2. Reflection

Chapter 2 of Under A Cold Iowa Moon

The time taken up at the courthouse meant that Catherine had no choice but to board a flight to Des Moines that travelled via Chicago. She made her way to a seat by the window, with a little apprehension, though it was not her first time flying it is the constant pitch and yore of an aircraft which reminds her that control is just an illusion of ones perception. Seated just two rows behind the wing on the right hand side, Catherine removed the thriller novel from her purse, opened it to the book-marked page and found herself quickly becoming lost in the deeply intricate tale once more. This seemed to have placated Catherine’s nerves at least until she was startled by the voice of Maureen Hampstead, the senior flight attendant for this journey, as she was making her rounds with the drink trolley.

“I’ll have a pot of Earl Grey Tea thank you” managed Catherine, trying her best to avoid sounding jittery.

 

Maureen, an average sized woman in her early to mid fifties with greying auburn hair, considered herself a veteran of the skies having spent more than a decade and a half as part of an in flight cabin crew. Taking the vacant seat beside Catherine after finishing handing out refreshments, Maureen began to speak passionately about her favourite destinations and most memorable flights. The tale regarding one particular trip to Spain captured Catherine’s complete attention and left her feeling as though she had experienced the romance of flamenco dancing and mariachi bands first hand.

 

The voice of pilot Steven Pratt came over the intercom “Ladies and gentlemen we are preparing for our descent to O’Hare Airport, Chicago. Local time is 6.25 pm and the temperature 58 degrees. Passengers will be asked to disembark the aircraft and wait in the departure lounge so that cleaning and refuelling can be carried out, expected layover time is 90 minutes.” With that Maureen rose to her feet and started explaining the landing procedures to the passengers like she had many hundreds of times before.

 

Finding a comfortable seat in the departure lounge proved to be an easier assignment than first thought, as almost half the passengers were not travelling the leg from Chicago to Des Moines.  Catherine soon wished she had been among those completing their journey here, as the announcement over the Airport’s Public Address system told of delays of up to 3 hours, due to fog enveloping the runways.

 

Maureen emerged from the plane with the remainder of the crew keen to take advantage of the break and resume her earlier conversation. Noticing Catherine was sitting alone, Maureen headed for the seat beside her flanked by junior flight attendant Sara Giles. Sara, an elegant young woman with long flowing blonde tresses and barely 28 years old, had no sooner introduced herself saying she was only on her fifth domestic flight when co-pilot Warren French signalled to both his fellow crew members to join himself and Pratt in the staff common room.

 

Finding herself alone once more Catherine suddenly became consumed by memories of her own travels and youth. The first thing that came to mind was a holiday to visit her grandparents in London when she was a vibrant and energetic 10 year old girl. Catherine remembered being surprised at how the beefeaters, guarding several royal buildings, could remain expressionless despite how many silly faces she pulled in front of them trying to make them smile. Then there were the rides on double-decker busses; the tours of Whitehall, Kew Gardens, Bekonscot Model Village, and to the strange formation of Stonehenge in the countryside. Everything she had seen filled her mind with wonder and joy, including how on earth do they keep the enormous clock tower (affectionately known as Big Ben) wound up. Her fondest memory of the trip however was posing barefoot for a photo with her brother, father and grandfather on the famous crossing in front of Abbey Road Studios. That particular photograph still hangs proudly on the wall above the mantle in her living room.

 

It was those sentimental memories that reminded her again of her parents whom she had not thought about in quite a long time. Her father Patrick was an avid fisherman and had resigned from a job as a salesman in a retail department store to begin his own fishing charter and bay tour business on Bogue Sound nearby their home in Moorehead City, NC. Emily, enjoyed spending time with her daughter Catherine, sharing her skills in craft and cooking in the spare hours she had outside of working at the local bakery. The unusual hours didn’t seem to faze Emily as much as it would most people due to the quality time it allowed her to spend with both Catherine and Patrick.

 

Four years later Catherine’s parents had sent her on the bus to spend part of the summer school holidays with her aunt in Miami. Catherine spent many days building sand castles on the beach and dancing in the shore wash pretending to be a ballerina. One day in particular was destined to remain among her deepest memories for eternity.

 

Aunt Elizabeth had taken Catherine to play in Lummus Park where palm trees lined the ivory sand of the beach and skaters showed their skills performing various tricks along the central pavement, ice-cream and refreshment booths were evenly spaced on the beach, set back just a few metres from the shoreline. The tall young man with deep set blue eyes in one of these booths was very friendly and gave Catherine an extra scoop of triple berry ripple on her waffle cone without charge.

 

On returning to the home of her aunt, the pleasure of the day was quickly soured. Aunt Elizabeth had put down the phone and walked into the living room with tears flowing like a stream down the side of her face, not wanting to have to tell Catherine of the news she just received yet not knowing any other way around avoiding deeply hurting her.

 

“Catherine” Elizabeth called, trying hard to remain composed “I don’t know how else I can express this, but not to tell you would do more harm”

“What is it? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“There was a hold-up at the Cooperative Bank, your parents were inside the bank withdrawing money at the time, they were planning to come down for a while and fly home with you.”

“Are they alright?”

“I’m sorry my dear, but the man who robbed the bank shot and killed 7 people in his failed bid to escape, Patrick and Emily passed away in the ambulance while being taken to hospital”

Catherine remembered being wrapped tightly in Aunt Elizabeth’s arms, as they both began sobbing uncontrollably.

Forcing back the fresh forming tears, Catherine made her way to board the much overdue connecting flight.

 

Reviews

[poet2angels (lynda)]

Oh , Scott this was way better than I ever expected....You can really write stories, my talented Cuz!!!
I am so impressed. I would buy this...I sure would!!!
*hug* COngrats on this...Excellent and so entertaining!!!

Lynda