A Pilot's Wife

Returned

The next morning she sat on the edge of the bed in the white robe, trying to repair a hole that had appeared on her skirt with the sewing kit she'd found in the basket of toiletries . Elliot had been on the telephone, talking with the airline, changing plane tickets, but now he was polished her shoes. An oblong of sunlight lit the room from behind the white net curtain. She thought she had probably not moved at all while she had slept. When she'd woken, Elliot had already showered and dressed. 

"These are almost unsalvageable" Elliot said

"I only have to make it home."

"We'll go down to breakfast" he said "Have a real breakfast."

"That would be nice"

"There's no hurry"

She sewed patiently and evenly, as Serena had once, long ago taught her to do. She was aware that Elliot was watching her intently, her gestures seemed to be taking on a special precision, being so closely observed. 

"You look almost happy" she said, glancing up at him. 

The insanity of yesterday lurked in the shadows. Olivia knew, and it would always be there, a dark place in a lighted room. It would nag at her, drag her down when she let it. She thought then that she ought to be able to say she'd had the worst, got it over with. She could almost feel the freedom of that, to live one's life and not to be afraid. 

But she knew already that such freedom was an illusion and that there might be more to come. All she had to do was imagine Julia on the plane that had gone down. Life could dish out worse than Olivia had had, and worse than that. In fact, she thought, her life might be all the more harrowing for knowing what was out there. 

She put down her sewing and watched Elliot buff her shoes. The gestures reminded her of James, his foot perched on the pulled out bread drawer. How long ago was that exactly? She rose from her chair and kissed Elliot at the side of his mouth, her hands full with the stitching, his with her shoes. She could feel his surprise. She put her wrists on his shoulders and looked at him. 

"Thank you for coming with me to London." she said "I don't know how I'd gotten through last night without you."

He looked at her, and she could see that he wanted to say something. 

"Let's eat" she said quickly "I'm starved"

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The dining room had wood paneled wainscoting  with a subdued blue wallpaper above it. There was a red oriental on the floor. They were shown to a table in a bow window framed with heavy drapes. Elliot gestured for her to take the seat in front of the window. The table was laid with heavy white linen, nearly stiff from its pressing, and set with silver and a china she didn't recognize. She sat and put her napkin in her lap. 

She glanced at the window at her side. The sun glistened on the washed street, the room reminded her of drawing rooms in British Films. A fire burned in the grate, and they had ordered eggs and sausages, toast in a silver rack. The coffee was hot, and she blew over the edge of the cup.

She looked up and saw the woman standing in the doorway. Coffee spilled onto the white tablecloth. Elliot had his napkin out to blot the mess, but Olivia stayed his hand. He turned to see what she had seen.  

The woman walked quickly toward their table. She wore a long coat over a short wool skirt and sweater. The woman had drawn her hair up into a ponytail, and she looked frightened. As she approached the table, Elliot stood up, startled.

"I was unforgivably cruel to you yesterday." the woman said straightaway to Olivia

"This is Elliot Stabler" Olivia said