The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann
Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!
Star Gaze Airline called one day asking if I could work on a special flight. A group of Arabian sheiks were flying from Miami to Egypt. They had asked specifically for Lovise and me to serve them. I was very flattered and agreed. I called Lovise and she was also very excited.
Having sheiks onboard was always fun. They would give you beautiful gifts, like a ruby ring or a diamond bracelet. One time I got a Rolex Oyster, I’m still wearing it every day. Airlines do have rules and regulations saying a flight attendant is not allowed to receive gifts from the passengers, but since SGA is a privately owned airline, they don’t have any such rules.
It’s May 2005, Friday the 13th and we are flying from Miami to Egypt.
When the passengers board I can see some of the sheiks are bringing their wives and others their mistresses. All the girls are very young, pretty and blond.
I guess blondes do have more fun.
I recognize the sheik who probably asked for Lovise and me. He is an older guy, at least 50, and the one who gave me the Rolex. He’s always asking for a date and I’m always turning him down, saying, “You don’t want to go there!”
He will then grab my hand, his ugly brown eyes glowing. “Oh, but I do, I do want to go there!”
You don’t know how lucky you are, being rejected.
The sheik spots me and waves me over.
“Ewa! I’m so happy to see you!” He grabs me and three smackers are planted on my cheeks, then he whispers in my ear. “I’ve got something very special for you this time.”
I smile and show him the Rolex on my wrist. “See, I’ve been wearing this ever since you gave it to me.”
He takes my hand, smiling. “I’m very, very pleased to hear that. I will give you my special gift later.”
The cabin is all clear for takeoff, Lovise and I are in our seats. Lovise is grinning.
“I’m ready to hear the next adventure or horror story from you.”
Too bad I can’t tell you about drowning Eva Newermann in the bathtub, but I do have a story involving liquid.
“This time I’m in California.” I lean back and continue my story.
“I had rented a car and was driving down the coast. I’m getting hungry and when I spot a place called By the Way (clever name), I stopped to get something to eat. The place must have been popular because it was packed. The only free seat was at the counter, so I jumped on a stool. An older man next to me is eating soup, so I order the same.
“I get the bowl of soup in front of me, pick up the spoon and I’m just about to open my mouth to taste it, when out of the corner of my eye I can see the old man’s head crash into his soup.
“I’m sitting there frozen with the spoon an inch away from my mouth. My nostrils are picking up the smell from the soup. The waitress comes running over, pulling his head out of the bowl. I can see he has white foam around his mouth and he falls off the chair and hits the floor.
“Someone hollered, ’Is there a doctor in the house?’
“I looked down at my soup and very slowly put the spoon back, into the bowl. I had lost my appetite.
“’He is dead, Jim.’ I heard a man say to another guy. I got down from my high stool and walked out the door. Outside, the sirens swelled louder and louder. End of story,” I tell Lovise.
Lovise is jumping up and down in her chair.
“Didn’t you stick around to find out if it was the soup that killed him?”
“No, I didn’t, but I tell you, it took me a long time before I could eat soup again!”
Now we have reached cruising altitude and we get on our feet to serve the sheiks.
“Let’s see what’s cooking,” I say. “Maybe we can serve them some soup!
We head off giggling to the galley.
For the following hours we are busy serving people drinks and food. The Blondies want champagne and a lot of it.
My sheik has been dangling a little red box in front of me every time I passed him.
Finally 20 minutes before landing in Cairo I have a break and the sheik pulls me down onto the empty seat next to him.
“Open it!” He thrusts the little red box into my hands. I pull the gold ribbon off and open it. It’s a music box, playing “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.” Inside is another smaller box and when I open it, I gasp. It’s a huge diamond ring.
“Ewa,” my sheik is laughing, “I know how you adore Marilyn Monroe. Her movie ’Gentlemen Prefer Blondes’ is one of your favorites. Well, this is the ring she was wearing while singing ’Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.’ It’s a five-carat emerald-cut diamond ring.” He then takes my left hand and slips it on my finger. “It will go well with your Rolex.”
“I’m speechless,” I say, “and it takes a lot to make me speechless!”
The sheik puts his hand under my chin and looks into my eyes.
Funny what a five-carat diamond can do to a girl. His brown eyes seem nearly attractive, and 50, is it really that old?
Suddenly a strong electrical shock goes through my body. Similar to the feeling I get after a kill but much stronger. I feel like I’m burning up. The sheik puts his face close to mine.
“Now, can I have that date?” He is going to say something more but the plane starts to go into a steep nose dive. Suddenly all hell breaks loose. Glasses, champagne bottles, laptops, you name it; everything is flying, getting smashed to smithereens.
The people who weren’t strapped in, including me, are getting tossed around like rag dolls. I’m trying desperately to get up front, but I finally have to give up. I manage to get into a seat and put on the seatbelt. I can feel blood dripping from my forehead. The Blondies are screaming and some are crying.
The purser has made it to the intercom but nobody can hear what he is saying. I try to tell people around me to prepare for a crash landing.
I show them the vests and we all put them on. The pilot has managed to level the plane out a little and I make it to my jump seat. Next to the seat inside a small compartment I have my personal waterproof emergency pouch. It contains a small flashlight, matches, lighter, Swiss knife, fishing hook with a line and a birth control box containing Rohypnol.
You never know.
I put the pouch around my neck and tuck it inside my blouse. I can’t see Lovise anyplace.
Now the plane starts shaking and goes into another steep dive. I try to signal the passengers to take their shoes and glasses off, bend forward, lock hands behind their neck and get ready for a crash landing.
Oh crap! We are all going to die!
For a moment I look out at the sky.
If I really have some alien DNA in me, this would be a perfect time to put it to use. I need a miracle to happen!
The cockpit door slams open and I can hear the faint voice of the copilot.
“Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!”
Inside my head I see my brother James holding up his daughter Lilliana, who is trying to say my name –but it comes out “wawa.”
A whiff of cinnamon tickles my nostrils and I remember Adam Skai telling me Friday the 13th will be my lucky day. Oh, boy! Was he ever wrong!
I put my head between my knees and close my eyes. My head feels like it’s going to explode and in flashes I see:
Sunny, crushing my head with a stone.
Genie, throwing me into the fire.
Pharaoh, cutting me open with a razor-blade.
Erik, pushing me off a cliff.
Eva, drowning me.
Adam is swimming towards me. His white arms are trying to catch me. He is saying something I don’t understand. Could it be Friday the 13th?
The cinnamon smell gets stronger.
Then there is a terrible explosion and a bright white light.
In Hollywood, Florida, Irene is in the living room playing with Lilliana when James comes rushing in.
“I just heard on the radio, a Star Gaze Airliner has crashed into the ocean, close to Alexandria in Egypt!”
Irene picks up Lilliana and looks at James, worried.
“Ewa can’t have been on that flight. They would have contacted us if she was.”
Lilliana is frightened by her parents’ alarm and starts crying when the phone and the doorbell ring at the same time.
Irene and James look at each other in horror.!
The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann
A White Dwarf – A Dying Star
“Let me fix the drinks,” I say, “you just sit down and relax.”
My gloves are on the table and I put them on.
Then I walk to the front door and flip the Open sign to Closed. Locking the door I tell Eva, “No point being disturbed.”
Erik’s picture is glued to her chest.
I go into the small kitchen. She has a collection of different liquor bottles on the counter.
After mixing each of us my easy-on-the-Coke Bacardi specials, I go back to her.
Handing her the drink, with my glove on, I say, “I can’t believe my fingers are still cold.”
She grabs the glass and gulps half of it down. I do the same thing with mine. “No mother should have to bury her child,” Eva says, monotonously.
It seems her mind is somewhere else. Maybe far, far out in the Cosmos.
Eva looks at me with tears in her eyes. “We had been married for seven years and then, last year, on the 17th of May, he disappeared.
“We didn’t know what happened. He was such a loving husband and we were trying to have children.”
If you had only known how your loving husband was screwing around.
“One month after he disappeared, I find out I’m pregnant. After two months, I had a miscarriage, probably from all the stress.
“Well, four months pass and then they find him dead, at the bottom of the Pulpit Rock.”
Now her drink is empty and I go and get her another, even stronger. Her eyes are getting heavy and her speech is slurred.
“The police are not sure what happened, there are too many questions. They think it might be suicide, which is ridiculous. He was very happy when I saw him the last time.
“May 17 is a big day here and we had lunch with our family. He told me he had to go meet some people from the Viking soccer team. He was being considered as their next coach.
“When he was not back the next day and I had called all the people I could think of and none of them knew where he was, I called the police. The police have ended the investigation now, it was just put down as a suicide.”
Eva stands up and throws her arms up in the air.
“I just feel something is wrong. I don’t believe it was suicide. He didn’t drive his car and no cab drove him to the Pulpit.
“I’m going to my cabin in the mountain for a week.
“When I get back, I will use the extra cash I get from selling you the painting to hire a private investigator.
“There must be somebody who has seen something.”
This is no good! I have to put a stop to this! She is going to use my money to find me and get me convicted for murder? I don’t think so!
She gets up and stumbles towards the stairs. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
I jump up. “I’ll help you up the stairs.”
After some commotion we reach the bathroom and she falls down, and crawls the rest of the way to the toilet.
This girl is going to pass out any minute now.
I walk over to the bathtub and start running the water. I pour in a good amount of her bubble bath bottle.
“Look,” I tell Eva, “why don’t you get into the tub? It will do you good.”
She is still sitting on the toilet half asleep.
I unbutton her blouse and her bra; her slacks and panties are still around her ankles.
When I have undressed her I put my arms around her and help her into the tub.
She slides down into the water. I clap her on the head.
“I’ll go down and get you a drink.”
“Thank you,” she sighs deeply and closes her eyes.
I mix her a drink in a new glass and bring it upstairs. When I get back she is nearly gone, literally and visually. All I can see is her long blond hair, floating on top of the suds.
I put my hands on her head and push it under the water. No resistance. I go down on my knees, glance at my watch and hold her head under the water for five minutes. All I see is the foam covering the whole bathtub.
You are like a white dwarf, which is a dying star. You are at peace now. I’m doing you a favor. Another tragic suicide in the family.
I close my eyes and enjoy the electric jolts that run through my body.
I put my dripping wet gloves into a plastic bag. At the sink I take one glove out and use it when I open the faucet, being careful not to leave any fingerprints. Then I wash both of the gloves under the running water, getting rid of the suds. I wring the water out of them and put them back on.
Now I have to rewind and try to remember everything I touched when I wasn’t wearing gloves. I did have them on until I sat down at the table. I’d better go downstairs and start wiping off prints.
Our Irish coffee mugs are still on the table, together with the Cuba Libre glasses and Erik’s picture. In the kitchen I open the dishwasher. It’s full, I start counting glasses and mugs. There are four glasses and three mugs, matching the one we have used.
Opening the cabinets I see three more glasses and two more mugs.
So, she has a total of nine glasses and seven mugs. That includes the ones we have been drinking from. Odd numbers, so nobody is going to notice that one glass and one mug are missing, I will take mine with me and throw them away later.
I grab Erik’s picture and go upstairs to the bathroom. Standing in the doorway, I try to visualize what it would look like if she had committed suicide.
The toilet has not been flushed, so I leave it like that. Her clothes are on the floor. I take Erik’s picture and drop it into the bathtub, face down.
I hope this is the last time I will see your ugly brown eyes.
Putting her glass on the bathtub shelf, I give it a push, so it hits the floor. It doesn’t shatter, only gets a few cracks. I stand there and watch as her Bacardi Coke runs down the drain.
I go back to the doorway for another look.
Hope I have remembered everything. Would she have left the door open? No, I think she would have closed it.
Closing the door, on my way down, I pass a door with STUDIO painted on it. I can’t resist, I go inside. The room is filled from top to bottom with paintings.
It really would be nice to have a souvenir. I think I deserve one. I can’t take the Stonehenge painting in the window. That’s too risky.
Finally I find a small painting of Stonehenge. Not more than 30 by 30 centimeters. It has no frame or signature.
Perfect! If anybody asks, I’ll just say I bought it from somebody on the street.
I wipe it down with a cloth I find on the table.
In the kitchen I put the painting in a plastic bag and put my glass and mug in another. The chair I’ve been sitting on I push back under the table. That way only one chair is pulled out.
Eva’s Irish coffee mug and her other glass is still on the table.
In the hallway my socks meet the glass and mug. I will throw them away on my way back.
I peek out the door. All quiet on the Western Front, except for the rain drumming down. I hurry back to the hotel, getting rid of the evidence along the way.
We are flying out this evening.
So much for my relaxing time in Stavanger!
The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann
It’s February 2004 and I’m back in Stavanger, Norway. Last time, nine months ago, I had killed Erik at the Pulpit Rock. This time I have no evil planned. I’ll just spend some relaxing time with my flight crew.
Maybe I’ll even look up a bridge club. I’ve seen a flyer in the hotel’s lobby, saying;
Join us for bridge!
Gann Bridge Club, Sandnes.
Sandnes is a town just 20 minutes’ drive from Stavanger.
I can also do some shopping, visit museums and art galleries. Lucky for me, I’m rich! I don’t have to cry over how expensive everything is in Norway.
I’m not lucky with the weather, though. Strange, it’s Friday the 13th and since that’s supposed to be my lucky day, according to Adam Skai, the Sun should be shining. Instead it’s cold and rainy and the wind feels like a wet dust devil. Here they have a saying: There is no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothes. So I‘ve bought the best money can buy in the latest rainwear fashion.
My green rain jacket, slacks and boots are all covered with decorative prints of daisies and bluebells. The rain hat and my knitted gloves have daisies on them too. I look like a freaking, walking garden, wobbling down the streets!
The streets have cobblestones and are hard to walk on, the small wooden houses are all painted white. In the windows are colorful flowers and sometimes a cat peeking out.
Suddenly I see a large sign saying The Big Bang Gallery, Eva Newermann. In the windows are paintings of planets, Stonehenge and the giant three swords of Hafrsfjord, the same image that was on the postcard Erik gave me on the plane.
I’ll be dammed! This is the artist Lillian was going to introduce me to in Miami, back in 2001.
I go inside.
In the hallway a large stack of knitted socks are on a table. I hang my raincoat and hat on some brass hooks, then I take my boots off and put on a pair of socks.
I keep my gloves on, still feeling cold. I’m wearing a dark wig to protect my own hair from the rain.
The only person in the room and I presume she is Eva, is sitting on a high chair with her back towards the door when I walk in.
Her long blond hair makes her look like a typical Norwegian. She is working on a painting of a kitten chasing a butterfly.
“Hi,” I say, “what a cute kitten. Is it yours?”
She doesn’t turn around, but keeps on painting and starts mumbling in English.
“That’s Tussa, she is a wild cat.”
Cute, Tussa is the female name for the trolls that live in the Norwegian woods.
She continues, “She runs wild outside my cabin in the mountain. When I’m up there I feed her, and sometimes she lets me pet her.”
I step up a little closer. I can smell alcohol even though she’s not facing me.
I clear my throat, “You will never believe this, but my whole family was going to come to your vernissage in Miami, back in September 2001. My aunt and uncle had a restaurant chain all over the world, called the Big Bang and they were going to buy some paintings from you, but then the September 11 attack happened. They got killed in one of the Towers.”
By now, Eva has stopped painting, turns around and looks at me without smiling.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she says, “I remember that well. My whole exhibition was affected by that event. Hardly any people attended my vernissage. Very few came to the art gallery the next three weeks. Everybody was so devastated by the attack. They had other things to do than to shop for paintings.” She peaks with a slight Norwegian accent.
“Well,” I say, “I see you have a painting of Stonehenge in the window. I would like to buy it. Money is no object.”
She smiles for the first time. “I’m leaving on a vacation tomorrow and it would be nice to have some extra cash, if that’s OK with you?”
“No problem. I just have to find an ATM.”
Eva has been taking sips from a glass while we were talking. She takes a look out the window and then back at me and puts her glass down.
“Why don’t we make ourselves comfortable for a while, and maybe the rain will stop?” she says, as she pulls up a chair for me.
“In this weather nobody will come to the gallery, anyway. You look like you could use a warm drink, what about an Irish coffee?”
“That sounds great!” I pull off my gloves and sit down.
“By the way, my name is also Ewa, but I spell it with a W. Ewa Lowe, I’m from Fort Lauderdale, Florida.”
“Ewa Lowe,” she says, almost dreamingly. “What a catchy name! Catchy enough to be an artist’s name. Are you an artist?”
Yes, but not the kind you can imagine.
“I’m a flight attendant, but I do some painting in my spare time.”
“Airline stewardess!” she exclaimed. “What an interesting life you must have!”
Well, compared to some other things I do, it’s almost dull.
I smile and put my gloves on the table. I get up and walk around the room looking at her paintings. She disappears into the kitchen. After a while she returns with two Irish coffees, in mugs.
We talk some more and I notice she is drinking way to fast, getting a little tipsy. When she has finished her Irish, she walks back to the kitchen. She returns with a bottle of Bacardi Rum and a large bottle of Coca-Cola.
So, we have the same taste buds, drinking wise.
“Listen,” she says, “I have some more paintings upstairs, if you would like to take a look. Would you like another drink to bring upstairs?”
“No, thanks,” I shake my head, “I’m fine.”
After she has mixed herself a Cuba Libre I follow her up the stairs.
The wall leading up to the second floor is covered with what looks to be family photos. I see one in black and white of a young Eva. She is wearing a polka dot bikini.
“That’s a delightful picture,” I say.
“Yes,” Eva smiles, touching the picture tenderly.
“That was many moons ago. I did some modeling in Hollywood, California. I lived there when I was 20 years old and I met many movie stars.” Her eyes are twinkling like stars, too.
Before I can ask her which movie stars she met, my eyes pop open.
I stop dead in my tracks. I’m staring straight into Erik, the Viking’s big brown eyes!
What is this? Am I going insane?
The biggest heebie-jeebies you can imagine are going through my body.
I let out a small gasp and point at the picture on the wall.
“Who, who is this in the picture?” I stutter. Eva turns around and sits down on one of the steps.
“This,” she says, “was my husband, Erik. He is the reason I’m drinking too much.” She empties her glass and starts to cry.
I turn away from her, hoping she hasn’t noticed how shook up I am.
“You know what?” I say, “I think I will have that drink after all. Why don’t we go downstairs and you can tell me what happened.”
She gets up, clinging to the rail. When she passes the picture of Erik, she takes it down and cradles it to her chest.
We go back to our chairs.
The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann
Rare, Medium or Well Done?
The limo drops me off at my hotel a little after nine. I say goodnight to Lovise, who is going on to Southampton. I’ve told her I’m dead tired and going straight to bed.
When I get inside the lobby, I walk down the hallway, past my room and to the emergency exit door. No alarm goes off when I open it and there are no security cameras any place…I can even open the door from the outside.
Crime has not yet come to this part of town. They haven’t had many visitors like Ewa.
I go back to my room and hit the bed fully dressed. It will take me 40 minutes to walk back to the pit-cooking site and my meeting with Genie. That gives me nearly an hour’s rest.
Genie is already there, sitting on top of the mud bank. When he sees me he tries to get up. Looking like a stumblebum he stoops back down.
“Hey!” I say, “What’s cooking?”
“Oh, hell!” he wipes his nose “I got us some coke all right, but I don’t know about this shit.” He shows me some white powder.
“Are you crazy?” I bark, “I didn’t mean that kind of coke!”
He grins and holds up a six-pack of Coca-Cola. “Oh, so you meant this?”
The bastard has a sense of humor.
I slump down next to him and give him a kiss. I think he deserves that. He grabs my breasts and squeezes them softly.
“So, so,” I remove his hands, “we have all night for that. Let me show you what I’ve got.” I pull out a bottle of Bacardi 151. “This is a very special rum, you’re going to love it.”
What he doesn’t know is that with an alcohol content of 75.5 percent, this is one of the strongest rum drinks in the world, and very flammable. In fact, it is so potent that Bacardi adds a special device called a flame arrester on top of the bottle.
“Bring it on!” Genie puts his cup close to the bottle for me to fill. I pour him a strong one with a dash of Coke. I fix myself one, too.
I think I’m going to need it.
“This drink is called a Cuba Libre,” I tell him, “and it’s going to put some hair on your balls!” I put my hands into his crotch and pinch him lightly.
“I will drink to that,” he says, red-faced, drinking nearly all in one gulp.
“Cheers and bottoms up!” I reply and pretend I’m finishing mine, too. Adding some more Cola to mine and some more Bacardi to his, I can see he is getting hammered.
“Do you know we’ve got a Stonehenge in Maryhill, in Washington State?”
Genie looks at me blur-eyed. “No shit?”
I know you couldn’t care less.
“Yes,” I go on, “in 1918 Samuel Hill, son of Quaker parents, built a full-size replica of Stonehenge. They didn’t have the right kind of stones though, so they used reinforced concrete.”
“Cheers for them!” Genie empties his cup and I hurry to refill it.
I pour myself some plain Coke and continue. “It’s called Stonehenge Memorial and is dedicated to servicemen of Klickitat County in Washington, who died for their country during World War I.”
Genie, now flat on his back, is trying to focus on me. “I tried to get into the military,” he is slobbering, “but they wouldn’t have me.”
That’s because you are a disgrace to those brave men, Genie.
I bend over and force him to drink some more. “No, no more!” he whimpers, “I think I’m going to be sick.” His eyes roll back and he is out like a light. And brighter he’s going to be.
I shake him, no response. Checking his pockets, all I find are some keys and his driver’s license. There is still some Bacardi 151 left, I pour it all over his body. Afterwards I toss the bottle, keys and license into the burning coals.
Genie follows when I give him a push and he rolls straight into his hot grave. I can see the coals are still warm enough for some serious cooking. His clothes catch on fire right away and I have to step back a little.
Suddenly I hear a muffled scream. His body, blazing like a fireball, is trying to get out of the pit.
What in the world should I do? I could hit him with the shovel. No, if they do find him that will surely look like murder. What if I just hold him down with the shovel? No, he would have some marks on him and the shovel would be burned.
He has nearly managed to crawl out of the pit, but as if in slow motion, he slides back down into the coals.
Genie Flambé! Should I stick around until he is rare, medium or well done? Well, I’ll let him roast for ten minutes and then I’ll cover him up.
I lie down, with my head cupped in my hands, staring at him. While he is dying, the electric current burns throughout my shivering body.
A gravel machine and some shovels are standing next to the pits, waiting for the handymen. I know they are going to cover the pits in the morning. Also, every morning, a heavy fog has been sneaking across the meadows. It is so dense you can hardly see your hand in front of you.
I’m hoping it will happen this dawn, too, then nobody will notice that somebody has already started filling the pit, or they might just think some of the walls have caved in.
I get a shovel and start working.
Phew! He sure stinks! See what happens when you pester my friend, Lovise and me! This is my Stonehenge Sacrifice Ceremony.
The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann
Summer Solstice Festival
The word “solstice” comes from the words meaning sol (the sun) and stice (to stop). Near the time of the solstice, on June 21, the Sun appears to set and rise in the same position for a couple of days. Sorry to say, but it looks as if we are not going to see the Sun in England today. The weather forecast predicted heavy clouds and some rain.
Considering that we are all dressed in long red raincoats with hoods. Also wearing hoods and robes, in white, are the Druids. The Druids are priests (many study astronomy) and they also claim they are the original builders of Stonehenge.
A couple of weeks ago an amazing crop circle appeared right next to Stonehenge. I had a farmer collect some grains from inside the circle. I have put the grains into six silver buckets. Six Druids will toss the grains over Lilliana and me when we walk up to Stonehenge, much like at a wedding ceremony when the guests throw rice at the bride and groom.
I have even written a chant for the Druids to perform.
People already started to gather at the monument site last night. From our camp we could see the smoke from a large bonfire and hear the distant drumming.
Scientists have studied the sound inside the stone circle. It resembles the sound you get when you take a wine glass and ring it with your finger. The whole place resonates.
The sound passes around the stones and can be heard for some distance. This effect would be even stronger if so many of the stones had not been missing from the circle. If you have a torch and loud music, you can see the flames move in time to the music.
The sound creates waves in the air. We also have waves in our brain, called alpha waves. Under the right circumstances these waves can be affected, this could lead to you going into a trance.
If drums play at a fast speed (160 beats a minute), like a samba and you dance to it, your heart can also beat 160 times a minute. If you now are full of drugs (cannabis has been excavated at the site) we are now replicating an ancient religious rave party here!
Some historians think a priest or a shaman would stand in the middle of the stone circle leading the ritual. People would be chanting, dancing, clapping hands and playing drums. Repetitive trance rhythms would be played in time to the echoes and flames. Bonfires and torches light the whole place. Maybe they were making some animal or human sacrifice too. It must have been a frightening and spectacular sight.
“Spectacular” doesn’t nearly give justice to the sight we see when we arrive at Stonehenge. The time is 4:30 in the morning, and everybody is getting ready for the solstice.
The whole place is engulfed in a cloud of smoke, haze and soap bubbles. Thousands of people are carrying torches and giant scented joss sticks, gongs, drums, whistles and whoops, together with people stamping their feet in unison, all making so much noise it could probably wake the dead.
A torch-lit Brazilian samba parade is passing us. Later on we learn that approximately 22,000 people gathered for the Festival.
Revelers came from all over the world. Costume Fairies, New Age Travelers, Druids, Hare-Krishna’s celebrate in their own way.
There’s a bizarre mix of people with dogs on leashes. Some people are standing drinking out of silver goblets, a few try to climb the stones. The police stop them and escort them offsite.
My guests and the six Druids line up in two rows facing each other. Irene, carrying (wide-eyed) Lilliana, James and I walk between them. The Druids, tossing the grains over our heads, are chanting,
Oh beloved Lillian and Dexter
Souls of the dead
Drifting in glorious Cosmos
Rejoice! Rejoice! Lilliana
On your heavenly journey
Into blissful eternity
By now we reach the stones.
Suddenly, something strange is happening to me. It feels as if I’m receiving small electric shocks in my arms and hands. I look and see some of the grains, the ones the Druids tossed, are still clinging to my hands, and they are glowing!
Instinctively I try brushing them off, but it seems as if they penetrate into my skin.
I glance over at Irene, I see she also got grains on her hands, but they are not glowing. My whole body feels a bit funny, as if I’m wired, or kind of tipsy. I start laughing nervously, and Irene, who thinks I’m just very happy, starts laughing along with me.
With shaky hands I take the urns, the ones that contain Lillian and Dexter’s ashes, I pour the contents around one of the stones. Strange, the ashes smell like cinnamon. Adam’s face flashes through my brain.
“Arrivederci: till we meet again!”
What should have been a glorious sunrise doesn’t happen, instead, fog and heavy clouds happen, soon it starts to rain. Most of the people (oddly enough) are unprepared for the weather and quickly disperse.
I’m glad we have the large tent to go back to.
When I’m no longer close to the stones, my body starts feeling normal again. I have heard that there is a strong magnetic field inside the stones and even with my rubber soles I can feel this strange electricity. Just like the jolts I felt touching Adam Skai the first time we meet.
Inside the tent everything is ready for us. The flickering lights are giving the place nearly a haunted feeling. In the middle, next to the font, a Druid in his white robe is waiting to christen Lilliana. She is asleep when I carry her up to the font. James and Irene are standing next to the priest. Very carefully, the three of us lock hands, with Lilliana resting in our arms.
The priest starts to speak a language I don’t understand, while he is waving his hands over Lilliana’s head. Then he takes the silver bottles containing the water from the ocean in Fort Lauderdale and pours it over Lilliana’s head. She wakes up, she was startled and start to wail. The Druid speaks louder now and in English.
“I hereby give you the name Lilliana. May happiness and prosperity follow you on your journey.”
The Druid looks at James and with a crooked smile he whispers, “May the force be with her.”
James and I give Lilliana to Irene. I take the stunning, two-carat diamond pendant (made from Lillian and Dexter’s ashes) and dangle it in front of Lilliana’s eyes. She stops crying and tries to grasp it. I put it around her neck and tuck it inside her dress, so she will not be able to rip it off.
Suddenly all the lights go out and the tent becomes pitch-black
An orchestra starts playing a beautiful song named “Morning Mood” from the “Peer Gynt” Suite. The writer, Edvard Grieg, was probably Norway’s greatest composer. If you listen to it with your eyes closed you can almost feel the sunrise.
Our eyes, on the other hand, are wide open. Because now – on a 360-degree movie screen – we can watch the marvel of the “Summer Solstice of Stonehenge.”
This made up for the fact that we had not been able to see the sunrise live. Next, the screen shows pictures from Lillian and Dexter’s life.
The music starts to fade away, as the screen shows a film of Lilliana, five minutes old, in her mother’s arms.
The lights come on and everybody is clapping. Yes, this surely was a wonderful and memorable moment.
All the guests are forming a circle, sitting on pillows on the floor. In the middle is Lilliana, Irene, James and me. Lilliana, seven months old, can crawl and sometimes tries to sit up.
They have all brought presents for Lilliana. One by one, they put a package next to her and she rips the paper off, laughing.
After a while there are teddy bears and other stuffed animals, in all colors and sizes, all around her. One person has brought a mini robotic pet, to the great pleasure of us grownups. There are also Barbie and Bratz dolls and some jewelry.
Irene has a big brass christening box and she puts all the knickknacks into it. Red, white and blue balloons are floating down from the ceiling.
After two hours of partying, everybody is exhausted. Lilliana falls asleep and we all go back to our tents for some rest.
At five o’clock in the afternoon we are all gathered at the pit-cooking site. The rain has stopped, but it’s still chilly. We soon feel warmer eating West Coast cheeses, scones and cream, washed down with a local mead – a potent drink of fermented honey and water.
A crane is used to lift the hog and lamb out of the pits. They are put on a large flat stone and the unwrapping starts. The foil looks very black and so do the pig and lamb, but when the chef starts slicing into the meat, we can see it’s pinkish.
I get some sweet potatoes, veggies, two slices of meat and of course, some more mead to drink. I must say this was one of the best meals I’ve ever had.
A local group is dancing and singing and after the meal we all join in.
Nobody really wants to leave when the limos arrive to pick us up.
Like the Chupacabra,
my calling card is death!
– Ewa Lowe
The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann
Stonehenge – England
Everybody agrees that prehistoric Stonehenge is a tourism attraction and Britain’s greatest national icon. What the historians can’t agree on is what it was used for.
This monument of huge stones solitarily standing on the Salisbury Plains in Wiltshire was built more than 5,000 years ago. The stones were somehow dragged from Wales, 4,000 kilometers away.
Some of the stones weigh up to 4,500 kilograms, and are nearly seven meters tall. It took approximately 600 men to move one stone.
How they managed to do it is still a mystery, or maybe we should just believe a few people who say it was built by extraterrestrial visitors and used as a landing site for their ships!
Every so often fantastic crop circles appear close to Stonehenge and this strengthens their alien theory. Of course, most of these crop circles have been proved to be hoaxes, man-made, but some are still unexplained.
Unfortunately, previous generations have removed many of the stones for home construction or road repairs. Stonehenge is a ruin. The name Stonehenge comes from an old English word, Stauhengist, which means hanging stones.
Archeologists believe the site’s construction was carried out in three stages and designate them Stonehenge I, II and III.
Stonehenge I was when the native Neolithic people started digging a circular ditch, more than 5,000 years ago. This ditch contained 56 shallow holes that are called the Aubrey holes. Then two parallel stones were raised, named the Slaughter Stones, but only one is still standing. The site was used for about 500 years and then abandoned.
Stonehenge II construction started around 2100 B.C. A semicircle of 80 granite stones was made. These stones are called bluestones, because of their blue color. We know they had to be dragged all the way from the Presell Mountains in South Wales, 402 kilometers away. They each weigh up to 4,000 kilograms.
The entranceway to the semicircle of the bluestones is aligned with the midsummer sunrise. Two Heel Stones (one remains) were placed a short distance from the circle, every year on June 21, the Sun rises from behind the remaining Heel Stone, making it a spectacular sight to watch.
Many myths have been told of how the Heel Stone got its name. The Devil challenged everybody that no one could count the stones and arrive at the right answer, and sure enough, every time someone counted the stones they would come up with a different number.
Finally, a monk called his bluff, he said. “There are more stones than can be told.”
The devil got so mad he threw a stone at the monk, but it bounced harmlessly off his heel. This is how the Heel Stone got its name.
Another legend is that the Devil threw a stone at Merlin when he stole the stones, striking his heel.
Stonehenge phase III, is what we can see of the stone circle today. Built in 2000 B.C., these nearly seven-meter-tall trilithons are spectacular. The trilithons are a set of two upright stones topped with a lintel. Lintels are horizontal stones, curved to create a complete circle on the top.
From the original 30 upright stones, 17 are still standing. These stones come from Marlborough Downs, 32 kilometers to the North. Why would they drag these gigantic stones all the way to Stonehenge? Why not build closer to the quarry? What is so special about the Stonehenge site? All these questions are part of the Stonehenge mystery.
Some think it could have been built by a sun-worshiping culture, or it could be a religious temple for animal and human sacrifice.
Sacrifice? Sounds like a good spot to get rid of Genie.
Human remains excavated from burial mounds nearby reveal people who had many injuries and illnesses. Maybe they thought the stones had healing power. You sit under the stones while water is poured over them and your wounds or illness will be healed.
Another legend is that ancient giants dancing got petrified and turned into these stones when they were caught in the sunlight.
Today most historians agree it’s probably a huge astronomical Observatory that measures the movements of the Moon, Sun and stars.
In 1897, in France, an ancient bronze calendar tablet was discovered. It was called the Sequani Calendar. This calendar makes it easier for us to understand the stone circles at Stonehenge. The outer circle is used to count the days in the year.
The next two circles are designated the lunar months. The inner circle, the Sarsen Stones, symbolizes the 29.5 nights of the months. The impressive Trilithon Horseshoe represents the phases of the Moon, and the Year Dial of stones within them is used to count the 19-year circle of 235 months.
I bet if Adam Skai had been here with me, he could have told me even more about Stonehenge. He would have liked this place.
In the evenings we could lie on the grass and look up at the sky. Then when he started kissing me I could have seen even more stars.
I can hear his voice inside my head: “Don’t forget –we both carry alien DNA and Friday the 13th is your lucky day.”
The chef who is going to tell us the secrets of pit cooking looks like a chef should. He has the tall white chef’s hat on, rosy cheeks and is kind of roly-poly.
I don’t know why, I just don’t trust a skinny cook. Because it makes me wonder, does he ever taste his own cooking? Doesn’t he like to eat? Is he sick? And so on… no, better roly-poly.
We had to walk 15 minutes from our tepee to get to the site where the pit cooking is going to take place. It looks as if they have turned the soil upside-down because there is no grass, only gravel and stones.
I guess they didn’t want to have anything nearby that could catch fire.
A small earth-digging machine has made two holes in the ground approximately 1.5 by 2 meters and one meter deep.
They look like graves. All they need now is a corpse.
We all sit down on the mud banks and look down into the pit.
The chef starts talking “First we will line the pit with large stones about the size of a soccer ball, they will even out the heat and hold it in. Be careful never to use rocks that have been in salt water, like the ocean, because they can crack or even explode! We will then fill the pit with a heap of coal and some logs. It will take about 24 hours before it is ready for cooking and it will take another 12 hours before the meat is ready to eat.”
While he is talking, we can see some workers with wheelbarrows filled with stones coming towards us. Some people get up to make room for them to tip the stones into the holes.
The chef continues, “We are going to have one hog and a lamb. It’s important to tie the meat firmly. We will use chicken wire, but first we are going to cover them with banana leaves. This will give the meat some moisture and protection against the fire.
“It’s also important to let heat through the hog’s mouth. This is why the apple is traditionally put in the hog’s mouth. Then we will wrap the pig and the lamb into layers of aluminum foil to keep them nice and cozy for the 12 hours they have to stay there.
“I think we will even stuff a whole chicken inside the lamb and see how it turns out. We will also put onions and some spices inside the hog, then some veggies and sweet potatoes wrapped in foil.”
Oh, this is going to be delicious! It reminds me of the Hawaiian luau I was at in Maui two years ago.
“OK,” the chef is waving his arms, “why don’t we all chip in and help these guys with the stones, coal and lumber?”
We all scramble to our feet and start working.
Two hours later the pits are ready to be lit. They look like two large bonfires. We step back and gaze into the flames.
After a while the chef says, “Somebody must stay behind and watch the fire. I will be back in 24 hours to put the hog and the lamb into the pit. You are all welcome to come and watch. The important thing to remember then is to cover it all up so no air gets into the pit. The coals will remain hot for days. I wish you all Bon appétit!”
“Bon appétit!” We all yell back, with that, we all merrily and hungrily head back to our camp.
I, the foxy lady, now have a plan for how to get rid of Genie the brown-eyed good-for-nothing bastard.
I’ve told people small lies about him. Small complaints. Like he drinks too much, is clinging and obnoxious, but I also tell them, since it is only for a few days I will not fire him.
Genie is staying out of Lovise’s way, as he promised.
Lovise is spending most of her time with Irene and Lilliana; this gives me the opportunity I need to work on my evil plan.
I have Genie give me a massage twice a day now. He is becoming very familiar with my lean body, I can feel and hear how much he would like to get to know it even better.
We always have a few drinks afterwards. He has started to love my Cuba Libre. I pretend to like him a lot, cuddling and giving him small kisses.
When I return to my tent, Genie is ready for my rubdown.
“Listen,” I say, “I’ve been thinking. I don’t want you to tell anybody we are seeing each other. You know, I have some money and if it works out between us, I can send you a ticket and you can come and visit me in America.”
I move in very close to him and put my hands around his neck. “In the meantime why don’t we get together Friday night after the dinner, we could meet at the pit-cooking site, around 11 in the evening.
“Everybody will have left by then. You could just help dismantle the tents and then hang around until 11. I can drive you back to Southampton. I’ll bring some blankets and Bacardi, you can bring some Coke and your hot body.
“The coals will still be warm, so we can pretend we are on a camping trip.”
Genie dips his head into my hair; he is nearly drooling. “Oh, my God! I don’t think I can wait that long!”
I push him away, smiling cockily, “Oh, well, Genie, you just have to suffer until then. Now give me one of your magical massages.” My dress hits the floor. I’m not wearing anything underneath. I place myself on the bed.
The white chiffon lace hanging down from the canopy bed falls down around me.
From Genie’s view I must look like something straight out of Arabian Nights.
The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann
Outside, nine white, eye-catching Volkswagen Beetle limousines are waiting. They all carry two flags, one black and one white. The black flag symbolizes the deaths of Lillian and Dexter. The white flag symbolizes, the christening of Lilliana.
The cars following each other along the motorway are a spectacular sight. Each car seats six people.
The inside is spectacular too. Each is equipped with a beautiful bar and a silver champagne cooler. A vase with two roses is hanging over the window. The small TV screen/DVD player is mounted on the ceiling. It is showing a documentary from Stonehenge.
Between the seats is a gold telephone. The seats are made of leather, and so soft that when you sink deep into them, it’s hard to get up. But who would want to get out of this quirky car anyway?
The cortege of cars drives at a low speed on the motorway, so we can really enjoy the scenic English countryside.
Finally we can see our accommodations, the colorful tepees.
I will be sharing mine with Lovise. Our butler greets us in the tent. He is dressed in a red, open-neck silk shirt, black leather vest and black leather slacks. He has dark skin and, when he smiles, the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen.
“Welcome! Welcome!” He takes our bags and leads us into the tent.
Lovise is in front of me, I can hear her gasp.
We are of course used to luxury, flying around the world, staying at five-star hotels, but when I enter the tent, I have to gasp, too.
It looks like a scene straight out from Arabian Nights. Including Genie’s oil lamp hanging from the ceiling. All the walls are painted to look like the inside of a cave. The cyclorama effect gives you a 360-degree view.
Hundreds of lit candles are placed near the ceiling and walls. No, wait a minute! They are not candles, but lights with a bulb inside that flickers like a candle.
Our butler takes a bow. “Welcome to the Cave of Wonders. You may call me Genie.”
Of course, this is from the story “Aladdin and the Genie.”
On the floor is a Persian carpet and piles of large colorful silk pillows. In the middle of the room, a table holds grapes, dates, nuts and oranges.
I can see some small treasure chests filled with faux jewelry, pearls, crystals, glitz and glam. They all sparkle from the lights.
Two laced chiffon draped canopy beds with elaborate red linens are standing next to a beaded curtain. When we slip through the beads we are inside the bathroom. There is a shower, a toilet and a sink. On the floor there is another beautiful Persian rug.
Lovise and I look at each other. Unbelievable! When we get back after our little sightseeing tour, our Genie has set up a massage table. “Who wants to be the first one for a rubdown?”
“I do! I do!” Lovise hollers and I let her.
Genie has also lit some incense sticks and the whole tent is filled with an exotic aroma. I go to my bed and just lie down on top of it, resting. I must have fallen asleep, but I wake up when Lovise shakes me gently.
“Your turn, Ewa,” she says and walks through the beads and into the bathroom.
“Please tell me a little about yourself while your fingers do the walking,” I say to Genie before I lie face-down on the table.
I just have to keep my eyes closed, so I don’t have to look into his ugly brown eyes.
Genie takes some aromatic oil on his hands and rubs it on my legs and starts working. He does have magical hands.
His voice is a little husky when he starts talking. “I was born in Egypt, a town called Alexandria.”
Hey, I once knew a good-looking Pharaoh, too bad he’s six feet under someplace now.
“I’m 24 years old and an exchange student. I study economy, I’ve got one more year left. I will go back to Egypt after graduation. I took this job to make some money. My parents are poor so I send them some money every month. I have an older sister and a twin brother. They still live with my parents. My hobbies are archery, horseback riding and girls.”
Not necessarily in that order, I bet.
“I don’t have a girlfriend right now, but I would really like to find somebody to marry.”
OK, so that’s his story. Nothing original. He does have good hands, though.
He works on me for an hour; Lovise is sound asleep when I go into the bathroom to take a shower.
I had told Genie to put the Do Not Disturb sign outside the tent. He promised nobody would disturb us until the next morning.
I sleep through the night without stirring, until I open my eyes and see Genie standing over Lovise’s bed, staring at her.
You’d better not get any sticky fingers here, Genie.
I turn towards them and he takes a step away from her bed.
“Oh, you’re awake? I was just going to wake you. Breakfast is nearly ready.” He walks to the door.
“I’ll bring the breakfast in 20 minutes. Do you want tea or coffee?”
“Give us one of each,” I say, while getting out of bed.
Twenty minutes later, two servants and Genie serve us breakfast. In actuality, it’s more like an Arabian Nights feast. They have lit real candles, all over the place and in all shapes and sizes. I get my exotic-smelling tea and Lovise gets her Arabic Coffee.
The coffee set looks to be made out of brass, but is fitted inside with a small china cup, which holds the coffee. There is also a serving tray, matching the cups, for the coffee. The coffee itself is made from freshly roasted and ground beans. My tea is called Arabic Chai and is served in a larger cup than Lovise’s.
Instead of the usual eggs, bacon and orange juice breakfast, we are getting something different.
It’s freshly baked pita bread with labneh. Labneh is soft cheese made from yogurt. There are also dishes with sliced tomatoes, salad leaves, chopped onion and tahini sauce. Tahini sauce is made from sesame seed paste, Genie tells us.
“This breakfast is called Alafel, in Egypt you have something similar called Taameya,” I say to Genie. “I had that last time I was in Egypt.”
Genie nods and puts a beautiful silk napkin into Lovise’s lap.
Didn’t his hands rest there a little too long?
Then he squeezes her shoulder, looks deep into her eyes and says, “Have a wonderful breakfast…and maybe somebody would like a massage afterwards?”
Lovise blushes, stammering, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe later.”
Genie smiles at us both and walks out of the tent.
“Well, well, well,” I snicker, “I think our Genie is getting a little fresh out of the lamp.”
Lovise, saying noting, starts to eat.
What do I know? Maybe she likes the attention? I’d better shut up.
While we are using pieces of the pita bread to scoop up the veggies and labneh, I say, “By the way, do you know how the pita gets the pocket in the middle?”
Lovise looks up and smiles “No, but I’m sure you, the walking encyclopedia, will tell me.”
“Oh, this I learned at a bakery in Egypt. You put steam into the dough, which puffs it up. When the bread cools, a pocket is left in the middle.”
“Lucky for us,” Lovise grins, and fills her pita with goodies.
After breakfast we go outside and into the large tent. James, Irene and Lilliana are sitting at one of the tables, together with Liz, the girl who has managed to arrange all this.
“Liz!” I pull her out of the chair and hug her “This is so fantastic! I could never imagine anything like this! I don’t know how I can ever thank you!”
Liz is laughing, “Oh, don’t worry. Just wait until you get the final bill!”
Now nearly all our guests are in the tent. They also are raving about the accommodations, food and servants.
On a big billboard is our itinerary for the following days. This evening there will be three different events to choose from. Since we are living in tepees there will be a one-hour lecture on how the Native American Indians lived.
The second event is storytelling from “1,001 Arabian Nights.”
The third is a lecture from the Summer Solstice Sunrise over Stonehenge.
They all sound interesting, so I decide to attend all three.
The next day, which would be the nineteenth century, there is a scheduled helicopter tour. If you don’t like flying, you can go on a limo sightseeing tour, which includes local bar hopping.
Since I’m in the air most of the time, the bar hopping ride sounds good to me.
The June 20 event is billed as everything you always wanted to know about pit cooking but was afraid to ask. We’ll all be students of pit cooking, preparation and execution.
The tepees have to be disassembled and removed by June 22.
That’s why everybody is going to stay in a hotel the last night before flying back to Miami.
Most of the guests choose to stay in Southampton, close to the airport. I, on the other hand, have booked a room close to Stonehenge. This is a hotel that had been built using some of the stones taken from Stonehenge.
Every day now, our butler, Genie, has been behaving like a horny, sex-starved jackass.
Lovise has finally had enough of his insinuations and comes crying to me. “Ewa, I just can’t take it anymore! What a jerk! He thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”
I pull her into my arms and talk soothingly. “Don’t you worry, Lovise, I will take care of the problem.”
This butler doesn’t know who he is dealing with. Instead of “the butler did it,” maybe I should do the butler?
He has been coming on to me too. This guy should be easy prey.
Lovise has finally calmed down and I go looking for my Genie. He will need a big lamp to get out of this trouble. I find him in the main tent and have him sit down at a table.
“Do you know who I am?” I’m forcing a smile. Genie looks at me a little puzzled.
“Well… You are Ewa.”
“That’s right, I’m Ewa. Ewa Lowe, and I’m the one who is paying for everything. This is my party and I can hire and fire whomever I want.”
He looks a little worried, as I continue.
“Lovise has a boyfriend in America. They are going to get married soon. I don’t want you to bother her, or even talk to her in the next two days, is that clear?”
He nods, and looks like a puppy that has just been kicked.
“OK,” I go on, “now that’s out of the way, I would like you to give me a Swedish massage.” I get up from my chair, put my hand on his shoulder and squeeze it gently, smiling. “I, on the other hand, like your company very much, and I’m free as a bird.”
Trying not to look too long into his ugly brown eyes, I start walking back to my tent, Genie following his master, of course. After the massage I mix us both Ewa’s easy-on-the-Coke Cuba Libre.
He takes his drink, saying, “I’d better be careful, I’m not used to hard liquor.”
“Don’t worry.” I lie, “It’s not very strong.”
A little plan is developing in my mind. Well, maybe not so little….
The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann
I want the flight to Southampton to be a little crazy, too. I call the flight crew and invite them to my place. There will be five of us, the captain, the copilot, the purser, Lovise and me. I tell them to think of unusual and fun things we can do on the flight.
When they arrive, I have some suggestions.
“Since we are going to stay in tepees, why don’t we dress as Indians when we serve them?”
I show them a coin.
“This coin has a picture of an Indian Shoshone chief’s daughter, Sacagawea. She was born around 1788 in Lemhi County, Idaho. She died in 1812, but when she was around 12 years old she was kidnapped by an enemy tribe and sold to a French-Canadian trapper.
“He married her and she got pregnant in 1804, the year Lewis and Clark were going on an expedition, trying to find a route through to the Pacific Ocean; they hired Sacagawea as an interpreter.
“She spoke the Shoshone language, which helped the expedition a lot. I think this is an interesting coin and a good story to go with it. So I want to give one to each of the passengers. That way they will have a souvenir from our Indian flight.”
They all think that’s a great idea.
Lovise raises her hand. “There is one thing I have always wanted to say in my safety announcement. It has to do with the air masks falling down.”
“OK,” I say, “on this flight you can do and say whatever you want. Don’t tell us now, but surprise us on the flight.”
The captain is waving his hand. “Listen, I can’t do too many crazy things. I have to go by the book, but I sure will try to think of something.”
“Well,” our quick-witted copilot grins, “while you go by the book, I can go and get me a squaw in the galley,” he spreads his arm out, “maybe a squaw I can hold in my paw, or maybe I should be dressed like a cowboy, then I can tell everybody, ‘Save a horse – ride a cowboy!’”
After everybody has stopped laughing, I serve them a mimosa. The champagne and orange drink is garnished with a slice of pineapple, mint leaf, red cherry and an umbrella.
“Another thing,” I take a sip of my drink, “let’s forget about all these family friendly movies we always have to show. Let’s find the world’s worst air disaster movies we can think of!”
“Here, here, I’ll drink to that!” they all raise their glasses.
Now it’s the purser who wants to speak. “You know these murder-mystery theaters they have at some restaurants and on train trips? What if we have something like that? We could come up with a plot and one of the crew will get murdered and the passengers have to find out who did it.”
This is a little too close to home for me, does the guy have any suspicions? No, I don’t think so, just smile and play along.
Everybody is excited as we try to work out a plot, and trying to decide who is going to get murdered.
“Just don’t make it anyone in the cockpit,” the captain grins. “Why don’t we write down different scenarios and give them to the purser? He can then choose one and he will be the only one who knows. That way it will be interesting for everybody.”
It takes us three more drinks and many more canapés before we each hand our papers to the purser.
After they have looked through the telescope on the balcony and admired the ocean view, they go on their merry way.
Finally, the day for takeoff, June 17, has arrived.
Lovise and I have been shopping for Native American outfits at a costume shop in Fort Lauderdale.
We would have liked to wear dresses from the Shoshone Indian tribe, like Sacajawea, but they didn’t have any. So the dresses we ended up with were made of light brown suede, with an ornate diamond and cross design in red, brown and turquoise.
Fringe embellishments cross a leather belt, featuring a black leather flap with a matching design. It also has some fun fringes with beads along the sleeves and hem.
The moccasins also have fringes with beads on top of them. We have bought some long black braided wigs and headbands with a beautiful feather in the back, to top it all off!
The pilot and copilot arrive, dressed in their usual uniforms, but they are carrying some large suspicious-looking shopping bags….
I thought nobody could top us, until I see the purser. He is dressed as an Indian warrior chief. His headgear is so tall he has to stand outside the plane, he is standing there majestically greeting everybody. “Cowabunga! Cowabunga!”
Shoot, the guy stole my line!
Well, since he is greeting everyone, I hand him the bag of Indian coins, so he can give them to the passengers.
James and Irene with little Lilliana are the first people to board. They have dressed Lilliana in the cutest Indian outfit. She has a headband with a feather. She coos with delight.
Finally all the guests are seated and we are ready for takeoff.
Thank heavens, the purser has another scaled-down Indian outfit he can change to. If not, there would have been no room for the rest of us in the galley.
We are flying Miami –New York –Amsterdam –Southampton. We’ve got everything planned.
The Miami—New York leg is only three hours. So all we need to do for the passengers is to give them drinks, feed them some snacks and run a movie.
New York to Amsterdam will take about seven hours. First, we’ll serve some drinks and dinner. Then some live music and singing.
I’ve brought some films from last year’s Stonehenge Solstice Festival. That’ll give everybody some background information about Stonehenge.
The passengers then get a time out, around two hours of nap time. Then, it’s time to wake up for coffee and snacks.
The purser can start his murder mystery play. He has written clues on a sheet of paper and anybody who would like to participate will get one. He also has a $200 prize for the person who solves the murder first.
Before landing we’ll serve breakfast. Yes, this will be an easy flight.
The Miami—New York leg goes smoothly. We make all the passengers leave the plane, so they can stretch their legs.
One hour later we are on our way to Amsterdam. Now Lovise can make her famous announcement.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, in case of an emergency the air mask will drop in front of you. When you stop screaming, put your mask on.”
I have to laugh, too. I must agree that the real announcement we make, saying put your mask on and breathe normally, is ridiculous. Who can breathe normally in a situation like that?
We are climbing to 30,000 feet altitude. While sitting in our seats Lovise and I usually spend the time telling each other true stories from our lives. Something we have experienced on a flight or other places.
Of course, my own hair-raising stories I couldn’t tell her, only the good-natured ones. If you could call bomb threats, people getting heart attacks and extreme turbulence good-natured.
“So,” Lovise says, “what’s new?”
“Well, the other day, on a flight from LA, I had a couple joining the mile high club, going at it under a blanket.”
“What did you do?” Lovise is chuckling.
“I just pulled down the darn shades and turned off the task light,” I say smiling, “do you by any chance know how the autopilot was invented?” Lovise shakes her head.
“Ewa, where do you get all the information?”
“I read a lot. Well, anyhow, in 1914, this pilot, Lawrence Sperry and his girlfriend are on a flying trip in his Curtiss Flying Boat. The urge hits them and they start banging away.
The airplane crashes, but they survive. Later on he invents the autopilot, and everybody is happy.”
Now we are both laughing. I bet the passengers are wondering what’s so amusing.
“Here is another piece of information,” I continue, “the first flight attendant in America was a nurse named Ellen Church, that was in 1930.”
Do I see a flicker of admiration in Lovise’s blue eyes?
“My life is so boring,” Lovise sighs, “I feel all I do is just work, work and work.”
Just then, we hit an air pocket, the plane is in a dive, everybody is screaming. I take Lovise’s hand and say calmly, “Yes, this is a really boring job.”
“Cowabunga! Sorry about that,” the copilot comes over the speakers. “Lucky the Indians weren’t serving you hot coffee. We will try to fly in a different altitude. There is some bad weather ahead, so just sit tight and don’t wander off to anywhere.”
Twenty minutes later, the fasten seat belt sign goes off. We start serving the passengers.
The passengers seem a little shook up and are ordering double drinks. After dinner, they get coffee and cognac.
Lilliana has been mad as a hatter ever since we hit the turbulence, but now she’s finally sound asleep.
Most of the passengers are sleeping too, but some are watching air disaster movies. The purser comes up to me and whispers in my ear.
“Red Alert! Red Alert! The galley, now!”
We hurry to the galley. I can see smoke coming out from behind the microwave oven. I grab a fire extinguisher and start spraying. The purser runs to the cockpit.
Now the smoke is really heavy and people start coughing. The captain comes to the galley and starts helping us pull out carts and drawers to get a better look.
Finally the smoke disperses and the captain goes back to the cockpit.
Five minutes later, the copilot appears in the cabin, dressed in a beautiful Indian feathered hairpiece. I’m kind of disappointed he’s not dressed as a cowboy, screaming, “Save a horse, ride a cowboy!”
He walks down the aisle, doing an Indian dance, waving his arms and tells everybody, “Nothing to worry about, we are just sending some smoke-signals to the people at Stonehenge saying we will be landing there soon.”
Everybody laughs and the tension is gone.
One person is not laughing. He is still coughing and his face is red. I follow him to the back of the plane; he seems to have problems breathing.
I know there are two doctors on board, so I get one of them. He brings his doctor’s case and starts examining the guy.
After a while he tells us everything will be fine, the guy just needs to go outside for some fresh air (very funny…).
The purser pulls me over. “Listen, after all this commotion I don’t think the passengers are ready for our murder mystery play. Why don’t we just ask the band to play some music?”
I nod “I’ll talk to the guys.”
After some music it’s time for breakfast. The rest of the flight is without any further excitement.
We land in Amsterdam, change to a smaller plane and after a short flight we land in Southampton, England where Liz, from the Fantastic Funeral Company, greets us.
The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann
Planning Cosmic Events
I’m now on the computer daily sending e-mails to Liz, my connection in England. Liz works for a company called Fantastic Funerals. They will help us with all the arrangements and needs for our funeral and Cosmo Christening. I’ve told her money is (nearly) no object and we want the best.
James has invited the same people who attended his wedding, including the flight attendant Lovise. We will be 46 people.
Five of these people belong to a rock band, I’ve told them to bring their instruments. One person is a magician and three are professional singers. I think this is going to be a fun trip!
For the Cosmo Christening of Lilliana, there will be a priest who is also an astrophysicist.
I have bought a beautiful Spanish silver holy water fountain at an auction. It’s from the eighteenth-century and has floral decorations and a Sun symbol. Instead of holy water I will bring some water from the ocean outside my apartment. The ocean Lillian and Dexter loved so much.
I will fill the water into one of the silver bottles my father got from the 100-year-old woman in Hawaii, on his honeymoon. When the Sun comes up over Stonehenge, Lilliana will have her Cosmo Christening.
We are renting a plane from Star Gaze Airlines, and since SGA only has first class we will be flying in style.
At the Southampton airport in England we will be driving in style, too. A cortege of Volkswagen Beetle limousines will pick us up and drive us to Stonehenge.
Outside Stonehenge we have rented a large field from a farmer. There, 17 beautifully painted tepees will be our accommodation. The conical tents the Indians built were mostly made out of buffalo skins. Ours will be made out of canvas.
Each tepee will come with a personal butler. These tepees will look like the traditional tents the Native American Indians lived in, but inside is a different story. No expense has been spared.
There will also be a mini tent next to each containing a shower and toilet. The Indians would have been envious.
One day, probably June 20, we will do some pit cooking. To cook a whole lamb or pig takes careful planning. First a hole has to be dug in the ground. Then a fire is lit. It will be at least 24 hours before the coal or wood is ready for cooking. Then it will take about 12 hours before the meat is ready to eat.
This means the chefs have to start preparing at least two days before.
I’m also trying to find an astronomer who is willing to set up some large telescopes for gazing at the beautiful sky at night – that should be an interesting and educational pastime for all the guests.
Every evening there will be at least one hour-long lecture about Stonehenge and other Neolithic and Stone Age monuments around the world.
The Stonehenge festival was closed for 15 years, after a pitched battle with a group called New Travelers in 1985.
The Travelers had their own festival next to Stonehenge for 11 years, but in the following year the police decided to stop them. They herded a convoy of New Travelers’ vehicles into a field.
When the Travelers tried to escape, the police smashed their vehicles, using sledgehammers and beating people on the head with truncheons, and so the Battle of the Beanfield went down in history.
Ever since then, people have been fighting for their right to watch the solstice at this exceptional historic monument.
Finally in 2000, the police reopened Stonehenge to the public.
Last year, in 2001, about 15,000 people from all over the world attended the Solstice Festival. This year, the numbers will probably increase.
Another thing I have to consider is if we get bad weather, what then? The smartest thing was to have a tent big enough for 46 people. Then it won’t matter if we have pouring rain outside.
One day, while reading a magazine, the text of an ad catches my eye.
From ashes to diamonds!
There is a company – Phoenix Diamonds – they make beautiful diamonds from the ashes of your loved ones. I had never heard of such a thing, so I Googled them.
Sure enough, they do have a certified laboratory that will create a diamond using small particles of carbon (200 grams) extracted from hair or ashes.
The diamond is created as a memorial of people who have passed away. The diamonds come in different colors, blue, gold, pink or clear. You can get pendants, rings or pins. I ordered a two-carat, pink diamond pendant.
From the mantle I take Lillian and Dexter’s urns and pour 100 grams of each of their ashes into an airtight container. I will mail it to Phoenix Diamonds and wait for my diamond pendant.
They will ship it to me in a beautiful gift box exclusively designed to hold my precious gem. I will take it with me to Lilliana’s christening in England. The rest of Lillian and Dexter’s ashes I will bring to Stonehenge and spread among the giant stone monuments.
I just have to do one more thing. I pick up the little box with ashes and walk out on the balcony. The wind is nearly ripping my dress off. The sunshine from the ocean stings my eyes. I lift my arms high over my head –clutching the box –and say out loud; “Lillian and Dexter you are going to a much better place. I will eternalize you for ever and ever!”
Am I crazy, or am I crazy?
The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann
Well, I didn’t go to any psychiatrist. If I had, he or she would probably find out what kind of sociopath I am, and tell me I have something called a Brown Chromato Ommeta Phobia or something. The odds are high that he or she would have brown eyes, and I would lie on the couch trying to figure out a cleverer way to do my killings.
No! No psychiatrist for me. Instead, I start going to the casino.
The Seminole Indian Coconut Creek Casino is only a 20-minute drive from my apartment. It was built in the year 2000 and was loaded with more than 1,000 noisy slot machines.
When you walk through those large glass doors it feels like another world. The only bad thing is, smoking is permitted. When I get home, I always have to jump in the shower and wash my hair and clothes, because everything reeks of tobacco smoke.
The casino also has Las Vegas-like shows and one of the world’s best buffets. Every day the casino has a drawing for money, expensive cars or a boat. All you have to do is put an entry slip, with your name on it, into the tombola.
You have to be there in person for the drawing. If you should win you will have to show your driver’s license and Social Security card.
Today I’ve invited James and Irene for dinner at the casino’s buffet. Before they show up I go to the Customer Service Desk and get my entry slip. After filling it out, I put it into the tombola. The tombola already has hundreds of slips inside. The drawing is at nine in the evening, and the prize is $30,000.
I’m meeting James and Irene at six o’clock, but it’s only five now, so I have time to hit the slots for an hour.
When you are a whale (a high roller) like I am, you accumulate points on your casino card. Then you can spend them at the casino’s restaurants.
The buffet has warm and cold dishes. The dessert table alone is ten meters long. All the baking and cooking are done in the casino’s kitchen, and of course the chefs are the best you can find.
At the buffet there are five chefs ready to prepare whatever your heart desires.
James and Irene arrive promptly. The hostess seats us and we all get champagne.
When we have gorged ourselves with food and champagne for an hour, I say to them, “Remember when we were talking about christening Lilliana?
“I think I’ve found a great solution. I want to have a second funeral for Lillian and Dexter at Stonehenge in England. They always wanted to go there and see the gigantic stone monument. That will be like a closure for me, realizing they’re really gone. Then, afterwards we can have a christening for Lilliana. What about calling it a Cosmo Christening and have an astronomer and a priest do the ceremony?”
“What a fantastic idea!” Irene exclaimed.
James is nodding, “Yes, this sounds like the right thing to do. We could charter a plane and invite our closest friends. In fact I have some connections in England who could be helpful.”
“Great,” I say, “I also have connections. I’m e-mailing a company called Fantastic Funerals in England. They are going to help us with many of the arrangements.
“We should go next June for the Solstice Festival at Stonehenge. The festival is on June 21, so that will give us plenty of time to plan everything.”
They both nod in agreement.
By now it’s 8:45 in the evening, and they are eager to go back home to Lilliana. This is the first time they have been away from her, but they do have a trusted nanny.
I tell them I’m staying behind for the prize drawing at 9, as I follow them outside. The valet guy gets their Hummer.
I wave goodbye and sit down on a bench outside the front door. The air is humid and warm, not filled with smoke like inside.
Suddenly the door opens and the guy who runs the tombola comes out, smoking and talking on his cell. He sounds and looks wired up – getting ready for the show, I guess.
He is carrying a small painting of a young ballerina, knotting her ballerina shoes.
Her dress – flying up in the air showing her panties – makes the painting look both cute and sexy. Whoever wins the tombola will also get the painting.
I look at my watch. Three minutes left. He looks at his watch and starts heading for the door. We nearly collide and he gallantly holds the door open for me.
I look straight into his blue eyes and say, “You be sure to pull out the slip that says Ewa Lowe, now.”
He grins “Yeah, sure thing, in your dreams, baby!” He starts to jog towards the stage, with me on his heels, trailing behind him.
Everybody is gathered around the stage and they all start cheering when he arrives.
“OK, folks, this is it! The prize money is now $30,000.” He puts his hand inside the tombola and stirs digs around and stirs up all the papers, before he takes out one slip from the middle of the pile.
“The lucky winner is….” He stops, goes a little pale, turns around to face me, then yells, “Ewa Lowe!”
“I knew it! I knew it!” I’m jumping up and down. It’s funny how $30,000 that I don’t really need can make me so excited.
He gives me the ballerina painting and holds it up in the air so everyone can look at it. It is signed Eva Newermann, the same artist Lillian and Dexter liked so much.
When I get my breath back, I grab the mike. “Cowabunga! OK, OK!” I laugh and say, “I’m Ewa Lowe. I’m very happy to win $30,000 and I want to donate it all to the shelters for abused children in Miami.”
Everybody starts clapping. I continue, “And cowabunga! For you not familiar with that word, it means hello and I’m happy. Let me hear it from you all, cowabunga! Cowabunga!”
Everybody screams at the top of their lungs, “Cowabunga! Cowabunga!” Now, I’m really worked up. I yell; “And now for my next trick!” I put the painting down, grab an empty beer glass and put it on top of the tombola.
I take a deep breath and find my high-pitched note. The glass shatters into a thousand bits. All the people are clapping like mad and cheering, except the guy in charge of the tombola; he knows he has to clean up the mess.
Well, what a gaudy night this turned out to be.
The only thing I was missing was Adam Skai. I sure wish he could have been on the stage with me. Then we could have gone home to my place and done some stargazing while doing some other things on the balcony…
The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann
As the wedding celebration continues, I get an urge for some fresh air and something inside me tells me to take the elevator to the top floor.
On the roof there is a large patio with a semicircle of lounge chairs.
I see a tall man standing in a corner gazing up at the sky. From the antennas on his head I know he belongs to our wedding party. I walk over to him.
“Hi, are you planning a trip? If you are you can visit my Stargate property on the Moon.” I lean against the rail.
“My name is Ewa Lowe, sister of the groom. What a wacky wedding this has been!”
He turns slowly and gives me his hand. When we touch I get a light electric shock. I guess my specially made rubber soles are not stopping the jolts this time.
“Hi, I’m Adam Skai, James’ astronomy teacher. So you also fell for the acre selling scam on the Moon?”
I look into two blue eyes.
He has the most beautiful smile, but I’m drawn back to his eyes! I can see blood veins in the pupils, so he must be wearing some weird contact lenses.
I can feel chills crawling up my spine.
His skin is so white it looks transparent. He must have covered his body with some kind of white powder.
His white hair, or is it a wig? Is a mass of tiny white curls. Still, he manages to look and sound very sexy.
The hottest Andorian I’ve ever seen. He’s still holding my hand and now takes my other hand. Another shock goes through me….
I’m not the one giving the shocks –he’s the one giving them to me.
Whoa! Love at first touch! Adam and Ewa, sounds as good as apple pie to me. Take it easy now, Ewa, you don’t know anything about this guy.
Come to think about it, I do know a few things about Adam Skai. James told me Adam was one of the youngest and brightest astrophysicists in the world. A real wonder boy, only 25 years old and he has already written many astronomy books.
In all the pictures I’d seen of him he was always wearing large, dark sunglasses, a black hat and black turtleneck sweater. James was always telling me what a special person Adam was.
Well, here he is, and he sure is special.
“So you are Seven of Nine?” Adam is pulling me closer to him. “I think you should be called One of One, instead!”
I laugh: “You are the Number One, if anyone is. I’ve read all your books and it sure makes me humble to meet somebody who knows so much about the universe.”
Adam whispers in my ear: “It makes me humble to meet somebody as beautiful as you.” He pushes me a little away from him and then locks his hands behind my neck.
How is it possible to feel warm and cold at the same time?
The moonlight hits his face and it seems like the veins inside his blue eyes are glowing red. His skin looks phosphorescent, like glittering snow.
A chill goes through my body. He cradles my head to his chest and I can smell…spices? Yes, a spice – like cinnamon.
He puts his hands around my waist and cat-quick lifts me up on the ledge. Thirty floors below, I can see the small headlights from all the cars.
Oh, my God! Is he going to push me off the ledge?
Not that I care. I feel I’m on some kind of cinnamon aphrodisiac drug trip. I can probably fly into Blue Heaven if he throws me off the building.
“Listen, Ewa, what I’m telling you now might not make any sense to you, but believe me, when the time comes you will understand.
“Don’t be afraid, the future looks good for you. Now, close your eyes.” I obey, in a trance I cling to him. He puts his lips close to my ear and the cinnamon smell gets even stronger.
“We are going to meet again under very different circumstances.
“We both carry alien DNA, Ewa –you and I,” he says, squeezing my shoulders. I stiffen.
He buries his face in my hair and goes on.
“Repeat after me: ‘Friday the 13th will be my lucky day.’ Say it!”
In a trance, I whisper, “Friday the 13th will be my lucky day.”
What does he mean? What will happen on Friday the 13th? Why alien DNA?
I always knew I was a little different. I couldn’t explain the weird electricity that surged through my body.
Then there is my ability to shatter glass. I know some soprano singers can do that, but my high-pitched tone never seemed to come from my throat –it felt more like a beam from my brain.
Adam is now offering me an improbable explanation. This sounds very strange….
He pulls back –just enough to create a slice of moonlight between our faces. His lips are now moving towards mine and I close my eyes again. We let our tongues do the flying.
I feel like I’m zipping through space and all the stars are crashing into my body.
Qu Statt? (What’s happening?). Did I just dream this? Who is this guy? What powers does he have?
Suddenly, he lets go of me. I am so startled I nearly fall backwards, into the void.
I open my eyes and the last thing I see is Adam going into the elevator. Just before the doors close I can hear the faint words, “Friday the 13th and alien DNA, don’t forget.”
I jump down from the ledge and stand there for a long time just looking up at the sky. My whole body is shaking and reeking of cinnamon. Electric jolts go through my body. I feel enraptured.
A week later I read in the newspaper that Adam Skai, our brilliant young astrophysicist, has left for Europe to join an international astronomy team. He doesn’t know when he will return to America.
If he had been interested in me, he could have told me where in Europe he would be living. Doesn’t he know I’m a flight attendant and travel all over the world?
I really would like to get to know him. Why does he give me cutis anserine? Why does he have the same problem with electric shocks like me? What the heck does Friday the 13th mean?
“Oops!” I was so lost in my thoughts about Adam I nearly missed the Sheridan Street exit that’s going to take me to James and Irene’s home in Hollywood.
I’ve had to brush up on my Klingon, I was reading in the Klingon dictionary before I left home. James is going to get a kick out of that.
Outside their house I see two new cars in the driveway. One is a white Volvo station wagon, the other, a shiny black Hummer.
So, they have been shopping, too!
I walk inside and the house is filled with flower arrangements, mostly lilies.
Do they know the name Lillian comes from the lily flower?
In the hall I see James and in my best Klingon I say. “Qaleghqa’ ‘oH QaQ” (It’s good to see you again).
He is trying not to smile. “Qaleghqa’ne’ S” (I’m honored to see you again).
After exchanging hugs, we go outside to the pool. The sun is shining and it’s warm, even if it is November.
Irene is huge!
“The baby is due any day now,” James smiles.
Any minute now, from where I’m standing.
We all sit down on their comfortable Rotting chairs.
Irene flashes me a smile.
“Lovise will get here in an hour. Then we’ll play bridge.”
“Ewa,” James says, taking both of Irene’s hands into his, “We’ve got something to tell you.”
I nod and look at them intensely, sensing that this is important. James continues, “Irene and I have decided to name the baby Lilliana, as a tribute to Lillian.”
I take a deep breath.
“Oh, that’s wonderful! Just great! I am so happy to hear that.”
I jump out of my chair and hug them both again. I also have to do a little Indian war dance.
When things settle down, Irene says, “We only have one problem. Since none of us practices any religion, how are we going to have a christening? Of course, we would like you to be the godmother, but maybe we should find a different word for it, since we don’t believe in God?”
Well, this is something new. I never had thought of this situation before. Yes, we had been raised as atheists.
Lillian and Dexter always said they were positive atheists, which meant they understood that religious people have reasons to believe. We also had been taught to respect all religions.
“Hey,” I say, “since money is no longer an object, I’ll figure out something very special for our little Lilliana.
“Speaking of money, let’s go out in front and gawk at the cars.”
We all start laughing
“You two go ahead and talk cars,” Irene says, “I have to go and lie down for a while.”
“Are you OK, honey?” James asks, like a worrying father-to-be should.
“Yes, yes, I’m just tired and hot.” She wobbles towards the house.
James and I go arm in arm to the driveway.
“Holy shit!” he exclaims when he sees the Corvette. I toss him the car keys. He turns around and goes inside the hallway. When he returns, he tosses me his Hummer keys.
We are like two screaming kids on Christmas Eve. The wheels are screaming too. Dust billows up behind us.
“Back in 15 minutes,” I yell out the window as I do the Vulcan split-finger greeting.
“Qapla’!” (Success!), he holler back, “If I’m not back in two days send a helicopter!”
“Qapla’!” I shout and floor the pedal.
Greased Lightning would’ve been green with envy.
I lean back. What a ride! Everything inside is leather and teak. It’s huge and comfortable, like sitting in your living room. The panel has so many gadgets and lights it looks like a James Bond scenario.
Everybody is staring and waving at the car and I wave back exuberantly.
It sure is great to be rich!
When I get back to the house, Lovise is pulling into the courtyard. James is already there, running inside, his cell phone to his ear.
I hurry after him, waving for Lovise to follow.
“What’s wrong, James?” I ask.
“The water broke and I don’t know if I have to drive her to the hospital.” James is pale as a sheet. We are now outside the bathroom door.
“Honey, are you OK?” James is knocking softly on the door. The door opens and Irene comes out.
“I have to call the hospital and ask what to do.” She sits down by the phone and dials the number. We are standing anxiously next to her. Finally she hangs up.
“The woman on the phone, told me there is no hurry to get to the hospital. Since this is my first baby and I have no contractions or pains yet, it will take a while. She also told me, I will most likely give birth within 48 hours.”
In fact, 22 hours later Lilliana saw the light. She was born on November 9, 2001, at 7:37 in the evening. She has her mom’s brown eyes.
I’d better get into therapy fast!