Shera's Diary

Chapter 10

Upswing

By Kristen Gupton-Williams

Dear Diary,

I literally feel sick to my stomach. I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight and I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

I did as the captain desired today, serving all of his meals and drinks up promptly and seemingly to his approval. He even told me, in his own way, that dinner was good. Thank heavens he likes pot roast.

After his last cup of tea, just a little before eleven, he got up from his chair and walked back to his bedroom and shut the door. I, too, retreated to my room to grab my nightshirt before going into the bathroom to take a shower.

Once that was done with, I stepped out of the bathroom and into the hallway. The captain opened the door to his bedroom and stepped out at the same time. He seemed a little surprised to see me and froze for a moment.

He was in a pair of pajama pants but was shirtless.

I'm just going to go ahead and say something, here. I've always imagined that he had a wonderful body, but to see it for the first time took my breath away. He is so well muscled, you would think he spent hours everyday working out, but he doesn't. No, his physique comes strictly from his hands on work. He is simply amazing.

That's not what got to me, though. As he stood there, his eyes went a little wide, as though he was not well for me seeing him. Not because he was shirtless, but rather, because…

I think he didn't want me to know of the injury he had across his chest.

Despite my better judgement, I gasped and took a step closer when I saw the gash that ran for a good thirteen inches or so, just below his collarbones. The wound seemed relatively fresh and he slowly followed my gaze down to the cut before looking back up at me again.

I knew right then and there that yes, without a doubt, he had been the one that had fought off Gregory night before last.

And, as I will never forget, Gregory had wielded a knife. A knife that, so it would seem, he managed to injure Captain Highwind with.

"Good Lord, Captain!" I'd said, sickened at the sight of such a gash. It looked to my untrained eye like something that seriously needed medical attention, including sutures. "He cut you, didn't he?"

The captain's initially stunned air immediately dissipated, and he scowled, then brushing past me and going down the hall toward the kitchen. "Mind your fuckin' business and get your ass in bed. I cut myself machinin' a part out in the shop."

Hurt in the shop? No, sorry, I don't think so.

Well, here I sit, unable to sleep. That cut has to hurt terribly and yet, not once today nor yesterday did he ever wince or act as though anything was awry at all. He's not only suffered emotionally and mentally because of me, but now I know his blood has been spilled.

Why has he done all this for me? He said earlier that it was just his sense of right and wrong, but getting me out of the town with a bus ticket surely would have been easier for him. Maybe it would just be best if I simply started walking tomorrow and got out of this town, freeing the captain of whatever obligation he feels over me. He doesn't owe me any of this.

I've put him in harm's way. God in heaven, I've caused the man I love to be hurt…

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Dear Diary,

I had his cup of tea ready when he walked out of his room at six fifteen this morning. I served the captain an omelet and sausage for breakfast at seven. I sat across from him as he ate, having my own breakfast, keeping my eyes upon him. I have so many questions on my mind, but I didn't dare ask since I know that he will either tell me to shut up or just walk away.

When he finished eating, he told me it was pretty good, but that he liked his omelets with more cheese and no onions. I will remember this, of course.

He left the house a few hours ago, and I think he will miss his noon cup of tea. I'll have the kettle on the stove in the event he does come back in time. I wonder what he's doing, but it isn't my place to ask.

I wonder if the captain likes lemon pie?

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Dear Diary,

It's been a few days since I've written anything. That's because it's just been fairly mundane this last week. I've tended to the captain's dining needs, and I've started cleaning around the house here and there. Captain Highwind hasn't said much to me, just telling me what he wanted me to do here or there, or ways in particular that he'd like me to tweak my cooking to suit him.

Today was a little different, though. At his four o'clock tea, he told me to sit down at the table with him.

I sat and watched as he devoured the last piece of the lemon pie that I'd made a few days ago. When he finished, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "All right, here's the thing. I've put an ad out that I'm opening a charter flight business, and it breaks in the paper today. Obviously, when I have to go out and work on the plane, or fly someone somewhere, I can't be in the house answerin' the phone and bookin' reservations."

I nodded, thinking that I knew what he was going to say. I supposed that he was going to tell me that he was hiring someone to work as his booking agent and that I needed to keep out of their way during the day.

The captain picked up his teacup, finished its contents, and then reached over, grabbing a ledger book that was lying on the table, before tossing it down in front of me. "I know it ain't as glorious as rocket science, but you can still find plenty of ways to fuck this up, I'm sure."

"You… you want me to work for you?" I asked, more than a little surprised.

"Shera, you really are kinda slow between the ears, ain't ya?" he shot back, raising an eyebrow in response. "I need a bookin' agent, and your ass is here. Sorta makes sense, don't it?"

Indeed, it did and the fact he would include me in this new business venture flattered me deeply. "Yes, Sir."

He nodded and dropped his gaze away from me. "Now, it's gonna take about forty percent of the gross to keep that plane fueled and runnin'. Taxes are gonna take another fifteen. That leaves forty five percent of the gross to go to my pocket. I'm gonna give you a salary of a third of that profit."

That he was going to pay me anything seemed absurd and I couldn't help but try to voice my protest. "But Captain, I--"

He frowned and raised a hand to silence me. "I know, it ain't gonna be much compared to what y'all made as an engineer, but it's the best I can do for now. I mean, I'll still cover all the utilities and the house payment, so I figure it'll be enough for you to get all that girly shit you need and save a little on the side until ya can get back on your feet."

I smiled. Not from what he had said, but the tone in which he had said it. This was what I thought I was never going to see from him again. It was his quieter voice, which he'd used during those few, precious, private moments between the two of us. Still, I felt the need to clarify what I was going to say. "No, Captain, it isn't that. I feel I owe you enough that I shouldn't be paid at all."

His head shook and he dropped his gaze to the table before him. "Miss Shera… you ain't my indentured servant, ya know. You're gonna need a little pocket money now and then."

"I can work for you during the day for free and then get a job in the evening to pay my way," I replied, my smile not faltering.

The captain leaned forward in his seat, his eyes narrowing at me once more. "You know damn good and well ain't no one gonna hire your ass after this. Shin Ra has had you blacklisted, sure as anythin'. At the very least, it's gonna be months before the media flap over this shit dies down and you'll even have a chance at gettin' a job."

He was right. Absolutely, horribly right. All my years of education had gone down the drain with that rocket failure. I would most likely never work in the engineering field ever again, since all that was dominated by the company. "Do… you think that what I will be paid will be enough for me to get a place?"

A frown played across his lips. "It might be, but it's a cold chance in Hell that you'll find anyone who's gonna rent to you, I'd reckon. I don't mind for you to stay here as long as ya need."

I couldn't help myself. "Captain Highwind, you've been far, far too kind. I don't deserve any of this."

In a heartbeat, he was back to his more common self. "It's just a matter of convenience. You need a job, I need an employee. Don't try to read shit into this, Shera."

At that, all I could do was smile and nod. "Of course, Captain."

He got up from the table and went over to the kitchen counter, picking up a few notebooks, which he then brought over and dropped onto the table with a loud thud. "I've figured out my charges for different flight destinations and there's a list of the days I'm willin' to fly. You better learn that shit and fast, because the next time that phone over there rings, you're on the clock."

I offered him another smile. "I will do what's needed, Sir. I won't let you down."

He rolled his eyes and huffed, turning around and walking out of the kitchen. "Like I ain't heard that one from ya before…"

Shortly thereafter, a knock came to the door. I immediately felt a tightness in my chest and closed my eyes, dreading who it would be. Steeling myself, I peered around the corner when the captain answered.

I couldn't hear what was said, but I saw the captain reach back and pull out his wallet. He took out several bills and handed them over to the man at the door, then signing some sort of paper on a clipboard.

Afterward, the door was shut and Captain Highwind turned around, looking over at me. He seemed to know that I'd watched, but not a word was said before he went over and sat in his chair, flipping on the television.

My curiosity got the better of me and I went over to the window and looked out to see who it might have been. To my surprise, there was a tow truck out front, lowering my poor, vandalized car onto the driveway.

I spun around and faced the captain. "Sir!"

He seemed focused on whatever he was watching already and waved a hand at me. "I'm watchin' the fuckin' television, Goddamnit! Don't bug me!"

God bless him.

The phone did begin to ring before too long, and several flight reservations were made. Things are looking up.