Kitabı oku: «Mistletoe Reunion», sayfa 2

“Ladies and gentlemen, weather conditions have changed. We need to de-ice the wings before we can take off. Please feel free to move about the cabin for the time being. We’ll be on our way as soon as possible.”

This time a chorus of groans rolled through the cabin as passengers crowded the aisle, rearranging the contents of overhead bins, stretching as they commiserated about the inconveniences of modern travel. Tom took advantage of the extra space afforded by being in the last row across from the galley. “Come on, Bella, stretch your legs.”

Isabella followed her father’s lead in a series of calf stretches and knee bends. The crew toured the cabin offering packages of pretzels and promising full beverage service once they were airborne.

“Your turn,” Tom said and held out his hand to Norah. Norah slid across the row and stood in the aisle without taking his hand. “Feels good,” she said as she stretched her arms high over her head, her fingertips grazing the ceiling.

Isabella lifted the armrests on their row and stretched out across all three seats, her MP3 player earphones in place. She closed her eyes and bounced her head and shoulders to the music they couldn’t hear.

“I’m going for a little walk,” Norah said, suddenly uncomfortable to find herself standing next to Tom—far too near to Tom for comfort.

He grinned. “Just stay inside the plane,” he called as she edged forward.

The truth was she needed some time to think about the impact of spending Thanksgiving three blocks away from Tom and his family. In fact, there was no doubt that they would be thrown together often once they were back in Normal. His parents and hers belonged to the same church and were still close friends. Isabella would move easily between the two houses. Izzy’s aunts and cousins would surely want to include Isabella in whatever extravaganza they were concocting for the anniversary. They would certainly include Norah’s parents—and Norah—in the invitation as well.

The aisle was crowded with other passengers and the plane was not nearly long enough for Norah to stay away indefinitely. She glanced back and saw Tom talking to another passenger. Ahead stood the businessman glaring at her as the young mother tried in vain to soothe the newborn and the toddler, both of whom were crying now. The scene gave new meaning to “between a rock and a hard place” but by far the lesser of the two evils was to return to her seat.

Isabella had dozed off, so Norah perched on the aisle armrest. Tom finished his exchange with the passenger waiting to use the restroom and turned. He was standing toe to toe with her, his forearm resting against the overhead bin. He’d removed his sweater and rolled back the sleeves of his shirt.

“How was your walk?” he asked.

“Fine,” she replied and then blushed. “Uneventful,” she added with a slight smile.

Tom did not return her smile. Instead he studied her closely. “You look great, Norah,” he said.

Norah ran a self-conscious hand through her hair. “I’ve been up since four and my—”

“Why do you do that?” he asked. “You never used to do that.”

Norah fought a twinge of irritation. I never used to doubt that a marriage I thought was forever could fall apart in a matter of months. What did he know about her these days? “Do what?” she asked.

“Put yourself down. Someone pays you a compliment and you—”

“You know, Tom, it has been a number of years. I might have changed in that time.”

“I expect we both have, but—”

“Izzy tells me you’re seeing someone new,” she interrupted, determined to turn the focus from herself to him.

“Izzy doesn’t approve of my choice in female companionship,” he said with a glance at their sleeping daughter.

Norah shrugged. “She just needs time.”

“Speaking of time,” Tom said clearing his throat. “Five years and not once seeing each other, Norah—it’s a long time. How did that happen?” He leaned in to allow another passenger to pass. His face was closer to hers now. His eyes locked on hers and she saw that he looked tired.

“It’s not like we weren’t in touch,” she countered. “I mean we were always on the phone or leaving messages about Izzy. I think we’ve done well by her, don’t you?”

“Stop changing the subject. You didn’t want to see me. Why?”

Norah shifted uncomfortably. “That was just at first. I mean it was all so fresh and we were both so vulnerable and I thought that maybe—”

“But to let not one, but five years pass?”

“It just happened, Tom. I didn’t plan it and you could have just as easily—” She was whispering, keenly aware of others around them but equally aware that she could have been shouting and few other passengers would have cared. They were all that wrapped up in their own problems.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts.”

This time the general chorus of commentary was filled with relief and even laughter as passengers returned to their seats and buckled up.

Norah tapped Isabella’s leg. “Turn that off and fasten your seat belt,” she instructed.

Isabella swung her legs around and did as she was told, only she took the obvious seat—the one by the window.

“I’ll take the middle,” Tom offered.

“No, I’ve got it,” Norah said as she sat down, lowered both armrests and fastened her seat belt. She picked up the puzzlebook Tom had left on his seat, waited for him to sit down and then handed it to him.

“Thanks.” He took out his pen and concentrated on the puzzle as Isabella stared out the window.

After several moments she reported their progress. “I think we’re going back to the terminal.”

“That’s impossible,” Norah said, leaning across her to look out the window. But her daughter was right. “Now what?” Norah muttered.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are returning to the gate area. We regret that the airport is being closed for the time being. A major winter storm is passing through the area and we had hoped to get away in front of it, but it’s coming too fast. Once we are at the gate you may deplane and there will be airline personnel inside the terminal with more information. Please feel free to make use of your cell phones to notify those who may be meeting you in Chicago of this unexpected situation—and thank you once again for choosing—”

Chapter Three

Even before the announcement ended, Tom had his cell phone out dialing his office. When he got voice mail, he glanced at his watch and realized that everyone had already left for the holiday.

“I was hoping to get my assistant to work on finding us an alternate flight,” he explained, noting Norah’s raised eyebrows.

“I didn’t ask,” she said.

But you questioned, he thought. You always used to think I was putting work ahead of you and Bella. He covered his irritation by pulling his sweater back on as they waited their turn to leave the plane.

If the country’s fifth busiest airport had seemed crowded before, it was in total chaos when they emerged from the jetway. Harried airport personnel tried in vain to reassure passengers. Most passengers were accepting their fate, while a few like the businessman who’d shared a row with the screaming babies were demanding to speak with higher authorities. “You have to do something,” he shouted, his mouth inches from the face of the gate agent. “From the looks of things we could be here for hours.”

“Sir,” the gate agent explained, “look at that weather.” She pointed to the large windows where visibility was near zero. “Unfortunately none of us is going anywhere until this storm passes and we can get the runways cleared.”

“And how long will that take?” the man demanded.

“I don’t know, sir. Only God knows the answer to that one.”

“She’s right,” Isabella said as she and her parents edged past the angry man. “This is God’s work. He’s got something in mind here and I think I know what it is.” She looked up at her parents, then linked arms with them to either side of her. “Now let’s get some food. I am so starving.”

“You and your mother take care of getting us something to eat,” Tom said handing Isabella money. “I’m going to see about getting us a hotel room—rooms—” he clarified when Norah’s head shot up and her wide eyes met his. “There is no way we’re going to get out of here tonight.”

“We’ll meet back here then?” Norah asked and realized she was glad that Tom was there. Tom had always been able to make things happen without berating people to get what he wanted.

“Give me half an hour,” he said and strode away.

“What should I get for Dad?” Izzy asked when they were finally close to ordering.

“Turkey wrap with brown mustard, no mayo, tomato, lettuce, no sprouts,” Norah said as she gathered bottled drinks from the cooler. “Pasta salad if they have it. No chips unless they’re baked.” She glanced up to find Izzy grinning at her, her eyes wide with surprise. “What?”

“How do you know that? I mean the details?”

Norah shrugged. “Lucky guess,” she murmured.

“Right,” Isabella said softly and smiled as she repeated the order verbatim and multiplied it by three.

The cashier rang up the sale and Isabella peeled off two twenties from the bills Tom had given her, then waited for change.

Tom was waiting for them at the assigned spot. “Well, here’s the deal,” he reported. “The airport is bringing in buses to take people to hotels. I was able to book us one room—two queen beds,” he assured Norah.

“But what about the party in Normal? The grands?” Isabella protested.

“Honey, be thankful your father was able to get us a room.” One room—with two beds, but still one room.

“We do have another option—staying here,” Tom said as if he’d read her mind. “It might be something we want to consider.”

“All night?” Isabella exclaimed. “Now let’s see—on the one hand we have a reserved hotel room with TV, room service and our own bathroom and on the other we could bunk down here. Gee, tough one, Dad.”

“Staying here means we are here when they get a runway cleared. The hotel room I got is at least twenty-five miles away and in this weather getting here from there—”

“—could take hours,” Norah finished his thought, then focused her attention on Isabella when she caught the look in Tom’s eyes. When they’d been together they had laughed about the way they used to finish each other’s sentences on a regular basis. Is the next step that we start to look alike? Tom had teased. Norah focused on Izzy. “Staying here gives us the best possible chance for getting to the grands,” she explained.

Izzy rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“Bella, attitude,” Tom warned. “Hey, it’ll be an adventure—like camping.”

Isabella gave him the wide-eyed grin of a six-year-old. “Oh goody, can we build a campfire and tell ghost stories and make s’mores?”

Tom laughed and wrapped his arm around her. “Come on. Let’s see if we can snag a couple of those cots.” He nodded to the area where people had lined up as skycaps wheeled in carts with folding cots loaded on top.

“Maybe Izzy should wait here with me,” Norah said, eyeing the desperation of the stranded mob.

“You don’t think I’m going into that, do you?” Tom said, his eyebrows raised in mock surprise.

“Well, how else—”

“Come on, Bella.”

Norah watched as Tom steered Izzy to a corner on the outskirts of the crowd. She saw him approach a man and his wife—each with a cot in tow. A conversation ensued and next thing Norah knew Tom and Izzy were coming her way each hauling a cot.

“But, how—” Norah stuttered.

“We made a trade,” Izzy told her. “Dad gave them the hotel room. They handed over the cots. No problem.” She looked adoringly at Tom as if the man had suddenly sprouted a cape and tights.

As Norah followed them down the concourse, she saw Tom nod pleasantly to gate agents and other passengers as if spending the night at the Denver airport was no big deal. At the airline’s private lounge he punched in a code and opened the door, holding it for Izzy to wrangle her cot inside and then waiting for Norah. “Over here,” he added, spotting a pair of chairs in the corner.

“Do you think they’ll unload the luggage?” Norah asked as Tom and Izzy set up the cots and she distributed the lunch.

“Not likely,” Tom replied, following her glance toward an older woman at the desk who was explaining that her husband’s medications were packed in their checked luggage.

Norah watched the woman leave the desk as she bit into her sandwich.

“Hey,” Tom said softly, “leave the social working to the airport staff, okay?”

You can’t save the world, Norah, he had once shouted at her when they were arguing. But he wasn’t shouting now. His tone was gentle and sympathetic and his eyes told her that he understood that she really wanted to help.

“This looks great,” Tom said, turning his attention to the sandwich. “And you remembered the mustard,” he said.

“Mom remembered,” Isabella replied before Norah could.

“Did you remember your father’s change?” Norah asked.

Isabella dug one hand into the pocket of her jeans. “Oh yeah. Here.” She handed him a wad of crushed bills and some coins. “That’s it,” she said when Tom stared at the money. “Airport food equals inflated prices.”

“I wasn’t counting,” her dad said with a chuckle. “I was just wondering how this fist-sized wad fit into the pocket of those jeans. What did you do? Have Mom sew them on you this morning?”

“Dad! They aren’t that tight.”

“They’re pretty tight,” Norah agreed. “You might wish you’d worn something more comfortable before this journey ends.” She pulled at the leg of her own stretchy trousers to illustrate her point.

“Mom dresses like an old lady these days,” Izzy explained to Tom as if Norah had suddenly disappeared.

Now it was Norah’s turn to protest. “Isabella Wallace!”

“Well, it’s true. I’ve been thinking of nominating you for that show where they make you throw out your entire wardrobe and go shopping for a new one.”

“My clothes are fine—serviceable. Comfortable.”

Izzy took another bite of her sandwich and continued to study her mother. “On that show they completely change your hair and makeup too. They can make the person look ten years younger.”

Norah saw Tom mask a smile by taking a swallow of his bottled water.

“Do something. She’s your daughter too.”

Tom cleared his throat and spoke to Izzy while looking at Norah. “I think your mother looks—fine, Bella. Especially the way she’s wearing her hair now—and the color—”

Norah’s hand flew to her hair. “What about the color? This is my normal color. I do not—”

Tom and Isabella both burst out laughing and Norah smothered a grin. “So this is the way it’s to be,” she said sternly. “The two of you ganging up on poor defenseless me?”

Tom gave a hoot of laughter. “Defenseless? That’ll be the day.” He turned to Isabella. “One time there was this neighborhood bully. Your mother was—what, Norah? Nine—ten?”

“I was Izzy’s age,” Norah replied.

“But smaller than you. The bully must have easily outweighed her by fifty pounds or more. What was that kid’s name, Norah?”

“Oscar,” Norah said.

“So Oscar starts picking on this new kid and your mom had had it. She marched up to him, stood toe to toe between him and the new kid and told Oscar that—you finish it,” Tom said, looking at Norah.

“You’re telling it.”

“Said what?” Isabella demanded.

Her mother sighed. “I simply informed the young man that if his name was a problem for him he should change it.”

“Or words to that effect,” Tom said.

“And what did Oscar do?”

“He asked me how he could change it when it was the one he was born with.”

Tom took up the story. “She asked him what name he would choose for himself.”

“And?” Izzy asked, glancing from one to the other. “What name?”

“Bruno!” Tom and Norah said in unison then chuckled.

Izzy took obvious delight in seeing them sharing a memory, looking at each other with no reservation, then Norah looked down and away. “And that’s when you fell in love with Mom, right?”

Her father began clearing the trash from their lunch. “Uh—”

“I thought you said those paperbacks you’ve been reading were stories of inspiration and faith,” Norah said, turning the focus on Izzy and away from her and Tom.

“Well, even God loves a good romance, Mom,” Izzy replied as she took the trash from Tom and stuffed it into the paper bag that had held the sandwiches.

“We should see if there’s been any change in what’s happening,” Norah said and Izzy watched as her mom relieved her of the trash and they headed off in opposite directions—her to deposit their trash and him to check in with the woman at the desk. When they returned Izzy had pulled her novel out of her backpack and settled into one of the chairs.

By late afternoon Norah had called her parents and Tom had spoken to his sisters. They whiled away the endless waiting by reading, working, or—in Isabella’s case—listening to music. Around five, Tom shut his laptop, stood and stretched. “Come on, girls, let’s go for a walk and see about getting something hot for supper.”

It had been several hours since the announcement had come through that the airport would close. Airport personnel had put the contingency plan for such situations into operation. But as night came on and the storm gathered force, it became clear that no one was going anywhere at least until morning and maybe not then.

The first thing to hit Norah as they entered the concourse was the sheer level of the noise—people shouting at each other, babies crying, toddlers and their siblings fighting in loud shrieks over some toy or snack, bleary-eyed parents slumped on the floor or on chairs ignoring their children’s pleas for mediation. In spite of the fact that shopkeepers and other airport employees were as stranded as the passengers, several restaurants and shops had shut their doors. The desks at every gate stood empty of airport personnel and the arrival and departure boards had simply been turned off.

“Dad?” Isabella edged closer to Tom’s side and put her hand in his. “Everybody’s so mad.”

Norah put her arm around Isabella’s shoulder as she looked up at Tom. “This place is turning into a powder keg.”

“It’ll be fine. The governor has declared a state of emergency and the National Guard is handling things along with airport security.”

“Still, maybe we could organize some child care. These parents need a break.”

“A camp,” Izzy suggested. “Camp Stuck-in-the-Snow.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Norah told Tom. “We could take over the play areas along the concourse—there are slides and blocks and all sorts of activities.”

“And don’t they have coloring books and stuff on the planes to keep the kids entertained?” Izzy asked, scooting closer to her parents so that the three of them formed a tight ring.

“We could have the kids bring their blankets and pillows for nap time,” Norah said, her voice growing with enthusiasm for the idea.

Tom looked from his wife to his daughter and back to Norah. “Aren’t you exhausted?”

“I could sleep,” she admitted.

“But, Dad,” Izzy said, “this is Mom’s thing. I mean she is practically an expert when it comes to setting up stuff for helping others. Right, Mom?”

“Right.” Norah raised her eyes to Tom’s. “A regular wizard.”

“Well, I guess it beats wearing the turkey costume I’m sure my sisters have waiting for me back home at Mom’s,” he said.

“Don’t underestimate me,” Norah told him with a shy grin. “I’ve been known to come up with a turkey costume myself.”

Izzy threw her arms around Tom’s neck and squealed, “This is such a cool adventure we’re on.”

Norah saw Tom glance at her over the top of their daughter’s head as he said, “Yeah. Pretty cool.”

On Thanksgiving morning Norah opened her eyes and blinked several times as she tried to get her bearings. Airport. Denver. Vintage military cot where she had spent a good part of the night trying to remember this wasn’t even half the width of her bed at home. She grimaced as she stretched her back and legs.

“Coffee?”

Tom was standing beside her looking as if he’d just stepped out of a shower even though he was wearing the same clothes he’d worn the day before.

“Intravenously, if possible,” she muttered as she struggled to a sitting position with her back against the wall. “Where’s Izzy?”

“Out recruiting.” At Norah’s blank stare he added, “Counselors? For Camp Stuck-in-the-Snow?” Then he grinned and sat on Izzy’s abandoned cot. “You never were much of a morning person, were you?”

Norah chose to ignore that as she sipped her coffee. “So what are the chances we’re going to get out of here today?”

“Slim and none—take your pick. It snowed all night and hasn’t let up—twenty inches and counting. Last I heard this is just the front side of an entire line of storms.”

Norah groaned. “I need a shower and a toothbrush.”

“Can’t help with either of those. How about an after-dinner mint?” He produced a cellophane-wrapped red-and-white candy from his pocket.

“Thank you,” Norah said. As she sucked on the mint she studied him. “How come you look as if you just stepped out of GQ magazine or something?”

He ran one hand through his hair self-consciously. “I washed up a little.”

“Tom!” A woman at the door of the club waved to him. “We’re all set,” she said, rushing forward and handing him a yellow legal pad with a list of names and numbers. “Every gate area has a representative.”

Norah gave Tom a questioning look.

“I met with the airport manager,” he said. “They thought it might be helpful to see if we could have a volunteer communicator for each gate area. Kind of cuts down on everyone trying to gain information. Also cuts down on rumors that can cause panic.”

The woman had reached them now and Tom beamed at her as he took the notebook and scanned the list. “That’s great work, Patty. Oh, Patty Martin, this is my—this is Norah.”

Patty shook Norah’s hand. She was close to forty, but with a face and body and manner of moving that made her look at least a decade younger. Norah felt old and dowdy as she accepted the woman’s handshake.

“Now don’t forget you promised me a ride in that sports car of yours when we get back to the world,” she said turning her attention back to Tom.

The woman is flirting with my husband, Norah thought. She glanced at Tom and saw him watch the slim, fashionably dressed, perfectly made-up Patty stride back toward the door in her three-inch heels. And he’s enjoying it.

Not your husband, she reminded herself.

“You okay?”

Tom was looking at her curiously.

“Fine,” she replied tightly.

Tom sighed. “We have got to work on your vocabulary for social conversation, woman.”

Woman—“my woman” he’d called her back when they were first married. “I love you, woman”—he used to say.

“I have to—” She struggled awkwardly to her feet, untangling herself from the twisted airline blanket and ignoring Tom’s offered hand. She grabbed her purse and Izzy’s backpack, certain that Tom would never think to keep an eye on it. He was far too busy running things, not that he’d exactly leaped on board when she’d suggested they get organized. But now that perky Patty had appeared, well—Norah headed for the women’s restroom without finishing her thought.

“Hurry back,” Tom called. “The gate reps can help you organize the camp.”

Like I need help—is that what he thinks?

She was a mess. Her rumpled clothes screamed “slept in them” while her face was a road map of every one of her thirty-eight years. She was probably the same age as the ever-so-effervescent Patty—maybe even younger. She dug through her purse and found her hairbrush and attacked her hair with it. Then she paused and took a deep breath as she met her image in the mirror eye to eye.

Honestly, Norah Wallace, what kind of example is this to set for your daughter? There’s her father out there saving the world and looking great doing it. Pull yourself together, girl. If you think he’s falling into memory land with every word out of your mouth, think again. It’s been five years—he’s moved on and until you saw him yesterday—so had you.

Spotting Izzy’s backpack, Norah rummaged through the contents, selecting items from her daughter’s portable cosmetics counter and laying them out on the counter next to the sink. She opened the small tube of toothpaste that nestled with equally small bottles of lotion and foundation in the required plastic sandwich bag to get them past security. She squirted toothpaste onto her index finger and scrubbed her teeth. Next she smeared lotion on her face and wiped it clean with a tissue from the pack in her own purse.

Better already, she thought as she leaned toward the mirror.

This wasn’t about impressing Tom or anyone else, she told herself. This was about taking pride in her appearance and setting an example for her daughter. It was about Izzy. Ever since the divorce her entire focus had been Izzy’s upbringing and well-being. And just because Tom Wallace had suddenly reappeared in the flesh—in all his gorgeous, charming, glory-oozing memories she thought she had long ago laid to rest—there was no reason to start acting like a teenager with a crush.