Johnny Winchester: River Hunter by Elizabeth Carr

left
which would keep the jostling of her arm to a minimum.  Sitting, Johnny
put on her seatbelt, got himself settled, and then they waited.  She tried
to watch the other passengers going by, lugging carry-on bags of every conceivable
type, squeezing down the aisle, to distract her, but nothing could stop the
churning of her stomach.
    When the plane finally pushed back, Suzi laid her head
against the seat and closed her eyes.  She had dreaded this moment and
fought the temptation to equate this jet with the tiny plane that had fallen
out of the sky, with her in it, fought to keep the visions from crowding her
mind and taking her over.  It wasn’t until she felt Johnny’s hand on hers
that she realized she was clutching the arm rest for dear life and she forced
herself to relax enough to allow him to gather her hand into his.  Without
opening her eyes, she could feel him close to her.
    “It will be all right,” he whispered.  “I promise.”
    “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she chided
quietly, her voice more shaky than she liked.
    “What makes you think I can’t keep it?  Don’t you
know who I am?  I’m Johnny Winchester, River Hunter!”
     She had to smile, but it didn’t last long. 
The plane sped up, then she felt it leave the earth, and she waited for the
sinking feeling of it returning in a heap.  Continuing to climb, the plane
eventually leveled out and Suzi began to relax.  It wasn’t so much that
she no longer thought it might fall out of the sky as it was the familiar
feeling of jet travel that gave her some sense of security.
    Johnny had grabbed a pillow for her, so she took it from
her lap and put it behind her head.
    “Doing better?” Johnny asked.
    “I think the worst is over.  At least I hope so.”
    “Are you going to try to get some sleep?”
    “I’m going to try.”  She shifted the pillow several
times before she finally closed her eyes.  But she couldn’t seem to get
comfortable, and, without realizing it, she fidgeted and sighed.
    “Can’t get comfortable?” Johnny asked her.
    “No,” she sighed.  “I’m dead tired, so I thought
I’d at least be able to take a nap.”
    “Here,” he reached out, “hand me your pillow.”
    Doing as he asked, she watched as he pulled up the
middle seat dividers, put the pillow on his thigh, and patted it.
    “Try lying down.  Put your head here,” he
said.  “We can put this other pillow under your elbow to take the pressure
off your shoulder.”
    It looked tempting, but it was more intimate than she
wanted.  Whether his offer flowed out of his innate compassion or was some
special treatment reserved just for her, she could not discern.  Either
one was a problem: his innate compassion meant he didn’t really care for her,
and the special treatment meant he did, which wasn’t in the plan for her
life.  In the end, exhaustion won out and she laid her head on the pillow,
wriggling about as Johnny got the second pillow just right under her elbow.
     “How is that?” he asked once she had gotten
settled.
    “This might work.”  She closed her eyes and started
to relax.
    The only thing Johnny could do with his left arm,
without putting pressure on Suzi’s shoulder or fractured ribs, was to rest his
elbow on her hip and lay his hand on her forearm.  Watching her carefully
for any discomfort, he relaxed his arm, with no apparent effect.  He’d
done it again, let his instinct preclude rational thought and now Suzi laid on
his lap, his arm encircling her again.  With a stab of panic piercing his
chest, it struck him that every time he had a successful river hunt, he reveled
in the event, while still looking ahead to the next big fish; but right at that
moment, he could die a happy man.  Forcing the thought from his mind, he
laid his head back and drifted off to sleep.
    The flight carried them to Vancouver where they changed
planes to fly to Spokane, and by the time they were in the air, Suzi’s level