Page 49 of Flight of Dreams

“For God’s sake!”

“What? It’s not like you’re giving me any hints here. I’m a man after all. My mind is base.”

“I would think your mind is blank given this lack of creativity.”

“She’s dying?”

“Just stop,” Max says. “It’s much worse than any of that.”

“Worse than dying?”

“Maybe. Almost.” The words sound crass and petty to him and he immediately regrets them. He clears his throat. “If she were dying—which she’s not—at least she wouldn’t be leaving me on purpose.”

“Leaving?”

He hadn’t planned to confide in Balla. This certainly isn’t his secret to share. But he needs to talk to someone, and the steward is the closest thing he has to a friend aboard this airship.

“Emilie is immigrating to America.”

“She told you this?”

“No. I found papers in her cabin last night.”

“You were in her cabin at least. That’s progress,” Balla says. “When is she leaving? Maybe you’ll have time to change her mind.”

He looks at his watch. “In a little less than two days, I’d say.”

This brings Balla up short. His eyes have a natural almond shape and they narrow even further at this news. “And you discovered this by…”

“Accident.”

“I take it she isn’t pleased that you know?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“So she had no intention of telling you. That’s a problem.”

“The problem is that she’s leaving. That’s why I look like hell and feel worse. Scheiße!” Max grabs his cap and throws it against the wall.

“You love her.”

“Obviously.”

“Does she know that?”

“I don’t see how she couldn’t.”

“But have you said it in so many words?”

“Listen,” Max says, the rage he felt in the kitchen returning in a hot whoosh, “it’s not like she has reciprocated much. Call me a fool, but I can only put myself out there for so long without any encouragement.”

“She kissed you, yes?”

“You could say it was the other way around.”

“But she responded?”

Max closes his eyes and gives himself five seconds to remember the kiss. “With enthusiasm.”