A Plane Ride - WfW 2nd Part

We were given these Words for Wednesday:
    Annihilate          and / or       Business
     Zinfandel                              Panniers
     Lozenge                                Wooden
     Pacemaker                           Thunderstruck  
     Spokes                                  Podcast
    Invoice                                  Zesty
Maybe you noticed that "Zinfandel" was missing in yesterdays chapter? What ... you did not! Well it its because it is here, in the next installment of "The End of the World according to MotherOwl". If I'm using all the words this sparingly, I'll have enough for many days more. I don't know yet how, or even if, this story will ever end. But I hope it will.

Allan sat in the plane on his way across the Atlantic. He was looking forward to returning home, that conference had been dull and long. He had only gone because his boss had almost ordered him to do so. It had been nice enough, he had also made a few new contacts, but frankly. That kind of thing was more for young, up and coming researchers. Allan looked around inside the plane. Next to him, on the seat next to window, was a monk. He was the archetypal Franciscan from a Protestant joke, rotund, ruddy, unkempt. And he hadn't held back when wine was served for lunch shortly after departure. Allan berated himself, never trust first impressions, Allan. Now the monk sat reading his prayers - as far as Allan could see in Latin - no stupid, cartoon monk this one. Allan smiled at the monk who looked up and smiled back. Then Allan dozed off. As he awoke, he looked past the now-sleeping monk out through the window. He could see white clouds, and sometimes a glimpse of blue. They flew most of the trip over water, he recalled from the outwards bound journey. He went to the restroom, when he returned, a stewardess gave him a glass of water and a few salted biscuits. It had its benefits, being in business class. Wonder how the monk could afford it. He leaned back in his seat, thinking about the gifts he had for his grandchildren. First of all to those he was to meet tomorrow, or would that be today? Time, time zones and time differences always made him a bit dizzy. Tomorrow, he decided. Little Georg was having maple candy, like those from the Laura books and a book about garden plants and livestock. He loved helping out in the garden, and his daughter Jill and son-in-law Georg had told them they were moving to the countryside this spring. The kids were getting their own small gardens. Janet would get some new clothes. He had found some with the Cookie Monster, funny that she had fallen in love with  such an old idol, and then a big bag of American multicoloured candy. It was more difficult with the soon-to-be three-year-old Gregor. Children of that age changed taste so quickly that it was not easy for a poor grandfather to follow, of course, candy for him as well, and then he had found a tiny pocket knife. It might not be that smart, Jill would probably protest, but it fit him. Baby would get clothes too;  it was never wrong for a person that size- For Jill and George he had found a bigger, newly updated edition of an old classic garden book. In fact the "green Bible" that Jill had always, a bit irreverently called John Seymour's book. And for Mary. a slow, loving smile spread on his face. His dearly beloved, always surprising and creative wife. He had found that perfect gift. Nettles for Textiles had finally published their nettle book with all their accumulated knowledge and a drop spindle eminently suited to the spinning of nettle fibers. He had also bought a book of sewing patterns for 19th-century clothing and a lot of strange seeds in a store with what Americans called Heirloom seeds. It was old varieties, it would fit into that re-enactment something she loved. He was looking forward to seeing her face as she unpacked it. To himself he had bought an old bottle of wine and a good deal of cactus seeds. He would resume his hobby when he retired and the seeds would keep until then. The wine he looked forward to sharing with his family for the late Christmas party at Jill and George's. It was reportedly brewed on grapes from the very first vine planted in America, a Zinfandel but a white wine. It was brewed before the turn of the millennium, before they started adding carbon dioxide and other fun things. He had bought a special container to carry it in. One that could handle the lack of air pressure in the cargo hold. He was not allowed to have that kind of things inside the cabin. The box had been fairly large,  he had packed most of the presents in it. It lay deep inside, well-insulated inside his suitcase in the cargo hold. He fell asleep again with pleasant thoughts about Mary's smile and hug.
Allan woke up to an unpleasant beeping sound. He struck out for the alarm, but hit an airplane seat. He woke up. He saw the Fasten seatbelts lights come on and oxygen masks descending from the ceiling. He fastened his seatbelt and felt the plane's nose lift. "Up?" he thought, "Shouldn't we be landing soon?"
The captain's voice sounded in the speaker: "We're going to climb, due to turbulence. Be prepared for a rough ride, and put on the oxygen masks at the first onset of unease. Remember. In case of an accident put on your own mask before helping others."
The monk smiled at Allan. "The Lord be praised for the invention of oxygen masks." Allan smiled, and agreed, but inside he thought "American BS."
"Are you a Catholic?" the monk asked.
"Yes," Allan replied, "but not a very good one."
"I think the pilot needs all our prayers now," he said, and to Allan's surprise he held thigh to his breviary and began singing the old hymn Veni sancte Spiritus. Allan had been a member of the local choir since before he met Mary, and he knew that hymn by heart. He began singing along with the monk.
The plane steadily climbed. and Allan and the monk kept on singing. And slowly more people joined in.
The monk looked out through the plane window, "My Goodness!" he exclaimed. Everybody looked out, and saw a wall of fire in front and slightly below them.
The monk got up, and handed Allan his breviary. "Hold this for me, please." He said. Allan took the book and in a conditioned reflex from his youth as an altar server he held the book just like the Bible at mass. The monk raised his voice: "Everybody kneel! Or on second thoughts. Don't kneel, only in your hearts. Repent of your sins!" He stretched his arms and began speaking in Latin: "Deus, Pater misericordiarum, qui per mortem et resurrectionem Filii sui mundum sibi reconciliavit et Spiritum Sanctum effudit in remissionem peccatorum, per ministerium Ecclesiæ indulgentiam tibi tribuat et pacem. Et ego vos absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."
"Amen," Allan said as well, slowly making the sign of the cross. And many people on the plane did the same.
"And let us now thank and praise the Lord for all the gifts of good, for all the love and mercy we have received. Let us go to Him with a happy and thankful heart."
The plane rose and fell like a winged bird. The engines sounded like they were working at their last powers, everything was shaking and quivering.
Allan thought of his Mary. He would see her soon, in Heaven, in a little while. She would certainly have brought a gift for Saint Peter. He closed his eyes and thanked God for his beautiful, unusual wife. And Jill would be there as well with the little one on her arm. George would hold the middle two in his hands and Lil'George would be standing between them, with a quiet smile. Their other children would be there too. Gustav, Beata, Jason and Halvard.
"God," he thought, "how I love them. Thank you for every day and every moment we've had together." He saw Mary stand in front of him for a brief second. Then there was an almighty deafening sound.

... to be continued