Chapter 8

It was pitch dark inside the tent when I opened my eyes. I was lying on my side, and I could barely make out Sharon’s form as she laid facing away from me. I stayed still, and then I heard her softly crying. “Sharon? Are you crying?”

She inhaled sharply at my soft question. “I’m okay.”

“What is it?”

A minute passed before she spoke. “I’ve never killed anyone before.”

I hadn’t either, but, to be blunt, Sharon’s life had been in danger. At the moment, I’d had no compunction whatever about pulling the trigger. It was their choice to attack us, and the results were on them. “They didn’t leave us a choice.” I moved up close behind her, and put my arm around her waist.

“He was younger than me, and now he’s dead because I shot him.” Her voice quavered, and she held my arm to her belly.

“I know, and I’m sorry that you had to do that.”

Sharon rolled over to face me, placing her head against my chest. “Me, too. The worst part is that it’s not over.”

“I know.” I held her close, and kissed the top of her head. She cried for a while, and then her breathing became deeper and more regular. After a while longer, she fell asleep. I closed my eyes and listened to her breathing, and I, too, went back to sleep.

A movement awakened me, and I saw that it was morning. Sharon sat next to me on the sleeping bag, examining her shirt critically. “I wish I’d gotten some clothes. I have exactly one outfit.” She smiled at me. “Good morning.”

A mostly nude Sharon was a good morning, indeed. “Good morning.” I sat up and leaned toward her. She turned to me, and I kissed her.

“Okay, bathroom and a shower, next,” she rose up on her knees and unzipped the door enough to peek outside. “The coast is clear,” she pronounced, unzipped the door all the way, and stepped outside.

I followed her, and was graced with the vision of Sharon topless in the morning sun. My reaction was inevitable, and she grinned at my predicament. “We will see to that later.”

We dressed, gathered the two towels from the baggage compartment, and walked to the bath house. We quickly found the items we needed – and we also found that hot water wasn’t on the list of amenities. Even in summer, it was freezing cold, and we yelped our way through our showers. We washed out our clothes while we were there, since the only other item of clothing we had between us was an old T-shirt I’d stuffed into my range bag. I washed it, too. When we were done, I checked to see if the coast was still clear. It was, and we walked back to our campsite clad in just our shoes.

The plane made a great drying rack, and I draped our clothing over the rear fuselage and tail to dry. Our campsite was located in a cut from the main clearing that was just wide enough to accommodate the plane and the campsite behind it. The trees damped the wind, and provided plenty of shade.

We passed the day together, eating breakfast and lunch, and walking on the trails that formed part of the campground. We saw the people from the other end of the campground only once, and that at a distance. We waved, and they waved back, but neither of us tried to strike up a conversation. That afternoon, we heard their plane start up, taxi out, and take off.

Sharon and I told each other about our lives. We had a shared interest in travel, although most of my international stays had only been for a night or two. We didn’t consider ourselves religious, although we did share a conservative viewpoint on life. She talked about her family in loving terms and about the pain of not wanting the life they so enjoyed. I told her about my marriage, and the agony of losing my wife so suddenly.

The trouble that brought us together seemed so far away, although we did make sure to have our pistols with us all of the time. We were fairly certain we hadn’t been tracked, but we weren’t about to let down our guard.

By evening, the dinner was done, and we drank the last of the cold sodas. The cooler’s ice was nearly gone, so we emptied it and left it open to dry. We sat next to each other on the grass, with our backs against a log set for just that purpose, watching the sun set over the trees across the runway from us.

“You know” I said at length, “your family, or the friend you told me about, probably knows you’ve disappeared by now. Maybe you should call them.”

“Can we get a cell signal out here?”

“There is a pretty big highway about three miles east of us, so I’m guessing we can.” I reached into my pocket, and pulled out my own phone and its battery. “I hope it’s still charged up.” I installed the battery and pressed the power button. It took a moment, and then I nodded. “Yep. Two bars for me.”

Sharon picked up her purse, found her phone, assembled it, and powered it up. It began to buzz as many messages were downloaded to it. “Holy smokes!”

“Wow, you are popular. Who’re they from?”

“My family and my friend in New York City. Oh, and the FBI agent we’re trying to contact?” She started scrolling through her text messages. “Well, the FBI is looking for me, and there’s no mention of you, or of the shootout, or the plane.”

“Okay, you’d better shut it off.” She complied, and I handed her my phone. “Call your father on my phone.”

The conversation went as I expected; Sharon’s father was relieved that she was alive and even more worried when she told him the whole story. She even handed me the phone, and I told him we were lying low until we could get some help. I also explained that being arrested would probably get us killed before we could be bailed out of jail. We agreed that he would call us at noon tomorrow with a plan to rescue us. He ended the call by telling me to take care of his daughter, and I assured him that I would. After the call, I again removed the phone’s battery and put both items back in my pocket.

We sat in companionable silence and watched the sun sink over the horizon beyond the tree line. I reached for her hand, and she gripped my fingers between hers. “The other day”, I said at length, “you said that you couldn’t see me as I saw you.” I took a breath. “Is that still true?”

“No” she said after a moment. “I see you, and I love you, Thomas.”

“Compared to your family, I have nothing material to offer you. I’m almost twenty years senior to you.”

“I don’t need anything material” Sharon said quietly. “Material things have brought me here, in a way.”

“Because you couldn’t be sure of their motives, right?”

“Yes. The other part is, money, especially old money, shapes the people who have it. My parents fought that lifestyle, and I think they won that fight with my family.”

I chose my next words carefully. “Sharon, I am sorry about the deaths involved, but I am also thankful that the circumstances brought you to me.”

“Serendipity, or fate?”

I shook my head. “I don’t really believe in either one, so I will say gift, and a measure of protection.”

The twilight receded toward night, and the lack of light pollution brought out a spangled blanket of stars in a mostly clear sky. The summer night was still quite warm, and a gentle breeze kept the humidity from being oppressive.

“My father said he was sending people to us tomorrow. What will you do after all of this is over?” Sharon’s spoke in a neutral voice, but I could hear the unspoken question behind it.

“We will both have to go back to Oklahoma and settle events from the shooting. We also have to return the plane and the camping gear.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“What will you do?” I tried to keep voice level.

“I will have to find a job. I couldn’t stand just doing nothing all of the time.” She glanced at me.

I nodded, and took a breath to steady my nerves. “I was thinking; maybe you could come with me.”

She looked down at her hands for a long moment, and then spoke without looking at me. “I want more than a relationship, Thomas. I want something real, something like what Megan had with you.” She sighed, and her voice quavered as she continued. “I love you, Thomas, and I know that you love me.”

There had been times like this in my life; a decision point. Everyone has them, of course, and I was facing one now. Sharon had put herself out there for me, and now it was my turn. Life wasn’t a sure thing. People change, and like Megan, people die. I’d known this woman for less than a week, she moved in a social and economic circle that I’d barely interacted with, and I could carry all my earthly possessions on my back.

My choice settled within me, and I turned to look at her. “Sharon Amelia De Clercq, will you marry me, tonight?”

She looked at me. “Tonight? How?”

“Simple.” I rose up on my knees, facing her. “We give our promises, our vows, and our commitments to each other.”

She rose up to face me. “Aren’t we supposed to have a wedding?”

“There’s a wedding, and then there is a state-recognized ceremony,” I said calmly.