bit like Dallas and Forth Worth, and she would be glad to leave.
Her plan had been to play an ordinary American tourist, busy sightseeing her way to Novosibirsk. Red Square was full of wondrous sights—a mix of modern and ancient architecture, European and Eastern customs, poverty, prosperity, all homogeneous. She would visit Lenin’s Tomb first, then the Armory, the oldest museum in Russia, exhibiting all the treasures of the past, such as the crown jewels of the tsars and the Faberge’ eggs. Trembling, she set off across Red Square, shoving aside the gypsy children whom she’d been told harassed and robbed careless foreigners, especially lone women. The front desk at the Savoy had also warned her to keep away from the money changers and prostitutes who roamed the streets. She missed her handgun. She had learned to be a dead shot just like Jake had asked.
The flying lessons had been the most fun, despite her long history of stuffy things. Sometimes she cursed her mother’s generation, and her late husband as well, for causing her to miss the interesting things in life, such as preflighting the million moving parts on a Robinson R22 helicopter. It had been great fun hanging out at the airport with the guys , shooting touch-and-go landings by herself, and listening to the wisdom of the high-time pilots who had been so generous with their time. She had learned so much in a short span that she often felt like a different person altogether. Never, never would she go back to her old way of life. Now she was a soldier of fortune and a pilot, an amateur of course, but she would never give up her newly found freedom. She had learned to be like Jake and Simon and was determined to take on the world, even if it killed her. No more cocktail parties and croissants for her. If anyone greeted her with Hollywood’s “kiss-kiss” routine again, she’d smack them in the mouth. She had become a real person.
Though, the idea of courage was troubling her. On one hand, she was able to jack up her nerve, take flying lessons, handle deadly weapons, and wander all alone in the middle of Moscow, but on the other hand, she never seemed able to overcome the anxiety in her heart.
What was bravery all about? Was feeling fearful always part of the big picture? Did Jake and Simon sense fear like she did when they faced danger? Were you less courageous than others when your stomach knotted up, yet you still charged ahead? She must learn to control her anxiety, and maybe Jake and Simon would share their thoughts with her someday soon.
Her grandson had looked thunderstruck the day she’d taken him to Love Field in Dallas and told him to watch her solo a Cessna 172 and the Robinson R22. But . . . his maternal grandparents had hit the roof when they’d found out about her flying lessons. What’s wrong with you? Have you lost your senses, especially at your age? they’d yelled.
Their comments had really angered her. At her age. What did they think, that she was a hundred? She had screwed Simon’s lights out in Las Vegas and loved every minute of it. What made them think they had any business telling her to dry up and blow away? She smiled, remembering how her grandson had come to her defense, even with one of his hugs. He had told them to leave her alone, and that he thought she was Captain Terrific. She still felt tears in her eyes when she recalled how loudly he’d spoken out for her. He was growing up and getting over his parents’ death. God bless him . . .
Joining the long queue in front of Lenin’s Tomb, she began the solemn march past his well preserved remains. Why did the Russian people keep him? The man had deliberately sentenced millions to death when he’d founded the world’s first communist state. She especially despised him for his complicity in the macabre slaying of Tsar Nicholas Romanov’s family. How could any sane man order the shooting,
Her plan had been to play an ordinary American tourist, busy sightseeing her way to Novosibirsk. Red Square was full of wondrous sights—a mix of modern and ancient architecture, European and Eastern customs, poverty, prosperity, all homogeneous. She would visit Lenin’s Tomb first, then the Armory, the oldest museum in Russia, exhibiting all the treasures of the past, such as the crown jewels of the tsars and the Faberge’ eggs. Trembling, she set off across Red Square, shoving aside the gypsy children whom she’d been told harassed and robbed careless foreigners, especially lone women. The front desk at the Savoy had also warned her to keep away from the money changers and prostitutes who roamed the streets. She missed her handgun. She had learned to be a dead shot just like Jake had asked.
The flying lessons had been the most fun, despite her long history of stuffy things. Sometimes she cursed her mother’s generation, and her late husband as well, for causing her to miss the interesting things in life, such as preflighting the million moving parts on a Robinson R22 helicopter. It had been great fun hanging out at the airport with the guys , shooting touch-and-go landings by herself, and listening to the wisdom of the high-time pilots who had been so generous with their time. She had learned so much in a short span that she often felt like a different person altogether. Never, never would she go back to her old way of life. Now she was a soldier of fortune and a pilot, an amateur of course, but she would never give up her newly found freedom. She had learned to be like Jake and Simon and was determined to take on the world, even if it killed her. No more cocktail parties and croissants for her. If anyone greeted her with Hollywood’s “kiss-kiss” routine again, she’d smack them in the mouth. She had become a real person.
Though, the idea of courage was troubling her. On one hand, she was able to jack up her nerve, take flying lessons, handle deadly weapons, and wander all alone in the middle of Moscow, but on the other hand, she never seemed able to overcome the anxiety in her heart.
What was bravery all about? Was feeling fearful always part of the big picture? Did Jake and Simon sense fear like she did when they faced danger? Were you less courageous than others when your stomach knotted up, yet you still charged ahead? She must learn to control her anxiety, and maybe Jake and Simon would share their thoughts with her someday soon.
Her grandson had looked thunderstruck the day she’d taken him to Love Field in Dallas and told him to watch her solo a Cessna 172 and the Robinson R22. But . . . his maternal grandparents had hit the roof when they’d found out about her flying lessons. What’s wrong with you? Have you lost your senses, especially at your age? they’d yelled.
Their comments had really angered her. At her age. What did they think, that she was a hundred? She had screwed Simon’s lights out in Las Vegas and loved every minute of it. What made them think they had any business telling her to dry up and blow away? She smiled, remembering how her grandson had come to her defense, even with one of his hugs. He had told them to leave her alone, and that he thought she was Captain Terrific. She still felt tears in her eyes when she recalled how loudly he’d spoken out for her. He was growing up and getting over his parents’ death. God bless him . . .
Joining the long queue in front of Lenin’s Tomb, she began the solemn march past his well preserved remains. Why did the Russian people keep him? The man had deliberately sentenced millions to death when he’d founded the world’s first communist state. She especially despised him for his complicity in the macabre slaying of Tsar Nicholas Romanov’s family. How could any sane man order the shooting,
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