I was born to be a teacher. It was what I’d wanted to do since I could remember. When I played school with friends, I was always the one at the blackboard. When they did job research projects in middle school, I interviewed one of my Language Arts teachers. When I took career aptitude tests in high school, the field of education was the top result on my list. In my tenth year of teaching, when my youngest daughter was diagnosed with cancer my classroom was my safe place and my family and coworkers were my salvation. So when my teaching certificate was ripped from my hands through little fault of my own just as life was returning to normal, I was lost.
The student who had accused me of inappropriate behavior had been one of my favorites. He had managed to tear my world apart in a matter of weeks, however. Not only did he end my career and put a rift between me and my husband. He shredded the very fabric of who I thought I was – a helpful, caring, passionate educator just trying to make a positive difference in the world. Someone who saw the light in everyone. Someone who looked for the learning behind the mistakes. Someone who dug for that silver lining on any cloudy day, even if I had to get wet and dirty to find it.
Now I didn’t know who I was or who to trust. I’d taken a part-time job in a small shop in my hometown, was living with my parents after my husband divorced me and took the two kids, and was wallowing in self-doubt and pity. The only thing keeping me alive some days was seeing my girls.
My parents must have realized how close I was to pulling the plug on myself, because when my younger brother messaged me at the new year and invited me to come work with him on a research project in New South Wales, Australia, they bought my ticket and sent me off with promises of taking care of the girls and Skyping me regularly. He’d been hired to lead a group of researchers around a mountain where there had been some interesting geological activity and make sure they didn’t ruin the conservation efforts of the government. Although I knew nothing about rocks and dirt scientifically, I was a skilled researcher and physically fit enough to handle the mild hike this type of job should require.
And that’s how I ended up on a nineteen hour flight from Chicago to Sydney.
This was not necessarily a problem for me, as I could normally put blinders on and lose myself in book after book. However, I felt awkward and embarrassed. As I had hauled my overloaded carry-on down the skinny ass aisle toward my seat in the rear of the plane, I was hoping my seatmate was bearable. I finally counted my way to my seat, looked up, and lost my breath instantly. He was tall and toned. Two things I loved in a guy. But his eyes were what had me staring. His dark green eyes gazed at me intently, and he cracked a smile when he realized I was admiring him. I had quickly looked toward the overhead compartment and found a spot for my carry-on. As I tried to heft the bag with its multi-colored, cat print into a space that may have been too small for it, I lost my footing, fell forward, and landed in the sexy stranger’s lap. My bag had come crashing down on the back of my legs, as I grimaced into his beautiful, surprised…laughing eyes?
“Ouch,” I muttered, “I’m so sorry! Excuse me!” My breath had caught for a moment and I studied the dark brown curls that looked like they tickled the back of his neck and top of his ears. His hair was a little longer than was fashionable, the stubble on his chin a little unkempt. He had studied me while I studied him, and I suddenly noticed the button down travel shirt I had worn was gaping in a rather revealing manner. Instantly, I had tried to push myself up off his lap and found my hands pressed against the solidness of his chest. Heat rushed through my body, from embarrassment and a little something else brought on by the muscles beneath his University of New South Wales T-shirt.
“It’s okay,” he said on a chuckle, his Australian accent coming through strong. He was trying to help me up by supporting my shoulders. His large hands were gentle, but strong as he shifted me towards my own seat. I had felt a loss when he took his hands off of me. I kicked the offensive bag off the back of my legs and realized the comfortable skirt I’d worn for the plane ride had ridden nearly up to my hips. Blushing, I pushed it down, put two hands on my bag, and shoved the thing into the overhead compartment just in time for the captain to start his spiel. I had plopped into my seat with a huff and snapped on my seatbelt keeping my eyes down the whole time. We went through pre-flight instructions and take-off before I peeked another glance at him. He was looking out the window. We were barely a half-hour into an eighteen hour flight and I wanted to disappear. I couldn’t take the awkward silence anymore. Before I spoke, I checked to make sure he didn’t have headphones on. We had seventeen more hours together. Might as well get to know a little about each other.
“So…” his head turned toward me and I could hardly remember what I was going to say. Those eyes. Stole my breath right out of my lungs. I searched for something to say. “Headed to Sydney, huh?” Brilliant. Fucking brilliant.
He smirked a little. “Yeah. You ever been?”
“No, but you sound like you’re headed home,” I recovered quickly with a smile.
“Not Sydney exactly, but near there. Bombala. It’s near the Snowy Mountains and the Bombala River. Small town where everyone knows everyone and is related to almost everyone. It was exciting as a kid, frustrating as a teenager, and a memory when I went to college. Just like any small town.Where are you from?”
“Small town in the Midwest that sounds similar to Bombala. Nosy but caring neighbors. Space to breathe and move. Adventures around every corner if you look for them. But I didn’t really outgrow mine, like you did,” I said with a laugh. “What were you doing in the U.S?”
The question shut down the laughter and light in his eyes. I could tell I’d hit on something that both angered him and saddened him. I don’t know how I could read his emotions so quickly and easily, but I quickly retracted the question.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want,” I went on quickly, “I tend to be overly nosy and open, so if you want me to shut up, just tell me. I’m headed to visit my younger brother here, possibly do some writing, and lead some hikes. I can’t wait to see the history of the land. My mother used to read me The Man From Snowy River and the visuals in the poem and movie always inspired me to travel here.” I had started to ramble because I felt awkward again. “I’d love to write beautiful poetry based on the landscape. I’d probably make more money writing historical romances or something though…”
I trailed off as he smiled at me.
“Sorry,” I said, blushing again. I pulled a book out of the smaller bag by my feet and stuck my nose deep in it for the next few hours. Even though it took me away to far off islands with pirates and duchesses, treasure and ripped corsets, I was constantly aware of his presence just inches from me. My throat went dry when he pulled out wire-rimmed glasses and his own book. Sexy nerds weren’t really my thing, though. I refocused on my own book. As the lovers sailed off into the sunset with each other and the treasure, I let out a heartfelt sigh. I bumped his arm and felt electricity jump from me to him. He looked up from his book and I could have gotten lost in his eyes again.
“So…” I started again, “Whatcha reading?”
“Field Geology of the Shoalhaven District New Australia,” he answered with a straight face.
I was dumbfounded, “Sounds fascinating?” I said with nearly a straight face, then laughed.
He let out that low, sexy chuckle of his. “How about you?”
“The Pirate’s Heart” I replied, trying not to blush. We both looked at each other for a second before busting out laughing.
As our laughter died and our eyes met and sizzled, he muttered, “What the hell…” somewhat surprising me. He paused and seemed to consider what to say next. Finally, “I was in the United States visiting my long-term girlfriend.” It took me a second to realize he’d returned to one of my first questions.
He had a girlfriend. Dammit. The wave of disappointment at that ran through me with more weight than it should have.
Until he continued in an angry tone.
“I proposed. We’d been together for nearly three years, her in the States and me in Sydney. So I figured she would want to move on to the next step, ya know? So I got down on one knee, showed her the family heirloom, and was turned down flat,” he said, matter-of-factly. I gasped and felt horrible, but he continued on.
“She laughed because she thought I was joking at first. As if that wasn’t bad enough, when she realized I was serious about it and wanted her to move to Australia with me, she got mad. Couldn’t believe I’d expect her to give up everything she knew to be with me. Why else would I have spent the past three years following her and visiting her and trying to make her happy while we were apart? Obviously so we could eventually be together,” he ended on a frustrated sigh.
“I’m so sorry!” I said with feeling. I couldn’t imagine how heartbroken he must feel. “Your ex sounds like a cold woman. Or maybe she was a little scared.”
He sighed again, looking both angry and regretful at the same time.
“Not scared enough to kick me out and tell me we were done. In hindsight, I think she was looking for a way to break it off. I just wish she’d done it before I spent money on a ticket there,” he said bitterly.
“Don’t worry!” I encouraged him, “There’s someone out there who won’t be scared to give up their life and chase a new one with you.” I said it with such romantic gusto, after finishing the sweeping, happily-ever-after romance novel earlier.
He gave me a funny look. “I think I’ll stick to short-term commitments from now on out,” he replied with an edge. “The less I care, the less I get hurt. Also the less I have to spend.”
“You can’t stop caring about people just because of one bad experience, though,” I argued against his negative perspective. It felt good. I hadn’t been looking at the bright side of anything lately, so being able to play devil’s advocate to his negative Nancy lifted my spirits a little.
He looked like he wanted to argue, but the flight attendant came through offering pillows and blankets as the cabin lights were turned down and people started to sleep. I graciously accepted and made myself as comfortable as I could in an airplane. I tried to set myself up to look somewhat attractive if I did fall asleep. I turned away from him on my side in my chair, and put my pillow under my head. Since the cabin was warm, I hugged the blanket more than used it for cover and closed my eyes. This could be a long flight, I thought. And a long trip. I was excited to see my brother, and started to reminisce about our years growing up on the farm outside of a small Midwestern town. We roamed the cornfields, played in the hay loft, sorted hogs, skated on frozen pig lots. I fell asleep with ice skates and Carhartt’s on, being chased by mama pigs.
I woke up slowly and realized I must have rolled over in my sleep. He was facing me and had his arms wrapped loosely around my shoulders again. My arms were hugging him awkwardly between the two airplane seats, and my damn skirt had risen up again, giving everyone a nice flash of thigh. My other leg was touching his where we were cuddling. Slowly extricating my arms from around his toned midsection, I tried not to wake him. I could only take so much embarrassment in literally one day.
I started to pull my leg away and his eyes fluttered open to look directly into mine, only inches away.
“Ummm…hi…” I say awkwardly.
“Hi,” he rumbles, laughing softly.
“If I’m going to sleep with you,” I say with a teasing grin and racing heart, “I should probably know your name.”
He catches his breath a little and I notice he’s looking down at me. Oh no. Is my damn shirt gaping again? I look down, but it’s actually pulled up all the way to my throat. I bite my lip in confusion and look up at him. His green eyes have a dangerous glint for a second, then he gives a little growl and pulls himself up and away. I feel like somehow I’ve narrowly avoided some intense, life-altering experience.
I pull the handle for my chair to pop up and then stretch out my tight muscles.
“Chance,” he says, tightly.
“Chance of what?” I ask stupidly.
He laughs and the danger I’d seen in him is gone.
“My name is Chance. Chance Norton.” He eyes me like a snack.
Blushing…again. “Oh! Hi! Bridget Clearie. Nice to meet you.”
The flight attendant came through at that point in the conversation and saved my ass. I got Vodka and orange juice with some kind of fancy snack pack. He got a beer with pretzels and cheese dip. We chatted while we ate. Discovered we like a lot of the same movies. Action with a little bit of romance. Comedies with tasteful, witty humor. None of the same books. He likes factual and non-fiction and I love to get lost in the worlds of fiction and fantasy. I tell him I was a teacher turned shopkeeper, and he admits to being a geology professor. We both work out, although I prefer to kickbox, yoga, or dance and he does Coreedo, an ancient form of Australian wrestling, as well as boxing and running.
“Those seem like interesting hobbies for a rock nerd,” I say with a teasing lift of one eyebrow.
He chuckles and looks away quickly, like he’s not sure he should share something.
“It’s not about the rocks always. It’s what can be hidden within those rocks,” he starts talking with a gleam in his eyes. “Some of the most valuable treasures in history have been found through the use of geology and research. And I don’t mean just historically valuable, but monetarily valuable as well. Smarts, research, and hard work all help reveal and preserve those treasures, but greed is usually the driving force behind actually finding them.”
“Well that’s a cynical view,” I say with a scowl. He couldn’t be more wrong in my opinion.
“Sparking curiosity and learning from history, preserving what we know, and conserving what we have should be the main point of research and education. Not monetary gain and satisfying individual greed. The rocks and land you study should inspire a protective feel in you, not a destructive one,” I lecture with a glance at him.
He’s frowning when he reaches down into the bag below his feet and pulls out another book, handing it to me. It’s Economic Geology: Practices and Principles. I take it and skim the back cover, starting to yawn before I finish the preview paragraphs.
“This looks fascinating, but could you give me a synopsis?” I ask in a sassy tone.
He begins to glare at me. “We’ve got at least eight more hours on this plane. I think you’ve got time to form your own opinion on the issue – what’s more important to humans? People or possessions?”
With that, he pulled out some headphones and pointedly ignored me.
Whoa…Did he just try to put me in my place? I huffed as I leaned back in my seat. Although I could admit that sometimes I was idealistically optimistic to the point of ignorance and even stupidity, didn’t there have to be some of that in the world to balance what he was talking about? To take the edge off the darkness, greed, and distrust? After another quick glance at him staring out the window while I could hear him rocking out to Rush’s “Xanadu,” I cracked the book and started to read.
I have no idea when I dozed, but suddenly the calm, stuffy, cabin air that had been around me was whirling and ripping through my hair like someone was trying to pull it off of my head. The smell of ash and smoke invaded my nostrils. I looked around and saw black rocks being propelled into the air and red lava gushing from the ground. Trees and animals and birds were burning up in the scorch from the top of the mountain. The evil laughter of a dark-haired woman who seemed to radiate dark light somehow echoed through what I saw as a burning forest, her red gleaming eyes staring straight at me. Two brothers lay unmoving at her feet, their features too similar to be just friends or strangers.
“When hope is gone, I will rise before dawn, to draw the fiery lines that should never intertwine. My people will be pure, as your blood will ensure, a step toward setting me free. As I will, so mote it be.”
I didn’t hear her speak it, so much as echo it through my veins. With her final word, she lifted a boomerang and whirled it toward me. I ducked to avoid the weapon…
And awoke with a gasp on the plane.
“You okay?” Chance asked her with concern. “I see my book was fascinating.” He gave me a wry smile.
I blushed and tried to orient myself. The captain came on and said we were about an hour away from our destination. How long had I slept?
“I’m sorry,” I said with a laugh. “Are you sure you can’t just sum it up for me?”
He gave me a look. Then started in on a long speech with a lot of scientific words that I didn’t understand. I could have listened to him for hours. His accent and watching his lips move. He talked with his hands. About rocks. The man wasn’t just sexy, he was adorable. And smart. Oh so smart. What’s-her-face back in the States didn’t know what she’d lost. I drew my thoughts back to what he was trying to explain.
Even with my background in English and using the context of what he was saying, he had me so confused within the next half hour, I must have looked like a deer in headlights when he finally paused to take a breath and look at me. He grimaced.
“Basically enough people in the world agree with me that possessions and progress will take us further than conservation and history that there’s a whole section in the book on the principles of geology and how those principles are effecting our planet. The treasures within the rocks must be used to help save the world eventually.”
“But the stories and histories in those rocks should be preserved out of respect and so we can learn and pass on other people’s thoughts and beliefs. If we destroy them to use now, what will we pass on? I understand wanting things and money, but aren’t the people and the cultures just as, if not more, important?”
“From what I’ve learned about people recently and how badly they can hurt you, I’ll stick with my own damned self. Good luck satisfying those people,” he finished as he started to gather his bag.
I handed him his book and our fingers brushed for a moment. The heat that ran between us had me biting my lip again and looking up at him. He paused and was staring at me, so I pushed the feeling down and gathered my bag and carry-on, this time without falling in his lap.
“Well good-luck getting those possessions to care about you,” I threw back at him over my shoulder. We got separated on my way off the plane and I wondered if I’d see the rock nerd again someday.
Inspiring the Works of Valerie Jean 