The Bridesmaid

“What the hell?” Joe said absently as they looked around.

A man standing just in front of them turned around. “The air traffic controllers just went on strike,” he said.

Chapter 5

“We have to get that car back,” Kate said instantly, crowding into Joe’s side as a melee of angry, disgruntled passengers pushed and shoved toward the ticket counters. Joe couldn’t help himself; he put a protective arm around Kate.

“We know what’s going to happen,” she said frantically. “Once they figure out they can’t fly out, they will try and drive out, like us.” She suddenly twisted into Joe’s chest and grabbed his lapel, her green eyes wild. “We have to go.”

“We can’t drive out of this,” Joe said, putting a hand on her arm. “It’s at least a two-day drive in the best of weather, and we’d be driving into a blizzard.”

Kate’s grip tightened. “I think I am going to pass out.”

“No, you’re not,” he evenly assured her, and gave her a comforting squeeze on the arm. “What about a train?”

“Train?”

“Yes, train,” Joe said again, and gently peeled free the fingers clawed around his lapel so he could reach his cell phone. “If we can just get farther west, we have more options for getting to Seattle.” At least he hoped that was true. He googled the Amtrak schedules and squinted at the screen. “Okay, we can book a ticket right now, leaving in a couple of hours, and arriving in Phoenix at 6:30 tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow!” Kate exclaimed, and did a dramatic little backward bend. “But that’s the dress rehearsal! I’ll miss the dress rehearsal, and I bought a gorgeous new dress to counter the peach thing!”

Joe looked up from his phone. “Do you know any other way to get there?”

Kate sighed with resignation. She looked down and shook her head. Tendrils of hair shook loose from the knot she’d tied in her hair earlier, and Joe had an insanely stupid urge to touch them, brush them back behind her ear.

“Listen, the important thing is that you get there in time for the wedding, right? And for me, Monday morning. I have to be there by Monday.” He googled the location of the train station, then looked at Kate. “Should I buy the tickets?”

“Yes,” she said, and punched him lightly in the chest for emphasis.

As it turned out, getting the tickets was the easy part. Getting across town looked impossible. The taxi stands were swimming with humans trying to leave the airport.

After twenty minutes of waiting, Joe was getting a little panicky himself. He’d been to Houston only a couple of times, but what he remembered was that it was huge and sprawling. He imagined that sprawl would seem to double in a rainstorm. “If we can’t get in a cab soon, we won’t make it,” he said grimly.

“We’re going to make it,” Kate said, her determination returned.

“I don’t think so,” Joe said, looking at his watch.

“Okay, that’s it,” Kate said, and thrust the pink garment bag at him. “Hold this for me, please.”

“Wait—where are you going?” he called after her, but Kate was marching up the line, her hips moving enticingly in the pencil skirt she was wearing. As her fair head disappeared into the crowd of people, he lost sight of her altogether.

Several minutes passed. Joe kept looking at his watch, wondering if he should go after her or stay put. When he looked up from his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time, he saw her walking back. But she was not alone—a porter with a red cart was walking alongside her.

And Kate was crying.

Joe’s pulse instantly leapt. “Kate!” he shouted. His instinct was to go to her, but he had a stronger instinct to keep their place in line. “Kate, what’s wrong?” he demanded as she walked up to him, her face streaked with the path of her tears. It alarmed him so that he grabbed her arms. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“Joe, it’s Dad,” she exclaimed, sniffling up at him as the porter stood uncomfortably to the side. “He’s taken a turn for the worse. I got the call when I went to check on how long it would be.”

“What?” Joe asked, confused. “Your dad?”

She suddenly grabbed his upper arms and squeezed so tight it was almost painful. “Joe,” she said, her eyes narrowing just slightly. “I know you thought we’d make it on time, but unless we make that train, I won’t see him again!” She burst into tears and buried her face in Joe’s chest.

“Oh, the poor thing,” a woman behind him said.

“Oh my god,” Joe said. He was fairly certain there was no father issue and that Kate was working some mysterious, probably nonsensical angle, but then again, he didn’t really know her. He couldn’t be sure. He put his hand on the back of Kate’s head, held her close to him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry—one of our private car passengers is going to give you a ride,” the porter said, and gestured at Kate. “So she doesn’t have to wait for a cab,” he added in a loud whisper. “Are these your bags here?”

“What?”

Kate groaned and squeezed his arms again. Quite tightly. And then she grasped a bit of his coat fabric and gave it a tug. Wow. She’d found them a ride? He would take back every thought he’d just had about this being nonsense.

“Young man, he is asking if these are your bags,” the kindly woman said behind him.

“Oh. Yes. Those,” Joe said.

“Listen, you need to pull yourself together and help her,” the woman continued, and patted his back. “She needs to say good-bye to her father. Now go take advantage of the offer and get to the train station before it’s too late.”

“Right,” Joe said. “Thank you.” To the porter he said, “Don’t forget the pink thing.” He put his arm around Kate’s shoulders and pulled her tightly into his side. “Be strong, baby,” he said. “We have to be strong for Dad.” What was that he saw, the barest hint of a smile?

“I just need him to hang on a little longer,” she said tearfully. “Why now?” she sobbed as they followed the porter to a black town car. “It’s so unfair!”

Joe squeezed her tight in a silent plea not to overdo it.

In the backseat of the town car sat a woman in an expensive suit with a Louis Vuitton briefcase at her feet. She smiled sympathetically at Joe. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly to Joe as he climbed in behind a limp Kate. “She is obviously very close to her father.”

“So close,” Joe said.

“It’s so unexpected,” Kate said through her tears.

“Right,” Joe said, smiling ruefully at their benefactor as he tucked Kate into his body. “We can’t thank you enough for the ride—she’s a basket case.”

Kate poked him in the side.

“I’m just so glad I can help.” The woman leaned forward a bit to look at Kate, whose hair, thankfully, covered her face. Kate shuddered and made a sort of garbled sobbing noise. The woman eased back, glanced over Kate’s head, and gave Joe a look brimming with sympathy.

As the car started slipping into traffic, Joe very slyly gave Kate a slight fist bump.

By the time they reached the train station, Kate had feigned a slight recovery. She was still tucked into Joe’s side, which, he had to admit, he liked. She felt good next to him. All warm and soft. She was speaking somberly to the woman beside her, telling her what a great dad her father was. “Of all the times this would happen,” she sighed. “The blizzard, the strike…”

“It’s horrible,” the woman agreed. “It took me two days to come home from London due to all the cancellations. I’m just glad I don’t have to go any farther.” The car coasted to a stop in front of the train station. “I wish you both the best of luck,” she said. “Take care of yourself, Kate.”