96 Hours (21 page)

Jeffrey the flight attendant clicked on the PA. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. We’re happy to report we’ll be on our way shortly, so if you all would take your seats and fasten your seat belts, we’d appreciate it.” Excitement colored his voice and only then did it occur to Abby that the flight crews—all thirty-nine of them—had been stranded just like the rest of them.

As she gave Mrs. Baker’s shoulder a final squeeze and shifted her position in her seat, Abby was caught by icy blue eyes. Erica held her gaze and didn’t look away and Abby had a sizzling flash of that same gaze holding hers as long fingers filled her, stroked in and out, coaxed her into oblivion. She swallowed down the lump in her throat and gave what she hoped was a small smile, then sat forward and fastened her seat belt with trembling hands while releasing an unsteady breath.

Half a dozen rows up, she could see Brian and Michael sitting directly across the aisle from each other. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she wondered how they were feeling at that moment, what they were thinking. Did Michael have his mind back on work already? Did he feel like he’d fallen behind by losing four weekdays? Did Brian even want to go home? Was he ready to return to his life as a newly divorced man?

Abby had been too wrapped up in her own shit with Erica to bother asking.

You’re careless.

Erica’s words bit at her.

You don’t care about anybody but yourself.

Was she right?

Abby spent the rest of the flight trying
not
to focus on that question. After all, it wasn’t true. She wasn’t selfish. She was a good person. Brian had asked what she was afraid of. Abby scoffed, causing the gentleman next to her to look up from his Tom Clancy novel with expectantly raised brows.

“I’m not
afraid
of anything,” she said to him, determined.

“Oh. Um, okay. Great. Good for you.” He went back to his book.

The slightly balding man in the window seat whom Erica had dubbed the Snoring Man had a real name: Bob. Erica found, much to her surprise, that talking to him wasn’t something she wanted to avoid. On the contrary, she introduced herself and started up a conversation.

“Can you believe we’re finally going home?” she asked him as they taxied down the runway. “I was beginning to wonder if we’d be stranded here forever to wear the same three outfits over and over until the end of time.”

Bob chuckled. “I almost crapped myself when they said we couldn’t have our baggage. I’ve got blood pressure meds and my shaving stuff and half my life in that suitcase.”

Takeoff was smooth and both of them gazed wistfully out the window as Gander and Canada receded.

“Such an amazing place,” Bob said quietly, almost to himself. “I still can’t believe it.”

“I know what you mean.”

He turned to her and his eyes were intense. “Seriously. I can’t believe it. The pharmacy got me my meds free of charge. And then the cashier invited me and the five people in line behind me to her house for showers and dinner. We ended up crashing all over her furniture for three nights. She wouldn’t let us do a thing and she fed us like royalty.”

Erica told him about the MacDougals and how incredible they’d been, how well they’d taken care of the four of them. “I don’t even know when they slept,” she said, her voice filled with awe.

“I’ve heard a lot of stories like this,” Bob told her.

“The people we stayed with lent us their car.”

“How crazy is that?” Bob asked with a laugh. He shook his head, bewildered, and rubbed at his ear. “I like to think I’d have been as generous if the roles were reversed, but I’m not sure. And I’m embarrassed to say that.”

“I know exactly what you mean. I’ve been—I don’t know what the right word is—touched? softened? changed?—by this whole thing. It’s been one of the most bizarre experiences of my life.”

“In a good way?”

“In a good way. Despite what happened at home, yes, in a very good way.”

“For me, too. I don’t think I’m the same person anymore.”

They smiled at each other, sharing something indefinable. Bob didn’t think he was the same person anymore. That was as good a definition as any that Erica had tried to come up with. Abby’s words came back to her.

You’re so—-forgive the word, but—you’re a little uptight. A little rigid. Everything in its place and all that. But last night, you went for it. You lived in the moment and experienced life. You were carefree. I bet it felt good.

At the time, those words had stung in a nasty, painful way; but weren’t they true? Hadn’t Abby simply been stating facts? Erica
had
gone for it. She
had
lived in the moment. And it
had
felt good.

Erica wondered if others on the plane were feeling similar emotions. As she looked around, she could swear the atmosphere felt different somehow. Charged. True, most people were almost visibly vibrating with the anticipation of finally being on their way, but there was something else. She suspected she might never be able to put a finger on it, to define it in some tangible way; but to break it down into its simplest form, she liked the way she felt.

She
liked
the way she felt.

She hadn’t thought such a thing in a long, long time.

Chapter 16

Erica had lost track of time. She had no idea how long the flight was. Which time zone she was in was a mystery to her. What she did know was that Bob was a widow who was on his way back from visiting his first grandchild, a boy named Cameron, who was born a month before. His daughter and son-in-law lived in London and Bob puffed up like a peacock when he talked about his grandson. He had his camera with him and showed pictures of a tiny little infant with a shock of black hair. Erica was engrossed, ooo-ing and ahh-ing over the itty-bitty fingers and toes.

To Erica’s right sat Joan and Sylvia, two sisters in their sixties who’d taken a vacation to Ireland, something they’d been planning for over a decade. They laughed and blushed and regaled Erica and Bob with stories of all the shopping they’d done (having to purchase an extra suitcase in order to fly their purchases home) and the many pubs they’d visited.

It eventually occurred to Erica that her behavior on the plane ride to New York was the complete opposite of how it would have been just five days ago. She absently wondered if she should start labeling her life in terms of B.G. and A.G.—before and after Gander. B.G., she would have kept to herself on the plane. She would have made it very clear to those around her that she was not interested in conversation, that she did not care where anybody else was going, and that she had no intention of sharing where she was going. Headphones were very good for making this point and she vaguely remembered that she had a small set in her laptop case, but made no move to get them. Now there was nothing she wanted to do more than converse with the people around her, listen to their stories, and ask them questions. She shook her head in wonder. A.G. life was bizarre.

When the landing gear of the plane hit the pavement, bounced once, then settled into a loud, speeding roll, the entire crowd in the plane cheered. While nobody wanted to think about what had happened here—and while many of them were about to experience the aftermath—there was something about being on American soil, something about being on the soil of New York that had the passengers swelling with pride. Erica’s eyes filled and when she glanced at Bob, his were wet as well. They both gave embarrassed chuckles.

“We’re home,” he said softly.

“Thank god,” Erica replied, and sniffed.

Deplaning was more difficult than most people expected and it crossed Erica’s mind that such might be the case on every plane that had been stranded in Gander. Each flight’s passengers had been accommodated together in Canada (at first, at least), so each manifest contained a list of people who were bonded, tied together forever by the people of a generous town. E-mail addresses were exchanged. Phone numbers were recited and written down. Street addresses were given. Though anxious to be on their way, few found it easy to get off the plane and go.

They lingered in their seats, in the aisle. They meandered down the walkways and loitered around the gate. They moseyed through Customs. They dawdled at the baggage claim even though many of them had connecting flights or no baggage to grab. Erica exchanged e-mail addresses with Bob and promised to keep an eye out for more pictures of Cameron. Joan and Sylvia vowed to send her the names of the best Irish whiskey they’d had so she could pass the name on to her friend at work, who loved any and all whiskey. She hugged all three of them tightly and promises to keep in touch were spoken one last time.

The tug at her heart surprised her as she watched them walk off in different directions.

When she turned back to the crowd, she looked right into Brian’s sparkling green eyes. Michael and Abby stood nearby.

“You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?” he asked with a wink.

“Of course not,” she said truthfully.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’d like contact information for all three of you,” Michael said, pulling a small notebook from the inside pocket of his suit coat. “I feel like you’re all part of my family now.” He shrugged as if saying he had no explanation for it, it just was.

Abby reached into her backpack. “I’ve got some paper, too.” She looked tired, Erica thought, but her eyes were still beautiful and her skin was still creamy and her disheveled dark hair only made Erica want to reach out and brush it back. She let out a quiet breath instead.

Information all exchanged, the four of them stood looking from one face to another, nobody wanting to be the first to leave. After a few moments, they all laughed and Brian spoke up.

“I have a connecting flight to catch, as do you two, I think.” He nodded at Erica and Michael. “And I’ve had more than enough good-bye in my life recently, so I’m not going to say it to you guys. Instead—” His voice cracked and he glanced down at his shoes as his eyes welled, then his cheeks flushed. “Jesus, look at me.” Erica touched his shoulder as Abby rubbed the opposite arm. He steadied himself. “Instead, I’m going to say thank you for keeping me sane over the past four days. I’m going to say that I love you all, and I’m going to say I’ll catch you later.”

He reached a hand out to Michael, who took it and pulled him into a heartfelt hug.

“Take care, man,” Brian said, his voice muffled against Michael’s shoulder.

“You, too.”

Erica was next. She tried to keep herself together, but then wondered why. A single tear spilled over and down her cheek. “You take care of yourself, gorgeous,” he ordered her.

“You do the same,” she said back, her throat threatening to close on her.

He didn’t even look at Abby; he simply turned and she was in his arms. Erica watched as they held each other, whispering, squeezing. When they parted, Brian sniffled, shifted his bag on his shoulder, and gave them one last smile.

“Catch you later.”

They watched him disappear into the crowd.

“I can tell you for certain that I won’t last if we drag this out,” Michael said with a self-deprecating grin. He reached out for them and pulled them both into a group hug. “It was my honor to spend time with you two wonderful women. Please be good to yourselves and to each other. And if you’re ever in London again—or Dallas, for that matter—you’ve got a place to stay and a friend with whom to dine. All right?”

Both women nodded against him, neither trusting themselves to speak, neither able to stop the free flow of tears now.

When they parted, his eyes were wet, too. He pushed a strand of Abby’s hair behind her ear, then reached to stroke a tear from Erica’s face with his thumb, as if he was comforting his daughters.

“Keep in touch.”

Erica and Abby stood shoulder to shoulder as he walked away. Similar scenes were occurring all over the airport. The two of them looked around, seeing people hugging, crying, scribbling notes. Their gazes eventually met and held for long moments.

“And then there were two,” Abby said. When Erica didn’t reply, she began, “Erica, listen—”

“No. It’s okay.” Erica cut her off with an upheld hand. She’d rehearsed this in her head during the bus ride and again on the plane and during those rehearsals, she’d realized something that surprised her: it was true. “Look, you don’t owe me anything. I don’t owe you anything. The circumstances were certainly extenuating.” She said the last line with a gentle laugh. “And we both enjoyed ourselves. You’re right. It doesn’t have to be more than that.”

Abby blinked at her as if wondering when Erica had been body-snatched and replaced with a look-alike. Before she could say anything else at all, she was engulfed in Erica’s arms.

They stood like that for what felt like hours, holding tightly to each other, each of them knowing that what they’d experienced together went beyond even the bond that most of the Plane People felt with each other, and they didn’t want to let go. But Erica had a connection to make and Abby needed to grab her bag and find her mother, so they eventually managed to separate.