Epilogue
Air France, Flight 867
CDG-LAX
"Mesdames et messieurs, we will now dim the cabin lights and begin our first feature film. Complimentary headsets are located in the seat pocket in front of you."
Maddie glanced across at her partner. He had been asleep for the better part of an hour already; guess he wouldn't mind missing the movie. Collapsing her footrest, she reached into the seat pocket and pulled out the gray plastic headphones. As she plugged them in, a voice spoke low in her ear.
"Wanna neck?"
"David! I thought you were asleep," she hissed.
"Nah. I was just biding my time, waiting my chance…"
"Your chance to what?"
He flipped up the armrests between them and slid her over, close to the edge of her seat. Kissing her just below the ear, he answered, "Do you know how often we've been on a plane together, Maddie? And in all that time, not one little make-out session…no canoodling in the cabin, no smooching seven miles high…I don't want to miss another opportunity." He smiled winningly, and against her better judgment, she leaned over and kissed him.
Perhaps a little more thoroughly than she realized.
There was a loud ahem! behind them. A harried-looking mother, blouse stained with juice, held one hand over the eyes of her young son. "Mom!" he protested. "It's no big deal—I see it on TV all the time!"
"Sorry," Maddie mouthed at the woman, and slid down in her seat, cheeks burning.
David tossed a dollar bill to the boy over the back of his seat. "Here ya go, sonny—see if you can fold that into an elephant." He turned back to Maddie. "Now…where were we?"
"How is this going to work, David?" she sighed.
"Well, we could punch the flight attendant button, and when they come to see what's wrong, we sneak into the galley…or there's always the bathroom, but that's so cliché—"
"Not what I meant." The look she gave him extinguished the twinkle in his eyes as though she'd flipped a switch.
He checked his watch. "Huh—I didn't think we were crossing the International Date Line…but here we are, back in 1987!"
She sat back, stung. That wasn't what she meant, either. Of course this was different from last time. After all they'd been through—separately and together—it had to be…didn't it?
David must have sensed her reaction; his tone softened. "Do you want this to work?"
If he had asked that question two years ago, the answer would have been no. He hadn't needed to ask, then; she had thrown up enough roadblocks to make it obvious. And up until ten days ago, she was pretty convinced she'd been right all along—that she simply didn't have the strength to deal with the maelstrom of emotion that was the hallmark of loving David.
But now?
Images of the last few days played in her mind: walking along the Seine, lighting a candle in Notre Dame, toasting each other at the only Irish pub in Paris. The movie they'd seen at the Pompidou, an American comedy horribly dubbed in French. The Jerry Lewis coaster set David found for Bert at a flea market. And, of course, their kiss at the top of the Eiffel Tower.
She couldn't remember ever feeling so comfortable with David, able to accept—and return—his affection without fear or doubt. Whatever had been broken in her was healing; she supposed, in a roundabout way, she was indebted to Meclan for that.
Taking David's hand, she pressed it to her cheek. "Yes, I do want it to work," she declared quietly. "I do...I just wonder whether...when we get home, all this will suddenly seem complicated again."
"Ah - you're worried about the Paris Effect?" he smiled. "Not gonna happen."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Have you seen the ratings for the fifth season? People are sick of all this back-and-forth, where-is-the-relationship-going nonsense. No way—they want us together, I want us together, and, hail and hallelujah, you want us together. So together we'll be."
"OK...but maybe we should set some ground rules."
"Madolyn Hayes, I swear to you that if you say the word 'pact,' I will open this Emergency Exit. And may I remind you, you are not wearing a parachute."
She couldn't help but laugh at the fierce expression on his face. "No—not that kind of rule. More along the lines of…no 'canoodling,' as you call it, in the office. Before five," she amended.
"Aw, c'mon, Blondie—no canoodling? Not even a little? Just an 'oodle'?" He fluttered his eyelashes beguilingly.
"Shhh!" said the woman behind them.
Maddie rolled her eyes and whispered, "Let's just watch the movie. We can work out the details later."
Nestled with David under the blanket, she watched Leslie Caron jump into Gene Kelly's arms and smiled. Thank you, Paris.
It's very clear
Our love is here to stay;
Not for a year
But ever and a day.
The radio and the telephone
And the movies that we know
May just be passing fancies,
And in time may go!
But, oh my dear,
Our love is here to stay.
Together we're
Going a long, long way
In time the Rockies may crumble,
Gibraltar may tumble,
They're only made of clay,
But our love is here to stay.
-George Gershwin
THE END
Acknowledgements:
From GR: Well, this has just been great great—hope you've enjoyed the reading as much as I have the writing. Thanks so much to all of you who hung in there and inspired us with reviews and support!
And my undying gratitude to my partner-in-crime, beesnbears: Honey, this story wouldn't have made it out of Chapter Two if it hadn't been for you…working together was a sweet treat—can't wait to do it again!
From bees: Thanks for letting me tag along. It's been a pleasure being your partner, partner! I'm thinking Encore 2012...Location yet to be determined... ;)