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Then I walk away.
In the morning, I get dressed and consider whether I should make breakfast for just myself or for Ashley too. She'll need a full stomach for our journey. But she might have eaten already. So I decide to gather some snacks for us instead, then I eat a quick breakfast and head over to Ashley's house.
At eight fifteen, I knock on her door.
The lass swings it open and raises her brows. "What's that? More food? I do know how to feed myself, you know."
I hold up the insulated bag. "These are snacks for the trip. I assumed you would have eaten breakfast already."
"Yes, I did. Snacks were a good idea, though."
"Glad you approve." I offer her my arm. "May I escort you to the car?"
She gives me an exasperated look, then accepts my arm. "Let's get going. I don't want to be late."
"We will get there on time, you have my word."
"If you fly like you drive, we'll probably get there an hour early and with our hair standing on end."
"Marilyn can't go that fast." I lead her toward my car. "A DC-3 has a maximum cruising speed of about two hundred miles an hour. An average airliner goes about six hundred miles an hour."
"We're traveling the slow way?"
"Speed isn't always the best option." I open the car door for her. "Several of my cousins have private jets that go even faster than an airliner. But Marilyn is less obvious."
Ashley doesn't seem convinced, but she climbs into the car. "Could you please drive a little slower?"
"You wouldn't want that. My insanity makes you randy."
"Maybe it does, but I'd rather not arrive at the airport looking like I just stepped off a roller coaster."
I laugh. "Airport? No, we're not going there."
"But we're flying to Manchester. In your decrepit plane, but still, we're flying."
"Aye. But Marilyn isn't parked at an airport. She's waiting for us…elsewhere." I think I'll make it a surprise for Ashley. She might leap out of the car while we're racing down the road if I tell her where I've left my plane. She's a fiery lass with a wild heart, but she can be a wee bit squeamish.
When I veer around a corner, Ashley grips the arm rest on her door as well as the one between our seats. She grimaces faintly.
"All right over there?" I ask. "Not much farther to go."
"Thank God for that." She begins to look a touch green around the gills. "Just get us there."
"Feeling queasy?"
"Not until you said that word."
I swerve off the highway into the car park of a petrol station. We don't need petrol, but I think Ashley needs a different sort of service. "Stay here. I'll be right back."
Ashley slouches in her seat and exhales a big breath.
My quick trip into the petrol station's shop gets me what I'm sure Ashley needs. I jump into the car again and hand her the wee bag. "This is for you. Look like you need it."
She eyes me with suspicion but takes the bag. When she pulls out the single item inside it, she holds up the small bottle. "Motion sickness pills?"
"Aye. The less drowsy sort, according to the information on the bottle."
"Um, thank you. It was very sweet of you to stop and get me this."
