“A little,” she admitted.She only wanted to cry a little as every muscle in her body, right down to the cellular level, registered protests.She’d have wanted to cry a lot, great, gulping sobs but she suspected that would hurt, too.
She kind of wanted to punch him the face, but her fingers were mad at her, too.
After a short silence while he waited for her to take his hand, he said, “We probably need to track down a cushion for you.”
“Is your seat padded?”She might be bitter if it was.
Red made a face.“A cushion that died a long time ago.”
Great.A tough guy.Bet his bum hurt, too, but he didn’t want her to see him cry.
He jumped down, then turned to help her down, catching her as she stumbled.For just a minute she let herself lean against him.How long had it been since she leaned on anyone?
Maybe what she wanted wasn’t to punch him but to violate the laws of time and space and kiss the guy.
“Evening,” the man said sauntering slowly toward them.
She straightened hurriedly, heat rising in her face.
“A Pitts Special.Nice.Haven’t seen one like this in years.”The old man rested his hand on the name painted on the fuselage.“Years.”
“You never forget your first,” Red said.
“No, you don’t.”The man sounded thoughtful and the glance he shot them made her uneasy.
“Name’s Joe.”He took out a handkerchief and wiped his hands before extending one of them to Red.
“I’m Red and this is Rita.”
“I only have the one spare room,” Joe said.
“Rita can take it, if you’ve a mind to let us stay the night.”
“You can’t fly that in the dark,” Joe said.“You can share my supper and I can sell you fuel.”
“We’re grateful, sir.”
“You’re a mite too tall for the couch,” Joe observed.
“I can sleep in the plane,” Red said.
Rita had a feeling it wouldn’t be the first time he’d slept in a plane.She should probably object.In her time, men didn’t make accommodations for women.But she was too tired.And it would seem odd.
“Thank you,” she said.
Joe gestured for her to go first.Rita was surprised when she was able to move—though it still hurt enough to make her grit her teeth again.
Something really strange was happening—and that was saying a lot around this place.The time fluxes were off somehow, almost like the waves of a stormy sea.
They were sticking to the edges of the bulletin board for now, but the view was decidedly weird.It was almost as if the board itself were caught in a storm.
She wouldn’t have been surprised if it started raining.
Okay, that would surprise her.She thought about it.Probably.
She picked up phone—it was an old-fashioned model.Cell phones didn’t work in the silo.And she dialed Jack’s office.
“You might want to come down and see this,” she said.She could tell he dropped the receiver without asking how urgent it was.Oh well, she slung her side back in the rest.
