Roses in Autumn Read Online Free

her journal. It did a quick rerun now as she awaited Tom’s answer.
    “I’ll think about it.” He walked from the room, leaving his shirts in the closet.

Chapter 3
    There are no airsick bags on this plane! Between the lurches and drops of the little San Juan commuter plane, Laura hunted frantically in the seat-back pouches around her—but to no avail. What am I going to do? Strong winds buffeted the small propjet making its last flight of the night across the Strait of Juan de Fuca from Seattle to Vancouver Island while Laura, with one hand over her mouth, looked around desperately.
    Tom sat stoically beside her, his eyes focused on the sharp crease of his dark blue suit pants. He’ll kill me if I get sick on him. And this was supposed to be a honeymoon.
    She clamped her hand tighter, her thumb against her nose to keep out the stench of stale cigar smoke clinging to a nearby passenger. They were so compactly sardined in the narrow seats that every blast of wind threw her against the passenger across the so-called aisle and then bounced her off Tom’s shoulder. “You’ll have a wonderful time!” their neighbor had said over and over. If only she could see her now. And Tom, whom she longed so to reach, seemed stiffer and more remote each time she lunged into him. This is going to be the shortest reconciliation on record.
    What am I going to do? Feeling too awful even to breathe, let alone think, Laura found the answer. She pulled the safety information card and airline magazine from the pocket in front of her and put her head down. The clean-up crew would earn their keep tonight.
    “Well, folks, here we are. That was a little bumpy, wasn’t it? Sorry if any of you felt any discomfort. We were delayed getting out of Seattle, so it’s getting pretty late here, but thank you for flying San Juan.” The pilot, grinning from ear to ear, emerged from the curtained cockpit to dismiss his load of sardines to the mercies of the black, rain-drenched, wind-whipped night.
    Tom pulled Laura’s case from the overhead bin behind them and supported her off the plane into the tiny, almost deserted airport for the customs formalities conducted by officials who couldn’t talk about anything but the unseasonableness of the storm. The bright lights made Laura blink. “Don’t look at me, Tom. I look awful in pea green.”
    There were no porters available, so while Tom signed the rental car papers handed him by a yawning girl behind a counter, Laura struggled with their luggage at the carousel. “Let me help you with those, ma’am.”
    Laura gave a weak but grateful smile to the tall, broad man with curly dark hair beside her.
    “Thank you. The big blue one just coming up now … and the little one over there … and the black—”
    “I’ll take care of that. Thanks anyway.” Tom stepped in front of the helpful stranger and began jerking bags off the carousel. “Come on, Laura. If I get these, can you handle those three?” Laura had packed generously for their two weeks, but even then she hadn’t realized she had brought quite so much.
    “Why don’t you take those to the car, and I’ll stay here with the others?”
    “We can make it all in one trip. I don’t want to leave you here alone for one of those French-Canadian mashers.”
    Laura had a fleeting sensation that she ought to be flattered that he cared, but at the moment just carrying her assigned bags took all her concentration. Crossing the street to the parking lot, a fresh blast of wind practically blew her over. “Steady on,” Tom encouraged her.
    Steady . She repeated the word over and over to herself to the rhythm of the windshield wipers as their little white rental car swished bravely through the downpour. Her head felt wobbly on her neck, her knees were as supportive as sprung Slinkies, and her stomach didn’t bear thinking of at all. “I didn’t know the island was this big.” Keep your mind off yourself.
    “The airport’s at the far end. We’ll