The Secret Hour by Luanne Rice

Author:Luanne Rice
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780553897227
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2003-02-04T05:00:00+00:00

chapter 13

The flight to Washington filled Kate with memories of flying with Willa, of taking her up in the small Cessna, banking over the Potomac and flying east over estuaries of endless green to the sands of Chincoteague. The images were so shimmering and happy that, when she closed her eyes, she smelled tidal waters and salt hay. She remembered John's arms around her, felt his kiss . . . the happiness of touching someone again.

Followed by the terrible reality of what he'd told her about Willa intersecting with Merrill . . .

So, touching down at Reagan Airport, she didn't even bother to go home. She and Bonnie just walked out of the terminal, straight over to the private aviation hangar; Kate slid her Amex card across the counter and chartered the only four-seater available—the same old yellow Cessna she and Willa had flown a hundred times.

The plane's interior felt like home. The cracked leather seats, the small blue plastic visor, the old-style control panel. Bonnie, aware of the takeoff about to come, curled up in back. Kate ran through her checklist, waved the wing flaps, and took off into the wild blue yonder from which she had just landed. Instinctively touching her neck, she reached for her white scarf.

Of course, she had given it to Maggie. The scarf, a gift from Willa—purchased lovingly, with money from her savings account, from a Paris boutique—had been one of Kate's most prized possessions. Its thick, creamy silk had felt so soft around her neck, the fringe so jaunty and brave.

“Every aviatrix should have one!” Willa had said.

How true that was; and that was why Kate had given it to Maggie. There was something about that little girl—so vulnerable and courageous—that had pierced Kate, had reminded her of her own sister at that age. She thought of Maggie, her brother, and her father, wondered what they were doing at that moment. . . . Their families were connected now, in some deep and mysterious way, that had only a little to do with the kiss, with kissing John in the parking lot where Willa had disappeared, where his client had probably killed her . . . that kiss that Kate felt still, that told her body—her nerves and skin and heart—that she was still alive.

Isn't it strange, she thought, that my sister isn't here anymore? But I am? How can that be? The truth hadn't sunk in yet. The reality was buzzing in her brain, but it hadn't made it down to her heart, her guts, her toes. Strangely and somehow upsettingly, John's kiss felt more real than anything. Her lips still felt it—the excitement, the warmth, the gentle touch of another human being.

Heading east, the plane's roar comforted her. She loved airplane engine sounds, even the surges and hums that had sometimes made Willa jump. Flying home to her Atlantic barrier island home, Kate could almost believe her sister was right beside her.

The truth was so hard to accept, she pushed it away.

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