“Excuse me.”
Startled I shoot up in a sitting position, almost knocking the guard leaning down on his ass.
It takes me a minute to get my bearings. My first thought is I’m back behind bars, the man’s uniform reminiscent of the prison guards. They were never quite so polite waking us up, though. Usually that was accomplished by a sharp rattle on the steel door closing me in. Then my surroundings filter through and I realize I’m at the airport, waiting for my flight.
“Sorry to startle you,” the older man says. “You were sleeping deeply and I was afraid you might be missing a flight. It’s almost eight thirty.”
“Shit!” I scramble to my feet. “My flight leaves in thirty minutes.”
“Where to?”
“Detroit.” My eyes dart around the terminal trying to figure out where to go.
“Come with me,” he says, not waiting for an answer as he starts walking away at a fair clip. I hurry after him, hoping he can help me catch my flight.
With only a few minutes to spare, I run up to the gate where an attendant scans my boarding pass and waves me through. Out of breath, I drop in my seat by the window, willing my heart to slow down. Moments later the airplane backs away from the gate and I’m once again hanging on to the armrests for dear life when we take off.
I can’t wait to get home.
Robin
I’m frozen in my seat, a few rows behind him.
He never looked at me, and even if he did he may not have recognized me. There’s no reason to believe our very brief encounter yesterday made as much of an impression on him as it did on me.
What are the odds, though? I wasn’t even supposed to be on this flight, but Kim called last night, telling me Shirley had ended up in MidMichigan Medical Center in Clare. A neighbor called 911 after finding Shirley bleeding on her porch.
I immediately called the airline and was able to change my flight to the first one back to Detroit this morning. Mom decided to stay and Paige was going to help her move her stuff from the hotel to her apartment today, since I had to leave early.
The blue-eyed man had been on my mind until Kim’s phone call cleared my head, and all I’ve been able to think about since is poor Shirley. Apparently Kim’s been camped out at the hospital and the text I received this morning detailed the extent of Shirley’s injuries. The list is nothing to sneeze at: a swollen jaw, three-inch gash to the head, two cracked teeth, a broken forearm, and several bruised ribs. He did a number on her this time.
“Please fasten your seat belt.”
The friendly flight attendant indicates the belt I was in the middle of buckling when he rushed through the door.
“Yes, of course,” I mutter with an apologetic smile, quickly finishing the task.
My eyes drift over the seats in front of me, focusing on the gray mop sticking up three rows down. I wonder if he lost someone when the towers came down. Over the years, I’ve run into a surprising number of people who knew someone who died that day. Of course, when they found out my husband had been one of them, I always drew sympathetic looks. Those would’ve been best saved for someone who deserved them.
I try to distract myself with some cooking show I found on the small monitor in front of me, since I forgot my book back at the hotel when I rushed out this morning. I have a Kindle app on my phone, but I don’t want to waste my battery reading. Besides, I don’t think reading would be enough to keep my mind off things right now.
About halfway through the Pavlova the three contestants are supposed to create, my neighbor—an older lady with painfully bad breath—engages me in conversation. I politely look at pictures of the new grandbaby she just went to visit, and to my surprise, time passes quickly.
I’ve almost forgotten about Blue Eyes when I shuffle off the plane with the other passengers and spot him still in his seat. He’s looking out the window, his broad back—still wearing the black leather jacket—turned to the aisle. I almost reach out to tap him on the shoulder so he can get out in front of me, but at the last second the line starts moving again, taking me along.
My car is in long-term parking and I shoot off a silent thank you when it starts up without a problem. It’s getting up there both in years and mileage. I bought it new when I moved back to Michigan and it’s due for a replacement. Unfortunately, what I’m able to afford now versus then has changed a lot.
I would’ve put all of the money from the insurance policy in trust for Paige, but we needed a roof over our head and a means of transportation. I bought the small two-bedroom ranch just outside of town and a standard Mazda Tribute. No bells and whistles on either. The rest of the money I put away for Paige. It was used for her tuition and the remainder went into her bank account when she turned twenty-one.
I try not to break any speed limits on the two-and-a-half-hour drive to Clare, but I’m anxious to get to the hospital. Kim mentioned she’d stay with Shirley, but she also has a diner to run so I don’t want to waste time stopping off at home. I didn’t think to ask if her sons had been notified and were perhaps on their way, but I guess I’ll find out when I get there.
It’s just after one when I pull into the hospital parking lot, and my stomach is growling from lack of food. Breakfast was a granola
