Hangar 13. Lindsay McKenna

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      She placed the salad on the table between them. “Why don’t you get up and set the table, since you’re staying for dinner?”

      Mildly shocked, Mac got up. He saw her eyes dancing with laughter.

      “Are you stunned because you’re staying for dinner or because I’m asking you to help out?”

      He smiled a little sheepishly as he moved to the cupboard that Ellie pointed to. “Both.”

      “You don’t wear a wedding ring, but you behave like you’ve been married. Are you divorced?”

      Struck by Ellie’s insights, Mac opened the cupboard and took down two white ceramic plates. “Are you psychic?”

      Laughing, Ellie shook her head. “No, just a watcher of people in general. I saw this look of longing on your face, and noticed you had no wedding ring on your finger. I figured you were probably divorced and missing the good life that marriage provides.”

      “Guilty,” Mac murmured, placing the plates on the table. “I’m divorced, and you’re right—I miss married life.”

      “All of it or some of it?” she challenged.

      Mac placed flatware at each plate. “Why do I get the impression you’re a feminist?”

      “Because where I come from, there is none of this ‘man rules the roost.’ My people are matriarchal, and that means women are held in just as high esteem as any man. We own the land, and it’s passed on from one woman to another, instead of from man to man.”

      “Reverse of what it is out in the real world.”

      “Oh?” Ellie whispered. “My world is just as valid as yours, Major.”

      “Touché.” Mac smiled a little and sat back down.

      “You’re not done yet, Major.”

      “I’m going to earn this dinner, I can tell.”

      “And then some.” Ellie pointed to the top of the refrigerator. “Get a couple of those rolls and bring them down. Put them in the microwave, please.”

      Ordinarily, Mac might have been annoyed, but he wasn’t. Ellie intrigued him. He liked her use of authority and the way she made him a part of the kitchen—whether he felt he should be helping or not. Johanna had always shooed him out of the kitchen and called him when dinner was ready. Retrieving the rolls, he placed them in the microwave. Then he took a butter dish from the refrigerator and set it on the table.

      “Very good,” Ellie praised with a laugh as she put hamburger meat into the skillet she’d heated. “You’re getting the idea.”

      “Is this called karma?” he teased as he stood next to her, leaning against the kitchen counter, his hands resting on it.

      Ellie nodded. “Our whole life is karma as far as I’m concerned. The people we meet, the ones we work with, the ones we bump into on the street.” She glanced up at his face, which now seemed more relaxed. “Karma is about living life, Major.”

      “Mac.”

      “Yes…”

      “I feel like I’ve stepped into a whole new world here.”

      “You have. I’m Native American, raised to respect all people as equal. I’m a shamaness, and I’ve been trained to look at reality very differently than you.”

      “I’m a city kid from Portland, Oregon,” Mac admitted. “My father was an electrical engineer until he died of a heart attack at forty-five. My mother stayed at home and raised me and kept house.”

      “And I’ll bet she never went out and had a job or a life other than that.”

      “Correct.”

      “You white men are a spoiled bunch,” Ellie said with a chuckle. “One hamburger or two?”

      “Two, please.”

      “Manners. That counts with me.”

      “Are you always this feisty or is this something special for me?”

      “I’m not treating you any differently than I would anyone else—regardless of gender.” Ellie turned the hamburgers in the skillet. “Get the mustard and ketchup from the refrigerator?”

      “Sure.” Mac opened the refrigerator door.

      “How long have you been divorced?”

      Mac hesitated as he placed the ketchup on the table. “Two years.”

      “You don’t seem to be over it yet.”

      Her insight was unsettling. He paused briefly, then said, “I think if you love someone, it’s tough to leave it behind.”

      “The heart never forgets,” Ellie agreed gently, handing him his burgers. “All our good and bad memories are held in it. Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

      Mac ate with relish. The baked beans, hamburgers and garden salad were perfect. It had been a long time since he’d had a home-cooked meal. Ellie had a healthy appetite, too, unlike Johanna, who had weighed every ounce of food she ate, always scared of gaining a few pounds. Ellie certainly wasn’t fat, but Mac saw that she truly enjoyed her food and obviously didn’t agonize over caloric content.

      “Do you have any grounding in metaphysics, Mac?”

      He shook his head. “Absolutely none.”

      “With your engineering background, the only thing you know is your left-brain reality.”

      “Is that a compliment or an insult?” Mac liked the smile she gave him as she wiped her fingers on her pink cloth napkin.

      “Neither. It’s merely an observation.” Ellie pointed to the right side of her head. “I need to give you some basic information so you’ll understand what is potentially happening in your Hangar 13.”

      Mac added more ketchup to his second hamburger. “Okay, shoot.”

      “Native Americans and women tend to be right-brain dominant. Science has established that the right brain’s function is very different from the left brain’s. The left hemisphere processes information based on logic, on physical evidence from our senses. It can speak to us with a sound, a voice, and we all hear it.” She tapped the right side of her head. “The right brain can’t speak to us in the same way.”

      “So,” Mac said, buttering a second roll, “does the right brain ‘talk’ to us?”

      “Excellent question,” Ellie praised. “Yes, it does, but in a far-more-subtle form. You’d call it intuition, or a gut feeling. I’m sure you’ve heard talk of women’s intuition. Well, some women are simply more in touch with their right brain. Unfortunately, society doesn’t always take this kind of knowledge seriously.”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ