A few seconds of an awkward sideways hug passed before the woman at the front desk called for Mr. Holmes and Miss. Oleya. Francis stood up from his seat, his legs buckled slightly as he fought to keep his balance and Rosa giggled.
“I suppose it's a good thing that we’re both headed for the same terminal.” She said, standing up beside him and wrapping her arm around his waist. “Come on, we’ll get you a coffee on the way to sober you up. And not the cheap stuff they have in here, we’ll get you a cup of the good stuff.” Rosa gently pushed Francis forward as they made their way out of the first class lounge and towards their terminal.
After a quick stop at the gourmet coffee shop, Rosa led Francis through the crowded walkway to their terminal. It was a relief for both of them when they were ushered straight on to the plane. Rosa helped Francis in to his seat, and then realizing that her seat was just across from his, she decided to take the one next to him instead.
“You don't mind, do you?” She asked sweetly. Francis wrapped his fingers around the large coffee cup in front of him and shook his head.
“It'll be nice to have company for once.” He said. Rosa smiled and reaching across, she helped to guide his cup to his mouth.
“Be very careful, it’s hot.” She said, tilting the cup slightly so that Francis didn't take too much at once. He sipped the hot coffee and she guided his hand back down to the tray. Francis looked at her with a faint smile on his lips. There was no doubt that Rosa was who he had been looking for. She was everything that a mother should be, but more importantly her body chemistry was right. She had it, whatever it was. He could smell it on her. She would survive the birth of a child, the birth of his child. “What are you looking at?” She asked frowning while a smile still touched her lips.
“You.” He said. “Just, you.” Rosa shook her head.
“You need to get some rest.” She said. “You've had far too much to drink far too quickly. You need to sleep it off before you say something you will regret.” She reached over and took his coffee cup off his tray and set it on her own before folding his up for him. “There, now lay back and close your eyes.” She said softly. Francis leaned back against the plush headrest of his seat. He didn't feel like sleeping, besides, if he did dare close his eyes he was afraid of what he might see. So as he leaned back he kept his eyes trained on Rosa.
“Rosa?” He asked. Rosa grinned.
“Yes, my drunk friend?”
“Do you suppose when I am back in Bran and you are studying in Bucharest, that you will come to visit me?” Rosa shrugged.
“Sure. It will be exciting to see the historic sites.” She consciously refrained from mentioning Vlad the Impaler once more but they both knew what she was getting at.
“Like Vlad’s castle?” Francis asked.
“Well…I would like to see it…besides, who doesn't love visiting castles? They're always such spooky places when you know the true history behind them. It's almost as if you can hear the walls speaking to you.” Francis pressed his lips together firmly and then blurted out.
“I live in a castle and it's actually quite cozy.” Rosa slapped him playfully on the arm.
“Yeah, sure you do.” She said. “Now, go to sleep.”
“I’m serious.” Francis said, but he knew that she wouldn't believe him. Even if he hadn't been a little worse for wear due to the alcohol, who would believe a complete stranger who said that they lived in a castle? Who lived in a castle anyway?
“Okay, how many rooms does it have then?” Rosa asked as she watched the economy class passenger’s file on to the plane.
“Umm…I'm not really sure.” Francis said. There was a silence as he mentally tried to tally them up. After a few minutes he shook his head. “I can't think of them all.” He said disappointedly. Rosa reached over and patted his thigh.
“Well, if you still live there when I come to visit you, then I will help you count. Deal?” She looked up at him with those big blue eyes. Francis nodded.
“Deal.” He said.
As the final passengers filed on to the plane and the door closed, the young slender air hostess that Francis recognized from his first flight began her spiel at the front of the plane. As she spoke, Francis turned to look at the dreary weather out on the tarmac. New York had been nothing like he had imagined it would be. He had found himself overwhelmed by the unfamiliar. The scents, the sounds, the people…it had all been so very foreign to him and yet the irony, he thought, was that they were the ones who would be overwhelmed by him, if only they knew of his secret. As he contemplated his secret, his thoughts turned to Anne. He couldn't help but wonder if anyone had found her yet, her bloodless body sprawled out on his hotel bed. He should have known better. He should have found out who she was before he let things get so far. He should have listened to that voice inside himself. But he hadn't, and now she was dead. He tried to turn his thoughts away from her. To think about going home to the comfort and familiarity of all that it brought with it.