The Broken String by Diane Chamberlain Page A

walking. “This is your new seat,” she said, pointing to two roomy, leather, first-class seats, both of them empty. She took my suitcase from my hand and lifted it easily into the overhead bin. “Go ahead,” she said. “Sit down and buckle up.”
    “I don’t understand,” I said, lowering myself into the aisle seat. “I didn’t pay for—”
    “Move over and I’ll explain.” She motioned toward the window seat and I slid into it. As she sat down next to me, the light above our seats illuminated her gray eyes and the freckles on the bridge of her nose. “Buckle your seat belt,” she reminded me.
    I did as she asked, my gaze never leaving her face as I tried to read her expression.
    “So, you spoke with one of the other flight attendants when you boarded,” she said, once I was safely buckled in. “Robert?”
    “I don’t know his name,” I said.
    “Well, he told me where you’re going and why.” She smoothed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I have a nephew in Afghanistan,” she said. “I’m really close to him—it’s like he’s my own son—and I can picture myself in your place all too easily.”
    “Oh,” I said, relieved. She didn’t know anything about Danny’s condition. I would be able to live in welcome ignorance for another six hours or so.
    “I’m so glad we had empty seats up here in first class,” Julianne said. “That doesn’t happen very often, and we want you to be comfortable on this flight.”
    “That’s so nice of you,” I said.
    She started to stand up, then stopped herself. “Why are you alone, though?” she asked, her forehead lined with worry. “You’re only … how old are you?”
    “Seventeen.”
    “And you look even younger than that. Are your parents … is your family already over there?”
    I shook my head. “They couldn’t come,” I said, “so I told them I would go, but I’m afraid by the time I get there …”
    “Shh.” She squeezed my hand where it rested on my thigh. “Only positive thoughts, okay?” she said. “Can I announce it? We can get this whole plane full of people praying for your brother. What’s his name? Or is that too private?”
    “Danny,” I said, overwhelmed by the thought of a planeful of prayers. They couldn’t hurt. “Daniel MacPherson.”
    “Were you close?”
    I winced at her use of the past tense. Once again, I wondered if she knew something I didn’t.
    “Yes, we’re close,” I said, although it wasn’t the truth. Somehow my brother and I had lost our closeness. I felt as though I didn’t know him any longer.
    “I hope he’ll come through this okay.” Julianne got to her feet. “What can I get you to drink?” she asked. “And here.” She took a pillow from another empty seat and dropped it next to me. “Here’s an extra pillow for you.”
    I tucked the pillow between my shoulder and the window. “Nothing to drink right now, thank you,” I said.
    “You need anything at all, you just call for me, all right?” Another spear of lightning cut across the sky outside the window, illuminating her face.
    “I do have a question maybe you could answer,” I said.
    She raised her eyebrows, waiting.
    “Can lightning strike the plane?” I asked.
    She laughed as she sat down again. “Lightning hits planes all the time,” she said. “It just bounces off, so nothing to worry about. And anyway, most of that lightning is far, far away from us. The pilot’s doing all she can to avoid the storms.”
    “She?” I asked, surprised.
    “Captain Hobert. She’s been flying forever.” She smiled as she got to her feet. “She’s even older than me, so you know she’s seen her share of storms.”
    Once Julianne left, I got up and walked back to the economy section of the plane. The aisle seemed even longer to me now as I made my way to my old seat. I sat down next to the boy.
    “Where did you go?” the little girl asked. Either she or her brother had pulled the shade on the window, and I guessed they