Chapter 3: The Plane

QUINN'S POV

Nothing but the wheels on the road interrupted the overwhelming silence on the drive to the airport. He didn't play music on the car radio, no conversation, nothing but the soft hum of the heater and the occasional sneeze and sniff from me.

We circled the airport, bypassing several parking garages, and I looked on in confusion. Ford eventually pulled into a private bay and parked his car. In seconds, an attendant appeared at his side, opening the driver's side door and then grabbing Ford's belongings from the back seat.

"Good morning, Mr. Harper," I heard the attendant say as I climbed out of the car.

"Good morning, Roger. She ready to go?"

"Yes, sir. Fueled and waiting. I'll bring your briefcase and bag."

"Has Dr. Johanssen arrived?"

"Yes, sir. She's already on board."

Ford nodded curtly and tossed a glance at me over his shoulder. I scampered around to the other side of the car and Ford gently grabbed my elbow. He led me out of the bay and onto the tarmac. The side of the plane read, HI, and I looked up at him quizzically.

"Why does the plane say 'hi'?"

What I guess could pass as a laugh sounded in his throat. "It stands for Harper Industries."

"You own a plane?"

"It's my company's jet."

My stomach turned to knots. "I've never flown before."

"It's safer than driving, I assure you."

"That may be so, but I don't like heights."

His grip on my elbow tightened. "It's only a forty-five minute flight. By the time we reach cruising altitude, it'll be time to come down again."

"Where're we going?" I asked.

"New York."

The idea of New York excited me. "I've never been there."

Ford looked down at me then, his soulful brown eyes searching my face. "It's a day of firsts for you then, isn't it?"

I climbed the mobile staircase, with Ford on my heels, and we were immediately greeted by a handsome pilot and equally attractive flight attendant. I stepped inside, immediately bowled over by the luxuriousness of it all. Butter cream leather couches lined either side of the cabin instead of the rows of seats I was accustomed to seeing on TV.

Small, round tables were bolted to the floor in the front and on the side of the couches, and the windows were draped in heavy, beige curtains. A woman in a black pant suit wearing a white lab coat sat near the rear of the plane and she stood as I approached. Her hand jutted out in a polite welcome.

"I'm Dr. Sheila Johanssen."

I looked up at Ford.

"You wouldn't go to the hospital, so I brought the doctor to you. We only have ten minutes, Sheila, and then we have to go."

She nodded her blonde head. "Yes, Mr. Harper. What's your name, dear?"

I sneezed again. "Quinn Mathers."

"Well, Miss Mathers, let's get you checked out so you can be on your way, shall we?"

Again. Not really feeling like I had a choice in anything that concerned me today. I followed behind her into a small bedroom in the back of the plane.

"Sit down, please," the doctor cooed gently. Her Swedish accent soothed me.

I sat on the bed, shuffling my feet across the carpet. I wondered how Ford had even found the time to call her and how much he'd told her about me.

"Why did Mr. Harper call you?" I asked her outright.

She removed a tiny flashlight from her coat pocket and shined it in each of my eyes. "He said you'd fallen into icy water and he wanted to make sure you were okay."

Should my heart have started hammering right then? "And you just came running when he called?"

Her sweet and delicate laugh tinkled like bells. I thought I could like her.

"I'm Mr. Harper's personal physician. He pays me quite handsomely to come when he calls. So yes, I came running. How did you fall into the water and how long were you immersed?"

I purposely avoided answering her first question. "It wasn't long. Maybe a minute and a half, if that."

"Can you swim?"

"Yes," I answered automatically.

She frowned at me. "I see."

Dr. Johanssen put the stethoscope in her ears and listened to my heart. I looked around the room absently, noting the fine furnishings.

"Is Mr. Harper a billionaire?" I wondered aloud.

"I don't really know. How well do you know him?"

I raised my shoulders in a shrug. "I just met him today."

"I see," she said again, winking. "Handsome devil, isn't he?"

I blushed, but offered no reply. When she smiled at me, I blinked wildly at her. "What?"

"Your heartrate just increased."

"Are we finished here?"

"Your vitals look good. Are you experiencing any pain in your fingertips or toes?"

"None."

"Good. I don't think you were submerged long enough for it to cause any lasting damage. If you start to experience any numbness in your extremities, go to the hospital immediately. And if you don't want to go to the hospital, at least have Mr. Harper call me and I'll come see you."

"Thank you." I stood. "There's one more thing."

Her sky blue eyes stayed on my face.

"I hate heights and I've never flown before, so I'm a little nervous. Can you give me something so I don't completely freak out?"

She reached into her bag of tricks and pulled out a small bottle. She flipped the lid and handed me a tiny, oblong pill.

"Do you have any allergies or have you ever had a reaction to any type of drug before?"

"No."

"This is a very low dosage of Xanax. It should help to keep you calm. I'll leave another dose for you for your return flight."

I swallowed the pill with no water and exited behind her. Ford, perched casually on one of the bolted tables, looked up when he heard the door open.

"How is she?"

"No cause for concern," the doctor reported.

He extended a hand. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

"My pleasure. Have a safe flight. Take care of yourself, Miss Mathers."

Dr. Johanssen disappeared through the airplane door and the pilot promptly shut it behind her.

"We've been cleared for takeoff, Mr. Harper," he called over his shoulder.

Ford nodded and took a seat on the couch, buckling his seatbelt. He jerked his head at the space next to him, silently instructing me to do the same. As I did, I felt the vibrations of the engines rumble beneath my feet. I gripped the edge of the cushion nervously, digging my nails into the leather. Ford eyed me like a parent would an unruly child.

"Dr. Johanssen gave me a sedative, so I should be fine in a few minutes," I explained in a rush.

He nodded and raised his foot to rest his ankle on his knee. I scowled.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

He reached for the Forbes magazine on the table. "No."

"Why not?"

"I like quiet."

His placatory answers were starting to annoy me. "I'm a little antsy about having never flown before, so engaging conversation would help keep me distracted."

He slapped his magazine down. "Is there anything in particular you'd like to discuss?"

"Well, no," I mumbled.

"Okay." He picked his magazine up again.

I sneezed. "Why didn't you tell Dr. Johanssen how you really found me today?"

"It's your story to tell -- not mine."

"So you're not going to ask me why I was on the bridge?"

"No. If you want to tell me, you will."

I reflected on his comment for a second. "Thank you."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"You should probably eat something. I don't know how long my meeting will last."

"Am I going to your meeting?"

He finally looked over at me and I squirmed a bit in my seat. "Yes. I thought I made it clear I wasn't letting you out of my sight."

"I thought you were joking."

"I don't joke."

"Clearly."

The plane taxied for a short while and then began picking up speed. My anxiety skyrocketed. My stomach lurched and roiled, waves of nervousness tumbling through me. I felt the plane gradually tilt and I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Are you alright?"

"I will be -- as soon as we land."

"What about heights frightens you?"

"Uh, the fear of falling."

"You were on a twenty foot bridge today."

"That was different."

The plane continued to climb and the change in air pressure muted noises around me. I made the mistake of glancing out the window behind me and watched as wispy clouds flew past. Quickly, I turned again, praying my sedative would kick in soon. I shut my eyes.

Ford's large hand covered mine and although I didn't open my eyes, I felt my nerves begin to calm. I drew an odd strength from his tender, yet firm grasp -- as if his self-assurance and resolve were trickling from his veins into mine. I took advantage of the moment and turned my hand over, linking my fingers through his. I felt him twitch, but he didn't let go.