The Wife Between Us(9)

Nellie scanned the dining area, then saw Richard rising from his seat at a corner table. A few fine lines framed his eyes, and at his temples strands of silver were woven through his dark hair. He looked her up and down and gave her a playful wink. She wondered if she’d ever stop feeling a flutter in her stomach at the sight of him.

“Sorry,” she said as she approached. He kissed her as he pulled out her chair, and she breathed in his clean citrus scent.

“Everything okay?”

Anyone else would’ve asked almost as a formality. But Richard’s gaze stayed fixed on her; Nellie knew he truly cared about her answer.

“Crazy day.” Nellie sat down with a sigh. “Parent conferences. When we’re on the other side of that table for Richard Junior, remind me to say thank you to the teachers.”

She smoothed her skirt over her legs as Richard reached for the bottle of Verdicchio cooling on ice in a bucket. On the table, a votive candle burned low, casting a golden circle on the heavy cream-colored tablecloth.

“Just half a glass for me. I had a quick drink with the other teachers after the conferences. Linda treated; she said it was our combat pay.”

Richard frowned. “Wish I’d known. I wouldn’t have ordered a bottle.” He motioned to the waiter, a subtle gesture with his index finger, and requested a San Pellegrino. “You sometimes get a headache when you drink during the day.”

She smiled. It was one of the first things she’d ever told him.

She’d been sitting next to a soldier on a flight from South Florida after visiting her mother. She’d moved to Manhattan for a fresh start immediately after graduating from college. If her mom didn’t still live in Nellie’s hometown, she’d never return.

Before the plane took off, the attendant had approached. “There’s a gentleman in first class who would like to offer you his seat,” she’d told the young soldier, who stood up and said, “Awesome!”

Then Richard had walked down the aisle. The knot of his tie was loosened, as if he’d had a long day. He held a drink and a leather briefcase. Those eyes had met Nellie’s and he’d flashed a warm smile.

“That was really nice of you.”

“No big deal,” Richard said as he settled down beside her.

Then the safety announcements began. A few moments later the plane lurched upward.

Nellie gripped the armrest as they bounced through an air pocket.

Richard’s deep voice, close to her ear, surprised her: “It’s just like when your car goes over a pothole. It’s perfectly safe.”

“I know that logically.”

“But it doesn’t help. Maybe this will.”

He passed her his glass and she noticed his ring finger was bare. She hesitated. “I sometimes get a headache when I drink during the day.”

The plane rumbled, and she took a big gulp.

“Finish it. I’ll order another . . . or maybe you’d prefer a glass of wine?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly, and she noticed the crescent-shaped silver scar by his right temple.

She nodded. “Thank you.” Never before had a seatmate tried to comfort her on a flight; usually people looked away or flipped through a magazine while she fought through her panic alone.

“I get it, you know,” he said. “I have this thing about the sight of blood.”

“You do?” The plane shuddered slightly, the wings tipping to the left. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

“I’ll tell you about it, but you have to promise not to lose respect for me.”

She nodded again, not wanting his soothing voice to stop.

“So a few years ago one of my colleagues passed out and hit his head on the edge of a conference table in the middle of a meeting. . . . I guess he had low blood pressure. Either that or the meeting bored him into a coma.”

Nellie opened her eyes and released a little laugh. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that on an airplane.

“I tell everyone to step back and I grab a chair and help the guy into it. I was yelling for someone to get water when I see all this blood. And all of a sudden I start getting light-headed, like I’m going to faint, too. I practically kick the injured guy out of the chair so I can sit down, and suddenly everyone is ignoring him and trying to help me.”

The plane leveled off. A soft chime sounded, and a flight attendant walked down the aisle, offering headphones. Nellie let go of the armrest and looked at Richard. He was grinning at her.

“You survived, we’re through the clouds. It should be pretty smooth from here on out.”

“Thank you. For the drink and the story . . . You get to keep your man card, even with the fainting.”

Two hours later, Richard had told Nellie about his job as a hedge fund manager and revealed he had a soft spot for teachers ever since one had helped him learn to pronounce his R’s: “It’s because of her that I didn’t introduce myself to you as Wichawd.” When she asked him if he had family in New York, he shook his head. “Just an older sister who lives in Boston. My parents died years ago.” He bridged his hands and looked down at them. “A car accident.”

“My father passed away, too.” He glanced back over at her. “I have this old sweater of his. . . . I still wear it sometimes.”

They were both silent for a beat, then the flight attendant instructed the passengers to close their tray tables and tilt their seats fully upright.