A Flight to Romance

The morning of April 27 dawned beautifully in Asheville, North Carolina. Opening the blinds revealed a red-colored sun just peeking over the Blue Ridge Mountains to the East. As the sunlight brightened the oak and maple trees, it also slowly burned away the dew glistening on the furniture outside her window. She stretched, excited that this was the day of her big flight, the trip she had been planning for the past several months.

As she made up her side of the bed, she couldn’t help thinking of the untouched empty side and immediately thought of David as she did every morning. It had been three years since he had left her, but she still had vivid memories of life with him in her beloved house just outside of Asheville.

With a sigh she finished making the bed as the alarm on her iPad, set for 7 a.m., sounded. She allowed the song to play as she finished tidying the room. On My Own, was among her favorite songs from the Les Miserables soundtrack and it had buoyed her spirits, given her strength to put one foot in front of the other each day for the past three years.

She sang along, feeling happy. Every week had become better, a bit easier. She continued singing as she dressed in the outfit she had carefully selected the night before.

When the song ended she shut down the iPad and tucked into her carry-on bag. This is for you, David, she murmured.

After applying her make-up she stashed the mascara and other items in the mauve satin zippered bag and tucked it into the luggage she would check. She made sure the caps to her lotion, shampoo, and other personal care items were secured and then placed them into a plastic zip top bag as the airline’s baggage suggestions recommended. She double-checked that she had remembered the heavy sweater for any cooler days and the umbrella for expected rainy weather.

A little rain was not going to interrupt her plans, she thought. Then she zipped the black suitcase and bumped it down the carpeted staircase to the lower level of her townhouse. Catching a glimpse of herself in a mirror in the hall at the bottom of the stairs, she was pleased with the new shorter hairstyle. Her wavy hair now curled in gentle ringlets framing her oval face and the jewel tones in her blouse intensified the green in her eyes. At the bottom of the stairs she repositioned on her lapel the silver pin her sister-in-law had made.

Checking her watch, she realized she was ahead of schedule. I have 30 minutes before the taxi arrives. I can read a few more pages in that fabulous Dickens biography over breakfast, she said to the empty house. She sometimes acted as if David were still around though she was doing so less frequently. That’s why it was the perfect time to take this trip to England.

<<>>

Jeremy Rowlands rounded the corner for terminal A2 at Newark International Airport and began scanning for his gate number. He still had nearly an hour before boarding would even begin so once he checked the monitor at the gate for any essential announcements or flight info, he headed toward the United Airlines Club Lounge for a salad or sandwich before the flight to Heathrow.

As he reviewed the menu, he was glad he’d allowed Max, his friend and mentor, to convince him to take this trip. You’ve been talking about this since Patricia’s accident. It’s time to take action, Max had said. When Jeremy continued to hedge, Max had sent the final arrow sailing home. "It’s unlike you, my friend, to not take action. I’m growing concerned. Stop talking about it and—as the Nike commercial says—‘Just Do It’. The time is now."

Jeremy was even more glad that the dean of the college of arts and sciences as well as the astronomy department chair were behind him on this personal journey. Sounds like a fascinating project and a great summer break for you, Dr. Hermann had said when Jeremy requested to take the entire summer session off this year. He’d submitted the request before the December holidays so he had the full winter/spring semester to prepare his students for a slightly early end to the term. As long as you clearly provide the details on your syllabi, the department chair had said, and all finals are given and grades turned in before you leave, I don’t foresee any problems. And so Dr. Jeremy Rowlands was free to follow his itinerary across Britain to explore astronomy, geology, and evolution—what he liked to refer to as AGE—and see if he might find the meaning of life, though he had no idea how this search was to impact his life.

Checking his watch he gulped the last of his ginger ale and grabbed his carry-on then headed back to the gate. He’d lost track of time during his reminiscing. A crowd of people had formed a haphazard line in front of the counter at the gate.

They’ve already begun boarding, he realized. Well, no harm.

His seat was confirmed so he supposed it didn’t matter when he boarded. He queued into line just as the attendants announced they’d begin boarding the premier and elite travel partners next. Jeremy raised an arm and the attendants motioned him over. Those milling about made way for him. Just finished boarding children and families? Jeremy asked, smiling at the young dark-haired attendant.

She nodded and scanned his boarding pass, checked the monitor and then returned his pass. Welcome to United Airlines. Enjoy your flight.

He thanked her and headed down the Jetway to the door of the huge aircraft.

<<>>

Welcome to Flight 1102 to Heathrow. The announcement quieted the talking among those waiting. We’ll begin boarding now with families with small children and those needing extra assistance. I also see a few military members in the crowd who are welcome to board now, too. After these passengers board, we’ll call for Zone 1/Business Class passengers. Please step to the counter if you need assistance.

Stephanie looked at her boarding pass for the umpteenth time. On a whim she’s upgraded to Business Class during check-in online last night. It was a treat to herself for finally making this long-planned journey, though she had considered canceling when David’s sister, Liz, had to back out of accompanying her.

She would not allow traveling alone to ruin her plans. She sighed and looked up. That’s when she noticed the distinguished looking man walk rapidly toward the front of the mass of passengers preparing to board. He was well dressed in what she considered business casual: khaki slacks, a pressed pale blue button down shirt and a dark blue V-neck sweater. She’d bet it was thin but warm, soft cashmere.

He’s quite handsome, she thought and guessed he was meticulous about his appearance, as David had been. Probably a businessman, too, she thought.

She would have wondered what he did for a living—as she often did when she ate lunch alone during breaks from her part-time job at the public library—but she was bumped from behind as the announcement indicated Zone 2 passengers to begin boarding. Startled, Stephanie looked at her boarding pass.

Zone 2? But she hadn’t heard the announcement for Zone 1 to board. Pay attention, please! she admonished herself as she would have done with a student in her high school English class before retiring from teaching ten years earlier. She smiled now, having been distracted by an attractive male, just as her female students had many times during the course of her 20-year career as a teacher.

When she made her way to the counter, she said, I’m so sorry; I must have missed the call to board my section.

The young man running the scanner took her boarding pass. Oh, Mrs. Marks. We’ve been waiting for you; we were ready to page you.

Goodness, thought Stephanie, I was certainly daydreaming to miss the boarding call.

The young man grinned as he reached for her carry-on. Allow me. He motioned for her to follow him down the Jetway. Thought perhaps you had changed your mind. So glad you didn’t. He expertly maneuvered past passengers in queue to board and Stephanie felt silly bypassing everyone. Let’s get you boarded, before they try to give your seat away.

As they approached the plane’s entrance, the young man called out, Rebecca, 5B is here at last. He waved Stephanie’s boarding pass at the pretty blonde flight attendant who stood parroting a greeting as each passenger entered the plane.

The woman smiled warmly at Stephanie as she took the bag and ticket from the young man. With a wave, he turned to return to his duties at the gate while attempting to spread his cheer among the passengers who waited with expressionless faces to board the plane. She doubted he much affected their attitudes.

Welcome to United Airlines, said the flight attendant as she ushered Stephanie aboard. Do you care for a cocktail before we depart? The woman motioned to the other attendant whose name tag read CeeCee. This woman led Stephanie to her seat while Rebecca continued to greet incoming passengers. Welcome aboard flight 1102 to London alternated with Good evening! Welcome to United Airlines.

CeeCee expertly placed Stephanie’s bag in the overhead and asked, Have you decided on a beverage before departure?

Just water, for now. Thank you, said Stephanie as she moved the blanket from her seat so she could sit. CeeCee moved up the aisle.

After sitting, she noticed the man seated at the window and fumbled in connecting her seatbelt. It was the distinguished-looking gentleman she’d noticed earlier. He removed his Bose brand noise-canceling headphones, very similar, if not identical, to the ones she had bought for David on his 60th birthday.

She frowned. Should I have brought those headphones with me? she wondered and then realized the man was speaking to her.

The man looked from her to the window. Do you prefer I pull the shade? I don’t mind ... if you’re nervous about flying. He held out a hand which she shook absently. She immediately noticed his slight accent—perhaps British—but decided to wait to ask about it. Jeremy Rowlands. Glad you arrived. I wondered whether I’d be alone with my thoughts for the nearly 7-hour flight.

Stephanie smiled, hoping it looked gracious rather than anxious. She’d never had a problem with flying. But more than six hours, across mostly ocean. How had she allowed her sister-in-law to talk her into this? And where was Liz now?

She realized the man was awaiting an answer and felt like an idiot. Why was she so distracted today? CeeCee returned with a tall bottle of water and once Stephanie declined anything further, she returned her attention to her seat mate.

I’m sorry. Please leave the shade up. I like to watch take off and the lights will be pretty this evening. She settled back in her seat, opening the bottle of water.

What a relief, Jeremy said. You looked a tinge green when I mentioned the long flight.

Stephanie swallowed a sip of water and shook her head. I was just distracted, thinking about how much my sister-in-law is going to miss this trip. She was supposed to come with me but had the best business opportunity arise. Stephanie fingered the delicate silver pin on her lapel.

Is that . . . woven? Or, it almost looks like. . . silver lace. Jeremy had leaned in and Stephanie got a good look at his vivid blue eyes and a breath of the masculine scent he wore. Not aftershave. Men’s cologne. She grinned.

Jeremy cleared his throat as he moved back against the window. I beg your pardon. It’s just . . . His eyes returned to the pin. It’s incredibly beautiful.

Stephanie nodded. It is. Liz made it. She’s fabulous in working silver, specializes in jewelry. That’s why she canceled. She’s been asked to be part of an important show—next month—so three weeks in England, well, she needs that time to prepare.

Jeremy nodded and Stephanie realized she had never introduced herself. She extended her hand. I’m Stephanie Marks, by the way. Pleased to meet you Jeremy. His hand was warm and his grip firm.

At some point as they exchanged idle conversation, she saw that he had kicked off his shoes and was wiggling and flexing his stockinged feet. She was curious and noted this might be yet another item to use in striking up a conversation. And, she did want to chat since she had discovered during her flight from Asheville to Newark that she’d left her Dickens biography on the kitchen table. The in-flight magazine would not hold her attention for such a long flight to Heathrow, even if she read every single article.

They were interrupted when CeeCee began preparing Business Class for departure. The captain’s voice sounded over the plane’s speakers.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Rumford speaking just giving you a brief comment on our flight plan for this evening's journey to London-Heathrow airport. After take-off, we will proceed northeast then, just south of Hartford, we’ll move up the Canadian Maritime Provinces before starting our crossing just south of Sydney. We should make landfall over Cork in Ireland and then directly into Heathrow. We will be cruising at 37,000 feet. I will alert you once we reach that altitude, at which point you are welcome to use any stowed electronic devices.

The weather looks good for tonight's flight into London although we may encounter a little mild turbulence as we enter the jet stream in a couple of hours. Our flight time will be about 6 hours and 50 minutes.

Immediately after he finished, one of the attendants began the Flight Safely routine. Stephanie found this interesting since she’d only seen it on domestic flights where the first-class flight attendant demonstrated everything for the first rows of coach and then quickly moved forward to repeat the routine for the first-class passengers. CeeCee gave her full attention to Business Class, though few passengers other than Stephanie gave her any notice.

When CeeCee reached that part about using the seat cushion as a floatation device, Stephanie’s stomach knotted. Jeremy nudged her arm with his elbow. Stephanie slowly turned to look at him. He smiled warmly. You’re looking a bit green again.

She smiled. "This is my first international flight and I just thought . . . all that water."

It will be fine. I’ve made this journey many times. He gestured toward the monitor in front of her which was a bit larger than a laptop screen. You’ll watch a movie, or likely even sleep, through most of it. That’s when she relaxed, thinking of the Ambien her doctor had given her just in case.

Sipping from her bottled water, she again noticed his feet again. She looked up and caught his eye, then back at his feet. He wiggled them. She looked him square in the eye ready to just blurt her question but he winked and she burst into laughter instead.

As she looked down, he wiggled his stockinged toes again. Go on, ask, he said in that calm, melodious English accent she found so pleasing, like someone doing a voice over for a Discovery Channel documentary. I know you’re wondering. Everyone always does. His voice took on a teasing quality that made her giggle until the man across the aisle threw her a disapproving look. With shoulders hunched, she tried to control her giddiness while Jeremy simply grinned.

You’re wondering why I take my shoes off. He sighed. It’s quite boring really. Have you heard of deep vein thrombosis?

Stephanie abruptly stopped giggling. But surely you’re too young for that!

True, but it also afflicts young people who sit still on planes too long. All the blood drains to the legs and feet, and it causes clotting. One way of countering this is by exercising, but it’s inconvenient for your neighbors if you keep walking up and down the aisle; all that trekking and queuing for the bathrooms is quite enough disruption for most people. Taking off your shoes helps the circulation and keeps the blood moving. Therefore you don’t get clots in your legs.

Stephanie was impressed. That was a succinct yet detailed explanation and she’d done her share of paring information down to the essentials during her teaching career. Is it something you’re prone to? She gave him a mental round of applause as she realized how easily he could have sounded smug and yet didn’t. There was certainly something more to Jeremy Rowlands than first impressions revealed.

No, but it’s good to be healthy wherever possible. He paused. Actually, I’m preparing to do something that I think might be beneficial to you. It’s called the ‘Body Scan’. It’s a sort of Buddhist technique to relax.

You’re a Buddhist? Stephanie asked with surprise.

Oh no. Jeremy shook his head. I’m interested in their philosophy, but I’m not really the religious type. The body scan is an excellent form of relaxation though. Certainly helps me to get to sleep quicker, anyway. And, I think it will help you relax and enjoy the flight.

He continued in that soothing voice; reassuring, refreshing and just the tiniest bit sexy. She laughed to herself knowing that it showed on her face but hoping he chalked it up to nerves. Come on, do it with me. You concentrate on each part of your body in turn, becoming aware of each muscle from the neck to the shoulder and arms through the thighs, all the way down to the ankles and feet, and you slowly relax each one. Begin with your neck, then your shoulder. Listen. I’ll guide you through the scan.

<<>>

When the woman seated next to him arrived, Jeremy had been deep in thought. He had always been a good thinker, as his wife had put it. In fact, he seemed to be pretty binary for most of his life, ranging from intellectual gymnastics to deep thought—a by-product of his Zen-based philosophy mixed with his logical, finely-tuned and always restless yet inquisitive mind.

No wonder he had burned out. His students at the University of Florida loved him as he lectured in on mode, rapidly linking concepts and theories, accessing interesting and stimulating examples and anecdotes, stories and exposés of common myths and urban legends. Alone at home, in off mode, he reveled in meditation and healthy eating. No red meat, plenty of fruits and veggies, no alcohol, peace and calm. Colleagues found him an enigma, and since he had been suffering from some inner angst he couldn’t quite put his finger on for a long time now, his best friend Max had suggested a little time out.

For almost all his life he had harbored a fascination with one core idea and now was a chance to truly indulge it—the meaning of life. The central tenets of his beloved astronomy combined with geology and evolution were linked in some way, he knew it. He had been inwardly wrestling with a theory that was just out of mental grasp for a large amount of his career, and the thread of connectivity eluded him. England was a good place to do just that. If nothing else, the size of the place meant travel was relatively easy, plus his English roots were something he hadn’t explored before. Besides, it would be good to return to his motherland just once more.

The night before, he and Max had gone to dinner. His mentor-turned-best-friend had been visiting from Chicago where he remained faculty emeritus at Northwestern. They’d chosen their usual Thai restaurant. Though a local favorite, Jeremy was certain not to run into many students as it was on the west side of Gainesville. It was what Max called a sensible Thai—not too many lucky cats and paper flimflams, fountains, lanterns and the like. Neither did the proprietors force their staff to dress up in simulated Thai costumes, as had become popular in a lot of restaurants.

No, here ‘Meester Max’ and ‘Meester Jeremy’ were always greeted more like old friends than patrons, with Tiger Beer for ‘Meester Max’ and soft drinks for ‘Meester Jeremy’ being served without the bother of ordering, which suited the pair. They were, after all, both creatures of habit and so wrapped up in discussions of quasars, pulsars and the latest astronomical findings that at times they barely noticed the menu. So the waitress tended to make one attempt to take the order, and if they were too engrossed in their discussion to notice, just served their regular dishes without them even noticing.

What you need, Jeremy, is to find yourself an outside interest, Max regaled him. All work and no play, and all that…

Jeremy closed his eyes, taking deep, easy breaths to attain what he called his Zen calm. Opening his eyes, he smiled at his old friend. I’ve told you, I’m just fine. He looked pointedly over his glasses. And please don’t offer to introduce me to any more of your ‘cousins’. I’ve been mothered, smothered and run away from too many times to mention, and as I’ve told you, I am perfectly happy as I am. I neither want nor need female company to enjoy life.

You’ll grow into a lonely old man. Max grinned, raising his glass.

Thank heavens! Jeremy replied. You’ll grow into a modern version of Father Christmas, surrounded with children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, fat and merry with red cheeks and a long beard!

It’s called robust.

Jeremy gave Max a dubious look.

Hale and hearty, then, protested Max. And what, pray tell, is wrong with my beard? He sported a very neat goatee, with the potential to become out of control if not kept in line, like many of his students. Max was gregarious and had been a popular professor, and not for the same reasons as Jeremy. His lax style during the last decades before retirement had suited the easygoing student, and he had had a goodly following of those. Some of Jeremy’s own teaching style had been acquired while visiting Max’s lectures during his year as a young professor.

I give up. Jeremy chuckled before taking a sip of the ginger ale Buakai had brought him.

Well that won’t get you very far on your quest, pilgrim, said Max. You know what you need to do. He looked pointedly at Jeremy, serious now, the hustle and bustle of the busy restaurant forgotten. Jeremy looked bewildered.

Your. Great. Quest. Max punctuated each word with a jabbing chopstick. You can’t give that up! If you want my advice, go back to the source. Always, science is proven by fact and foundation. Go back to the source. Just don’t be disappointed if you find nothing. Remember what Darwin said, ‘The mystery of the beginning of all things is insoluble by us’.

That night, Jeremy had been unable to sleep, Max’s words going round and round in his head like a spiral galaxy. There was something there, for sure, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The source. Which source? He settled for Newton in the end: Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica (Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy), of which he had an old, well-thumbed copy on the bedroom bookshelf. Almost all his modern books were on his e-reader, but the oldest and greatest texts had yet to be digitized, and in a way he was not sorry. It just seemed wrong, somehow.

He almost tripped over his suitcase in the dim light, but found the book he wanted. He shook his head gently as he pulled it from the shelf remembering how Patricia used to joke, Other men might have a girl in every port, but you, my love, have a book in every room.

Would you prefer it the other way around? he always asked. Her reply was invariably an Eskimo kiss, formed by her getting on her tiptoes and slowly shaking her head so her nose brushed back and forth. He missed her so much sometimes, and yet, at other times he was so involved in his work that it was hard to remember how different his life had been then.

I’m off on an adventure, he whispered to her photo, as he sometimes did, although it was a habit he found himself falling into less and less nowadays. I did it. I decided to finally go and see if there’s anything in my ideas after all. Settling on the bed, he knew she would have been pleased. He opened the book and reclined for a cozy night wrapped in a fold of the soft, navy sheets, and he drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

<<>>

Excuse me? a male voice said, though it wasn’t David’s.

Stephanie blinked. W–what? For a few moments she couldn’t remember where she was or what she was doing.

They’re starting to serve dinner, her companion told her. I thought you might want to be awake for that. He smiled. I hope you don’t mind.

Stephanie nodded. Yes. Thank you. She returned her seat to the upright position. She didn’t even remember falling asleep; she certainly hadn’t intended to. She’d been following Jeremy as they did the body scan and then . . . dinner.

The beverage cart came before the food. By far the most important part of the refreshments, she thought. Since this was her trip of a lifetime, she decided to celebrate with a large and lovely glass of Chardonnay though she noticed Jeremy ordered only ginger ale. He looked quite dapper, and with the English accent she had expected to see him with a glass of very select Red.

As they sat awaiting their food, she struggled to wake up and continue the conversation she had so enjoyed before her nap. What was the matter? she wondered. First she was easily distracted and nearly lost her upgraded seat, then she kept missing cues in the conversation, and finally she falls asleep in the middle of a body scan. She hoped he wasn’t offended; she liked the conversation. He was easy to talk to and seemed to know a little bit about a lot of things. In addition, he appeared genuinely interested when she chattered about her favorite PBS shows, including Downton Abbey. But didn’t everyone watch that show?

CeeCee paused in the aisle and leaned across Stephanie’s view screen. Excuse me, Dr. Rowlands?

Yes? Jeremy looked up at the young woman with a charming smile and manner.

I understand you ordered a vegetarian meal for this evening’s flight?

Yes, that’s correct.

CeeCee nodded and retreated.

You’re a doctor? Stephanie asked.

Jeremy waved his hand. Ph.D. I teach astronomy at the University of Florida in Gainesville.

Stephanie grinned over the top of her wine glass. "So you are a teacher—well, professor. She swallowed a sip of wine. I wondered when you so easily explained DVT and the body scan."

The flight attendant returned, bringing his vegetarian meal and placing a steak on Stephanie’s empty tray table. She took another sip of her Chardonnay and snuck a look at him.

She had to make it a double-take. Was that a nearly imperceptible frown? Was he offended that she’d ordered steak? Again, the trip of a lifetime meant an indulgence during the flight.

Well, you’re full of surprises. Vegetarian too? she said.

He looked at her, pulling aside the role to reveal a white glob that could only be soy something sprinkled with green and red chunks she truly hoped were peppers. She bit her lip to contain her laughter as he said, Normally, whenever I have to select this sort of meal or a boxed lunch at a conference, I find it safer to op for vegetarian. He looked at his tray and sighed. Perhaps this time will be the exception.

She hid her smile with another sip of Chardonnay and then almost felt guilty as she sliced into her nicely prepared steak.

<<>>

About an hour out of Nova Scotia, chimes sounded three times from the speakers alerting the passengers to listen to the announcement. Jeremy pulled an ear bud away and she heard faint strains of classical music. Mozart perhaps? Yes, he’d mentioned something about particularly enjoying Mozart. Had even asked whether she minded that he retreat into his music. He was so very polite.

Stephanie turned her attention to the announcement.

Good evening ladies and gentlemen, said Captain Rumford. I hope you are all enjoying this evening’s flight. We’re approaching Sydney and will begin our trans-Atlantic crossing now. Weather continues to be mild though we may have periods of turbulence. Here in the cockpit we’ll do our best to provide smooth flying. We’ll continue cruising at 37,000 feet so use of mobile devices is safe and welcome. We should make landfall over Cork, Ireland and will then continue directly into Heathrow arriving at approximately 7:30 a.m.. The weather upon arrival in London will be about 55 degrees with broken clouds and the occasional rain shower. Relax and enjoy the remainder of the flight.

Stephanie swallowed down growing anxiety. She knew they would see only miles of ocean for hours and the flight attendants’ instructions about the use of the seat cushion as a flotation device popped into her head. A wave of panic washed through her from head to toe. Would Jeremy notice if she tried that body scan he had explained a short time ago?

What had caused her to make this trip—and alone when Elizabeth backed out? Though it was her trip of a lifetime she didn’t think she could go through with it. Then she laughed inwardly. It’s not as if you can pull the stop cord on the bus! she told herself. Wait! Pilot, pull over; I’ve changed my mind. Maybe I should try that Ambien my doctor gave me after all, she thought.

The flight attendants began clearing away the dinner dishes, then preparing the cabin for the nighttime journey by lowering the blinds, and dimming the lights for the benefit of passengers wishing to sleep. Stephanie decided to take half the Ambien pill her doctor had given her. That was only 5 mg, she assured herself as she swallowed it with the last of her water just as the attendant collected her tray. Then, Stephanie reclined her seat, raised the footrest, and settled back in preparation for the night flight to London.

The Boeing 767 was a comfortable plane and she had read somewhere that, because of the reliability of jet engines, two-engine aircraft had been approved several years ago for transoceanic crossings. This fact eased her apprehension and, as she began to relax into sleepiness, she had a wave of excitement that the trip she had spent months preparing for was finally here. She was on her way! She was ready for an adventure and had absolutely no idea how her life would change over the next three weeks.

2

Shifting Itineraries

He was over thinking things again, he knew. But a proposal was forming in his mind, and he couldn’t decide whether to broach it or not. He took a sip of the orange juice the flight attendant had offered him once she noticed he was awake. Gazing out the window he thought of how much he missed Patricia, especially at a time like this when possibilities flowed through his mind.

Patricia had known him so well. One glance and she recognized that he was grappling to find an answer. I get the scientific process, she’d say, questions, research, hypothesis and all, but not every problem is empirical and measurable. Sometimes you need to focus on the qualitative—and the emotions, the experiences. Give your subconscious a chance to connect your thoughts.

To this he’d scoff or take a jab at the soft science of psychology and Patricia would laugh. Even Newton was just in the perfect place for that apple to fall on his head, she’d tease.

Smiling ruefully, he switched from the Beatles White Album he’d been listening to to get into the spirit of his British roots and found Bach—his thinking music. He’d been pleased that the Montessori school they’d sent their children, Ben and Melissa, to piped Baroque music over the speakers for most of the day. It was basically what Patricia alluded to with her comments about the subconscious but Jeremy knew the 60 beats per minute of the steady Baroque tempo paralleled the alpha brain wave pattern, allowing alert relaxation to encourage learning, or in his case, to promote ideas and problem solving. His mood lightened a bit as he considered how happy he was that Melissa had chosen a Montessori foundation for her daughter Alexis.

He glanced at the woman asleep next to him, finished his orange juice and then reclined his seat to think through this issue. What had so unsettled him?

He had woken happy, looking forward to the excursion he’d begin in only a few hours. But there was something . . . missing—that empty feeling he had learned to ignore each morning. The hollowness deeply buried; he filled it with sometimes false exuberance for the coming day or by encouraging students or colleagues. Whenever he immediately looked forward to some upcoming event, that emptiness dissipated quickly. He began using this trick about a month after Patricia’s accident, once all the funeral thank you notes had been sent.

His logical mind knew he’d move through the five stages of grief. The anger stage had been the hardest because he didn’t really get to say goodbye. It wasn’t the same as when his father had died of cancer. Then there had been time to make amends and settle matters. But a multi-car pile up on I-75 left him stunned and numb. He scrunched his eyes to banish the images of mangled metal on the front page of the newspaper which Ben had tried so hard to prevent Jeremy from seeing. In the end, he’d seen the newspaper on a table in the faculty mail room. Shocking.

God how he missed Patricia at times, though it had now been nearly two years. He missed their easy conversations. A few times Melissa had tried to mimic them. Mom wouldn’t want you to be alone. Ben and I agree. It’s okay to date, Dad.

Jeremy had rolled his eyes.

You can’t fill the void with extra classes at UF. She had smiled, so much like her mother. "Even if you are one of the most popular professors there. I’m surprised the grad students aren’t falling at your feet."

It felt strange for his children to push him into blind dates. Well, maybe that’s why he felt conflicted at the moment. He had thoroughly enjoyed the conversation with Stephanie last evening. It was refreshing. In fact, he wished a few of those dates everyone had pressed him into had been half as much fulfilling. Perhaps it was simply the lack of pressure surrounding the conversation. There was none. The plane would land and they’d go their separate ways. The only pressure was the long flight and the hope that whoever would be seated next to him wouldn’t prattle on about nothing. Instead he had enjoyed their discussions.

She didn’t seem to mind the information he shared and the range of topics was interesting. In truth, she was the first woman Jeremy had really noticed in a long time. Well, apart from a colleague who had had a rather embarrassing crush on him a year or so back, whom he couldn’t help but notice, unfortunately.

Jeremy opened his eyes, sneaking another look at Stephanie. Perhaps that was it. He enjoyed her companionship. He adjusted his seat so he could sit and look at the mound of white clouds. He liked these formations. They made him imagine the snow and ice of Alaska.

After a bit more thinking he was convinced. The morning emptiness, usually painfully hollow after one of those disastrous dates, was what was missing. He’d enjoyed the time with Stephanie because it wasn’t a date. There was no pressure to connect. Yet they had connected. Their discussion had been stimulating though they seemed to have little in common. In fact, Stephanie had admitted to knowing very little about astronomy.

I know that all 27 moons of Uranus are named after Shakespeare’s characters. Jeremy had been impressed; few people knew that, but then, she had been an English teacher.

And that it’s often confused with astrology. Stephanie laughed. In fact, when kids come in to the library for school assignments they often ask for astrology. We chuckle and ask if they have to do a report on the solar system. Her face lit up as she spoke. Then we direct them to 520 in the stacks—that’s what librarians call the rows of books.

Actually, she’d been more specific, quoting the Dewey Decimal number 520 for astronomy and allied sciences and 523 for specific celestial bodies including solar systems. Then she’d paused, studying Jeremy’s face. But, since you’re at a university, you’d be familiar with the Library of Congress Cataloging system. I’m not as familiar with that but I believe your specialty would be somewhere under QB—for science and astronomy.

Jeremy had burst out laughing and Stephanie had blushed. He’d immediately grabbed her hand, squeezing reassurance. I’m so sorry, he’d said, the amusement still in his voice, but I just had a memory flash of my children’s friends’ faces when I’d often share astronomy facts.

Stephanie had giggled then. Jeremy liked her giggle. It rose higher at the end. And he liked the way her mouth crinkled at the edges, giving her a youthful look. He had released her hand. I’m impressed. You know your occupation well.

It turned out she knew teaching and British Lit even better. It hadn’t taken long to learn a lot about her. Again, would that his failed dates had been such conversationalists.

She’d been raised in Chicago with art and theater a natural part of life but she’d taken a teaching job in North Carolina after university where she’d, of course, majored in education but Jeremy was impressed with a double minor: art history and British Lit. She’d fallen in love with the laid back lifestyle of the region yet one that emphasized culture, which she said she was surprised to discover in the southwest portion of the state. Though she’d taught English and literature for around 20 years, she knew a lot about the history and philosophy behind the authors and stories she taught. Obviously she was well-read, thought Jeremy.

Passion for a subject was something Jeremy rarely found and it was refreshing to see whenever he came across it, be it for rare moths, coin collecting, playing chess or even . . . English historical television programs. Stephanie loved both the comedies and dramas on PBS and mentioned Dickens numerous times. He’d shared a bit about his plans while in England but Stephanie had a similar travels planned, though they leaned toward art and literature.

Plus, she had said. I want to visit the places where some of my favorite authors used to live and work. The idea of visiting Dickens’ London has always been something I’ve wanted to do. I want to see the home of the great works of literature; the places where they made Masterpiece Theater! I want to roam around the countryside where Beatrix Potter, Wordsworth and the Brontës probably wandered; to go where Charles Dickens saw the poverty that influenced his work and so on.

If this had been one of those forced dates, he would certainly plan to call Stephanie the next day.

But you don’t have to call her, she’s right here. Patricia’s voice in his mind was mirthful, teasing. In fact, you woke next to her.

He smiled. Would this turn into