On A Wing And A Prayer Part 6

Thanks again for replying. I really appreciate it.

You are right ... I am a pilot. I work for Southern Lights Airline ... I fly mostly into Central and South America ... occasionally a domestic flight. I was flying a domestic flight when I found your book in Dallas.

As far as the book turning out to be c.r.a.p ... not a chance. How could someone as beautiful as yourself produce anything but perfection? I was not disappointed by the book, nor the picture. I was captivated by both.

The book cover says you are from the seacoast of Maine. If you don't mind sharing, what town do you live in? Are you directly on the ocean? I love the ocean, especially at night ... especially in the rain.

Anyway, thank you again for replying. I really do appreciate it, and I hope to hear from you soon.

Ca.s.s"

Rox stared at the screen debating about just how honest she should be with this person. Should she bare all and confess to living a life of pure h.e.l.l? Should she confess that her last two books were based on her fatalistic belief that she was destined to form impossibly doomed relations.h.i.+ps?

Taking a deep breath, she decided on a compromise.

"Hi again Ca.s.s!

You sound like you have a very interesting job. I hear Mexico and Central America are beautiful. Do you get a chance to do much sight seeing, or do you fly in and out? Some day I would like to travel ... to see the world ... to experience the beauty the earth has to offer. You are very fortunate to have that luxury.

I live in the town of Rockland, Maine, and yes, my home is situated directly on the beach. I love the ocean, and like you, I especially love it when it rains.

Thank you for the compliments on my work and my appearance. I'm afraid I'm not always as attractive as my picture may suggest. Circ.u.mstances don't always allow it. I am glad you were not disappointed with the story ... it was written during a time of traumatic upheaval in my life. Quite frankly, I am surprised it turned out as well as it did. I am currently engaged in another science fiction story with a romantic theme. I am afraid this one will be equally as difficult to write.

Sometimes my writing provides an escape from reality, the creation of a fantasy world where truly loving and dedicated relations.h.i.+ps exist, where love is so intense and so real, it becomes tangible .... a world where people never hurt the ones the profess to love. It is a pity that print does not always emulate life, Ca.s.s. If you ever meet the woman of your dreams, reach out and grab her, treat her like a queen, and don't ever let her go. She will love you forever for it.

Look at me, philosophizing ... I am certainly in no position to be giving advice on love. Writing love stories certainly does not make me an expert on relations.h.i.+ps. Forgive me for overstepping my bounds.

Well, you are probably very busy, and I have a book to write, so I will say adios for now.

Sincerely,

Rox"

"There, Gerald. That's one down and four to go," Rox said as she clicked the send b.u.t.ton and opened the next file. Soon, with her e-mail out of the way, she settled in to write. As was normally the case, she became totally absorbed in her latest alien adventure and wrote well into the day, stopping only for nature calls and coffee.

As day turned to night, Rox decided to take a short break. Storm clouds had been brewing all day as the sky outside her lookout became dark and overcast with dark ugly clouds. Rox could feel the excitement of the pending storm building in her chest as she shut off all the lights in her office and threw the French doors wide open, allowing the wind to sweep in and swirl around her pet.i.te form.

Stepping out onto the balcony overlooking the ocean, she walked up to the railing and threw her arms out to the sides. Closing her eyes, she raised her face to the sky and smiled broadly, inhaling the salty scent of the sea as the wind whipped her hair into a frenzied array. Suddenly a clap of thunder loud enough to shake the entire house ripped through the night. Rox gasped, then let out a deep guttural scream from the recesses of her soul as lightning lit up the beach, the ocean, and everything in sight causing her hair to stand on end with static charge. Torrential rains quickly followed, drenching her to the skin as she stood there, arms spread wide, smiling ear to ear. Rox's chest was filled with such excitement, she thought she'd burst.

The sensation of rain pounding against her skin ... the claps of thunder vibrating through her very being ... the electric crackle of lightning causing her skin to tingle, all served to heighten the intensity of emotion and feeling she experienced to a point approaching an o.r.g.a.s.mic climax. Rox knew that after experiencing an intensity of emotion such as this, she would be able to write well into the night. Sometimes, the excitement and energy generated by the a storm was enough to fuel her through several days of non-stop writing. Rox screamed once more as a simultaneous display of thunder and lightning danced across the sky. It would be a good night for writing.

"This is your captain speaking ... please buckle your seat belts. We are currently entering a region of excess turbulence. Remain in your seats with your seat belts buckled until the seat belt sign is once again turned off. As always, it is recommended that your seat belt remained fastened as long as you are seated. Thank you," Ca.s.s recited over the intercom as she maneuvered the plane through the storm. "d.a.m.n, I hate flying in storms," she exclaimed to her copilot.

"I know what you mean," the man replied. "Have you even flown a plane that was. .h.i.t by lightning?" he asked.

"Oh yeah. The last time it happened, the static electricity made my hair stand on end. Thankfully, nothing vital to the plane's operating systems was affected. I wouldn't want to fly a crippled plane through a storm like this," she replied.

"I hear ya," the copilot said.

Ca.s.s' day did not get off to a good start. After waking up that morning from the strange dream, she arrived at the airport, only to discover the grounds crew at the Veracruz airport had staged an impromptu strike to protest long hours and low pay. The last thing Ca.s.s wanted was to be held over in Mexico because of a labor dispute. Even though she wasn't directly involved, she was nonetheless not very good at the waiting game, and was chomping at the bit late in the day when a temporary settlement was made between airport officials and the workers, allowing her plane to be loaded and fueled for the long flight home. To make matters worse, the weather forecast indicated potential storm conditions in southern California, directly in her fight path.

The storm forced Ca.s.s to fly as less than optimum speed, resulting in the flight taking nearly 90 minutes longer to complete than scheduled. It was 10 pm before she finally stepped through the front door of her condo and dropped into the nearest chair. Resting her head back against the cus.h.i.+on, she sighed deeply, glad to be home, as she kicked her shoes off, loosened her neck tie, and released the top few b.u.t.tons of her dress s.h.i.+rt. Thank G.o.d she had the next day off, so she at least had the luxury of sleeping in ... something she was looking forward to after being away from home for nearly two days.

Ca.s.s closed her eyes and thought of the dream that had jolted her awake that morning. She had an uneasy, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach when she recalled the whip marks on the woman's back ... especially after realizing the woman was a dead ringer for Rox. Ca.s.s was sure her imagination was working overtime, and there was probably nothing to worry about ... and besides, she didn't even know Rox. For some strange reason, she had Rox on the brain and her subconscious mind was playing tricks on her. Yeah, that was it.

Subconscious mind or not, it didn't stop Ca.s.s from booting up her computer to see if Rox had finally replied to her post. She held her breath as the computer seemed to take ten times longer tonight than usual. She watched the screen intently as the logon process seem stilted for several seconds. Finally, the message came across the screen Failed to make connection ... try again later.

"G.o.d d.a.m.ned, mother raping son of a b.i.t.c.h!" Ca.s.s screamed at the computer. "Fricken technology ... can't even connect to the Internet without an act of Congress," she complained loudly as she slammed her fist on the desk. Facing the screen, she shook her fist at the monitor and said, "I'm gonna take a shower. If you don't work by the time I come back, you're out the f.u.c.king window... understand?" she threatened. The monitor just sat there and took the abuse, while Ca.s.s stomped off to take her shower.

Luckily for the computer, a connection was made relatively fast as the newly showered Ca.s.s, with a much improved att.i.tude, sat in front of it. "That's better!" Ca.s.s mumbled under her breath as her inbox came up, displaying one new message ... from [email protected]

Ca.s.s was suddenly very nervous. Sitting back in her chair, she took a deep breath. Get a grip, Ca.s.s. Its just a chick that lives three thousand miles away. You're acting like a schoolgirl here. Christ, grow up, will ya! Enforcer scolded as Ca.s.s built up the courage to open the note.

"Hi again Ca.s.s!

You sound like you have a very interesting job. I hear Mexico and Central America are beautiful. Do you get a chance to do much sight seeing, or do you fly in and out? Some day I would like to travel ... to see the world ... to experience the beauty the earth has to offer. You are very fortunate to have that luxury.

I live in the town of Rockland, Maine, and yes, my home is situated directly on the beach. I love the ocean, and like you, I especially love it when it rains.

Thank you for the compliments on my work and my appearance. I'm afraid I'm not always as attractive as my picture may suggest. Circ.u.mstances don't always allow it. I am glad you were not disappointed with the story ... it was written during a time of traumatic upheaval in my life. Quite frankly, I am surprised it turned out as well as it did. I am currently engaged in another science fiction story with a romantic theme. I am afraid this one will be equally as difficult to write.

Sometimes my writing provides an escape from reality, the creation of a fantasy world where truly loving and dedicated relations.h.i.+ps exist, where love is so intense and so real, it becomes tangible .... a world where people never hurt the ones the profess to love. It is a pity that print does not always emulate life, Ca.s.s. If you ever meet the woman of your dreams, reach out and grab her, treat her like a queen, and don't ever let her go. She will love you forever for it.

Look at me, philosophizing ... I am certainly in no position to be giving advice on love. Writing love stories certainly does not make me an expert on relations.h.i.+ps. Forgive me for overstepping my bounds.

Well, you are probably very busy, and I have a book to write, so I will say adios for now.

Sincerely,

Rox"

"Oh my G.o.d," Ca.s.s whispered into the empty room as she read and reread Rox's words.

What is it Ca.s.s? Enforcer asked, sensing Ca.s.s' gut wrenching reaction to Rox's note.

I'm not sure. Something isn't right here. She's in trouble. I can feel it, Ca.s.s replied to the voice.

What the h.e.l.l do you mean, she's in trouble. How can you tell that from a fricken note? Enforcer asked angrily.

Look! She says her life is in an upheaval. E, she's writes about fantasy worlds where everyone is loving a gentle and kind ... It is a pity that print does not always emulate life ... Can't you see it? Ca.s.s asked.

Be careful Ca.s.s, this dame could be trouble. Be afraid ... be very afraid. Remember what happened with Patti. Take this one slow and easy, pal, okay? Enforcer encouraged.

Ca.s.s nodded her head up and down as she read the note again. Okay, what to write back, she speculated.

Ca.s.s stood up and paced back and forth in front of the computer for several minutes. She wasn't sure what it was about this woman that had her so worked up. She didn't even know her. Why should she be so concerned about the personal welfare of a person she didn't even know? Ca.s.s had no idea what was driving her need to communicate with this woman, but the need was real ... as real as the loneliness that fed it. Sitting back down in front of the monitor, she decided to be up front and honest.

"Hi Rox,

I must say that I was a bit concerned with your last reply. You seem troubled ... depressed maybe. Call me paranoid, having never met you, but I sense you are troubled by something ... or someone. I would be glad to listen if you'd like to talk. I am a good listener. I don't want to intrude on your life if you'd rather not ... I just thought you could use a friendly ear right now ... your last post indicated that you might.

Please don't be angry with me for expressing my concern. If you'd rather not discuss it, just let me know and I'll never bring it up again. I will continue to be an avid fan of your writing, and of your beauty, regardless.

I am here to help if you need me.

Yours always,

Ca.s.s"

Ca.s.s sent the note, then sat back and reread Rox's note several more times. Each time, she felt this underlying sense of sadness, desperation. She hoped she did the right thing by offering her ear.

After several more minutes of staring at Rox's note, she reached for the mouse to shut the computer down. Just as she was about to start the shutdown process, the new mail indicator flashed on the lower right hand corner of the screen.

Roxanne had come in from the storm several hours ago, drenched to the bone, but on an emotional high that she knew would carry her through the night. Making her way down one flight of stairs, she stripped off her clothes and jumped into the shower, wincing as the jet spray abused her already tender back. Once her shower was done and she had donned a clean nights.h.i.+rt, she returned to her office and resumed writing.

At nearly 1 a.m., she decided to take a much needed break. Standing up, she stretched her body as well as her bruises would allow, listening to her back crack in several places as she clasped her hands behind her and pulled up and back. Shaking the kinks out, she went over to the small kitchenette in the corner and made a cup of hot chocolate. Carrying it over to the computer, she set it down next to the keyboard, then sat down to resume writing. As her hands hovered over the keys, she noticed the exclamation point next to the tiny envelope in the bottom right corner of her screen. She had mail.

"Who would be sending mail this late in the evening, Gerald?" she asked her stuffed giraffe, a puzzled expression on her face as she clicked on the icon.

appeared in the inbox. That was fast, Rox thought, not really expecting a reply to her earlier e-mail until the next day. Positioning the mouse pointer over the sender's name, she double clicked to open the note.

Rox read the note and immediately went into panic mode.