Chapter 2 - THE FLIGHT DID NOT LEAVEThe captain did not explain.
Not there.
That mattered.
He looked at me for perhaps two seconds too long.
Then seemed to remember that forty people were watching.
“Mr. Vance, please sit back down.”
Dalton said:
“Captain—”
The captain turned.
“We are not discussing this in front of passengers.”
That ended Dalton’s argument.
The businessman raised both hands.
“For what it’s worth, I never asked anyone to move a child.”
Dalton said nothing.
I put the carry-on back in the overhead bin.
My hands were shaking.
Not fear.
Adrenaline.
Old body memory.
Maya climbed into 2B.
I lowered myself into 2A.
She whispered:
“Why did he do army hello?”
“Military salute.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
That was true.
Mostly.
The challenge coin belonged to my old Air Force rescue squadron.
Anyone with military experience might recognize the emblem.
But the captain had not only recognized the branch.
He had reacted to my name.
Vance.
The boarding door remained open.
Dalton left the aircraft.
A supervisor replaced him.
The businessman was eventually seated in another premium seat after a volunteer accepted a downgrade with compensation.
Nobody was thrown into the back.
Which raised an immediate question.
Why had Maya and I been selected before anyone asked for volunteers?
The flight attendant, Julia, leaned toward me.
“I’m sorry about what happened.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you need medical assistance?”
“No.”
“Your leg?”
“Chronic.”
“Would predeparture ice help?”
I almost laughed.
“Not unless you can apply it to fifteen years.”
She smiled.
Maya asked:
“Can I have orange juice?”
Julia said:
“You can have two.”
Maya considered this astonishing generosity.
The airplane finally pushed back thirty-eight minutes late.
As we climbed, Maya pressed her face toward the window.
Clouds spread beneath us.
She whispered:
“Mom would like this.”
I looked at the overhead bin.
May you like
“Yes.”
For the first time that morning, first class stopped mattering.
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