Chapter 34

As the Boeing roared into the sky over LA I could feel her examining me. I could also feel my face redden. I had spent a lot of time with beautiful women the last few months but rarely had I been this disconcerted.

Why was she having this effect on me?

As the plane made a sweeping right turn over the Pacific and moved up into the clouds I finally worked up the nerve to return her gaze. Her violet eyes seemed to see into the recesses of my soul. The slight smile on her lips and in her eyes told me I could do some examining of my own.

I slowly looked at her. She was even more beautiful close up — her face that of a Nordic beauty, perfectly proportioned, and her hair fell on her shoulders like soft spun gold. Her violet eyes were even more intense close up. I kept thinking, "Leslie... Leslie beautiful name for a gorgeous lady.

She caught my glance at her left hand. She slowly moved it into her lap. There was no ring there.

The plane leveled off and the noise subsided.

"Thank you... James... for what you did back there." For a moment distress flashed across her eyes. My heart raced.

Christ, I hardly know this woman but I would do anything to keep her from harm!

"That... sailor... he was so horrible... I thought I had made it clear..." She shook her head — the thought of that drunken idiot made her shudder.

Damn him anyway, I thought, too bad Jimmy kept me from killing the bastard!

I knew I couldn't keep going around killing people to protect myself and the people I cared about. There had to be a better way. On a more visceral level there was a great satisfaction in knowing that a thug and a bully dead is a thug and a bully that you never have to worry about again — and as I had discovered in my short life there were plenty of thugs and bullies out there who take advantage of people who are weaker.

The big problem with this whole line of thinking was the feeling that it wasn't my job to decide who lives and dies and that somewhere in the great scheme of things I would be called to reckoning. I knew I had to balance that with my actions and be ready to take the consequences.

"Please don't think anymore about it ma'am... I'm just glad I was there to help."

The brightness returned to her eyes.

"Please call me Leslie."

"You don't much care for... bullies... do you James? The fire in your eyes was frightening... I don't believe I have ever seen a person so... so fearsome and perhaps so fearless. I dearly hope I would never so anything that would incur your wrath."

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to upset you..." Contrite, my voice trailed off. The thought that I had done something to bring distress to Leslie saddened me.

Sensing my distress she put her hand over mine - her touch, as light as a caress. My heart jumped.

"Please... James... don't misunderstand... I'm so very grateful for what you did... I pride myself in knowing how to handle people but he frightened me badly... I didn't know what to do when I saw that sailor come back... I know he wanted to hurt me... I was paralyzed... and then you were there. I never saw you come... just all of a sudden... you... you... were... helping me... and all I could do was run away."

Here eyes glistened.

Now it was my turn. I put my hand over hers.

"Leslie... you're right... I do hate bullies... and people who use their position or size or wealth to take advantage of people... always have."

I smiled. "Anyway since there are darn few dragons these days... I was very pleased to help a beautiful damsel in distress."

She smiled back... her mood changing back to sunlight again. She gently disengaged her hand from mine and reached in her expensive looking alligator bag and brought out a small embroidered linen handkerchief and dabbed her eyes.

At that point the stewardess arrived with our drinks. Leslie put her purse away.

She set them on the middle armrest and stood and looked at Leslie.

"Is everything all right ma'am?"

"Oh yes... everything is just fine."

The stewardess gave me a look that said I had better not be upsetting this lady.

I started to reach for my wallet and Leslie caught the gesture and gave tie tiniest shake of her head.

I learned something else that day — free drinks in first class!

"Oh Miss?"

"Yes... ma'am?"

"When you get a chance... would you bring me a small towel with a handful of ice in it?"

The stewardess looked puzzled.

"My Marine here seems to have injured his ear." As she said "My Marine" she caressed my throbbing left ear. The coolness of her fingertips did wonders to sooth the burning. My heart jumped again.

I smiled broadly at the thought of being her "Marine".

The rest of the plane seemed full but we were two of just a handful in first class. There was no one behind us and an older businessman in the seat in front of us. He slammed down a double Bourbon and went to sleep.

The plane headed north through the darkness and in the dimly lighted cabin we sat close together, Leslie holding the towel filled with ice against my ear.

"Have you rescued many damsels in distress James?" She took the ice bag from the side of my face.

I looked at her. Her question seemed innocent enough but how could I answer without seeming a braggart or a Casanova?

"A true gentleman never talks about ladies in distress of otherwise — not done you know." I said the last part with what I thought was a pretty good imitation of a British public school accent. It probably came out a poor imitation of Sean Connery as James Bond.

She laughed. Her laugh suited her. It was like Japanese chimes in a gentle breeze. I loved to hear her laugh. Somehow during this flight I knew I was going to have to figure out how to be with her after we landed — how to tell her how I felt...

God she is not only beautiful but she has a sense of humor and I'm now her "Marine".

I followed her lead and had red wine with my dinner steak.

"Going home for Christmas James?"

Suddenly much of the gaiety of dinner whooshed out of me as I remembered that I was going home for the first time in a couple of years. Going home to places and memories of love and death. That day in the rain watching them lower my mother's casket into the muddy earth intruded into my thoughts like an unholy specter.

She caught my momentary change of mood. Again her cool hand found mine.

"I'm sorry... James... just trying to... well... find out more about my mystery knight."

"It's okay... Leslie... it's just that... Well I left home... it was kind of sudden... and I haven't been back for over two years."

"It's none of my business James... but families have a way of forgiving and forgetting. Someone there must love you... otherwise I don't think you would be on this plane."

She was right... people did love me... although that was not the reason I was on this plane. Maybe she was the reason I was on this plane?

"Thanks... you're right. There are some ghosts I have to put to rest there that's all."

"How about you... family in Seattle?"

I was steeling myself for her to tell me she was going to meet her fiancé or some other significant man in her life.

It was her turn to look sad.

She leaned close.

Damn she smells good!

She whispered. "I'm running away..."

"Running away?"

She paused, sipping at her wine, collecting her thoughts.

"My divorce was final today..."

For the next several minutes I listened to her story... a story about growing up wealthy in Beverly Hills... about strict second generation from Norway parents who made her study and who never let her get away with using her beauty as a free ticket — at least at home. When she graduated from UCLA she ran off to New York... partially in defiance of her parents and partially to leave a boyfriend behind — a boyfriend her parents approved of but who seemed awfully staid. She wanted one great adventure before she settled down and had a family. She figured after a couple of years she could always come home to parents and boyfriend.

As usual, life tended to get in the way of the best laid plans.

Leslie had a classic New York story — hard work in a café while fending off advances of the owner and his son. Finally she quit and about the time her money and forbearance of her landlord were running out, a modeling agency called her. She had left her photos there months before when she had arrived fresh-faced and thinking it would be only days before she was "discovered". She found out quickly that New York was full of beautiful women... some of whom were willing to do a lot more for a modeling job than she was.

She was not an overnight success but found plenty of work — mostly small ad jobs and some modeling until one day she was called for a try out with one of the big fashion houses. It was winter in New York and it was fashion week and she was pressed into service when one of their models went down with pneumonia.

Her poise and maturity and her reputation as an undemanding and tireless worker got her noticed

After three years her father showed up to try to convince her to come home. She refused and she hurt him badly in the argument that followed. Six months later she did go home to LA — to his funeral. Ironically it was the same month that she made her first appearance on the cover of Vogue. She was at the top of her profession and her mother blamed her for her father's death. They had parted in less than amicable terms. Her younger brother, who she loved dearly, had tried to be the peace maker but it seemed there was too much hurt right then for any hope of reconciliation.