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Authors: Marie Ferrarella
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the most innocent voice she could muster.
âMy wife. Her car crash,â Lukkas said, filling in the pertinent words. âThe first responders on the scene said she died instantly and mercifully hadnât felt any pain. She didnât even have time to react, actually.â Then, as if aware that he was speaking in fragments, he told her, âI saw you looking up the article.â
There was no point in trying to deny it, Yohanna thought. She wasnât about to insult him like that or by pretending that he could be diverted by some fancy verbal tap dancing. Heâd already showed her that he valued honesty.
âIâm so sorry, I didnât know. I wouldnât have made that thoughtless comparison about planes and cars if I had known about your wife.â
âI know,â Lukkas told her. An extremely bittersweet smile curved just the edges of his mouth. âItâs just that, even after almost three years, Iâm still not really used to it.â His voice took on a wistful tone. âThere are times that I still expect to hear her voice, or see her coming out of the kitchen, telling me sheâs in the mood for pizza when what was really going on was that sheâd burned dinner beyond any hope of recognitionâagain,â he added, grinning as he fondly recalled the memory.
âI am so very, very sorry,â she told the producer in what amounted to a whisper.
Yohanna felt utterly helpless. She wasnât going to mouth the utterly overused and hopelessly clichéd phrase that she was sorry for his loss because it didnât begin to encompass, in her opinion, the grief the man must have felt and that he still continued to feel.
She remembered when her father had died the summer that sheâd turned twelve; for weeks afterward she just couldnât find a place for herself. It was as if every place, both physically and emotionally, felt wrong to her, as if she didnât belong in it. It didnât matter if that place was familiar to her or not, she was still uncomfortable.
It had taken her a long time to make peace with her sense of loss. She couldnât begin to imagine what it must have been like for Lukkas to lose a spouse, not to mention their unborn child, as well.
âYeah, me, too,â Lukkas murmured more to himself than to her.
The next moment she saw the producer unbuckling his seat belt.
âWait, shouldnât you keep that on?â she asked, afraid her initial careless observation had triggered a reckless reaction from Lukkas.
âOnly if I want to try to take this chair with me on location.â He pointed to the window next to her. âWeâve landed.â
She blinked and looked out. They were on the ground. How had that happened without her realizing it?
âOh.â
She felt foolish. So far, today wasnât going well
at all.
Sheâd been so concerned about his feelings of loss as well as how callous he must have thought sheâd sounded that she hadnât even paid attention to the fact that the plane had descended and made its landing.
Lukkas pulled down his briefcase from the overhead compartment. âDonât worry, youâll be a seasoned flier in no time,â he assured her, verbally moving on and putting a world of distance between himself and the previous topic.
Unbuckling, Yohanna grabbed her things and was on her feet, following him off the plane. As she went, she made a mental note to find the article again when she got home tonight. She wanted to familiarize herself with the details of the story so she wouldnât be guilty of making another thoughtless reference to a very painful period in his life.
The sun, definitely not in hiding when they left Bedford, seemed to have been turned up to High as it greeted her the second she left the shelter of the single-engine Learjet. She shaded her eyes with her free hand, but that still didnât make visibility even an iota more
âMy wife. Her car crash,â Lukkas said, filling in the pertinent words. âThe first responders on the scene said she died instantly and mercifully hadnât felt any pain. She didnât even have time to react, actually.â Then, as if aware that he was speaking in fragments, he told her, âI saw you looking up the article.â
There was no point in trying to deny it, Yohanna thought. She wasnât about to insult him like that or by pretending that he could be diverted by some fancy verbal tap dancing. Heâd already showed her that he valued honesty.
âIâm so sorry, I didnât know. I wouldnât have made that thoughtless comparison about planes and cars if I had known about your wife.â
âI know,â Lukkas told her. An extremely bittersweet smile curved just the edges of his mouth. âItâs just that, even after almost three years, Iâm still not really used to it.â His voice took on a wistful tone. âThere are times that I still expect to hear her voice, or see her coming out of the kitchen, telling me sheâs in the mood for pizza when what was really going on was that sheâd burned dinner beyond any hope of recognitionâagain,â he added, grinning as he fondly recalled the memory.
âI am so very, very sorry,â she told the producer in what amounted to a whisper.
Yohanna felt utterly helpless. She wasnât going to mouth the utterly overused and hopelessly clichéd phrase that she was sorry for his loss because it didnât begin to encompass, in her opinion, the grief the man must have felt and that he still continued to feel.
She remembered when her father had died the summer that sheâd turned twelve; for weeks afterward she just couldnât find a place for herself. It was as if every place, both physically and emotionally, felt wrong to her, as if she didnât belong in it. It didnât matter if that place was familiar to her or not, she was still uncomfortable.
It had taken her a long time to make peace with her sense of loss. She couldnât begin to imagine what it must have been like for Lukkas to lose a spouse, not to mention their unborn child, as well.
âYeah, me, too,â Lukkas murmured more to himself than to her.
The next moment she saw the producer unbuckling his seat belt.
âWait, shouldnât you keep that on?â she asked, afraid her initial careless observation had triggered a reckless reaction from Lukkas.
âOnly if I want to try to take this chair with me on location.â He pointed to the window next to her. âWeâve landed.â
She blinked and looked out. They were on the ground. How had that happened without her realizing it?
âOh.â
She felt foolish. So far, today wasnât going well
at all.
Sheâd been so concerned about his feelings of loss as well as how callous he must have thought sheâd sounded that she hadnât even paid attention to the fact that the plane had descended and made its landing.
Lukkas pulled down his briefcase from the overhead compartment. âDonât worry, youâll be a seasoned flier in no time,â he assured her, verbally moving on and putting a world of distance between himself and the previous topic.
Unbuckling, Yohanna grabbed her things and was on her feet, following him off the plane. As she went, she made a mental note to find the article again when she got home tonight. She wanted to familiarize herself with the details of the story so she wouldnât be guilty of making another thoughtless reference to a very painful period in his life.
The sun, definitely not in hiding when they left Bedford, seemed to have been turned up to High as it greeted her the second she left the shelter of the single-engine Learjet. She shaded her eyes with her free hand, but that still didnât make visibility even an iota more
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