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“Are you sure?”
It wasn’t Ethan’s responsibility to counsel me through this. I had made my decision years ago. I had gotten off track, but now I was the one driving the train. I was going to find her.
“I’m positive,” I answered. I wanted him to see the determination in my eyes. “Can you help me?”
Chapter Four
I had overslept this morning and now this.
I didn’t think it was possible to run any faster. The suitcase wacked my ankles as I jogged through the terminal. The handle wasn’t long enough. I winced every time I heard the contents rattle. It was more of a hurried mall-walk than a full sprint. I brushed my long layers to the side when they flopped in my eyes. I was out of breath and my chest stung with nervous beats. Why did I think I could make this connection? I shouldn’t have booked it.
My palms were sweaty. I huffed when I saw the 21-A sign ahead. Shit. I was so close.
The agent buckled the strap across the standing poles. The ones meant to keep people in order.
“Wait, wait,” I wailed, dragging my bag to the gate.
She twisted her mouth to one side. “You were almost locked out.”
“I made it?”
It only took a second for her to release the clip on the pole. The strap snapped into place.
She held the ticket wand in front of me. “Hurry. You can still walk down the jet way. The cabin door is open. I’ll call ahead for you,” she offered.
“Oh my God. Thank you.” I shoved the ticket under the scanner and breathed when the computer beeped.
“No problem.” She smiled. “Have a safe flight.” She reached for the phone attached to the wall, but I was out of earshot before she started speaking.
“Last one in.” The flight attendant’s tone wasn’t as friendly. I saw the look in his eyes. He motioned for me to get out of his way.
I smiled weakly. “Thanks. I ran from the other gate. My flight into Atlanta was late.”
That look said everything. He had already labeled me the high-maintenance passenger. The pain in the ass. It didn’t matter if my flight was truly behind schedule because of weather delays in Dallas. I wasn’t getting any sympathy from Jeff C. His sweater vest was embroidered with his name and last initial.
Did it help that I was flying first class? At least I didn’t have to walk to the back of the plane. I was one row from the front. My seat was against the window.
“Why don’t you stow that overhead?” The flight attendant pointed at my bag.
“No.” I shook my head. I folded the handle in. “I’d rather put it by my feet.” I didn’t like to leave my equipment unattended, even if it was only feet away from me. I had paid for the best, and I took care of it.
He shrugged. “Just make sure it fits.” He walked away. 3B wanted a Bloody Mary. It seemed to take priority over my luggage issues.
I never liked rain. Not rainy Sundays. Or romantic rain that dripped along window panes. Not songs about rainy nights. I tried to ignore the drops splattering on the airplane’s wings as I took my seat. It made everything feel muggy and da
mp despite the air blasting from the overhead vents.
I clipped the belt across my lap, giving it an extra tug. What good could a thick strap of fabric do if we became the casualty of a rain storm? I closed my eyes.
I hadn’t gotten enough sleep last night. I had another nightmare. Another restless night. I bounced between what Ethan had told me and the email I hadn’t finished reading. I knew it was there, waiting. Leering, as if it had life. I hadn’t been brave enough to read it. I would when I got home. I’d grab a nice tall glass of wine and open it. I’d face it head on, like I had the other emails.
I let my eyes drift open as the plane pushed back from the gate.
Jeff C picked up the handheld mic and began to demonstrate safety precautions as we taxied. I had flown enough that I had practically memorized his entire presentation. I could see the cockpit door from my seat. I knew exactly where the exits were in case of an emergency. Jeff C became background noise as we taxied down the runway. The raindrops ran in a horizontal direction on my window.
I thought about what Ethan had said last night. Why couldn’t I just stop? Why did I have to do this? What if Penny Neworth didn’t want to be found? My response never satisfied anyone. I could stop now, but I wouldn’t. I was going to follow the next lead. And the next. Until I had what I needed.
I refused to believe the answers weren’t there. I was evidence they were. I had to keep looking. Keep recording. Keep searching. I reminded myself this was a journey. My journey. What I wanted was out there.
