I make the check out to?”
“You must pay the government of the Union of Myanmar, madam, but we cannot accept a bank check, not from another country. We can accept cash or credit card.”
“Well, then, why don’t you and I take care of that little matter right away. Cash will be difficult, but I think we can make use of my credit card.”
For the first time since he came up to us, his expression goes from icicle to mud puddle. “We appreciate your understanding our nation’s needs, and we also hope you can extend that understanding to the need for the body searches. We make no exceptions.”
Miss Mona looks less happy about stripping in front of a stranger than shelling out the 20 percent. I feel awful for her. “Do you want me to come with you?”
The glance she gives me is full of pure love and gratitude.
“If this kind gentleman will allow it,” she says, the southern in her accent belle thick, “I would surely be much obliged if you would.” She turns to him. “I do so hope you understand.”
The mud puddle icicles up again. “That is not how we operate, madam. We prefer to provide privacy.”
Miss Mona stands tall, towers over him. “But no personal dignity, sir?” The accent’s back to its usual light touch.
Faced with such an indomitable spirit in its statuesque physical form, the government flack backs down. “I suppose we could make a rare exception. But only this once.”
One by one, except Miss Mona and me, since we do a Noah’s Ark twosies deal, we’re searched. Not so pleasant an experience, but not so impossible either. They don’t frisk us.
Then we hunker down in our bunker in the terminal to count the seconds until the airline finds seats—we hope— for us. Somewhere in the deepest, darkest bowels of the night, I remember I stink at waiting. I fidget, I pace, I sit again, and then jump back up to start the whole process yet another time.
“Hey!” Max says in a soft voice. “Can’t you sleep?”
“Not a wink.”
Unexpected gentleness softens his features. “Want to go for a walk? I’ll keep you company.”
“You can’t sleep either?”
He shrugs. “I don’t have too much trouble dozing off just about anywhere, but you seem wound up so tight that I feel bad for you. Maybe walking will help. And talking, if you want.”
Those blue eyes . . . they’re going to be my downfall. Oh, I know I need to have my head examined. It’s either that, or run the guy back to the weather job in Podunk, Missouri. Because, against my better judgment— “Okay.”
To my surprise, he doesn’t say another word. He matches his steps to mine and seems content to just stay at my side, to let me work the nervous energy out of my system.
Ten minutes later, my gratitude for his sensitivity— Wait a minute! The gem-dunce sensitive? That, and the moon’s made of the green fur on last week’s leftovers.
But honestly? I can’t fault him for a thing, no matter how hard I try. The whole time we’ve walked he’s been the perfect companion. Not one word has crossed his lips, not even one about football or golf or his . . . Buckeyes. Not that I’ve said anything either, but thoughtfulness is not something I expect from Max.
Maybe that’s my own fault . . . Uh-oh.
And then I yawn. “Hey, Max. I think I am getting sleepy. How about we head back?”
“I was wondering if you’d ever get around to noticing we’ve gone around this sales kiosk in the middle of the place fourteen times.”
I glance toward the stand. “Really? I didn’t realize we were doing ring-around-the-rosy. I didn’t even notice it there.”
“That deep in thought, huh?”
“You could say.”
“May I ask why?”
“Sure, but I’m not sure I can put it into words. It’s more a feeling . . . maybe a pre-thought.” I shake my head. “That doesn’t make sense, does it?”
“You’re asking me if
I chuckle. “It’s okay. You don’t have to answer.”
“Phew! I’d hate to stomp right into that minefield.”
“More like a field mined with piles of dog doo.”
“Care to explain?”
I sigh. “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that we got shot at only after we bought material down at the market? And after the mine shaft was dynamited.”
“I haven’t given it much thought. Other than to be glad we got away without any unintended piercings.”
“What? You mean you didn’t want a freebie? You didn’t want to get yourself some of those oh-so-manly earrings or eyebrow thingies . . . Oh no. No, no, no! I know just what would look good on you. You’re the nose ring kind, like an ox.”
“And here I thought we were making progress.”
