"Tim LaHaye & Jerry Jenkins - Left Behind Series 1 - Left Behind" - читать интересную книгу автора (LaHaye Tim)

LEFT BEHIND:
A NOVEL OF THE EARTH'S LAST DAYS
Book 1 of the Left Behind Series

TIM LAHAYE & JERRY B. JENKINS




CHAPTER ONE
RAYFORD Steele's mind was on a woman he had never touched. With his fully
loaded 747 on autopilot above the Atlantic en route to a 6 A.M. landing at
Heathrow, Rayford had pushed from his mind thoughts of his family.
Over spring break he would spend time with his wife and twelve-year-old son. Their
daughter would be home from college, too. But for now, with his first officer
dozing, Rayford imagined Hattie Durham's smile and looked forward to their next
meeting.
Hattie was Rayford's senior flight attendant. He hadn't seen her in more than an
hour.
Rayford used to look forward to getting home to his wife. Irene was attractive and
vivacious enough, even at forty. But lately he had found himself repelled by her
obsession with religion. It was all she could talk about.
God was OK with Rayford Steele. Rayford even enjoyed church occasionally. But
since Irene had hooked up with a smaller congregation and was into weekly Bible
studies and church every Sunday, Rayford had become uncomfortable. Hers was not
a church where people gave you the benefit of the doubt, assumed the best about
you, and let you be. People there had actually asked him, to his face, what God was
doing in his life.
тАЬBlessing my socks offтАЭ had become the smiling response that seemed to satisfy
them, but he found more and more excuses to be busy on Sundays.
Rayford tried to tell himself it was his wife's devotion to a divine suitor that caused
his mind to wander. But he knew the real reason was his own libido.
Besides, Hattie Durham was drop-dead gorgeous. No one could argue that. What he
enjoyed most was that she was a toucher. Nothing inappropriate, nothing showy.
She simply touched his arm as she brushed past or rested her hand gently on his
shoulder when she stood behind his seat in the cockpit.
It wasn't her touch alone that made Rayford enjoy her company. He could tell from
her expressions, her demeanor, her eye contact that she at least admired and
respected him. Whether she was interested in anything more, he could only guess.
And so he did.
They had spent time together, chatting for hours over drinks or dinner, sometimes
with coworkers, sometimes not. He had not returned so much as one brush of a
finger, but his eyes had held her gaze, and he could only assume his smile had made
its point.
Maybe today. Maybe this morning, if her coded tap on the door didn't rouse his first
officer, he would reach and cover the hand on his shoulderтАФin a friendly way he
hoped she would recognize as a step, a first from his side, toward a relationship.
And a first it would be. He was no prude, but Rayford had never been unfaithful to
Irene. He'd had plenty of opportunities. He had long felt guilty about a private
necking session he enjoyed at a company Christmas party more than twelve years