Marvelous Error (Book 3)

Part 2 - Chapter 7

A pretty stewardess was pushing a cart down the aisle. The smell of eggs, bacon and coffee preceded her. Somehow the smell of all three and the roar of the jet engines gave me a terrible queasiness. When she got to us she stopped and smiled. She was young and had a fashion model beauty—I wondered if being attractive was a prerequisite to working as a stewardess. They all were beautiful. This was the kind of young woman Jeff would be attracted to. She was thin and had red pulled back in a twist. She wore false eyelashes and a pale orange lipstick. I expected him to say something flirtatious, but he didn't.

"Would you like the egg breakfast or pancakes and sausage?" she asked us.

"Nothing for me," I said.

"Eve," Jeff touched my arm but I discretely moved it closer to me, to escape his touch. "Please eat something. Some toast?"

"I shook my head."

"For you sir?"

I looked back out the window. I thought the same thing I always thought, looking out the window of an airplane as it moved through the sky. The clouds made the sky looked heavenly. Ordinarily it would have been an uplifting feeling. The bright whiteness. The soft ethereal texture of the clouds. But, flying to San Francisco to try and find Clara, the association with heaven was imbued with death. I couldn't stop the images of Clara being hurt. They were so clear and detailed. They were so horrible but I would never have been able to utter them. They were mine alone. It was my fear. After that I woke, confused at first, not remembering our trip or the reason for it. I turned and looked at Jeff. He was reading the New York Times. The breakfast dishes were gone. He put the paper down and looked at me, "Are you all right?"

I shook my head. "No."

I turned to look back our the window, but he took my hand, "Eve?"

I looked at him and felt tears come to my eyes.

His voice was quiet, I knew he was whispering to keep people on the plane from hearing our conversation. "It's going to be all right. Clara is OK. She hasn't been there that long. She's probably frightened and when she sees us she'll be glad for it."

I shrugged my shoulders.

"I know it. She'll be all right. I should have dealt with this a long time ago."

I looked down.

"Eve, I'm sorry I said that you were responsible for Margaret's death. You weren't. It has kept me up at night, saying that kind of thing to you. I know that a husband's affair is very hurtful to his wife."

I rolled my eyes and turned away.

There was a moment before he spoke again, "Eve, I'm going to really try and not get angry when you respond to me that way. I know how upset you are."

I looked at him again. "Isn't that a ridiculous thing for you to say?"

"Isn't what?"

"That you know how a wife feels—"

"What I'm saying is that the affair—our affair—wasn't what made Margaret commit suicide."

"I'm sure you're trying to make me feel better, but I know that's not true."

He raised his eyebrows. I couldn't look directly into his eyes. I was heartbroken by the absence of Clara. I was vulnerable but also I had a tendency to believe him when he was acting that way towards me. My thoughts were spinning and my body felt crushed. It felt sore as if I had been beaten.

"Margaret had a lot of problems." He waited but still I looked down at my hands. "She'd tried many times, Eve. Before I even met her she had been hospitalized."