Eye Of The Storm - DK3 (27 page)

“Right,” Dar agreed. “Let’s go.” She glanced behind her. “What about…”

“Rain check.”

“Right,” Dar considered. “Men’s extra large, he likes blue.”

“Right,” Kerry agreed, making a note on her palm pilot. “See you there.” She patted Andrew’s arm and trotted off.

Finally regaining a little equilibrium, Dar’s father stared bemusedly after her. “You two always just take over stuff?”

“The occasional multi-billion dollar company, sure,” Dar replied.

“C’mon. We haven’t got that much time.”

“Good.” He sighed. “Less time for me to chuck up my guts with.”

Dar got in and started the engine, then shifted the Lexus into gear.

She spared a glance sideways, catching the reflection of her father’s face in the passenger side window, where silent tears made glittering tracks from scared, haunted eyes.

FOR A LONG while, she merely sat there, curled up on the couch, the phone cradled against her chest. Every so often she would press the caller ID button, watching the familiar name blink at her, just to prove it had really happened.

D Roberts. 305 930 1101

She traced the letters and numbers with a trembling fingertip. It was like being inside a dream, really. She didn’t feel like moving, or thinking.

She just wanted to savor the simple pleasure of lying here outside the cloud of despair that had cloaked her for so very long. It hadn’t really sunk in yet. Not really. She was just caught between a wild hysteria and a need to hold this feeling to her and breathe in its rare and special fragrance.

Andy. Her lips shaped the name, for so long banned from her speech. She curled around the phone again and started crying helplessly.

She had no idea how long she laid there, before the phone sent shocks through her as it rang softly again.

Cecilia’s eyes went anxiously to the display, not wanting it to change.

And, as though obedient to her heart, it didn’t.

She pressed the button. “He-hello?” Greedily, she wanted to hear him again.

“Cec?”

“Yes.”

It was noisy, where he was. “’Bout to get on an airplane. I—”

She started counting the hours. “Which one?” She was aware, sud-Eye of the Storm 145

denly, of Dar’s voice in the background and a warmer, lighter, tone answering. “I’ll meet you.”

There was a rustling of papers. “All right. Won’t be there till damn near midnight.”

“I don’t care.”

“Ceci. I…something I need to tell you…I’m not—”

“Andy.”

He stopped speaking.

“Whatever it is can wait.” Cecilia wished she could simply crawl through the phone, and out the other end. “I just want you here.”

“I want to be there.” His voice was rough and strained. “I gotta go on.”

A fumbling sound and soft, muffled voices. Cecilia simply closed her eyes and waited. Then a lighter, richer tone came down the line.

“Mother?”

She had to breathe a few times before she could answer. “Yes.”

“I have his flight number. If you…”

Oh, Of course.
“He’s really there?”

Dar got very quiet. “He’s really here.”

The hot tears spilled over her eyes again and she stifled a sob. “What flight?”

“Continental…1822,” Dar murmured. “Mother, he’s had a tough time. He got messed up pretty badly. There’re a lot of scars.”

She had to run that through her wildly scattered mind a few times before she understood what her daughter was saying. “You think I care what he looks like?” she gasped.

“No,” Dar’s voice came back, warm and positive, “but I think he does.”

“Oh.” Cecilia moaned. “No…no…I just want him here.” She started crying again.

“I know.” Dar sighed audibly. “Plane just pushed back from the gate.” She paused. “If you need anything, let us know.”

Ceci quieted a bit. “All right.” She closed her eyes for a long moment, tasting the bittersweet irony. “Thank you, Dar.”

There was a very lengthy silence. “You’re welcome.” The words finally came back to her, low and subdued.

Dar slowly closed the phone and leaned her head against the cold glass, staring out into the darkness at the retreating running lights of a Boeing 757.

Kerry leaned next to her, the blonde woman’s sigh fogging the glass lightly. “Boy. What a night.” She turned and regarded her lover. “Are you okay?”

“Still in shock, I think,” Dar murmured. “I can’t believe what just happened.”

Kerry rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn. “I think your dad’s in total shock. I put a blanket around him on the plane and told the steward to keep an eye on him.” She smiled up at Dar. “I’m so glad for them, 146
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though.”

“Yeah.” Dar watched the plane disappear with a faintly wistful look.

“Wish we could be there to see them get together.” Kerry sighed. “It makes me feel great thinking about Dad being happy.”

Dar watched the tears well up in Kerry’s eyes, to be quickly brushed away, and she reached out to capture one of the blonde woman’s hands.

“You know he really likes you.”

Kerry didn’t answer, visibly holding back her emotions. Finally she cleared her throat. “You and he have taught me so much...” She had to stop, putting a hand to her mouth, then went on. “About what love is.”

Dar stepped closer and pulled Kerry’s head into her shoulder, sliding an arm around her back. “We taught
you
that?” she whispered in an amazed tone, as she stroked the soft hair. “C’mon. Let’s go home.” They started side by side down the long, almost empty concourse.

Outside, a rumble of man made thunder rolled overhead as a plane shot skyward, heading north.

HE WAS TWENTY minutes into the flight before he remembered, way too late, that he hated flying. He clutched the soft, blue blanket around his shoulders and slowly turned his head, regarding his surroundings with some surprise.

“Sir, can I get you something to drink?” The steward smiled kindly at him across the empty first class seat next to him.

“You got any warm milk?” he muttered, surprised at how cold it was in the plane.

“Sure.” The steward disappeared

Andrew peered out of the window at the darkness, then let his head fall back against the leather seat. Least there was room up here. He stretched his long legs out towards the bulkhead and tried not to think about exactly what he was doing.

“Here you go.” The steward put a napkin down at his elbow, and settled a steaming cup into the holder between the seats. “We’re working on a little snack right now. It’ll be out shortly.”

“Mhm.” Andrew decided on a grunt, as he picked up the cup and sucked gingerly at the warm milk. Tucked under his knees he could feel the soft warmth of the leather bag Kerry had given him, full of God only knew what stuff the sweet little kid had picked out.

Frankly, he was scared to look.

Andrew sighed.
Hell.
He was scared, period. But like in battle, now that he was committed to the action at hand, the fear was fading, replaced by an odd mix of fatalistic acceptance and anticipation.

After all this time, in less than three hours he’d walk off this damn plane, and she’d be there. She might not like what she found, but she’d be there, and he’d get to see her and…

He sipped at his milk shakily. The voice on that phone haunted him.

Hadn’t known whether to spank his kid, or kiss her for that. Andrew
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found a tiny smile somewhere. Based on Dar’s expression when she’d come outside, she hadn’t known either.
Well, better to act now, and apologize later, wasn’t that what I taught her? Got that whacked up side your head
this time, boy.

Maybe it’d been the right thing. Hell, maybe that’s what he’d been hoping for when he went looking for his kid, trusting her judgement more than his own.

And wouldn’t it just kick her butt to know that?

“Sir, if you’d let me put this down for you?” The steward held out a piece of linen, and a tray.

Chow was not an option. Andrew started to protest, then just pulled the arm tray out, figuring it was better to let the damn thing go. He could ignore it until they got the picture and—

The smell of warm chocolate hit him.

He blinked. “What is that?”

“It’s a warm brownie, with some vanilla ice cream, and hot fudge drizzled over it,” the steward responded efficiently. “Here’s your silverware. If you need anything, give me a buzz.”

“This what you people consider a snack?” he rasped.

The man smiled. “No, sir. But it was requested by the young lady who came down the jetway with you.” He glanced over his shoulder.

“Everyone else is getting pasta salad.”

Why that little green eyed son of a biscuit.
“Thanks.” He locked his jaw as that tiny, offhand but so characteristic bit of kindness caught him by surprise, and started him off again. He picked up his spoon and tasted a bit of the fudge, then rubbed his eyes.

Damn kids.

THE PHONE RANG, just as she was about to leave. Cecilia hesitated, then picked it up, checking the number and frowning. “Yes?”

“Ceci. Hello. How are you darling?” Elli’s voice sounded cheerful and pleasant as usual. “Don’t forget our card game tonight, hmm?”

Ceci looked at her watch. “I won’t be there,” she replied quietly.

“I’ve got something I need to do.”

“What? But darling you promised. When did this come up? We spoke yesterday.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” She paused. “I got a call earlier. It’s just something I have to take care of.”

“But—”

“Elli, goodbye.” Cecilia put the phone down and picked up her keys.

She smoothed the soft, blue fabric of her shirt down and gazed at herself in the mirror before she closed her eyes and went into the dark that brought exciting scents of night blooming flowers to her as she moved through the heavy air.

Strange. She’d never noticed them before.

The drive to the airport was a dream, of oncoming headlights and 148
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street lamps, until she reached the parking lot and got out, her legs already shivering and weak.

She closed the door and leaned against it, waiting for her heart to settle. Then she straightened and went to the terminal. It was quiet inside, only a few flights still waiting to come in, and most of the shops and stands were closed.

Cecilia got herself a bottle of ice tea from the one snack shop open, found the gate, and settled into a chair right next to the window. Outside, she could see a long expanse of mostly deserted tarmac, only the occasional working truck speeding past, its lights blinking as it made its way around the landing areas.

After a minute, she got up, and went to the desk. “Excuse me.”

The clerk looked up. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Is this flight coming in on time?”

The clerk smiled. “Yes, ma’am. It’s ten minutes early, as a matter of fact.”

Ceci took in a breath, and released it. “I’m waiting for someone.

Could you possibly tell me if…if they’re on the plane?”

The clerk glanced around. “Ma’am, we’re not really supp—”

“It’s my husband.”

The terminal was almost empty. “Sure.” The clerk looked around again. “What’s his name?”

Her tongue felt numb. “Roberts.” She managed to force the sound out. “Andrew Roberts.”

A clattering of keystrokes, and the clerk scanned the monitor, the greenish reflection showing against his glasses. Then he smiled. “Yes, ma’am. He’s there. Seat 2A.”

Ceci held on to the counter, afraid she’d fall if she let go. “Thank you.” She waited a moment, then walked back to her seat, sank down into it, and leaned her head against the window. Her eyes focused on a spot nearby, where the nose of an airplane would surely soon come.

The only thing left to do now was wait.

HIS EARS POPPED. Andrew tore his eyes away from the passing clouds, outlined eerily against the running lights of the plane, and swallowed, recognizing the descent. Sure enough, a few minutes later the fasten seat belts light went on, and his breathing increased.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve begun our initial decent into the greater New Haven area. We estimate being on the ground in about fifteen minutes or so and another ten minutes for taxiing, so that puts us at the gate about ten minutes early. Please fasten your seat belts and enjoy the rest of your flight.”

Twenty-five minutes. Andrew closed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest.
All these damn years, and it comes down to twenty-five damn
minutes.
He fastened his safety belt, and tried to take deep breaths—hard when his guts were tensing up as though he were thinking of jumping out
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the damn plane before it landed.

He thought it would last forever, but before he realized it, the loud grinding noise of the gear being lowered sent shivers through him, and he looked outside to see the lights of the city flashing by past the plane’s long wings.

A thump, then the engines reversed, whirling up to full speed in order to slow the big plane down. Andrew stared out the window, finding the terminal lights and fastening on them.

It took minutes of a slightly bouncy motion, then the plane turned its nose towards the welcoming bays of the terminal, and selected one, where dark figures stood, guiding it in with fluorescent wands.

And then the plane stopped.

Andrew unhooked his belt, reached between his knees, and pulled the soft leather bag up and into his lap. He waited a bit for his heart to stop racing, but it didn’t, so he pushed to his feet and held onto the seat back, hoping his knees wouldn’t give way and send him sprawling over the carpet.

He went on automatic then, as the airplane door opened inward, allowing a gust of damp, musty smelling air to enter. The steward gave him a smile as he walked past, turned the corner and headed up the jetway, his heartbeat pounding so hard he couldn’t even hear the conversations around him.

He could see the terminal ahead, through the door.

Just a few steps away.

CECI STOOD, AS the plane bounced to a halt and the jetway extended, cupping its end around the doorway of the craft. She pressed her hands against the window and watched the airport staff get ready, then the aircraft door opened. She could see only a small square of light there, but her eyes never left that, as first uniformed bodies passed.