Majestic by Unknown

Majestic by Unknown

Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781988281131
Publisher: 4th Floor Press, Inc.

Chapter 34

Willy Carson worked his way through the crowded terminal of Atlanta’s Hartsfield International Airport. He only had a duffle bag with him, so he was lucky that he didn’t have wait for the damn carousel.

He breezed through Customs and Immigration—having dual citizenship made it a lot faster for him than for a lot of his fellow passengers. He chuckled as he watched them grumbling their way through the turnstiles trying hard not to make eye contact with the officers, doing their best to make their visit to America sound as innocent as possible.

Many of them were tourists from Canada, looking forward to enjoying a bit of the American deep south before winter set in. The south was indeed a beautiful part of the country, not just in the endless varieties of foliage, but also for the architecture and ‘buzz.’

Atlanta was one of America’s biggest hub cities, with connecting flights available to almost anywhere in the world, and great highways that allowed sightseers to meander to all the old Civil War sites in Georgia and the adjoining states.

He’d boarded in Calgary and had the extreme pleasure of sitting beside a lovely young lady—well, not that young, but to Willy everyone seemed young now compared to his eighty-seven years.

They’d talked a lot during the five-hour flight. Mainly about her work, which Willy had found fascinating due to her obvious passion and commitment. Willy loved meeting people who had a zest for what they did.

She was an orthopedic surgeon with a private practice in Atlanta, but had been up in Calgary for a few days attending a medical convention. Her name was Nancy, and she spoke with an unusually distinctive southern drawl—a linguistic style that Willy always thought made southerners sound dumb and inarticulate. But, with Nancy, he found it charming. The way she pronounced the words and allowed them to hang for an extra beat or two, it carried a unique twang that enriched her sweet tenor voice.

She was fascinated with his story about leaving the United States decades ago out of his opposition to war and the draft.

Willy had been a little reluctant to tell her about that because southerners tended to be the most patriotic of all Americans. Conservative as hell, and hawkish as a person could get. But, Nancy was different—she seemed more worldly than most southerners he’d met, more open-minded. Maybe it was her high level of education, or perhaps even because of the extent she’d traveled around the world, that made her more in touch with alternative attitudes. From what he could tell, she seemed to agree with what he and others had done way back in 1970.

Willy walked through the bustling terminal for about fifteen minutes until he finally reached the rental car wing. He was just about to walk up to the Alamo counter when he saw Nancy sitting on a bench against the far wall.

She looked up as he approached, and smiled.

“Well, fancy seeing you again!”

Willy sat down on the bench beside her. “It’s a small world, seat-mate, even here in Atlanta.


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