Lost in Dreams (40 page)

Although I’d lost the world’s best mom before I finished getting home from Santa María, I’d reconnected with the world’s finest dad on this trip. And I didn’t just have the two greatest gals for my best friends, either. I had two best friends who were now best friends and
sistahs
with one another.

As we boarded the plane, I couldn’t help smiling at the memory of Aleesha and Jo sitting on the rock singing “Victory in Jesus.” Four disturbing months of prancing on pebbles had made me fall in love with God all over again. As one of the writers of Psalms said, “His trustworthiness is eternal.”

I was at peace. The kind of peace the non-Christian world doesn’t know anything about. Or understand. The kind only God can provide. And the kind that enables Christians to face the future with confidence.

I’m not saying I
wanted
anything else in my life to go wrong. Who wakes up every morning and asks God for a batch of new problems just so she can enjoy watching Him solve them? No sane person I’ve ever known, anyhow.

As far as I was concerned, my Season of Pebbles had lasted long enough. But at least it had given me new confidence in God’s ability to sustain me whenever new troubles arose. I said “whenever” and “new troubles” because I’d come to accept the fact that growing up doesn’t free a young woman from problems.

Neither does maturation cause them. Not counting hormonally induced challenges and the body’s gradual breakdown as it starts its inevitable race toward old age and death, that is.

But growing up makes a young person more aware of how serious life’s problems can be.

Thank You, Lord, for the peace I have in Jesus. He not only walked on water, but He also pranced on pebbles to show me how. How much more victory is there than rising from the dead and ascending to heaven forty days later?

I settled back in my seat and closed my eyes. My mind kept wandering in one direction and then another. I must have fallen asleep, though, because I nearly jumped out of my skin when a flight attendant leaned over and touched me on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss, but may I speak with you? Privately.”

I excused myself as I climbed out over the person in the aisle seat. Although Dad had exchanged our tickets easily enough, Skyfly had undoubtedly won an overbooking prize for that flight. I don’t know the exact number of passengers they had to entice to take a later flight in exchange for a free future ticket, but I’d noticed at least five.

So the fact they had to seat the three of us in different sections of the plane was no surprise. As good old helpless, unhelpful Millie Q once pointed out, at least we were inside the plane.

“This way, please,” the flight attendant said. Curious but unconcerned, I followed her forward. She sidestepped into the first food service area she came to and turned to face me. “I apologize for disturbing you, but several of your seatmates have complained about your … strong perfume.”

Huh? I wasn’t wearing any. Ah, but my hair still contained a small yet still odiferous hint of skunk scent. Had the people adjacent to me really referred to it as perfume, or was the flight attendant just being diplomatic? At least she hadn’t sounded sarcastic.

No matter. I couldn’t do a thing about it until Dad and I got home. We had hydrogen peroxide there, not cold tomato juice. I’d merely disliked tomato juice before Miss Nasty Skunk sprayed me. Now I hated it with a passion.

I hoped the flight attendant could understand my inability to get rid of the smell. At least she couldn’t put me off the plane in midair or make me sit on a wing. Of course, she could put me in the cockpit to keep the flight crew awake. Or would the stink knock them out?

“I don’t think it’s bad at all,” she said. “It’s very unique, in fact. Is that what you use to catch fellows?”

I put my hand over my mouth to keep from giggling. Next thing, she’d be asking where—

“Do you mind telling me where I can buy some? I think my boyfriend would love it.”

I put my other hand over my mouth, too, and I tried to physically force my mouth into a less tickled-looking shape.

“I got this at a place called Tabletop Mountain. It was readily available there. I didn’t have any trouble finding it.” Under my breath, I said, “Getting rid of it again was the problem.” She apparently didn’t hear that part.

“Oh, we don’t have any of those where I live. Do you think they have it at any places I might be familiar with?”

Lord, I’m sorry, but I have to play this one out. And she’s not even blond
.

“Ma’am”—I looked at her name tag—”Charlotte, this scent is found easily in out-of-the-way locations on the outskirts of most towns and cities. Even the smallest towns. I don’t know the place names, but they’re apt to be called something Forest or Mount something. To tell you the truth, you’re most likely to come across this scent when you least expect to.”

Are you such a city girl you’ve never even
been
to the country?

“Oh, really?” Her face perked up so much I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. “I almost forgot to ask. What’s the name of your perfume?”

“Eau d’Mephitidae,” I said without thinking. Rob had taught me so much about skunks that the family they belonged to was burned into my brain for eternity. “It’s most common on females who wear head-to-toe, white trimmed, black fur coats.”

Her face fell. “That sounds too pricy for me. I don’t get paid enough for fur coats.”

“I couldn’t afford it myself, but I received a substantial sample as an unexpected gift. In fact, the manufacturer’s representative sprayed me without asking. Once this wears off, that’s it. All gone.” I started to add,
“And never again if I have my way
, “but I didn’t want to burst Charlotte’s happy little bubble by sounding too negative.

“I know you’ll be sorry when that happens,” she said.

“I can’t begin to tell you how that’ll make me feel. Variety is the spice of life, they say, but this is the spiciest scent I’ve ever worn. For variety, I’ll try something more ordinary—more conventional—next time.”

“Well, look, I’m really sorry about those old ladies and their complaints. They just don’t understand how adventuresome

we modern women are.”

I wondered if I could make an explosive laugh resemble a sneeze. Probably so. This poor girl would believe anything. And if I’d told her the truth, she would probably have thought I was just teasing her.

“I promised to move you,” Charlotte said, “but—as you’ve probably noticed—we don’t have any seats left in economy. Would you mind sitting in an empty first-class seat we keep for emergencies? At no extra cost, of course. There’s enough room between seats to keep anyone else from noticing your perfume.”

I tried so hard to keep from squealing in delight that I managed a fairly convincing sigh. “Okay. If it’ll make those funny old ladies happy.” I hadn’t paid attention to my seatmates’ ages. Or to their gender, for that matter.

She thanked me profusely, helped settle me into my new seat, and brought me a fancy dessert dish filled with fresh strawberries and real whipped cream.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

She returned to economy, and I stretched my arms and legs. I couldn’t have reached the seat in front of me if I’d tried.

Lord, feel free to let me prance on pebbles like these anytime
.