Chapter 9

I awoke to the sound of rain pattering on our tent. It was early morning, judging from the dim daylight coming through the vents. I rolled toward Sharon’s sleeping form, and caressed her hair as she slept on her stomach. Even though I had been married before, I could not remember having been this happy. I leaned down and kissed her shoulder, marveling at her freckled skin.

Sharon stirred, and she opened her eyes. “Morning.” She rolled onto her side with a sigh of discomfort, and pressed her hand to her belly just above her pubic hair.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” she said as she massaged her pubic mound. She smiled. “I’m very happy, Thomas. I never thought that lovemaking would ever feel like that.”

“Painful?” I felt guilty for hurting her, and I reached out to touch her shoulder.

She laughed gently. “No, not painful.” She lifted my hand and planted a kiss on my palm. “I mean, I knew that it might hurt, although my doctor once told me that I’d never had a hymen. I didn’t even like using tampons, so I guessed that sex might be painful at first.” She sat up on the sleeping bag. “It will pass, and it will get better, I’m sure.”

I sat up next to her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I should have been more careful.”

“Thomas, I loved it, really I did.” She reached over and cupped my cheek. “I wanted you to do all of that to me, and, as soon as I rest, I will want you to do it all again.”

I leaned over and kissed her. “I will be honored.”

She giggled. “You’re such a gentleman.” She sat back and wrinkled her nose. “In the meantime, we really need to air out the tent.”

“Don’t touch the fabric,” I warned. “It’s raining, and the tent will leak.”

“Okay,” Sharon assented; she carefully unzipped the door to peek out. “Okay, it looks like it’s moving east, and I can see blue sky to the west. The wind is out of the west at about ten knots, so it should pass us in a few minutes.” She unzipped the door all the way, and cool air filled the tent.

“The inside of the tent will get wet,” I protested.

“Come on,” Sharon grinned at me and stepped out into the rain.

I crawled out with her. The rain was cold, but more tolerable than the shower at the bathhouse. Sharon laughed and lifted her face skyward, scooping her hair back in a ponytail. I watched as she spread her arms and twirled; a nude goddess of love in her element. She took my hand, and we danced in the wet grass, laughing like children. I took her in my arms, and we moved to music only we could hear until the rain stopped and the sun came out.

We both realized we were hungry, so we laid out our provisions and ate breakfast. The remainder of the morning was spent on getting the camping gear, ourselves, and the plane ready to go by noon. We took down the tent, and spread it out to dry. The sleeping bags were definitely ours now, since we’d both christened them last night. Washed or not, we didn’t think the rightful owners would want them returned.

By noon, we were ready. The camp gear was packed away in the baggage compartment, we’d had a light lunch, and the plane’s preflight check was done. We had our pistols on our belts in concealed holsters, with one spare magazine each in our pockets. The rifles were belted across the back seat, with my range bag on top.

I had the St. Louis and Kansas City sectionals spread out on the left horizontal tail as Sharon and I discussed our options. “Okay, there are a couple of municipal airports within a half hour of here, so I think we should refuel at one of them first.”

“They may tell us to wait here.”

“They may,” I agreed with a nod, “But I’d rather wait with full tanks, just in case.”

“I love that suspicious mind of yours,” Sharon said with a grin.

I grinned back. “Glad to hear it. I hope you still feel that way in a couple of decades.”

Sharon held up her hand. “Please, a day at a time is all I can stand.”

I opened my mouth to reply, and then my phone rang.

Fifteen minutes later, we were airborne, with me in the pilot’s seat this time. I hadn’t piloted a plane in years, but the procedures came back to me as I went through the motions. I left the transponder off; there was no point in advertising our presence to the world. I turned toward the nearest municipal airport, and Sharon busied herself with finding the correct Unicom frequency for their local traffic.

We were taking a chance by broadcasting our registration number over the air, but it was only a small one. We arrived at the airport, and landed without incident. We told the fixed-base operation’s staff that we wanted fuel, and they directed us to the fuel stand just off the single taxiway. They fueled the plane for us, I provided my debit card in payment, and we went on our way.

I climbed out of the traffic pattern and turned west. The plan was for us to land at a rural airport in Kansas, there to meet the FBI and Sharon’s parents. I was familiar with the area from my travels, but I didn’t know much about the airport. It had been built during WWII as a training base, and then turned over to the local county after the war.

Sharon, playing the roles of copilot and navigator, provided me the navaid frequencies and headings I required, and we settled in for the two-hour flight. The weather was good, with scattered fair weather cumulus clouds that we topped climbing through six thousand feet. I leveled off at eighty-five hundred feet, and trimmed the Skyhawk for cruise flight.

Sharon and I talked during the flight; we conferred on our route, ensuring that we stayed well clear of larger airports, and even more of a concern, restricted airspace. Having an F-16 show up on our wing wasn’t in our plans. Otherwise, we pointed out interesting sights on the ground, the occasional aircraft one of us had spotted, and comments about the plane’s operation or performance.