96 Hours (16 page)

Erica pulled what she needed from the refrigerator, found the right pans, and got to work. It wasn’t long before the smell of bacon had Brian stumbling sleepily down the stairs. Michael followed close behind him.

“Oh, man, is there a better smell in the world?” he asked, filling two mugs with coffee and handing one over to Michael. “I think even a vegetarian must be able to appreciate the smell of bacon.”

“I am very fond of breakfast,” Michael said matter-of-factly.

“Me, too,” Erica agreed. “My favorite dinners with my parents were always when we had breakfast, usually on Friday nights. My mom would make French toast or omelets or pancakes.”

“I like that idea,” Brian said.

“You’ve never done that?”

“I don’t think so. But I’m going to institute it when I get back home.”

Erica grinned at him. “Yeah?”

“Breakfast for Dinner Fridays. A new tradition in the Caldwell household.”

“Traditions are good.”

“You’re invited over any time.”

“To Wisconsin?”

“Any time.”

Erica flipped the bacon, glanced at him. “It’s a haul from North Carolina, but you never know, I may take you up on that.”

“It’s a standing invitation.” He turned to Michael, who’d taken a seat at the small kitchen table. “For you, too, man.”

Michael smiled warmly. “Thank you.”

“Hey, where’s Abby?” He looked around as if she might be standing in the corner and he’d just missed her.

“I was wondering the same thing,” Erica said as she used tongs to remove the bacon from the pan and set it on paper towels to drain. “She must have gotten out of the bed pretty early, but I was sleeping hard and didn’t feel her leave.”

Brian shot a look to Michael, who pressed his lips together and looked away.

“But the coffee is still fairly fresh, so she couldn’t have left that long ago,” Erica continued, oblivious to the silent conversation going on between the two men behind her. She hadn’t actively searched for Abby because as she cooked, those fleeting images from earlier had begun to solidify in her head until she was reasonably sure they’d spent much of the night curled up into each other. She wasn’t sure what to do with that. Nor was she sure how to deal with the tiny ember of arousal that burned in the pit of her stomach when she thought about it.

Talking to Abby about it was probably the thing to do. It was also the thing that terrified her most at the moment. So she focused on breakfast.

“How do you guys like your eggs?”

About a half-hour later, the three of them were finishing up their breakfasts in the dining room when Abby came in through the back door. Erica looked up, surprised to see her, then immediately concerned about the pink around her eyes, the worry etched across her face.

“Hey, there you are,” Erica said, forcing a pleasant tone into her voice. “Are you okay?”

Abby visibly pulled herself together and held up her mug. “I’m on empty. And I couldn’t avoid the bacon any longer.”

“I saved you a couple of pieces.” Erica got up and took the mug. As she filled it, she asked softly, “How do you like your

eggs?”

Abby had intended to sneak downstairs and not bother the other three, but something in Erica’s blue eyes—something warm and surprisingly tender—kept her riveted to the kitchen floor, wouldn’t let her leave. A quick flash of being pressed against Erica’s back sent her body temperature through the roof.

“And don’t tell me you’re not hungry,” Erica gently scolded before Abby could protest breakfast.

“Over easy?” Abby said, not bothering to fight.

“You got it.” She handed the coffee to Abby and studied her for a moment. The usual cheerfulness, the perpetual exuberance was strangely subdued, making Erica squint in subtle confusion. Abby somehow managed not to jump in surprise when Erica reached out and stroked her cheek with a thumb. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Abby swallowed hard, willing her eyes not to drift shut at the touch. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just—” She tapped her temple with a finger. “Too much going on.”

Erica nodded and went to work on the eggs.

Abby wasn’t the only one somewhat subdued, Erica noticed as they sat down. Brian and Michael remained seated, so Abby didn’t have to eat alone, but nobody had much to say. The inconvenience of being stranded combined with the horror of what had happened in New York was starting to weigh on everybody. Erica found herself in the unfamiliar position of keeping the conversation going in a group. If her friends hadn’t looked so glum, she might have found amusement over the prospect.

Her
friends
—that’s how she thought of them. It was a foreign feeling to her. Not that she’d made friends, but that she’d made them in so short a time—less than three days, really. She felt an inexplicable, unbreakable bond with these three people—and the MacDougals as well—who had been strangers to her on Tuesday. Now here she was, on Friday of the same week, and she knew in her heart she’d do anything any one of them asked of her, no question.

The realization both warmed her insides and threw her off-balance.

“I was thinking of heading over to the Lions Club this morning, see if Corinne could use some help.” Erica looked around the table. “Anybody want to tag along?”

“I’m going to go for a run,” Michael said as he stood and took his dishes into the kitchen. “Thank you, though.”

“It’s time I sat down and watched the news,” Brian said soberly. “I’ve been trying to avoid it, but now I feel like, I feel like I need to see it. I need to see it all.” He didn’t look like it was something he
wanted
to do, but Erica didn’t try to talk him out of it. Maybe he was right. Maybe he needed to see it, though why, she had no idea.

Abby barely looked up from her plate on which she’d been mostly pushing her eggs around. “I’m—no. Thanks, but no. I’ll stay here.”

Chapter 12

The Plane People had been understandably restless since shortly after their flights were diverted on Tuesday, but by Friday they were starting to go stir-crazy. Tempers were short. Close quarters had become unbearably close. The news reports had more and more detail to share, which made emotions run high. Despite the best efforts and endless generosity of the residents of Gander, most people wanted nothing more than to go home.

Erica could feel the change in the atmosphere the second she stepped into the Lions Club. The air felt thick with stress, like she could reach out and touch it, examine it from various angles. A small boy—not more than four years old—ran past her as fast as his legs would carry him. His mother trailed after him, not even close to catching him, looking exhausted. Erica wondered how many times they’d played this game and exactly how long ago Mom had had enough.

Corinne spotted her first, gave a genuine smile, and waved her over. She had to be just as wiped out—if not more so—as everybody there, but she looked unflappable, fresh and cheerful, as if there was no place in the world she’d rather be. She rubbed Erica’s arm affectionately.

“Hello there, stranger. How are you today?” Her voice was slightly hoarse.

“I’m good,” Erica replied. “How are you? You sound like you’re coming down with something.”

Corinne waved her off. “Oh, no. I’m fine. How are your cohorts?”

Erica thought back to her fellow houseguests, the tired, unanimated expressions on their faces when she left. “Good. Everybody’s pooped, I think.” She shrugged and held her hands out to her sides in presentation. “You’ve got me. What can I do?”

For the next several hours, Erica stopped thinking and did whatever Corinne needed. She gathered dirty towels from the bathroom and set them aside to be picked up and laundered. She wandered the room full of Plane People with a wicker basket of snack-sized bags—potato chips, pretzels, Doritos, cookies—to see if anybody was hungry. She ran a dust mop over the floor of the lobby area. She counted various toiletry items for Corinne’s inventory sheet, so they knew what more to order.

It felt good. And Erica was surprised by that. She felt like she was contributing, like she was helping the situation run more smoothly. Volunteering was new to her; she’d never done it before and she liked it. She was almost embarrassed to realize she was proud of herself.

A middle-aged woman with small, birdlike features approached the food table and perused her choices. Catching Corinne’s eye, she asked, “Is it true? About the Lufthansa flight? Did they get to go home?”

Erica’s ears perked up. Home? Somebody was going home? Was it finally happening?

“That flight went back to Germany, I believe,” Corinne said, furrowing her brow.

“So, they’re clearing flights?”

“I don’t know, dear. I honestly don’t. But Carl Sullivan will be here shortly and he might have information. I’ll be sure to ask him.”

The woman nodded, then hovered, wanting to be sure that was all the detail she’d get. Once she left, Erica caught Corinne’s eye.

“That flight went back to Germany,” Corinne said in a low voice. “But they were telling people they were going to Dallas. I think they just wanted to get everybody back on the plane. From what I understand, there were seven Americans who refused to get on the plane after being lied to about the destination.”

“I don’t blame them,” Erica said.

“Neither do I. But now they have to find their own way home.”

“Well, that sucks.”

Corinne barked a laugh at Erica’s matter-of-fact tone. “It does, doesn’t it? As if they weren’t dealing with enough stress already. Now they have to try to rent a car or something? There aren’t any.” She shook her head and tsk’d.

Erica remembered hearing that people from the first couple of flights that deplaned on Tuesday, mostly business folk who were well-schooled in such things, had made a run on Gander’s rental car places and every last vehicle had been taken, leaving the rest of the passengers at the mercy of the airlines.

“Do you think they’ll start clearing flights soon?” she asked Corinne.

“I don’t know. From what I’ve heard, American airspace is still closed. The flights that have been cleared are heading back to Europe.”

Erica nodded and managed to stifle a sigh. She envied the people headed back to Europe, if for no other reason than they were moving, they were no longer stranded, stuck in limbo.

As if reading her thoughts, Corinne touched her shoulder warmly. “Don’t worry. It won’t be long.” Her kind eyes were soft and Erica immediately felt guilty.

“Not that Gander hasn’t been wonderful,” she said, trying to clarify.

“There’s no place like home. I understand that, believe me.”

“That’s the truth.” Although when Erica’s mind thought of home, it went to Illinois, to her parents’ house, to the feed store, not to her apartment in North Carolina, not to her office.
Weird.

Tucking her hands against her hips, Erica looked around, wondering what she could do next. Noticing her scanning the area, Corinne gave her a gentle push. “Sweetie, go outside and get some air. It’s a beautiful day out and you’ve been a huge help to me. Go enjoy a little sunshine. Might not be here long, you know.”

Erica was no stranger to the fickleness of autumn in the north. Growing up in Illinois, she’d seen her share of strange weather, of freak storms, of what seemed like weeks of no sun. She took Corinne up on her offer and headed outside.

The air was cooler than it had been, but it felt good on Erica’s skin. Even a refrigerator would end up feeling stuffy and hot if there were 200-plus people wandering around in it for four days. She inhaled deeply, tasting the ocean’s salt on the gentle breeze.

People were milling around, wandering like souls with no direction. Three people sat on a curb while their children chased each other in some toddler version of tag. To Erica’s left, two women were chatting while one took a cigarette break.

“Cutest damn thing,” the blond nonsmoker said. “Cocker spaniel puppy. Can’t be more than five or six months old. All ears. Ralph. Is that the cutest name you’ve ever heard for a puppy? My god, I just want to eat him up.”

“What happened?” the smoker asked.

“I was looking in on him just after lunch yesterday and he just didn’t seem right, you know? He was kind of listless. He wouldn’t eat. His back end seemed a little tender. The poor thing. I got worried. I mean, how do you tell one of the Plane People, ‘Gee, sorry you were stranded here for days on end, and by the way, your dog’s dead?’ I was really worried. So I called Doc Gallagher to come take a look.”

“Oh, he’s so nice. My Duke just loves going to vet appointments with him.” Smoker took a long drag of her cigarette, released the smoke. Erica wrinkled her nose. “What’d he say?”

“Well, he came right out to the hangar and he looked Ralph all over. He said nothing seemed wrong, but he wanted to run some tests, just to be sure, because something didn’t seem right.”

“He ran tests right there?”

“Nope.”

“But the animals aren’t supposed to leave the hangar, are they?”

“Nope.” At this, Blondie gave a conspiratorial smirk. “He snuck him out in a duffel bag!”

Erica knew all the animals from the planes were being housed in one of the hangars at the airport in a sort of quarantine. She couldn’t imagine how hard it would be not to be able to have her dog with her during this time, but precautions had to be taken when it came to plants and animals entering from another country.

“He ran a bunch of tests,” Blondie went on. “And couldn’t find anything wrong with him. While he was gone, I asked around, asked all the other volunteers if they’d noticed anything strange about Ralph and you know what I found out?”

“Tell me!” Smoker was hanging on every word, as was Erica.
What’s wrong with Ralph?!
her mind shrieked.

“Not only was the daytime crew of volunteers taking him out of his crate and playing with him, so was the
nighttime
crew! The poor little guy was
totally exhausted!”

“Oh, my god. You’re kidding.”

“Swear,” Blondie said, crossing her heart. “When Doc Gallagher snuck him back in, we both had a good laugh. And then I put poor Ralphie right into his crate with a clean, warm blanket and I made signs to hang around the area.
Please do not wake Ralph up to play with him. He’s a growing boy who needs his sleep.”