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I met her in a small, untidy coffeehouse
on the outskirts of the London. It was a secluded place, far enough
from the city lights to make a person feel comfortable. It was the
kind of intimate spot where young couples sit ‘til midnight,
telling stories, laughing at each other, and sipping some of the
finest fresh-ground that England has to offer.
I’d discovered this place a few years back. It happened to
be situated across the road from a small, private airfield where
I frequently chartered flights out of the country. Tonight, I sat
on the cafe patio and watched the starlit sky. I’d made arrangements
with a pilot a few days earlier, but he was late now, and I was
beginning to wonder if he’d forgotten about me. I tapped my
finger impatiently against the weathered wooden table.
“Waiting for someone?”
It was a woman’s voice, dark and silky. I turned to see her
standing in silhouette against the soft, yellow light from the cafe
windows.
“In fact, I am,” I replied. “Care to sit and watch
the sky with me?”
I couldn’t see her face in the dark, but I got the feeling
she smiled as she took a seat. There was a soft scratching noise,
and suddenly the darkness was illuminated by the fire of a match.
She leaned forward and lit a lumpy little candle that sat on a tin
plate at the center of the table. “That’s better,”
she said softly. This time, by the light of the candle, I actually
did see her smile, and I couldn’t help returning the courtesy.
She had dark, curly hair that hung loose around her shoulders, and
she was dressed like a mountain climber, in a sturdy canvas jacket
and well-worn hiking boots. She had a steaming mug in her hand.
“What are you drinking?” I asked.
“Mocha java. It’s my favorite blend.” I caught
the shadow of a smile in the corner of her mouth.
“That’s quite a coincidence,” I replied. “I
happen to be flying out for Yemen tonight. That’s where your
mocha comes from.”
“Mmmm,” she nodded. She leaned back and took a long,
slow, sip, savoring the dark roast. “I understand it’s
a rather unique coffee.”
“It is,” I said. “Mochas are smaller than most
beans. Harder, too. Very difficult growing conditions in Yemen,
but a lot of folks consider Yemenese coffee to be the best.”
She leaned forward and said, “Some believe it’s the
only place in the world where coffee once grew wild.” I stared
at her, then smiled. This woman knew her stuff.
The heady aroma from her cup drifted into the air and mingled with
the crisp evening breeze. Laughter drifted out through windows of
the cafe, and the night was filled with that sweet, sneaky magic
that only coffee shops can conjure. After another hour, I gave up
hope for my flight. The barista kept sending out fresh mugs of coffee,
and the mysterious lady and I talked long into the night. The moonlight
danced in our cups, reflecting in the dark, playing tag with the
candlelight that was dancing in our eyes.
It dawned on me that I hadn’t asked her name. I was thinking
of a polite way to interject the question, when suddenly she looked
up at the sky. I followed her gaze and saw two red lights circling
the airfield. In the silence that followed, we could both hear the
faint buzz of the airplane as it maneuvered into landing position.
“Ah,” I sighed. I was genuinely disappointed. “That’ll
be my plane.”
“No,” she replied. I looked over and saw her squinting
through a pair of binoculars. “That’s my plane,”
she said.
I looked up, and she smiled. “You’re not the only one
on your way to Arabia,” she said. Just like that, she stood
up and walked toward the patio gate. Watching her walk away, I felt
the enchantment of the night begin to evaporate.
“You seem to know an awful lot about coffee,” she said
over her shoulder. “It’s a shame that we have to cut
our conversation short. Unless...”
She stopped, then turned to look at me. “Do you want a lift?”
Did I ever.
Later that night, as I sat in the dark cabin of that rickety little
airplane, I watched the light-speckled countryside below, and I
thought about my chance meeting back there in that little coffee
shop. You just never know who you’re going to run into as
you make your way in this wide world. There’s all kinds of
folks out there, doing all sorts of unexpected things, and there’s
nothing like a great cup of coffee to bring them together.
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