A Storm in the Desert (On Hold)

Chapter One

Jason watched the two little girls pulling on opposite sides of their mother's skirt as she talked on her cell phone. They swung from side to side seeming to play peek-a-boo around the slightly frazzled looking woman. She was tall, about 5'8", he thought. Her hair was twisted in a casual knot on top of her head; she wore a simple peasant blouse over a brightly embroidered skirt and flat-heeled sandals. He could see where her very generous curves strained the seams down the side of her blouse when she rested her hand on top of her head while she spoke anxiously and along the zipper at her hip as well. His eye wandered to the curve of her stomach and he was suddenly meeting the curious gaze of a very little girl. He quickly dropped his eyes to his arm, checked his watch, adjusted the crisp cuff of his shirt and tugged his pants at the knee. He looked around at the others seated nearby; waiting for the gate agent to announce boarding and then his gaze found its way back to the scene at the window. He wondered how her skirt was staying on. The girls were young, four or five perhaps, and looked something alike. One had mouse brown curls, bouncing on her shoulders, the other, the same hair color but poker straight, both wore pink flowery sundresses and strappy leather sandals, and both had dimples in each cheek. One of the girls had a mischievous twinkle in her eye and a bounce to her movements while the other was almost studious looking, with deliberation and care marking her movements.  

Jason looked back at his watch. They should have already started boarding if they were going to arrive in Phoenix on time. He suppressed a sigh as he idly watched the girls twist, saw their mother's hand suddenly grab a handful of her waistband and heard her gasp as the zipper on the side split. Jason looked down at his lap, brushing at a piece of lint on his knee, holding back the smile at the pale v of fleshy hip and tantalizing glimpse of red lace and satin. Some other woman rushed to her aid as she dropped her phone and kept hold of her skirt with one hand while trying to dislodge the little girls with the other. The hair knotted casually atop her head started to slip as she grappled with her clothing and children and Jason felt oddly disappointed when it held. He heard his flight called and stood, brushed the creases out of his slacks, and picked up his messenger bag and jacket from the adjoining chair. As he walked past the animated trio, he bent and retrieved the cell phone from the floor, handing it to the serious-eyed, curly-haired girl, winked at her and kept moving to the gate. His ticket was scanned and he walked down the gangway toward the plane. He didn't love airports. Not like Carly did. He thought they smelled like desperation and grief. He handed his jacket to the flight attendant as he stepped into the first class cabin and was directed to his seat. She greeted him by name and quickly brought him his preferred drink.  

"Mr. Christensen, so nice to see you flying with us again," Raquel said. 

"Thank you," he said, accepting the crystal tumbler from her.  

He sipped the Rusty Nail and nodded his pleasure; she smiled and moved to help another passenger. Leaning back in the wide leather seat, he looked out the window at the busy tarmac, watched as the train of luggage stopped and suitcases were tossed unceremoniously onto the conveyor belt, and disappeared into the belly of the plane. He felt a soft touch at his knee and turned to see a curly-haired little girl staring into the depths of the plane with more than a little trepidation. He glanced back down the aisle and saw her mother and sister moving further into the coach section of the plane.  

"C'mon, kid, your mom's leaving you," complained a teenager, blocked by the child.  

Jason looked at the boy with his sideways baseball cap, gold chains, leather jacket and drooping jeans that overflowed his expensive hi-tops. The tiny smudged hand tightened on his pant leg. He looked down into the little distressed face and stood as the teenager tried to push past.  

"She's just a little girl, give her a second," he said. 

Whether it was Jason's six foot height or the quiet command in his voice, the boy stopped and stepped back. Jason held his hand out to the child who still clutched his pant leg and stared up at him with serious brown eyes. He thought she would start to cry but she did not. She wrapped her grimy little hand around his pointer finger and held on. Surprised, Jason paused briefly then turned and ushered the little girl down the aisle ahead of him. He was annoyed that her mother was nearly midway into the coach section and still hadn't noted she was a child short. As they caught up to her and the other little girl, he looked down at the curly head by his knee, and when she looked up at him and tightened her grip, he leaned back against an empty seat and waited for the curvy woman to turn and notice them. She wrestled her carry-on into the overhead compartment and wearily dropped a bulging backpack on one of the seats along with an oversized purse. The other little girl sat in the window seat staring at Jason.