Rushing Waters Read Free Page A

curb, put her boarding pass in her handbag, and walked into the terminal looking very tall and young and pretty in beige slacks, a crisp blue shirt, sandals, and a blazer in case she got chilly on the plane. She was planning to watch a movie and do some work. She loved catching up on movies when she traveled, and she headed to the business class lounge to have a cup of tea and read a newspaper before they boarded. Her cell phone rang almost the moment she sat down and put her cup of tea on the table next to her.
    “I already miss you,” George’s voice said, and she smiled.
    “Good.” She looked happy. They had come through the past four difficult years with a minimum of marital damage, despite the stress of the treatments and hormone shots, exams and sonograms, disappointments and IVF. It had been much harder than they’d expected, but their marriage was still intact.
    “I love you,” she said into the phone, and then they hung up, and she sat back, smiling to herself as she sipped her tea. She was going to miss him, even if she’d only be gone a little over a week.
    —
    Charles Williams arrived at Heathrow a half hour later than he was meant to, to check in. He was afraid he might have already lost his seat, but he hadn’t, much to his relief. His only luggage was a small carry-on bag on wheels, so he had no bags to check. He got his boarding pass from a machine, and then hurried to the lounge for something to eat. He had overslept and looked tousled and harassed as he sat down in a bank of seats across from Ellen and nearly spilled his coffee. She noticed him immediately. He was a good-looking man, in jeans, an open-necked shirt, and a tweed jacket, which she knew would be too hot for New York at this time of year. He looked very British and probably in his late thirties or very early forties at most. And there was something nervous and stressed about him. He exuded anxiety as he juggled a newspaper and his coffee. He paid no attention to Ellen and seemed lost in thought after he read the paper. And as they left the lounge to board the plane, she heard him ask one of the ground personnel at the desk if there were any further reports about the hurricane, and if it was likely to cause a problem on the flight. Ellen pegged him instantly as a nervous flyer, and the girl at the desk must have too. She smiled reassuringly at him, as he shoved a lock of straight dark hair out of his eyes, with a worried expression.
    “Not at all, sir. We wouldn’t be taking off if it was likely to cause a problem. We’d be grounded. So everything is fine. Enjoy your flight.” He nodded but didn’t seem convinced as he walked away, pulling his carry-on bag and holding his battered briefcase. Ellen noticed that he was wearing dark brown suede shoes, which made him look even more English. She followed him onto the plane and was surprised to find that she was seated beside him. She had the window seat, and he had the one on the aisle. He nodded as she stepped past him, but he said nothing, settled into his seat, and gratefully accepted a glass of champagne as the flight attendant offered it. Ellen asked for only a small bottle of water. She hated drinking alcohol on flights first thing in the morning, and didn’t need it. Apparently, he did, and his nervousness seemed to increase as they were told to turn off their cell phones, the doors closed, and they were ferried out to the runway, surprisingly on time, since so many flights were late. He glanced at Ellen then, and nodded.
    “I hate to fly, especially on these enormous planes, but everything else was booked,” he explained. She smiled pleasantly at him before she answered, sorry for him at his obvious distress.
    “I think the big ones are especially smooth. They say you don’t feel the turbulence on them,” she said to reassure him. He appeared unconvinced and glanced past her out the window as they took off, while trying valiantly not to look as panicked as he felt. After