Chapter 6: Midnight ride

Around 11:30, Johnny steered them through the crowds, towards the attraction he noted earlier, and had been aiming for all day: The tallest structure in the park, the Palisades Sky Wheel.

"I know, I know," he said, mocking her a bit, "you weren't going on anything – and we haven't! But for the very last ride...? On the last night?"

Actually, she had already resigned herself to indulging him at least once. So she said Yes.

"Great! Just wait here a minute. I know George the operator," – of course, Tara thought – "and I want to make sure we're on the last trip. I want everything right." The wheel was turning at the moment, and Johnny jogged over to the platform. He explained things, and pointed up at the wheel, although Tara could hear nothing amid the music and crowd noises. George glanced over to her, then nodded and smiled, and Johnny came back to Tara.

"All set. George figures he'll have two more loads, then we'll get on for the third and last."

So at 10 minutes to twelve, the last car was loaded, and the wheel began the final rotations of its existence. Johnny and Tara, with the other riders, swept eight, nine, ten times around – the giant neon spokes and revolving motion creating a kaleidoscopic effect – with Tara, in truth, enjoying it almost as much as her enthusiastic companion.

As they slowed to a stop, the car in front of them was the first to unload. Meaning their own car would be the last. Tara wondered a moment if this was Johnny's idea; but decided that somebody had to be first, or last, and it happened to be them.

As they slowly circumnavigated backward, upward, and over, in stops and starts, she reflected on the day. And even, somewhat strangely, on her career and her entire life. A life that had almost ended that very afternoon. She reached over and took Johnny's hand, and said, "Thank you again for saving me."

He smiled shyly, and wet his lips. It struck Tara as the first time she'd ever seen him nervous. "Thank you for protecting me," he said. "And... for coming here."

They looked into each other's eyes... like before, on the dance floor. But now, as they held the gaze, she felt his fingertips brush her temples; and gently stroke her hair. She trembled... and then realized it was the night breeze, running its own fingers through her tresses.

She released her grasp, and patted his hand. And withdrew hers. She turned aside, and felt monumentally awkward. Thinking to herself, Who's the nervous one?

As their car finally reached its turn, and swung downward to the disembark platform, the wheel jolted a bit. They moved past the yellow line, and the operator called out, "Sorry folks! Had a problem. We'll fix it, and get you down in a jiff." Tara glanced at his face and thought she caught a smile, as their car, alone, rose again on the back arc. Then she swung her gaze back to Johnny. He shrugged innocently – but with the slight glint from before.

As they mounted the upper reaches, she looked over the edge of the car, towards the operator in the booth far below... who didn't seem to be fixing anything very fast. Then again at Johnny.

He shrugged again, and didn't bother with innocence this time. "Just three minutes to midnight. I couldn't deny my protector the best seat in the house." And they indeed stopped at the very top; the highest perch in the park. Higher than the cliffs themselves. The car rocked gently a few times, then settled to stillness.

The thousands of lights, of all colors and brightness, were spread across the landscape below them. Masses of people were clustering in the open spaces, for a view of the coming fireworks. A riot of stars shone in the deep blue heavens above. With the silver moon just cresting the western tower of the GWB. And further in the distance before them, across the dark Hudson waters, lay the incredible spectacle of New York City.

The sight truly was magical. Eight million souls; one of the great cities of the world. Stretched before them, like the Milky Way galaxy brought to Earth. Tara had seen London from such a vantage, on approaching Heathrow at night. But she had to admit this was wondrous. And she had to admit something else —

When two souls faced danger together, and stood by each other through it, something was almost always kindled. Perhaps a friendship, or at least a new respect — or even something more. But that's not why she came to America. Nothing could come of this. It was a different world. Her true world was England, and Steed, and her career. That's where she would find what she wanted, and needed. Not here. Not now.

She knew what he was doing... been doing... for all the day, and night. He had gotten her off-balance; vulnerable. Like the jujitsu masters she had faced in academy, who could draw her in; seduce her to take that one fatal step; lean in that inch too far. To where suddenly, with a skillful turn, she was made helpless. Where she couldn't do anything but fall. So natural; so unstoppable. You mustn't fight it then, the sergeant major would tell them. Take it in. Relax your body; slap the mat. Let it happen.

But she didn't want it to happen – and put a hand on the safety bar before her, as if seeking a moment's support. She knew if she hung on another minute, just one more minute, the moment would pass. She could return to ground... return to New York... return to London. With no baggage; no problems. Just a winsome memory. But the gorgeous lights, below and beyond... the soothing breeze aloft... the stars above. His nearness. Her heart whispering, Do it... do it...

I want everything right, he had said. And he'd done it.

She worried the bar in her hand. Then tamped it with her open palm, once, twice. No. She had duties; responsibilities. Marks to hit. She had no time to be enchanted by a kindly spell, on this September night; like that Midsummer night in Shakespeare's glade. Making her forget her mortal concerns, and yield to the moonlight.

She turned her head askew, like Ulysses vying against the Sirens' song – and tamped the bar a third time.

Damn it...! It was so unprofessional; so unwise. All the tangles, and uncertainties. What about tomorrow? What about everything...?

Johnny turned to her. A silent gaze. She tried to tell what he was thinking – and at the same time, didn't want to know. She had believed her inner yearnings, and conflicts, were well-concealed. She was, surely, as cool and collected as Emma Peel, or any modern, liberated 1970s woman.

But she saw him look at her, and through her.

And he said, "Someone once told me... Don't ever be sorry, for living your life."

They closed, into a kiss more passionate than any ever dreamed, as the fireworks burst overhead for the last ride in history. Tara giving herself to it, and to him, completely. Promising everything, at last, without let or stay. Such that no man could do anything but return it in full, and he did.

As the anthem rose from below, one last time, they tipped their heads to the side, and pressed the kiss even more deeply. Johnny slipped his arms around her, and Tara clasped a hand behind his head, as the wave of passion swept away any thoughts of wisdom, or caution, or restraint. She could only give herself, body and soul, as the fireworks exploded above them. Inundating the sky, the wheel, the world, with color and thunder. There was nothing now but the present moment. Nothing else mattered at all. Nothing on Tara's mind, as they embraced between Heaven and earth, except to hold the kiss forever. And let tomorrow be tomorrow.

Perhaps what Mother had said of Halifax... was true of everything...

You'll never know how great a kiss can feel
Till you stop, at the top, of the Ferris wheel,
When you fall in love – down at Palisades Park!

[fade out] ...down at Palisades Park... you know it's Palisades Park... down at...