96 Hours (20 page)

“Carefree?
Carefree?
Really? Is that what
you
are? All the traveling—which is really just running, let’s be honest here. Your disdain for staying in one place too long. You think that’s being carefree? Guess what, Abby: It’s not. The correct word for what you are is care-
less
. Oh, you play at being Little Miss Sunshine, Little Miss Friends with Everybody, but the truth is, when it comes right down to it, you don’t care about anybody but yourself.” She was horrified to feel tears well up in her eyes and all she wanted was escape. Her voice cracked as she grabbed her stuff and said, “You’re care-less.”

She was up the stairs in an instant and Abby was left standing alone in the middle of the basement bedroom, wondering what, exactly, had just happened. Worse, she couldn’t shake the image of Erica’s beautiful face crumpled in pain or the tears brimming in eyes that had held hers so tenderly less than two hours before.

Chapter 15

It had barely been four days. Barely ninety-six hours since their flights had been diverted and just under seven thousand people invaded the tiny town of Gander. Less than a full week. Not even an entire work week, and yet somehow many of the Plane People felt closer to those they’d met in Gander than they did to some of their own family. So many emotions swirled in the atmosphere that morning, but the most common was the difficult combination of excitement to be going home, and sadness over having to say farewell to people who had come to mean so much.

The Lions Club was abuzz with the energized chatter of those about to head home. As three buses pulled into the parking lot and prepared to take them to the airport, the sound got louder, climbing from a gentle chittering to a loud and steady hum. Children ran around like they were hopped up on sugar; parents looked exhausted and yet happy; the elderly looked somewhat haggard, but relieved. Most people had been presented with opportunities at some point during their stay to wash up or even to shower, but many still wore the clothes in which they landed. They looked like a culture of people who had yet to be introduced to an iron.

Residents of Gander other than the MacDougals were making the rounds from place to place, helping the Plane People gather their things, to make sure nobody forgot anything. Hugs were commonplace, as were tears.

“Please be sure to check on, under, and around your cots,” one tall man was saying loudly. “I know you didn’t arrive with much, but make sure you’re not leaving anything behind. I don’t think you’re going to want to come back any time soon.” Many snickered at the joke.

Erica didn’t have a lot to say. She was ecstatic to go home, was almost giddy knowing she’d be sleeping in her own bed that night. She wanted nothing more than to be smiling and celebrating with the other passengers on her flight, to show Abby that the previous night had meant as little to her as it had to Abby. Unfortunately, she was at a loss. Instead, she stood quietly and watched those around her, her laptop bag over one shoulder and a small, cheap tote bag she’d been given at the Lions Club that morning to carry the remaining items she’d purchased during her stay. She wore—once again—the work-out pants and T-shirt she’d bought at Walmart, and she suddenly felt so tired that, for the first time in years, she didn’t give a crap what anybody thought about her appearance. She just wanted this all to be over so she could try to shoehorn herself back into her life.

She had no idea how.

Michael and Brian stood to Erica’s right, talking animatedly with each other and with Abby, who was farthest to the right. Erica had purposely positioned herself as far away from Abby as possible, just as she had done in the car ride over and while they waited to board the bus. She didn’t want to be close to her, to hear her laughter or get caught in the steady gaze of those blue eyes. She certainly didn’t want to smell her, to have that unique combination of musk and baby powder assault her nostrils and remind her of the previous night.

Or that morning.

Erica closed her eyes and tried to force down the lump that had become ever-present in her throat.

When she opened them, Corinne and Tim MacDougal were standing in front of their foursome, their expressions both happy and sad at the same time. Erica was stunned to feel her own throat close up yet again and tears welled in her eyes.

Hands were shaken and slaps on the back occurred between the men as Corinne hugged Abby tightly and whispered something to her. Erica saw Abby’s throat work as she swallowed and a tear spilled over and down her cheek. There was a lot of noise in the building at that point and Erica read Abby’s lips rather than hear her thank Corinne. Before she could take in any more, she found herself engulfed in Tim’s arms. A quick squeeze and a whispered, “You take care of yourself, honey,” and he was gone, wiping at his eyes as he left. Erica smiled after him, hugely touched, and knew her own tears were about to escape her eyes and course down her cheeks.

Corinne stood in front of her.

The emotion that enveloped her astounded Erica. She was not an emotional person and had worked hard to keep it that way. But this woman who stood in front of her now represented everything Erica thought of as loving and right and kind and good in the world, and there was no way to remain unaffected by that. Her heart clenched as Corinne wrapped her up in a loving hug. Erica tried her best not to burst into sobs.

“Thank you, Corinne,” she whispered against an ear. “What you did for us, for all of us. You and Tim are incredible people. I can’t begin to thank you enough.”

“Nonsense,” Corinne said, her voice cracking. “We did what anybody would do.” She ended the hug and held Erica by her shoulders, fingers gripping tightly. She looked her directly in the eye. In a heated whisper, she ordered, “Don’t hold on so tight. Everything’s going to be fine, just trust in that. You don’t have to hold on so tight.” She hugged her again and then followed her husband’s path away.

Erica’s gaze followed her as she wondered about her words. When she looked at her three roommates, everybody’s face was wet and each of them looked just a little bit heartbroken.

“Aren’t we supposed to be happy to be on our way?” Brian asked in a surprisingly small voice. “To be going home?”

Michael, Erica, and Abby each nodded slowly, all eyes on Corinne as she walked away.

“Then why am I crushed?”

Nobody answered him because all felt the same way.

On the bus ride to the airport, Abby sat with Brian, a good half-dozen rows behind Erica and Michael. Erica had hung back, obviously trying to put as much distance between herself and Abby. She heaved out a breath and looked out the window at the Canadian landscape that zipped by.

“So, you want to talk about what happened?” Brian asked.

“What happened when?” Abby knew Brian wasn’t buying her playing dumb act, but she played it anyway.

“Between you and the hot redhead you were naked with this morning. You’re sitting a mile-and-a-half away from her now, just a couple hours later.”

“I don’t know what happened.” She felt Brian’s eyes on her and she tried to ignore them, but finally had to give in. When she faced him, his expression shouted “skeptical.” “What?” she asked, more heatedly than she’d intended.

“I can be a pretty gullible guy,” Brian told her. “I know this. And I believe a lot of stupid things. But you know something I don’t believe?”

Abby raised an eyebrow in expectation.

“I don’t believe that you don’t know what happened.”

Abby groaned like a teenager, annoyed to be read so easily.

“Come on,” Brian coaxed, wiggling his fingers in a give-it-to-me motion. “Tell Uncle Brian all about it.”

With a defeated sigh, Abby launched into the story. Her intention was to edit heavily, to censor the personal stuff, but Brian’s face was so open and his expression so concerned, she wished not for the first time that he was her big brother.

She told him everything.

From her meltdown in the shower to her post-coital blubbering in Erica’s arms and everything in between, astonishing even herself with her own honesty. She told him about the gentle look on Erica’s face, as well as the panic it instilled in her.

“So, you blew her off?” Brian asked, no accusation in his tone.

“I didn’t blow her off,” Abby responded testily. “I just, she took me by surprise. That’s all.”

“You know, I seem to recall you getting all kinds of self-righteous and giving me crap when I suggested you ‘tap that.’” He made air quotes. “You told me that was the big difference between men and women. So, looks like you’re one of us, baby. Congratulations.”

It sounded to Abby like he was only half-kidding and she wanted to defend herself, but any explanation died in her throat before it ever reached her lips.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked, quietly now. “She didn’t propose marriage, did she?”

“No.”

“Did she ask you to move to—where does she live, North Carolina? Did she ask you to move there?”

“No.”

“Then what? What scared you so much?”

So many thoughts swirled through Abby’s head in that moment that she had to blink rapidly to hold on to her equilibrium.
She looked me in the eye while we were in bed. She didn’t laugh at my tears. She took the brunt of my anger and never struck back at me. She held me when I fell apart. She made love to me.
There had been very few women in her life about which she could say any
one
of those things, let alone
all
of them.

That
was what scared her so much, but try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. Instead, she shrugged like she was fifteen again. “I don’t know.”

Brian’s quiet scoff told Abby he wasn’t buying it, but she just looked out the window.

Several rows up, Michael and Erica sat together amidst the hum of the rest of the excited passengers.

“You all right, love?” Michael asked, gently bumping Erica with his shoulder.

She offered him a half-grin. He’d found time to have the business suit he was wearing on Tuesday dry-cleaned and pressed, and he looked fresh and dapper. She felt a surge of affection for him and reached over to straighten his striped tie. “Yeah. I’m good. You?”

He seemed to think about that carefully, as if choosing and discarding various thoughts before settling on one in particular. “Do you feel different?”

Erica cocked her head to one side. “Different? What do you mean?”

“I mean do you feel that this whole experience has changed you? In some way?”

“Absolutely.” She was surprised she answered so honestly so fast, but it was true. “I don’t know how to describe it. I can’t define it. The only thing I know for sure is, something’s changed in me.”

Michael nodded. “That’s it exactly.”

They were quiet for the rest of the ride, each absorbing what the other had said, wishing they had something more concrete to illustrate what they were feeling, but at the same time, relieved that they weren’t the only one.

By the time the plane was full and everybody had taken their seats, things had quieted only slightly, going from an excited chatter to a gentler, calmer hum. Facial expressions were all over the place. Most passengers were ecstatically happy. Giddy even. Others were more serene, uncertain about what would happen next. And some faces were etched with worry and fear, wanting terribly to get to their destinations, but afraid of what might await them there.

The Bakers fell into that last category.

Abby knew there was nothing she could do or say to make them feel any better, but that didn’t stop her from trying.

She knelt backward in her seat, as she had on the flight in, and did her best to reassure and comfort the Bakers. As of their last conversation with their daughter—which took place just before they’d left the Lions Club—there was still no word on Tyson, and his parents looked crushed by their worry, as if it was a physical weight pushing down on their shoulders and stooping their spines. Other members of their family had been posting flyers with Tyson’s picture, asking for information from anybody who might have seen him. It was all they could do. Abby couldn’t begin to imagine what they were going through—the not knowing, the constant wondering. She patted Mrs. Baker’s hand like she was an elderly woman and made appropriate sounds—and felt unequivocally helpless.