Moriah awoke with a start, disoriented. She was surprised to discover it was dark. It had been daylight when she fell asleep. Where was she?
The only light was a dim one directly above Nicolas’ head. He looked neat and professional as he worked at a small desk. Vaguely she remembered getting on the jet with him.
A jet! She was in the air?
She scrambled to sit up and glanced out the window beside her seat. The inky space outside the jet’s window was relieved only by stars. She didn’t like this feeling of flying at night. In Bob Jr.’s piper cub, she had at least been able to look out the window and anchor herself with familiar landmarks.
Being inside a Leer Jet, at night, was nothing like flying with Bob Jr. Nor was it anything like the large commercial jet she’d ridden in as a child—which had felt cavernous to her. This tightly built, encapsulated craft was beginning to make her feel as though she was inside a tomb. As full realization came of where they were, she broke out in a cold sweat, and her stomach heaved. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window and tried to force the nausea down.
Nicolas glanced over at her with concern. “Get up, Moriah. You’re turning green.”
She couldn’t make herself move. He jumped up and half-carried her to the miniscule bathroom.
She lost the contents of her stomach into the toilet while Nicolas held her long hair out of her face.
When there was nothing left to bring up, she flopped back against the doorframe, her stomach still spasming. Her whole body trembled from the violence of the past few minutes.
“I was afraid something like this would happen.” Nicolas squatted down beside her. “Here. Rinse your mouth out.” He shoved a cup of water into her hand.
She rinsed and spit into the toilet without getting up.
Nicolas was annoyed. “I have half a mind to leave you off in Honduras when we land for gas.”
“No!” She still felt sick, but her will to go to Ben remained unchanged. “I’m going with you. I don’t care how many times I get sick. I’ll just keep going.”
“Where’s your medication? Obviously, it’s worn off. Take another pill.”
She searched her pockets. “I don’t have it.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I—I think I left it on the bathroom sink back home.”
Nicolas’ face was a study of resignation. “Of course you did. Nothing is ever easy with you.”
“I’m okay. I can do this.” Moriah stretched out on the carpeted floor, her head a few inches from the bathroom door. Lying there, she felt slightly less nauseous than sitting in a seat, staring out at the dark sky. With her head against the carpeted floor, she could also hear the comforting thrum of a well-kept engine.
“I’m okay,” she repeated, closing her eyes.
She heard a snap, then a fizz and, when she opened her eyes again, she saw Nicolas bringing her a can of ginger ale. He grabbed a pillow from an overhead compartment and handed both items to her.
Gratefully, she sat up and sipped the soda. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
When she’d finished her drink, Moriah lay back down on the floor with her pillow and felt marginally better. She tried to distract herself by concentrating on plans for her wedding. It was easier to visualize getting married in the beautiful lighthouse cottage, than to think about Ben fighting for his life right now with no one but a young tribesman caring for him. Emotionally exhausted, she finally dozed once again, waking only briefly when Nicolas tucked a blanket around her.