Chenda and the Airship Brofman (43 page)

“I just put hands on them before they could lay a hand on you. I regret that one of them noticed the knife in my boot before I remembered to use it. I was far too fist-oriented in that fight.” Fenimore recognized he had started to babble, so he pulled her close to his chest and stroked her hair. He took in a deep breath.

“I'm having a little trouble stirring up that courage you've been waiting for,” Fenimore said, his chin resting on the top of her head.

“Why is that, do you suppose?” she asked. “After all, I'm right here, without distraction. Beautiful setting. I could stretch the truth and say I'm even well rested. But I can't imagine I could ever be more willing to give us a try than I am right now.”

“Yes, I can tell,” he said, “And I think I rather like the way things have been between us of late. But if I kiss you, I mean really kiss you, the way I have been wanting to... Well, then it's all over. One way or the other, you'll decide if I'm the one you've been promised. I'm afraid of failing. It's a lot of pressure for a fellow like myself, someone profoundly in love with you. If you tell me afterward I am not meant for you, I don't think I will be able to let you go. Not with any grace, that is.”

“Hmm. Perhaps we shouldn't try then,” Chenda said as she lifted her chin and looked up into his smoky gray eyes.

“Trying could just ruin everything,” he breathed, his lips touching the end of her nose. He held her there a few seconds more, then moaned, “I think I'm really going to enjoy screwing this up.”

He brought his lips to Chenda's, freeing his desire for her, a fervor she welcomed and absorbed. As his arms wrapped around her, lifting her feet off the floor, waves of tingling energy prickled through her skin, and danced down her spine. She shivered and laced her fingers together behind his neck. He lifted her up further and plopped her on a large crate. His lips traced over her chin and jaw. Willingly, she moved with him as he arranged her limbs around his body, one arm around his neck, the other around his back. She wrapped a leg around his waist. She wanted to embrace every part of him, and never let go. With every kiss, she wanted two more. Each caress demanded another. She kissed his neck, wrapping her other leg around his middle, and he flinched, pulling back from her slightly. She gasped and released him.

Fenimore hunched over slightly and swayed a little. “Stitches,” he said in a strangled pant.

“OH, my!” Chenda said, “Fen, I'm so sorry!”

He straightened up and leaned into the crate on which Chenda sat. As each tried to catch their breath, Fenimore put a hand on each of her thighs, and walked his fingers up to her hips. He pressed closer to her, kissing her chin, keeping his calm. Using his lips to tilt her head back, he breathed softly on her exposed neck, slowly dragging the tip of his nose up the line of her jaw until he reached her ear.

“Forget the stitches,” he whispered. “I'd rather bleed to death than give this up right now.”

She kissed him in agreement, unable to speak or even think in that moment, and she knew what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

“Yummy,” she whispered.

“Really?” Fenimore looked deeply into Chenda's eyes.

She brought her lips back to his, more slowly this time. She realized that there was no need to rush. She was certain.

Really
, she answered him.
You didn't screw that up at all
.

Sunrise brought Chenda and Fenimore to a dramatic halt before they could get too much further in their joy. The first rays of the sun brought deckhands up from below. Chenda sighed, untangled herself from Fenimore and slid down from her crate-top perch. She pulled him out of the way of Stanley, Spencer and Lincoln, who hustled about their morning duties of shining and repositioning the photovoltaic tubes.

“Let me take a look at your stitches and see what damage we've done,” Chenda ordered.

Fenimore loosened his flight coat. Even before he pulled his shirt up, Chenda could see blood seeping through the bandages and onto his shirt.

“Oh, drat,” Chenda said. “Let's have Kingston take a look.”

Hand in hand, they headed down to the galley. Kingston took one look at Fenimore's bloody shirt and fussed, “I'll go get some more tape and bandages.” He also took the opportunity to lightly dope-slap Fenimore on the back of the head as he passed.

“My love,” Fenimore said, enjoying the phrase immensely, “we need to talk about what has to happen next.”

“Were you thinking marriage, or sex?” Chenda asked.

Fenimore blushed for a moment. “Um, I was thinking about when the
Brofman
docks in the Republic. But we can talk about the other options, too. I'm open to both.

Chenda giggled with embarrassment. “What's left for me in the Republic, really? Everything I want is right here. I love the
Brofman
almost as much as I love you.”

“Really?” Fenimore asked.

“The
Brofman
is a great airship and the crew is-”

“NO!” Fenimore cut her off. “I mean, you love me? Really?”

Chenda kissed the end of his nose. “Yes, I do. I think I knew that a while ago, but up on the deck there, you sealed the deal. Does that make you happy?”

“I just like hearing you say it.” Fenimore sighed, hating to get back to the topic at hand. “First of all, Candice has to go home. She
does
have a life to go back to there. But” he paused, thinking things through, “I also have some things I need to attend to as well.”

“Of course,” Chenda replied. “Just so long as we have some time to talk about those other matters.”

“Oh, we will – repeatedly and often.”

The
Brofman
crossed the Kohlian Sea in record time, thanks to Chenda's thrice daily bursts of tail wind. They even made a quick stop at Atoll Belles, where Captain Endicott paid his respects to Jason Belles at the card table at McNees's Opera House. Out of respect for Captain Taboda, Captain Endicott lost a considerable amount of money to Jason Belles. At the atoll, Fenimore acquired some fresh clothes, flight coats and aeronaut boots for Chenda, which made the remainder of the trip considerably more comfortable.

Just three days after leaping aboard the
Brofman
high above the paradise of Crider Island, Fenimore, Chenda and Candice stepped onto the airship pier at Terminal Station. They took the fancy elevator down to the bottom and walked onto the streets of Coal City. Fenimore looked at the Terminal Tearoom as they walked by and he slowed.

“What's the rush?” he said. “Let's have a little something to eat before we take Candice home, what do you say?”

The women looked at each other, nodding in agreement. Neither really cared about dinner, but they knew their time together was coming to an end. They were greedy to spend just a few more minutes together. The tearoom seemed a perfect place to end their adventure together.

“You ladies go find us a table, and I'm going to freshen up.” Fenimore gave Chenda's hand a quick squeeze and he disappeared down a hallway that was labeled
Gentleman's Lounge
.

The Tearoom hummed with activity. Chenda and Candice made their way to the nearest empty table with three seats. Chenda marveled at the thought that it had only been a month since she had last been there, meeting Candice for the first time. The bustling waiters and brightly polished brass fixtures were just the same. So was the smell of exotic teas and sugary pastries. And yet, the whole world was different. She was different.

“So,” Candice said. “Here we are again.”

“Yes. You know I used to come here all the time. They have lovely spice cake.”

“We should get some, then,” Candice replied politely. “We've been halfway around the world together and run through miles of underground tunnels – some of which were collapsing. We've planted fields in the desert, and I still feel a bit closed in within this teashop. It's like the whole trip evaporates. Sad, really. The lawlessness of it. I wish I could publish it in some scholarly journal. Hmm.”

“Candice, don't feel awkward. I'll remember our journey, and Fenimore will, too. It was grand,” Chenda whispered. “Thank you for coming with me. I'd have never survived without you. You helped me to change my whole world. I'll never be able to thank you enough.”

“Well, don't make a fool of yourself trying,” Candice said, lightening the mood. “Just keep in mind you owe me a favor, a big one, I mean you will
always
owe me. Forever. Since I think you and Mr. Handsome will be trotting off into the great unknown in a bit, I'll expect you to check in with me from time to time so I can call in that perpetual favor we have between us. In fact, consider that my first cashing in -- you come back and see me regularly. Say 'yes'.”

“Yes, Candice.” Chenda said like a schoolgirl reciting lines.

“Fine. Now! Spice cake all around?” Candice asked.

By the time Fenimore had returned to the table, the air of seriousness between the women had melted into their usual witty banter. The three had all but finished tea when Candice looked up at the approaching form of her friend Henrietta.

“Man
alive
!” Candice shouted. “Professor Hoppingood! As I live and breathe, you are a sight for sore eyes.”

“Candice!” The plump woman hustled across the crowded aisle and embraced her friend. “I despaired of ever seeing you again. But here you are! Oh, and Chenda! I'm so sorry to hear about your passing, I read about it in all the papers.” She bobbed her head in the universal gesture of sympathy. “My condolences, and what a wonderful new haircut.” Henrietta turned her attention to Fenimore, who hadstood politely when Henrietta approached the table. “Well, hello, Mr. ...?”

“Dulal.” Fenimore said. “Pleased to meet you, Professor.”

Candice recognized the salacious look in her best friend's eye, and pinched her on the elbow. “That one belongs to her,” she warned, “And after her, he belongs to Captain Endicott, so don't bother getting in line.”

Henrietta harrumphed and her lips sagged into a childish pout, which lasted for all of a second. She suddenly flapped her hands at Candice. “SO! What did you bring me?”

Candice turned to her companions at the table. “If you will excuse me,” she said, “I see here an opportunity to gracefully take my leave of your company. No need for long tearful goodbyes at my apartment door. I love you both. Ta-ta!”

She picked up her small case, and stepped to Henrietta's side. “Funny you should ask what I brought you, Hen. Have you ever heard of
Chalk of Contentment
?”

“Ooh. That's sounds intriguing...”

The two professors, happily chatting away, walked arm in arm toward the exit of the Terminal Tearoom, and then vanished into the crowded streets of Coal City.

Chenda sighed as Fenimore signaled a waiter to bring the bill.

“It's just us then,” she said.

“I'm okay with that,” Fenimore said. He threw some cash on the table and took Chenda's hand. “Shall we?”

They leisurely walked out of the tearoom, and Fenimore stepped to the edge of the sidewalk to signal for a taxi.

“Where are we going?” Chenda asked.

“Jail,” said a voice from behind them. “Fenimore Dulal, you're under arrest.”

Chapter 23

AMENDS

Within a few heartbeats, both Chenda and Fenimore were in handcuffs and pushed into the back of a police van. Fenimore, who looked neither surprised nor upset, glanced meaningfully at Chenda. “Don't say anything or do anything. It will all be okay.” 

As the police vehicle bounced along, Chenda pressed her elbow against Fenimore, and began a game of twenty questions.

Blink once for 'yes' and tap your foot for 'no'. Can you do that?

Fenimore blinked.

You don't seem very upset. Did you know this was going to happen?

Blink.

Did you do something wrong?

Blink. Tap.

Which is it? Yes or No?

Fenimore rolled his eyes.

I'm asking the wrong questions.

Blink.

Should I bust us out of here?

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Before Chenda could ask any more questions, the van shuddered to a stop and Fenimore and Chenda were ushered out. They were in a secluded alleyway. A heavy steel door in the brown stone building nearest them stood open, and the policemen guided them in. They went down several flights of stairs and were placed in a small, dark paneled office. All of the officers, except one, left the pair. The last man unshackled Chenda, and then Fenimore. “Wait here,” the officer said, and then he left.

Chenda, frightened and confused, grabbed Fenimore's hand.
What's going on? Why are we here?

Fenimore pulled Chenda close and whispered into her ear. “I'm here because I am an exceptionally good liar and manipulator. This is the part of my life that I am not particularly proud of, but is required of me. This, in part, is how I must make amends for the things I've done.”

A door on the far side of the room opened and a tall, lean man with a silver mustache strode into the room. He was reading a document, and didn't look up until he was standing directly behind the desk.