Chapter 6

Haley’s turn:

Poor Bill. I should let him surprise us every now and then, because I know it brings him joy. I mentioned this once when he and I and Deena were relaxing on the bed in one of those sticky aftermaths.

“I thought I was going to surprise you two,” he said, his breathing becoming regular.

“We’re hard to surprise about work stuff. We know what they know over there, and THEY know everything.”

So today Bill walks in from his road trip and we smother him.

“We’re packing bags,” Deena squealed, letting the news out.

“So you already know...”

“Yeah. Cindy told us. She’s hot-shotting Johanna and the greater and lesser Stoneys to Houston on Friday to meet with her mom and dad for the weekend. On the way back, she’s stopping here...”

“For us...” he started.

I completed his sentence, “ ... and Dave and Carlita and Brindy.”

“Okay,” Bill said. “One of these days I’ll surprise you two. It might be me wearing a miniskirt and saying I identify as Trudy, the transvestite prostitute...”

Deena giggled. “Hey, if you can make spending money...”

“But don’t you DARE chop off the ding-dong,” I laughed. “We have needs...”

“And that WOULD be a surprise,” Deena added.

So I guess that Bill’s okay with it. I don’t think he really wants us dumbed down, you know, and the fact that we’re curious and we’re connected and that we pay attention to what’s happening in our lives, that’s reason enough for us to keep going like we’re going.

Wednesday I came home to a FedEx delivery note on the door. Missed one. I need to start thinking about using the 3Sigma office as a delivery point, maybe. I called the 800 number, told ‘em to hold it for signature at their office.

When I picked up Deena on campus, I told her, “Looks like our jewelry’s in.”

“Good! We can wear it this weekend.”

“Uh...”

She smirked, “Uh, nothing! Like Johanna said. It’s a ‘family’ thing.”

We put them on when Bill got home on Thursday, two of us putting the gold chain and the little Celtic trefoil on the third. I think it was a very special and private thing for us – three distinct lobes, each intimately connected to the other two in an eternal balance.

Yes, I can be very metaphysical at times. I also do intellectual (for real) and whimsical and sexual and ‘just plain little brown-haired girl’.

That last one I use from time to time to disarm my academic opposition.

“Doctor Lowery, I’d like to knock this chemistry thing out.”

“Simple, Miss Simon,” he said, “take the class, pass the exam...”

“How about ‘read the book, pass the exam?”

“You can’t do that.”

“Is that ‘nobody’s ever successfully done that’? Or ‘I require that you sit through two lectures a week for a semester’ can’t do that’?”

“The first one.”

“Try me. It’s Chemistry 101. I’ve read the syllabus. I’ve seen the book. I tested out of the math prerequisite. Like the gas laws. I have a picture in my mind. That’s what makes a lot of the world work. I understand...”

“Talk to me,” he said, crossing his arms.

I can read the body language. He’s not currently disposed in my favor.

“In the easy version, there are three factors – temperature, pressure and volume. You can play them one against the other. Starting with a constant mass of a gas, with a fixed volume, change the temperature, the pressure tracks according to specific parameters. That’s Boyle’s Law, Charles’ Law, and Gay-Lussac’s Law. Simple, really. You can complicate it hugely when you start dealing with a gas that changes states with temperature, like water for steam. Then you get into steam tables, where you start dealing with the Rankine cycle. When you flip that light switch on, the light comes on because of what we know about this stuff.”

His mouth opened slightly. “And internal combustion engines?”

I smiled. I’ve got ‘im. “Chemistry is still there in combustion byproducts produced by the interaction of hydrocarbons with ambient air. A given volume of air contains a known amount of oxygen and other gases. The oxygen, which we know, interacts with the hydrocarbons, which we know, producing heat as well as gases – carbon monoxide, carbon dioxide, oxidized nitrogen compounds...”

“Okay, you got me...”

“The idea,” I said softly, tilting my head, “was not to get you. It was to tell you that I know a lot of this stuff and I’d like to take your end of course exam and have you sign me off as a successful completion with an actual grade.”

“I’d be shooting myself in the foot, Haley.”

I just looked at him.

“You GET this stuff. You – I have no doubt – think about this and you can see it actually happening in the real world.”

“I do. Once I read it and grasped the significance, I was like, ‘This is the way things WORK!’ and actually, it was kind of exciting...”

“You wanna guess the last time I had a student say my coursework was exciting?”

“I’m sorry, Doctor Lowery. To me, it is. Finding out how a little chunk of my universe works, it excited my husband, and it excites me, just to know ... I know most of the population is oblivious...”

“Most of my students are oblivious, at least in Chem 101. It’s a toss-off course for too many degrees. I filter a few chemistry students off the top, but to most of ‘em, I guess I’m a side-show.”

“You’re not a side-show, Doctor Lowery. This is important stuff to know. That I won’t have it in the middle of my primary function, that’s one thing. That it’ll always be back there, ready to add to the understanding of a task, that’s another.”

He started to smile. “Just let me give you the test, Haley. I’ll mourn the loss of you in my classes...”

“But you’ll be free to spend that time on the others. Maybe one of them will get the spark and take off.”

“Thanks for the encouragement,” he said. “Seriously. You won’t consider chemistry?”

I shook my head. “I’m tied in tight with an electrical engineering Husband. Best friends. I really get going over it.”

“Speak kindly of me, then, Haley.”

“Always, sir,” I said. “Now, I need to warn you. Deena Simon...”

“I’ve got her name on my desk. Relative?”

“Evil step-daughter. Husband’s first marriage. My sister. Best friend. Doctor Lowery?”

“Yes?”

“She’s not a slouch either. She might not do gas laws, but she read the book, too.”

Deena hit him with the chlor-alkali industry that we have a few miles from the house. Ionic chemistry. Electro-chemistry. Processes to produce things that make life possible. He was satisfied enough to let her test out of the course as well.

“You softened him up,” the little thing tittered afterward.

I smiled. “Glad to be of service, my dear.”

So that brings us to Friday and we have a line of bags by the door waiting on Bill to show up.

When he walked in the door, we both kissed him, then I turned to Deena and said, “Rock, paper, scissors...”

My rock broke her scissors, and poor Bill, he’s kinda floating along as we load bags into the car for the trip to the airport.

When we get there, we’re right behind the Johnson crew. Hugs. Handshakes. Happy conversation.

Then there’s a recognizable voice on the speaker in the FBO office. It’s tuned to the airport’s tower frequency and there’s “Pilatus zero six tango sierra, five miles west, for landing. Have information juliet.”

“Roger, six tango sierra. Runway one-five. No traffic.”

“Pilatus six tango sierra, roger.”

Brindy voices the thought we’re all harboring. “How do you equate that voice with five million dollars’ worth of airplane?”

“I wanna be Cindy when I grow up,” Deena giggles.

“Yeah, but what does Cindy wanna be when SHE grows up?” Bill said.

“She’s already grown up,” I squeaked.

The ‘grown up’ was soon taxiing a beautiful shiny turboprop airplane onto the flight line, guided by the line boy.

Okay, I’m a flying novice, but seeing Cindy’s ride, I’m jealous. So’s the guy at the FBO, who is one of the two instructors we use.

He recognized Cindy when she came bouncing in. “Jet A,” she said. “Top it off.”

“Wait. I remember you. Last time, it was a Cessna. 180, I think.”

She giggled. “I’m versatile. I have a Citation II in the stable, too.”

“Noooo...”

“Commercial pilot. Instrument. Multi-engine. I do this and a couple of bizjets, too.”

“Will you marry me?” He laughed.

“My husband would be soooo disappointed if I did that,” she laughed.

She eyeballed the fuel truck as it pulled close to that beautiful Pilatus. “Make sure it says ‘Jet A’,” she said. “I’ve heard of mistakes.” She headed off to the restroom, then when she came back, she supervised the loading of the baggage.

“Use the cargo net,” she said. “We’re gonna ask for Flight Level 200. Might be some turbulence.”

“I know about turbulence,” I said.

“I figured you did,” she said. “Now, who’s gonna be co-pilot?”

“Me or Bill,” I said. “He’s got more hours, though.”

She giggled. “Yeah ... okay ... Why’n’t you start and y’all can swap in the middle?”

“Is that okay, honey?” I asked him.

My husband smiled. “I’ll get my turn at the Mississippi River,” he said.

Cindy led me on an abbreviated walk-around on the aircraft, then we got inside, shut the passenger door, then she did a briefing for the passengers.

We strapped in. “Okay, Haley. Checklist is on this iPad. I got the same thing on the plane’s flight display. Let’s go through it together.”