Dearly Departed by Carly Winter (best affordable ebook reader .txt) 📕

“Take a seat, sir,” I said through gritted teeth. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Vodka and soda.”

When I brought back the drink, he'd passed out. Normally, I'd be happy about it, but I also worried he would toss his cookies if we hit any turbulence.

After takeoff, I prepared the chicken meals for my section, garnishing each tray with a white rose. It was a shame most of them would end up in the garbage, but some of the men actually brought them home to their wives or girlfriends. Every now and then, I'd receive one as the passengers debarked at our destination. This usually went along with a request for a phone number or a dinner date, which I declined. A lot of the stews were on the search for husbands, so they frequently dated passengers.

The flight remained uneventful and I kept an eye on Mr. Pig, who snored loudly. At least the jerk still breathed.

Exhaustion railed through me and I walked down the aisle one last time to check on everyone. One passenger in particular had caught my eye. Dressed in a white button-down shirt and a black suit, he wore his dark hair short. His green gaze had been kind the first time he'd asked me for coffee. Throughout the flight, he'd studied some papers, even while he ate. I'd dubbed him Mr. Coffee.

“Can I get you a nightcap, sir?” I asked quietly so as not to disturb anyone else.

“No, thank you,” he said, slipping off his glasses, his Texas accent thick. “I could use another cup of coffee, though.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” I said. “I'll get a fresh pot brewing for us.”

On my way back to the coffee machine, I took a couple more orders for drinks. Once I had everything situated on my tray, I headed down the aisle.

Mr. Pig was still out cold, thankfully. Yet, just before I passed him, I noted him shifting in his seat out of the corner of my eye. His leg must have moved into the aisle because the next thing I knew, my tray of drinks went flying and my chin hit the floor. I groaned at the impact and pain radiated through the front of my body—everything from my ankles to my forehead hurt.

Chapter 5

“Let me help you up,” a man's voice said from above me. Strong hands held my shoulders and gently pulled. Once I was upright, I found Mr. Coffee had been my savior.

“I am so sorry,” I said, glancing at the mess in the aisle while smoothing down my skirt. At least it hadn't ridden too far up and given everyone a show. My co-worker, Ruth, rushed from the front of the plane and began dropping cleaning cloths to soak up all the liquid and handing out others to passengers who'd gotten wet, all while smiling profusely and apologizing.

“No worries,” he said, smiling. “Are you okay? It looks like you have a scratch on your chin.”

My injuries could wait. I'd made a terrible mess and needed to clean it up. I looked over at Mr. Pig, and his leg was stretched out into the aisle, but he still slept soundly, unaware of the chaos he'd caused.

I stepped back to pick up a glass and almost fell over again. Pain shot through my ankle as I tried to catch my balance.

“Uh-oh. You may have a sprain there,” Mr. Coffee said. “Let's get you back to your chair and I'll take a look.”

“I need to help her clean up,” I said, pointing to Ruth.

He glanced over his shoulder, then back at me. “It's fine. None of the glasses broke and you can barely walk. Let's get you seated and I'll give her a hand.”

I began to argue again but putting weight on my ankle made me decide otherwise. After taking off my heel, I hobbled to my chair with his help.

“Stay here,” he said. “I'll be right back.”

With a sigh, I shut my eyes. I should have been more careful. Sleeping drunks had a tendency to sprawl out and I knew that. I'd been warned about it in training. How in the world was I going to get home if I couldn't walk? Once we landed, I could get a wheelchair to the cab area, and then stagger up to my apartment.

“Okay, he said, returning. “Everything is cleaned up. May I take a look at your ankle?”

“I guess so,” I replied. “Are you a doctor?”

“No, but I've had some medical training.”

He dropped to his haunches in front of me and gently probed the tender area with cool and smooth hands. “I don't think it's broken,” he said. “Probably a minor sprain.”

With a smile, he met my gaze. “I'm Bill, by the way. I should have introduced myself before grabbing your foot.”

Even in the dim light, his eyes were so green, they reminded me of pictures I'd seen of the ocean in some parts of the world. “That's okay. I really appreciate your help. I’m Patty.”

“Are you okay?” Ruth said, coming around the corner. “That was quite a spill!”

“Yes,” I replied. “I think I'll be fine. Probably sidelined a few days, but Bill here says that he doesn't think it's broken.”

“Oh, thank goodness! How are you going to get home?”

“I'm not sure.”

“I'll help you,” Ruth volunteered. “After you get checked out in medical at the airport.”

A few moments later, the captain announced our impending landing. Ruth handled everything for me, and I'd owe her big time. Once the passengers departed, she helped me down the aisle and into the waiting wheelchair, which in turn took me to medical.

Mr. Coffee, or Bill, had been right... nothing but a sprain.

The next day, I sat on my couch eating a bag of potato chips and watching reruns of Dragnet. My stomach would revolt against the chips, and so would my waistline, but I didn’t care. The doctor had ordered me to take a few days off, and more if need