said quietly.
She looked up at him, swallowed, forced a smile. No, in fact, they weren’t.
Chapter Seven
“I ’ve never understood this airport. I always get turned around and end up in the Korean section, ordering kimchi.” Vicktor stood in the center of Incheon Airport, or at least what he thought might be the center. The place seemed as large as his home-town with a concourse that stretched from one end of Korea to the other. And to make matters worse, not only was it divided into two sections—the inner and outer court, but also by culture—Asian and Western. And Russia fit, where?
“Do you have any clue where we are?” He walked over to Roman, who stood staring at a giant multicolored map of the airport. Written in Korean.
“Yanna said her sister was registered to stay at the hotel in the airport, Incheon Gardens. I say we pay them a visit.” Roman tapped a point on the map.
“Lead on.”
Aside from the bright lights that never dimmed, regardless of the hour—which was around five in the morning—the Asian music, the funky styles of dress, the orange and red neon from the stores seemed so foreign from his world in Russia it jolted Vicktor right out of foggy and into annoyed. Or maybe his nerves had just switched to overdrive after being rattled and shaken on the cargo flight Roman had secured for them. He made a mental note to never let Roman make his travel arrangements.
Vicktor dodged a tiny woman wheeling a three-wheel cart loaded with luggage. Incheon Airport always seemed packed. A hub of Korean and Asian airlines, from here, flights arrowed inland across Asia, west to India and Thailand, and south to the Philippines and the Micronesian islands. Vicktor wished he might be on his way to Bali. With Gracie.
In fact, more than once, she’d said her dream vacation would be somewhere warm, with year-round sun and a sandy beach. And if she couldn’t have that, she’d take the mountains, some tiny cabin tucked away. She’d even sent him an online site for a retreat in the shadow of Mount Rainier. It had a crazy name, Paradise or Wonderland or something completely fairy-tale romance. What he did remember was the fishing…something about fresh salmon. It had made him hungry for smoked salmon, which he’d purchased that night at the market and shared with Roman.
See, he could remember the things important to her.
In fact, Gracie hardly left his mind, and not because he worried about her. Or not only because he worried about her. He missed her candor, and the way she didn’t pull her punches with him. She wasn’t afraid to stand up to him, from the first moment she’d met him and kicked him in the shins, thinking he might be a murderer. She was honest. And refreshingly hopeful. And faithful.
And beautiful.
Most of all, she loved him.
Or he desperately hoped so.
He fished his cell phone out of his pocket, calculating the time change. According to his math, it would be around dinnertime, the day before. He lifted the phone out, searching for a signal. He got the smallest of blips, and his phone beeped.
He jogged to catch up with Roman. “I have a text message.”
“Maybe it’s from Yanna.” Roman dug into his own pocket for his cell and held it up to catch a signal. “Hmm. Nothing.”
“I’ll bet the message is from Gracie,” Vicktor said, dialing. He waited, holding it to his ear, frowned and looked at the screen. “I lost it.”
“It’s probably because of the airport. It’s hard to get a signal. Taiwan is up on all the latest technology. You can probably find an Internet café and chat with her from there.”
Vicktor pocketed the cell, frustration knotting his chest. He just wanted to hear Gracie’s voice, tell her that whatever he did, he was desperately sorry and that he’d never even think those thoughts—whatever they’d been—again.
“Maybe she just wants to tell me she loves me.”
Roman jumped on a moving walkway. “Yeah. I’m sure that’s it.” He checked
She looked up at him, swallowed, forced a smile. No, in fact, they weren’t.
Chapter Seven
“I ’ve never understood this airport. I always get turned around and end up in the Korean section, ordering kimchi.” Vicktor stood in the center of Incheon Airport, or at least what he thought might be the center. The place seemed as large as his home-town with a concourse that stretched from one end of Korea to the other. And to make matters worse, not only was it divided into two sections—the inner and outer court, but also by culture—Asian and Western. And Russia fit, where?
“Do you have any clue where we are?” He walked over to Roman, who stood staring at a giant multicolored map of the airport. Written in Korean.
“Yanna said her sister was registered to stay at the hotel in the airport, Incheon Gardens. I say we pay them a visit.” Roman tapped a point on the map.
“Lead on.”
Aside from the bright lights that never dimmed, regardless of the hour—which was around five in the morning—the Asian music, the funky styles of dress, the orange and red neon from the stores seemed so foreign from his world in Russia it jolted Vicktor right out of foggy and into annoyed. Or maybe his nerves had just switched to overdrive after being rattled and shaken on the cargo flight Roman had secured for them. He made a mental note to never let Roman make his travel arrangements.
Vicktor dodged a tiny woman wheeling a three-wheel cart loaded with luggage. Incheon Airport always seemed packed. A hub of Korean and Asian airlines, from here, flights arrowed inland across Asia, west to India and Thailand, and south to the Philippines and the Micronesian islands. Vicktor wished he might be on his way to Bali. With Gracie.
In fact, more than once, she’d said her dream vacation would be somewhere warm, with year-round sun and a sandy beach. And if she couldn’t have that, she’d take the mountains, some tiny cabin tucked away. She’d even sent him an online site for a retreat in the shadow of Mount Rainier. It had a crazy name, Paradise or Wonderland or something completely fairy-tale romance. What he did remember was the fishing…something about fresh salmon. It had made him hungry for smoked salmon, which he’d purchased that night at the market and shared with Roman.
See, he could remember the things important to her.
In fact, Gracie hardly left his mind, and not because he worried about her. Or not only because he worried about her. He missed her candor, and the way she didn’t pull her punches with him. She wasn’t afraid to stand up to him, from the first moment she’d met him and kicked him in the shins, thinking he might be a murderer. She was honest. And refreshingly hopeful. And faithful.
And beautiful.
Most of all, she loved him.
Or he desperately hoped so.
He fished his cell phone out of his pocket, calculating the time change. According to his math, it would be around dinnertime, the day before. He lifted the phone out, searching for a signal. He got the smallest of blips, and his phone beeped.
He jogged to catch up with Roman. “I have a text message.”
“Maybe it’s from Yanna.” Roman dug into his own pocket for his cell and held it up to catch a signal. “Hmm. Nothing.”
“I’ll bet the message is from Gracie,” Vicktor said, dialing. He waited, holding it to his ear, frowned and looked at the screen. “I lost it.”
“It’s probably because of the airport. It’s hard to get a signal. Taiwan is up on all the latest technology. You can probably find an Internet café and chat with her from there.”
Vicktor pocketed the cell, frustration knotting his chest. He just wanted to hear Gracie’s voice, tell her that whatever he did, he was desperately sorry and that he’d never even think those thoughts—whatever they’d been—again.
“Maybe she just wants to tell me she loves me.”
Roman jumped on a moving walkway. “Yeah. I’m sure that’s it.” He checked
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