Page 41 of Inevitably Yours

“Yes, plane. I lost oil pressure, and I crashed. No, not crashed, I’m alive, so I landed. Just not ideally.”

While John spoke to himself, everything came flooding back to him. And as it did, he was grateful to be alive. Grateful, but worried. He looked at his watch; he should have reported in by now. They would have called the number on his flight plan already. “Oh shit, Stacy. She’ll think the worst…and Augusta.” John started to panic and search for his phone. The fact he was dehydrating in the cockpit and was a good twenty miles from the airport meant nothing in the face of those two thinking he was hurt or worse.

It was imperative they knew he was fine and that Augusta knew he cared. When he found his phone, or part of it, he was devastated. He had to get to a phone, it seemed so urgent to him to let Augusta know. Maybe because those were his thoughts before the crash. If anything happened to him, he wanted her to understand.

The memory of struggling with that in what he thought to be his final seconds must have changed something. He refused to take that chance again. John Roberts would tell people how he felt every chance he got if it meant never having to feel that helplessness again. Talk about out of control. Well, he would control those things while he could.

After a quick check of his limbs, he decided nothing was broken. Just bruises and cuts. And probably the mother of all concussions. “Time to start walking.” He extracted himself from his virtually unrecognizable plane and started down the road.

By his calculations, the airport was too far to hoof it in his condition, but there was one lonesome farm house maybe seven or ten miles south, if he remembered correctly, so he headed for that.

Luckily for him, a truck came down the road after just a few minutes. John wasn’t a praying man, but he sent up a silent thanks anyway.

The truck stopped next to him, and an old man stuck his head out. “That your doing?” he inquired and pointed back the way John had come from. He didn’t need to look to know what the old farmer was asking about.

“Yes, sir. You wouldn’t happen to have a phone on you, would you?”

“Yep, hop in, and I’ll take you down to the clinic to get checked out. Lucky I came this way to check on a fence, nobody else around here for miles.”

John didn’t hesitate to get in and take the offered phone, but he declined a clinic visit. He got Stacy’s voicemail. He left a generic message for her, not wanting to add details that were better told in person. She just needed to know he was safe and that he cared.

Next, he dialed the only other number he knew by heart, Augusta. He planned to leave her a message that he was safe and that he loved her, but her outgoing message threw him for a loop. It was Andy’s voice, specifically for him. She was in labor, and if he checked in, he was to get to the hospital immediately.

He would’ve called everyone else, but he didn’t have their numbers memorized. Now he just wanted to get back home and be there for the woman he loved as she had her baby.

John googled the airfield number. He had a friend there who had a plane and owed him a favor, so he hoped he could get back to Florida in record time. It wasn’t like his plane was airworthy or that he was either.

“Thanks for the phone and the lift.” John set the phone on the seat. “Do you mind taking me to the airstrip? I’ve got to get back home.”

John noticed they were already in front of the farmhouse. “Sure will, on the condition that you let my missus clean you up and have a look at you. It’s either that or the clinic, and if you’re in a hurry, I suggest you get inside and let her fuss over you for a minute or two.”

John agreed to the farmer’s terms. He tried to hide the worst of his symptoms. It took some concentration to keep from stumbling around like he was drunk. The dizziness and nausea weren’t easy to mask. He knew he had a concussion, but he feared if the old man or his wife suspected, he would end up at the clinic anyway.

True to his word, he was done and at the airstrip in less time than if he had gone to the clinic. He thanked the farmer, got in his friend’s plane, and they were off.

He didn’t like being in a plane and not flying, but he got over it, because it meant he would make it to the hospital. When they landed, John even let his friend drive his car to the hospital. John didn’t want to take any chances with not making it. He had taken enough.

“Thank God, I have a semi clean shirt in here,” he told Jason as they pulled up to the hospital. He swapped out his blood-stained one. “Thanks man, I owe you one big time,”

“You sure you don’t want me to call a cab and leave your car here? It’s no trouble,” Jason asked him yet again.

“No man, just lock the keys in. I’ve got a spare set and can catch a ride to the airport no problem. Thanks again, man, I owe you a bottle.” John exited the car and headed for the door.

It took him way too long to find labor and delivery and then the birthing suite. He opened the attached waiting room door and entered where he assumed all the men would be waiting.

They were all gathered at another opened door.

“Can someone get her number, I think I’m in love with her,” Augusta spoke on an exhausted exhale. It had been a very long day. Very. Long.

January barked a laugh, and Marco asked the masculine woman in scrubs, “I assume you get that a lot?”

The doctor had given Gus the intrathecal shot earlier and had returned to check on her. Gus was hoping for an epidural, but her labor progressed faster than expected and that option was off the table.

The doctor’s laughter was kind of bubbly and uplifting. Not what I expected.

“You have no idea. Everyone hates the lady with the needle, until they’re in labor and that needle has the good stuff. If I had a dime for every declaration of love I’ve been gifted…” she trailed off before turning her attention to Gus. “How are you feeling? I hate to ruin your image of me, but your shot will be wearing off soon.”

Another contraction hit Gus like a freight train, harder than before. Yep, it’s wearing off. It didn’t make the contractions fun by any stretch of the imagination, but it had taken the edge off for a while. It was still better than nothing, so Gus was grateful.

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