home?

Of course, his wife teased, I wasn’t going to tell you on the phone, anyway. I love you, Jack. I’ll wait up for you.

You know it’s going to be late.

I don’t care. I’m anxious to see you, she teased. Besides I have this surprise. The warmth of her beautiful smile emanated through the phone.

A flight attendant, with long, wavy, red hair, with the top two buttons on her blouse seductively left undone, hovered over Jack with a small frown, loudly clearing her throat. He looked up at her with a sheepish grin. The lady blew a big pink bubble with her bubble gum and then inhaled the bubble.

I need to get off the phone, Jack sighed, hanging up without saying I love you.

As the jet started taxiing on the runway, the noises in the cabin started to interrupt Jack’s thoughts. The kids, one row back, were arguing about a seemingly silly game. The toddler, two rows back was crying as he was pulling on his left ear. The most annoying was the lady one row in front changing the baby’s diaper, because it just couldn’t wait. Without giving it a second thought, she placed the uncovered soiled diaper on the seat beside her. The smell quickly and strategically swirled to the seat behind her. I’ll be glad when this is over, he moaned to himself.

A video played instructing the passengers the correct procedure in case of an emergency, as the flight attendants pantomimed the correct actions.

As the plane idled at the end of the tarmac, the sight of other planes taking off and landing was easily visible. To Jack, it defied logic how these oversized tin cans could take off and land so gracefully. This was the part of flying he hated most; the rumbling and vibration as the bird prepared to take flight.

The air in the plane felt stale, even when he turned the knob totally open, the cool air flowing out appeared sparse. Jack realized after they got into the sky the airflow would either improve, or his body would adjust.

A voice came over the intercom, We have been given clearance for takeoff and will be in the air in a few minutes. When we reach our cruising altitude of 35,000 feet, you will be able to move about the cabin. While seated keep your seatbelt fastened for your own protection, due to unexpected turbulence.

The engines revved to a thunderous roar as the bumpy ascension began. The wing flaps dropped downward as the giant eagle labored to defy the law of gravity. The muscles in Jack’s back tensed with each vibration of the craft. In the distance, the buildings and vehicles slowly faded. Jack’s heart jumped as the landing gear was sucked into the bottom of the aircraft, while the city below became smaller until it vanished completely.

As the DC-10 rose towards its cruising altitude, Jack leaned the seat back and closed his eyes. He was anxious to get home to the arms of his amorous wife. Curiosity controlled his thoughts as to what the surprise was; although, he had a strong suspicion. With the assistance of the previously consumed whiskey, drifting into a light slumber was easy.

His nap was interrupted after only fifteen minutes by a couple arguing, several rows to the rear.

Well, I should have never insisted that you visit my parents, a young woman, attempting to talk in a country accent snarled in a rather loud tone.

Been fine by me, her companion grunted gruffly.

Sorry the poor simple farmers don’t meet your standards, she snapped.

Apparently, the trip home to meet the parents, didn’t go so well. Jack remembered the nervousness he felt around Tiffany’s parents the first few times he had met them. Thankfully, they were warm and accepting. He put in his earbuds to drown out the argument. Soft rock and roll from the seventies assisted him in quieting his mind. Casually, he sorted through the inflight movies and television shows, but there were none he found of interest.

Jack peered at a woman across the aisle from his seat, probably in her early forties. Dark circles made her eyes dull. Her skin was ashen, bones ridged up from her arms. The multi–colored scarf covering her head revealed her horrible secret. A thin pink sweater did little to keep her warm.

She noticed his stare and gave a weak smile.

He returned a warm smile. Can I get you a blanket? he asked, almost apologetically, as he pulled the earphones out of his ears.

The lady smiled and nodded. Thank you, she whispered.

Jack stood and rummaged through the overhead storage compartment until he could find a light blanket and a pillow, that were buried between the crammed in bags. Instead of handing it to her, he opened it and draped it around her shoulders. Then he gently put the pillow behind her head.

I hope this makes you more comfortable, he whispered.

The lady smiled, I’m sure it will. Her body melted into the tan seat.

Coming or going? he asked, as he lowered himself into the aisle seat, instead of returning to his original seat.

The lady reflected on the question. I live in Tucson – but I guess you could say I am going home.

Jack smiled but did not speak, allowing the lady the time to find her words. Through his consulting work, he had found that a certain amount of silence often stimulated conversation, by allowing the other person the opportunity to collect his or her thoughts.

My mother had a stroke, so I am returning to Tampa to be with her. Tears formed in her lifeless eyes. She’s in a nursing home. My brother says she is fading fast.

He listened to her story with empathy.

The lady wiped her dull blue eyes. I had to delay my trip to see her because of my condition, but now my treatments are finished. It has become increasingly important for me to say good-bye.

Jack did not know what to say to console her, so he remained silent, though he did not disconnect the eye contact.

There was an awkward pause. When she was ready, she continued. The doctors told me that I had three months to get my affairs in order. I’ve dragged my feet for the past six months. She paused to collect her thoughts, It was just so damn hard to leave my kids. Not only had the cancer beaten me, so has my ex-husband.

There’s no reason to feel guilty, Jack responded trying to be comforting. Your treatments had to take priority. Part of Jack had regretted getting into this conversation. He obviously had no idea how bad things were. Though he had worked in healthcare, discussing death and the dying process was something he always attempted to avoid. He could feel tears forming in his eyes. Discretely, he attempted to blink them away.

The lady, wanting to hide her own tears, shifted her eyes to the floor. Perhaps, she let out a caustic laugh, but the treatments didn’t work– they just extended the misery and put the inevitable off for a few months.

She was not sure who would reach the afterlife first, her or her mother. Silently, she took responsibility for her mother’s stroke. Prior to revealing the disease to her mother, her mother had been a vibrant active woman enjoying the golden years. If she had kept her health issues a secret, perhaps her mother wouldn’t have worried herself sick. Besides the illness, she spent countless hours talking to her mother about her cheating husband. It was obvious that she had a false sense of guilt for causing her mother’s health issues.

I’m sorry, Jack offered. I know things appear bleak, but regardless as to what the doctors are telling you, there is always a glimmer of hope. The medical community cannot measure the human spirit. Jack knew he was beginning to sound preachy, so he gently started to back off.

The lady smiled, though her eyes remained fixed on the floor, in acknowledgement of the well-meaning advice from the stranger who did not have the slightest clue as to what she was going through. It was not just the cancer or even her mother’s certain death. It was the indignity of her husband leaving her – being unable to work and now being forced to move in with her younger brother in Tampa since she could not afford to stay in her house. She was almost certain never to be able to see her two sons again.

For a few minutes they engaged in idle chit chat. The ill lady’s drooping eyelids were having difficulty staying open. Jack stood and helped her recline the seat, relieved that the conversation could end.

He could feel the pack of cigarettes in his front shirt pocket – suddenly he was embarrassed by his addiction. It was now apparent the time to quit was upon him. All excuses to continue faded. He took the pack out of the pocket, crumpled it, and disposed of the half-empty box in the magazine pouch in front of his knees.

Outside, the clouds were covered with an orange and purple tint as the sun prepared to exit the sky. In the distance, Jack could see another plane going the opposite direction. Stretching his neck, he could view tracks of green and yellow patches on the ground separated by dirt highways giving way to the foothills that would lead to the mountains.

Jack opened his laptop, trying to tune out the commotion, as the kids in the back continued to argue, this time about who was going to have the window seat throughout the entire flight. Had to be in the kid section, Jack thought to himself.

A flight attendant passed by with drinks. Jack ordered an OJ and vodka; grumbling about the ten-fifty charge to the unaffected redheaded flight attendant.

Entering numbers into the spreadsheet, Jack became increasingly frustrated that Mr. Kim could not see how accurate his analysis had been. Connecting to the plane’s Wi-Fi, he e-mailed his partners to inform them of the projected outcome of the meeting. In as much detail as possible, he went over the entire presentation, hoping they would have some suggestions on how to salvage the mission.

After punching and re-punching the numbers for another hour, being annoyed with the same result and the never-ending noise, he put his work aside. Reflecting on Thomas Edison developing brilliant ideas after taking a nap, Jack decided to close his eyes, hoping a stroke of genius would ensue.

THREE

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The only time I really become discouraged is when I think of all the things I would like to do and the little time I have in which to do them. -Thomas Edison

After a short power nap, Jack woke up minus any ideas on how to save the Kim account.

Needing to stretch his legs, he walked towards the back of the cabin. He noticed an elderly priest and nun traveling together. To mask the priest’s baldness, his thin oily grey hair was combed over the top of his head. Apathetic deep, beady, eyes stared blankly at the back of the seat. While he was nursing a beer, his left-hand rested on his rotund stomach. The angelic silver haired nun had her head bowed ritualistically reciting the rosary. Lying to her side was an old wooden cane. He noticed the Parkinsonian tremors in her hands. Somehow it did not seem fair that even the godly suffered the effects of aging.

Observing both of their round faces and dimpled chins narrowing to a point, Jack wondered, almost sacrilegiously, if they could be real life brother and sister. He pondered the adage of how people start to resemble each other after years of being together. Though he knew little of the Catholic faith, he assumed that priests and nuns would most likely spend a lifetime together, even though it would a platonic relationship.

He reflected on an article he had read by Dr. Robert Zajonc, from the University of Michigan, which discussed a study on how people have lived together for a long period begin to take on similar appearances. The article stated the longer and happier their lives were, the more they resembled each other.

A sarcastic smile came across his face as he thought about his parents. They didn’t even come close to looking like each other. He wondered if that was a result of their seemingly tumultuous marriage. Considering his own fifteen-year relationship, he silently chuckled at the thought of Tiffany’s and his features assimilating.

Fearing the priest would see the expression on his face and somehow read his mind, he moved to the back of the cabin where two flight attendants were busy with their childish gibberish.

Well, the redhead was proclaiming, what Bill doesn’t know ain’t gonna hurt him. I can’t help it if he is so naive. I don’t feel sorry for him in the least. If his eyes are closed, it’s his fault, not mine.

The other attendant, a slightly overweight brunette, gave a slight nod as if she was truly interested, though she wasn’t. To hide the indifference on her face, she busily re-stocked the food cart.

Besides, how do I know that Bill never cheated…or isn’t now for that matter. She flipped her hair defiantly. Besides, the Good Book says if you look at another person with lust, drawing out the word, you just as well cheated. I know Bill has gawked at more than one woman.

The flight attendant knew her husband never cheated – but since her co-worker had seen a man leave her hotel room in the morning, she felt it necessary to put on this charade. Infidelity was something that came easy to her. It started even before she had taken her commitment vows – most were one-night stands that she would never see again. She was a lady in conflict, wanting desperately to have the security of a home life – but at the same time, allow the bad girl to roam. Working for the airlines made her lifestyle easy to conceal.

Her co-worker just nodded, helplessly. She was aware of her colleague’s reputation – whereas she did not approve, she did not feel it was her place to get involved.

The redhead looked at Jack, perturbed that he was eavesdropping, Can I help you? she snapped, her eyes sending daggers towards him.

Jack desperately wanted to reveal that he was a private investigator hired to follow her but refrained from the sarcasm. Just waiting for bathroom, he retorted.

It’s against airline policies for you to be in the galley, she snapped hatefully. You need to move back a few feet.

The bewildered man took a step back. I’m sorry, he said in a serious tone, I didn’t realize I was standing on sacred ground.

The attendant snorted, whispering obscenities under her breath as she stormed towards the front of the plane, as her coworker turned her head in embarrassment, yet relieved that the conversation had ended. Without making eye contact, she apologized for her co-worker’s rude behavior and inched towards the passengers to see if they needed anything.

A small boy stepped out of the bathroom, Jack entered for the sake of appearances. He splashed some water on his face and then for a few seconds stared at the premature grey speckling in his hair, wondering if he should use color, but decided that it made him look distinguished. The slightly embarrassed man stepped out of the small restroom hoping to avoid the redheaded flight attendant, and eager to return to his seat; instead, he stepped right into the path of the federal marshal and the prisoner.

The kid has to use the restroom, The marshal grunted.

Jack smiled, noticing the man’s name on his ID, he joked, Arnold, guess we will have to stop running into each other this way.

The boy went into the restroom.

It’ll be the last time we see each other. Of that I can assure you, Arnold said in a hoarse blunted voice.

Sudden fear riveted down Jack’s spine. The tinge of a foreign accent was interesting, but there were no requirements that federal employees had to be born in the United States. It was the man’s demeanor which was troubling. Jack trusted his instincts, and he felt the marshal had anger flowing from the pores of his skin. He nodded at the man and hastily walked back to his seat. He glanced at the ill lady across the aisle and saw that she was comfortably sleeping.

Impulsively, he looked back towards the marshal with a certain amount of pity. He whispered to himself, "It’s a shame a badge can