Miss Impractical Pants (13 page)

Heather released the suitcase and flung her arms around Katie’s neck. “Remember, you promised to call me once a week. And send me lots of pictures. I want visuals of everything and everyone in your new life.”

“I will,” Katie sniffed. Whispering into Heather’s hair, she added, “And you’ll look after Mr. Scott? Make sure he gets out of the house?”

“You can count on it. Now that you’re leaving, he’s the best friend I have here.”

“All right, you two,
this lass
has a plane to catch,” Mr. Scott impatiently broke in. “Lottie will ring my ever-lovin’ neck if you’re not on that airplane.”

Katie sniffed again and wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “Mr. Scott, do you think you could come and visit?”

“Bless me child! I don’t believe so. And it’s
Avery,
for the last time. No, pet, me home is here now and I don’t much think I’ll be
leavin’ it before I die.” His eyes spoke a deep sadness that pained Katie to see.

“Mr. Sco—Avery, you’re always giving me advice. Now it’s my turn to leave you with some: Home, if not left from time to time, can become a cage.” She held a staid expression, hoping to adopt a wise, Confucius-like manner.

A flicker of a smile flashed across his face as he contemplated her words, but there was no amusement in his tone. “That is very sage advice indeed. I will mull it over in me head.”

“Please do. I’m wiser than you give me credit.”

“Don’t I know it,” he chuckled. “Now, Little Miss Tardy, you’ve no time for dillyin’ about. You remember your instructions for when you get to London?”

Katie nodded.

“Good. I wrote them down for you as well.” He handed her a folded piece of stationery. “I couldn’t decide if you’d be more likely to forget them or lose them.”

She tried to look offended.

“Now don’t you go scowlin’ at me,
pet.
You’re as clever as I’ve ever met, but you’re also…what’s the word?
Aye…a
dingbat.
You’re as dingbatty as they come.”

She giggled at his description of her. “Thank you Avery...for everything. I’m going to miss you, you ornery old coot.” She gave him a hug that nearly knocked him off his feet, and took in his faint scent of aftershave and books one last time. He returned her embrace and wiped a rogue tear away before sending her off.

“Be careful, lass. I’ll phone me sister and let her know that I’ve sent you off. Someone will be at the airport to meet you!” he
called out as he and Heather watched Katie make her way through security.

And just like that, she was gone.

Katie spun a couple times trying to steady herself after being jostled off-balance by a mob of restless travelers. She didn’t mind. She actually enjoyed the frantic pace of the Gatwick Airport. Her heart had felt leaden when she boarded the plane in Colorado, but now, in London, it skipped with anticipation.

Her first matter of business was to fit herself and all her luggage into the cramped toilet stall. It was an arduous chore that required gymnastic maneuvering to get properly straddled over the toilet seat, but she eventually managed. Just as she was about to relax and let nature take its course, her cell phone rang. She considered letting the call go to voicemail, but she worried it might be Mr. Scott calling with a change of plans. She dug through her backpack, sitting thankfully at squat level atop her suitcases, and located her phone.

“Hello?”

“It’s Jared. We need to talk.” An almost desperate plea lurked within the command.

“Um…can I call you back?” She clenched tightly against her body’s urge to start peeing. “This really isn’t the best time.”

“No, Katie, we need to talk now. I can’t stand the way we’ve left things—I love you.”

Katie stopped breathing.

He continued without her reply. “I’m sorry if I was short with you, I really am, but after only one fight, you can’t turn your back on what we had—have.”

She focused on the sounds of flushing, flatulence, and peeing ricocheting down both corridors of the busy bathroom, which were much more welcome to her than Jared’s pronouncement.

“Katie, did you hear me? I love you,” he repeated. “Please tell me this isn’t over.”

Something about his pathetic plea, his exposed vulnerability, caused her gut to wrench. His proud, SWAT man dignity was hanging by a thread—and she felt compelled to save it.

“No, Jared, this doesn’t have to be over. How about when I get back, we take our trip to Thailand and just see how things go?”

He must have been holding his breath because his response rode in on a rush of air. “So you’ll still be my girlfriend?”

She let a moment of silence pass. She’d commit to just about anything to not be squished in this uncomfortable position any longer, having this uncomfortable conversation.

“Yes, Jared, I’ll still be your girlfriend.” She sounded more like an impatient mother than a girlfriend, but Jared didn’t seem to notice.

***

Katie’s right calf ached from the incessant tapping of her foot. She’d been waiting in the designated meeting spot for more than an hour with nothing to do but consider how she was goaded into committing herself to Jared.
New rule of thumb: Never make a promise with your pants down.
When she couldn’t bear to rehash the degrading scene one more time, she picked up her cell phone and dialed Mr. Scott.

“Hi, Mr. Sco—Avery,” she corrected in response to the billy goat rumble at the back of his throat. “This is Katie. You know, Katie
of the United Kingdom,” she chirped, overcompensating for her grumpy disposition.

“Aye Katie, love…I believe I do remember. So you made it all right then?”

“To be sure I did, flower.” She gave a poor impersonation of his accent.

“Ah, so I see, you’re already
a right
British lass,” he chortled. “Tell me now, who is it that came to greet you at the airport? Was it our Charlotte?” The excitement in his voice made Katie’s heart dip.

“Actually, I was sans greeting party.” She tried for an airy reply that would keep him from being alarmed.

“Are you meanin’ to tell me you’re there all alone?”

She was dismayed but not surprised that her casual reply hadn’t worked. “Well, technically, yes, I am by myself. But the beautiful thing is you’re never alone when you have people who love you.”

“Don’t you go makin’ light of a serious matter,
lass.
Now, just you stay put and I’ll have someone there in two shakes to fetch you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Scott. It’s not worth putting anybody out. I can find my own way.”

“I
will
worry about it! And it’ll not be puttin’ anybody out. I’ve still got me a few friends left in London who would be chompin’ at their own limbs to spend time
with a bonny lass
.”

Not exactly eager to meet anyone who’d own up to such a description, and less willing to spend another minute in the airport, she tried to reassure him.

“Mr. Scott, that’s why I love
you
. If only everyone had as much chivalry! But no one does…meaning I have been abandoned in
foreign countries before. Seeing as how I’m familiar with London and I speak fluent English, I think I can handle being on my own.”

“You speak fluent
American
—don’t confuse that with English, pet.”

“Listen, I’ll die if I have to spend one more minute in this airport. Even though I’m a savvy traveler and can take care of myself—” She ignored his argumentative
humph.
“I know you’ll worry anyway. So here’s my compromise: I’ll go to one of those kiosks in the airport and book a hotel room, catch the train into the city, drop my luggage off in the room, then go have a look around. I’ll call you when I know where I’m staying and will keep my phone on so you can pester—I mean
,
check up—on me all you want.”

“
Ahhh,
go on with ya, pet, and have a good time.” He was throwing his arms up in frustrated defeat, Katie could tell. “But mark me words, someone will be callin’ for ya before nightfall.”

Hauling herself and her six months’ worth of packing onto the airport shuttle train, then on and off the tube before the doors and the commuters threatened to chop her into pieces, was grueling. However, the significance of just how much Heather had crammed into those suitcases didn’t set in until Katie dragged them along Buckingham Palace Road, over six blocks to her shabby yet pricey hotel, then to her room, located up four and a half flights of stairs.

Goaded by her still-thrumming heart, Katie ignored the fatigue scratching behind her eyes and set out again. Driven by a mission, she hustled back down Buckingham Palace Road, not slowing her pace until she was behind a throng of other tourists at the Big Bus Tour stop.

She didn’t care if the Big Bus Tour was nerdy. She loved it. She could ride the same routes all day long. Every time the bus rattled
past a row of perfect Mary Poppins homes, she strained her eyes through mini binoculars to read every blue plaque that boasted of prominent historical figures
who
once lived inside. The Big Bus was a magical place where she could lose herself in a world where the romance of the past mingled with the excitement of the present.

A few hours of taking in fast-paced London from her slow-moving bus was all Katie could endure before succumbing to her jet lag. She didn’t know what felt heavier: her eyes or her step. She stared longingly for a moment at a park bench, and for a brief moment considered sitting down to rest her eyes. Then she thought about the small fortune she’d paid for her mildewy room and lumpy mattress, and decided to persevere. As all her senses honed in on the need for sleep, the last few yards to the hotel and the stair climb to her room were all a blur.

Without bothering to untie her shoes, she kicked them off in front of the bed and crawled beneath the covers. Within seconds of closing her eyes, she was comatose.

***

Not knowing how long she had been zonked, she reluctantly surrendered her slumber to the uneasy feeling pricking her awake. Her mind was so
bleary,
it was difficult to recall where she was. And who the devil were the strange men standing above her?

Moments ticked by before Katie realized she was in her hotel room in London, and she couldn’t place any of the three figures peering down at her. When full realization of that last bit settled in, she shot up. She tried to scream, but her bloody-murder screech was ensconced in a
groggy
croak. Instinctively she pulled the covers to her chin. Then, struck with another fear, she held the duvet back just far enough for her eyes—and her eyes only—to ascertain what she was (or was not) wearing.

“Phew.” Her sigh was louder than she intended. Neither she nor the strange men had removed her clothes.
This is nothing to worry about,
her intuition said.
I’m going to be just fine.
She wanted to trust that sentiment, but parts of her that had been burned from relying on her intuition in the past told her to start screaming and run like hell. She shifted, ready to heed to those skeptical parts.