Chapter 39

Poor Bill. It seems almost every woman was mad at him. The sole exception was Aoibheann O'Riada. She was pleased as punch.

Mina was mad because he bought a 'stolen' Lysander ... even if it was the bargain of the century.

Megan was mad because he brought Aoibheann home with him. Meggers wasn't ready to give up Bill's excellent eleven.

Laurel was mad because Megan was mad. Although, with Carl making like a horny rabbit, she was having a tough time staying mad for very long.

Violet was mad because Mina was mad. She was also mad on her own hook; she was going to have to conjure up some ID for Aoibheann O'Riada. That was going to be difficult ... Aoibheann wasn't interested in changing her name ... unless it was to add Mrs. to it.

Bill wasn't happy either. He was stuck at home during godless doings ... and he was too young to marry.

Carl and Cal were mad at Bill because their wives were mad at Bill ... if Momma ain't happy, nobody's happy.

Pyewacket and five of the six kittens were mad at Bill because ... well ... just because. Number six liked Bill's ear skritches.

The problem was Bill wasn't going to stay where he was wanted: Mina wanted him to stay for Lammas. Megan wanted him to stay for Lammas. Laurel wanted Bill to stay for Lammas ... even Pyewacket and all six kittens wanted Bill to stay for Lammas.

He couldn't. Like the great majority of fundamentalist believers, Bill had believed. Belief led him to faith. Faith ... blind faith ... led him to say things like, God put the dinosaur bones there to confound science. They can't be millions of years old, the earth is only six or seven thousand years old.

He chose the parts of the bible he wanted and ignored the rest.

Since he couldn't stay, he needed to leave ... he didn't want to go alone. He had the perfect excuse: The Cessna was in Texas and he needed to pick it up. The other problem he had was; the plane was out in the sticks at a little grass strip belonging to friends of Mina ... and those friends, the Silsbee's ... were coming ... may already be in the air ... might be landing at at University Field.

Friends of Mina, especially ones from places they'd never been, were usually pagans ... the Silsbee family certainly was. The advantage they had was the little private strip in their backyard about a mile from the Town Bluffs dam right next to the Big Thicket ... and the Thicket was where he wanted to go. It was another act of faith. He believed cmsix was writing about real true factual events.

He bought the Lysander because it could carry heavy loads and still land and takeoff on very short fields. Since he was 'sure' there had to be roads without roads where the new roads ran, he could land and join Jake. (If that's too complicated to figure out, you need to read Divorce, by cmsix.)

But he didn't want to force Mina to retrieve the Cessna. Bill might have strange beliefs but he was a responsible nutcase. He needed a pilot to go with him to pick up the Cessna ... or he needed a pilot to ferry flight the Cessna home.

"Mina? Have the Silsbee's left yet?"

Mina interrupted her day, yet again, and called.

"Have you left yet?"

"Can you bring the Cessna?"

"He did?"

"Thank you."

She closed her phone. "Bill, you have the Cessna keys." She walked back to her planning party.

'Hmm, That didn't work.' Bill thought.

"Megan?"

"Bill."

"Where's Aoibheann (Eve-een)?"

"In the house, laid down with a headache. 2006 is a major shock. The clothes mostly. Bill, look at me. What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

Megan was wearing skin tight Daisy Dukes, open toed sandals and a tee-shirt. She was a perfect representation of the modern girl. Her clothes screamed, LOOK AT ME! and people did. When she walked her ass looked like two cats running figure eights, her nipples cut nifty up and down motions under her shirt. She was noticeable and noticed.

Ninety percent of the girls on campus were wearing almost the same thing. The other ten were in thin see-through sundresses. Summer Semester was a girl watcher's dream.

Bill gazed long and inventorious, "Meggers, the only thing I see wrong is you're not nude and riding me cowgirl." He chuckled, "you've covered the necessary ... you're noticeable ... you look great."

"Thanks Bill, your Miss O'Riada thinks I look like a street walker." Megan thought a minute, "Bill, she's going to come unglued when the gathering starts."

"I'll see what I can do. Seen Violet?"

"She's off on a fact finding mission."

"What? She's a congressman?"

"Nope, conjuring up ID for Missy Prissy." Megan scowled, "the ID she fixed for you and Mina took weeks. She had to move fingerprints and photos, yearbooks and birth records, she had to come up with death certificates for you both. School records, drivers licenses, passports. Yes, Bill. You both have passports."

"Wow."

"She had time with you two. E'veen is a rush job ... and she has to be 18 or you're in deep shit."

"Bill."

"Hi Violet."

"Here. Passport, Pilot's license with endorsements, logbook ... including nearly every aircraft past and present ... all the signatures are correct, even the dead one's... 219 different pens.

"Drivers License, High school diploma, high school records, immunization records, dental records, hospital stays for broken bones."

Every time she said a new heading she slapped a heavy folder on the stack in Bill's arms.

"I'm going to bed. I'll send Missy Prissy down. She is now 18 ... she has to go through everything ... I mean everything. She keeps logbook, licenses, diploma. The passport goes in your safe, please. Immunization records and dental goes to the doctor and dentist of her choice. I'll put everything else in the state and federal system. Bill, do me a favor. Don't rescue any more damsels in distress."

"Yes Violet."

She reached up and patted his cheek, "Bill, for an asshole, you're a good man. I have seldom regretted saving you and Mina from the Central Park murderer. Last night I almost wished I hadn't." She turned to go, over her shoulder she said, "I don't mean that, you know ... Mina has been a joy ... you? Not so much. I'll send her down."

Hours later, Aoibheann, or as everyone around her pronounced it, Ih'veen, laid her head on the stack of folders. She mumbled into the mass of paper, "this is for real ... it's not a nightmare ... I really am in 2006." She looked at Bill with a strange gleam in her eye. "Thank you! You saved my life. I couldn't have stood being married to a man three times my age. I'd have killed myself."

"You saved your own life. It took an enormous amount of courage to sneak onboard."

"Not courage ... desperation ... anything had to be better than what was coming." She said, "You looked tall, rugged, tough and kind. I knew you would keep me safe."

"What would have happened if I had opened the bomb bay doors?"

"You couldn't ... the belly tank was there."

"The checklist saved your life. I studied it all the way from Johnson's to Tyler. All the warnings were at the back of the list."

"You can't handle praise. You're just naturally shy, Bill."

That brought shocked looks from everyone within a mile!

The A&E inspector signed off on the plane, he wasn't sure where Bill was coming up with perfectly restored aircraft and didn't really care as long as they passed airframe and engine hour inspections.

"Bill, whoever does these planes for you does perfect work. They look brand new."

E'veen flew the Lysander from Sharpe to the little strip at the Silsbee homestead. Then they flew both planes to Pounds Field at Tyler. The Museum curator was very happy to see them.

"You have to take the spats back. The ATF&E said so. And the Marshals office has a real deal for you. You need to call them."

Bill dialed ... well ... punched in numbers and hit send... "Sure, I'll wait," agreed Bill. It never pays to run when they know where you are.

While they were waiting, half the War veterans in Tyler examined the old Lysander. Violet had brought it up to date with multiple entries. The only actual hours it had were from Canada to Texas and then little flights around home. It looked like a lightly used older restoration. Wasn't Bill's fault it was nearly new.