Flight to Lionheart Winery

Where can you go in southern California that isn’t a long drive? Residents have made up their minds to adapt. That’s what Jenna Bern did on her long drive to Mira Loma. She listened to her beloved yacht rock and enjoyed the scenery.

When she stopped for gas, she noticed an SUV parked in front of her with a bumper sticker that read “LIONHEART WINERY—Life is too short to drink bad wine”. She raised her right hand and gave the slogan a crisp salute. She saw a white-haired woman walking toward the SUV. Their eyes met. “Hi. I see your sticker,” said Jenna. “That happens to be where I’m headed right now.”

That earned a smile from the stranger. “Oh, I was there a couple weeks ago and I’m on my way back. Perhaps I’ll see you there,” the lady answered.

“Looking forward. Cheers!” Jenna said with a cheerful wave. As the SUV pulled away, Jenna was struck with the odd feeling that she knew the woman.

*

Ramona was brimming with anticipation as she pulled into the parking lot at the Lionheart Winery. This day was about enjoying the weather with a glass of red wine and soaking up some precious family time with her granddaughter, which was hard to get lately.

*

Bruce and Barb stood near the bar and waited patiently for the group in front of them to make up their minds. Barb thought this stuff was romantic, but Bruce didn’t get it. My gosh, I could buy eight bottles of wine at this price at the SaveMart back home.

When Bruce’s turn came, he made the same old joke. “Give me the wine nobody else wants. I prefer the one that all the connoisseurs make fun of.” Barb had three samples of purple wine in front of her, each one darker than the last. Bruce could see this might take a hot minute. He pretended to be interested, while he eavesdropped on a conversation between a second wine steward and a tall woman in an expensive-looking outfit. The lady was attractive and obviously classy.

“Yes, that is our hometown hero, in the flesh,” said the steward. He might be the manager, as he was older and wearing a red string tie. “If he hadn’t acted so bravely, there would be one less beautiful child among us. One less Candy Crush champion! Ha ha! I am joking, of course,” said the manager. “But to take on a mountain lion with nothing but a backpack and a hiking staff is nothing to joke about. Gracias a Dios!”

“Maybe that’s where I know him from,” said Rich Lady.

“Perhaps. It was on the news program.”

Bruce continued glancing back at the man as they negotiated a path to their table. Something was tap-tapping on his mind. He looked up just in time to avoid running into someone. He mumbled an apology before joining Barb at their adorable little table.

*

Apparently, Javon was now the Winery Dood. These wine patio gigs had gradually morphed into his cabbage. His duo with Della was a ghost ship, set sail. Della went all wack and that source was dry. But Javon was happy to play for the wine lovers. They started filling the tip jar after their second glass. Just don’t ask for Neil Diamond, because that ain’t happening, feel me?

He pulled a gig bag and his Taylor six-string from the back of his Kia and headed for the patio. He gracefully passed a senior citizen on the walkway. “S’cuse me.”

Javon looked back to give the old lady a smile but was taken aback when he saw her face under the brim of the sun hat. He knew that face. He knew it immediately.

That was the lady from the Storm Flight.

Javon had been on countless uneventful flights, but he could never forget that insane in the membrane flight back in March. He was returning from Vegas on a packed plane full of hungover gamblers, like himself. On the overhead speaker, the captain had warned them about upcoming turbulence. No big thang. Happens all the time.

Not like this.

They bounced a couple of times before they shot straight up. There was an immediate roar from the crowd. It was the type of noise that creates further panic. Phones, purses, and drinks went airborne. The soccer mom next to him barfed on herself, which made it very difficult for Javon to keep his breakfast where it belonged.

Then the plane slammed back down, just the way it had gone up a moment ago. Another roar, this time with some screams added into the cacophony. Next, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over.

It was over. Just like that, they were cruising along casually like crossing the flat desert in a Mercedes. Just floating along like it never happened.

Looking around, there was plenty of evidence to prove it happened. Like Soccer Mom’s vomit, for example. The whole passenger compartment was wriggling like a nest of spiders. Folks were straightening out their clothes and seat belts. They were picking up personal belongings and attempting to get settled again. People were cleaning up messes and drying their tears, fixing their hair. He could hear someone crying in the wayback.

Javon watched someone else’s hands as they wrapped his earbuds into a neat wad before stuffing them in his shirt pocket. A stranger’s hands picked up the paperback he’d bought at the airport convenience store. Slid the bookmark into the middle of the pages to be dealt with later. They were his hands performing the action, but they looked like blurry puppet hands through his eyes.

He wondered if he was in shock. Was this what shock felt like? Seeing everything through a fisheye lens? His ears were trippin’, too. His ears always went nutty in airplanes, but this was different somehow. He looked around and saw that plenty of other passengers appeared to be in a similar daze.

Javon’s trance lasted for days. Three wack days of walking around like a zombie, waiting for something to happen. Something that would bring some normalcy back into his life. And it did. Geez Louise, it def did.

And that straw-hatted lady was there. Both times.

*

Jenna saw Hanna and Kirsten as they crossed the parking lot. The girls squealed and giggled just like they did at the sorority house years ago. Hugs and smiles everywhere.

This reunion was exactly what Jenna needed. Her episode with the fire alarm caused her to feel like a stranger in her own body.

Someone said, “Pardon me, miss. Could you scoot your chair in just a smidge so I can get past?” When Jenna turned to see who was speaking, her face went from radiant bliss to shocked bewilderment. It was the lady from the cursed flight to LAX. What was going on here?!

Ramona was just as surprised as Jenna was. Her first thought was Oh, no! I’m not going to have another one of my spells, am I?

“Jenna? What are you doing here?”

Jenna sat there with her mouth hanging open for a moment. She composed herself and said, “Oh, Ramona. This is unexpected.” Her Chi Omega buddies were silent - mesmerized by the odd exchange they were witnessing.

Jenna’s mind flashed to the older lady from the gas station. She suddenly realized where she remembered her from. She knew both women from the inexplicable flight that changed her life forever. Oh, crap! There are two she recognized from that flight. Who else is here? She looked around.

Ramona said, “Jenna? I don’t feel so good. May I sit?”

Just then some soft guitar notes floated to them. Javon was warming up. Ramona said quietly to Jenna, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, dear?”

“Don’t look now, but that bald-headed engineer is here. What’s his name, Bruce? So is that football coach, and the rich lady. I didn’t notice them until I saw you. Now that I’m looking, they’re all here. This is just plain weird.”

Javon played some opening chords. He hadn’t looked at any faces until now. He’d been too busy setting up. Now that he peered into the crowd, his strumming slowed. It slowed and he lost the rhythm, then stopped completely. He said, “Oh, no” into the microphone, which carried the signal to the speaker near his left shoulder, broadcasting his thoughts over the patio. A few people were pointing at him with their mouths hanging open. Other patrons were looking around at the faces of the guests at the nearby tables. Everyone was figuring it out at the same time, the same pace. They were collectively and simultaneously stunned.

It was a reunion, alright. A reunion of the Flight of the Freaks. Las Vegas to LAX.

Javon got things started. It was only natural because he had the microphone. He didn’t feel the need to ask anyone about their experience on the flight. He knew they all went through the same thing. Now that they were all gathered, Javon was overtaken by a burning curiosity about one thing. Did they all have the visions?

“I’m not able to explain how I knew. I couldn’t explain it to the five-oh, either. I knew that guy had guns in his trunk, and I knew something awful was going to happen if he didn’t get stopped. They had me ‘cuffed on assault charges until they convinced him to open up his duffel bag. That’s when th got serious.”

Ramona told her story next. The school bus had a flat tire and was crippled alongside a gravel road in Orange County. The driver was sitting on a rock, waiting for AAA, when Ramona pulled up. Without a word, she hopped in and shifted the transmission into reverse, tromped on the accelerator pedal and forced the vehicle back, dragging the flat tire along. In a panic, the driver chased the bus. By that luck, he was able to escape the first boulders as they came down the slope, crashing and trashing everything in their path. The bus was full of elementary school kids on their way home.

“I was able to tell the cops I saw some boulders rolling, so they didn’t get suspicious,” she explained.

Bruce told his story next. He used his pickup truck to push a little Honda sedan off Ventura Highway and into a dry creek. The driver was injured, but not seriously. “The lawsuit is pending. My attorney thinks our case looks good, considering the Plaintiff was higher than Tommy Chong at Woodstock.”

Most of the crowd didn’t understand his specific reference, but they got the gist.

Bruce could not explain how he knew the drunken stoner was going to run into a fuel truck. He just knew. His attorney advised him to redact that part of his testimony.

After Bruce finished, they went table by table. One woman found a hiker who’d been lost in the desert for over a week. Javon recognized the storyteller as Soccer Mom from the flight. One man thwarted an armed robbery at a jewelry shop in Beverly Hills. Another lady phoned in an anonymous report on her neighbor, who was charged with kiddie porn and is currently being held without bail.

Jenna described how she pulled a fire alarm in a high-rise office building for no apparent reason. The fire department arrived before the fire could get a stronghold. Her action saved countless lives.

Round and round they went. Rescuers and saviors at every table. The friends and patrons that were not a part of this mysterious clan just listened in stunned silence.

When they came to Rich Lady, she remained silent and stoic, her face displaying no emotion. Everyone was looking at her. She had no intention of displaying her familial disgraces to this crowd, nor any other. Instead, she posed a question. “Where’s the white-haired woman?”

With this group, their emotions seemed to shift in unison. First pensive, then curious, then they all started looking around.

Everyone knew exactly who she was referring to. Some folks mumbled things like, “Yeah. She was here a few minutes ago.”

“She was at the hospital when they wheeled me in after the blast.”

“She was at my rescue, too! What is the deal with that lady?”

Rich Lady continued. “My name is Rose. I prefer not to share my story, but I’d like to ask another question. A very important one, if you’ll allow me.”

Only the distant din of bird calls marred the silence. All attention was on Rose. “We know we are part of something extraordinary. We know we are tied together, not just from that supernatural flight with the turbulence that changed all our lives. The fact that we are gathered here, once again, reunited; It’s proof that we are bonded. My question is why? Why are we here today?”

She paused to let that sink in. “We were gathered here through unrelated acquaintances. I’m with a co-worker who invited me. She doesn’t know anyone else here. We were all invited here by “outsiders”, if you will. I'd like to know why. Honestly, I am apprehensive – almost afraid of the answer. But I’d still like to know. I need to know.”

“That’s easy,” said Ramona. “It was God. My granddaughter would say ‘Duh!’ right there.” A few people chuckled. Bruce was shaking his head and looking at the flagstone at his feet. Several others were behaving similarly, rolling their eyes. There was murmuring.

That occurred to me,” said Rose. “I have a confession to make. I’ve been following some of your activities. It began when I stumbled across Javon’s terrorist on the web. I recognized him in the picture, so I did some research. I immediately found your bus rescue, Ramona. I knew about the panther hero, the lost hiker, and I also discovered Jenna worked in the building where the office fire took place. No one claimed responsibility for the premature alarm, did they, Jenna?”

“Relax,” said Rose. “I’m nothing special. Or I wasn’t anything special, until recently. Just like all of you. I had no idea you were going to show up here in full force. I’m as surprised as anyone. But it doesn’t answer the question: Why? Even if it is from God, as you suggest. Why are we here today? Please don’t quote the ‘mysterious ways’ idiom.”

Jenna chimed in. “That’s just it, though. Isn’t it? We don’t know. We don’t know and we’re not going to find out. I didn’t know why I needed to pull the fire alarm, and I won’t know what’s next for me until the time is right.”

“And we don’t know that it’s God, either,” said Bruce in a loud voice, coated with cynicism.

As if on cue, everyone’s tables started to wobble. Most of these folks were residents of southern California, and they knew what an earthquake felt like. They could feel it, they could hear it, and it was real. Plant hangers shook, flower vases and wine glasses toppled, and everyone (as one, again) tried to decide how to behave. They wondered if they should lay down under the metal tables. They wondered if they should seek a sturdy shelter. Most of all, they wondered Who am I expected to rescue this time?

Just as quickly as it rumbled in, it subsided. It reminded Javon of the plane and its episode of turbulence. Just a brief pocket of time. It was déjà vu as people started picking up the wine bottles and flower vases. As the rumblings faded away, a butterfly landed on Bruce’s shiny forehead. It was orange and black and easily recognizable as a Monarch. They were common on the West Coast and were known to migrate through the area annually. There was nothing significant about this one.

Nor was there anything remarkable about the second one that landed on Barb’s pink scrunchie, or the third that came in for a landing on Bruce’s aquiline nose.

However, once the rest of the kaleidoscope of Monarchs fluttered into the crowd, it was quite a spectacle to see. Thousands of beautiful, winged insects floated gracefully down to land on tables, chairs, flowers, carafes, and most of all, people.

They landed on Jenna's floral scarf, Ramona’s cell phone, and the headstock of Javon’s prized acoustic guitar. They landed on the “outsiders”, too. Hanna smiled as four of them adorned her yellow purse. They were apparently smitten with Kirsten’s Ray Bans. She freaked out a little at first, then giggled as she removed the glasses and set them on the tabletop where the delicate sweeties could swarm them at will. Everyone was giggling. They couldn’t help it. They were landing everywhere. It was an amazing sight. The butterflies were willing and happy to pose for selfies.

Even Bruce was laughing. It was the most fun he could remember. He looked up with a smile and saw Ramona staring at him with a huge grin.

“This proves nothing!” he exclaimed. “God doesn’t do stuff like this.”