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Rachel smiled. “Now you’re talking. Let’s give him a call.”
I ran back to my room and grabbed the phone, dialing Aaron’s number. After a few rings, the machine for the Rosen Air Museum clicked on and after relaying the business hours prompted me to leave a message. When the tone played, I opened my mouth but couldn’t find the right words, and after a long pause, hung up.
“No answer,” I explained, rejoining Rachel in the kitchen.
She frowned. “Well, we’ll try again in a few minutes then.”
“Why don’t we just drive up there?” I asked, the idea sparking in my mind and growing hotter with each passing second.
“All the way to Holiday Cove?” Rachel raised an eyebrow at me.
I nodded. “You’re the one who said we shouldn’t just sit around and wait with the news on to find out what’s happening!”
32
Holly
By the time Rachel and I arrived at the Rosen Air Museum, every nerve was frayed. The entire ride up the coast had been spent turning over scenarios in my mind. Rachel had taken my keys and drove so I could continue my frantic search over every news site in hopes for even a scrap of new information.
After two hours in the car, I’d finally found an article that provided a little more insight into what had happened. After that, all of the articles rehashed the same two or three lines of factual information, and the only thing that changed from one piece to the next was the particular spin the publication was putting on the facts.
As far as I can tell, the only things that were for certain…a fighter jet had deployed from the USS Theodore Roosevelt from their location somewhere in the Persian Gulf. In the course of their mission, which wasn’t specified in any of the articles I could find, they had taken enemy fire from the ground off the Sinjar mountain range in the area.
According to my research, the area was a hostile zone, embroiled in religious conflicts for several years, and more recently had been taken over by a group of terrorists who had once been aligned with US forces until deciding to switch sides mid-war. So far, no group had come forward to take claim for the attack or the downed plane. The pilot of the downed plane was not listed, nor were any of the other pilots involved in the mission, but my gut wouldn’t let go of the suspicion that I’d held from the beginning, and that it had been Jack’s plane. Otherwise, he’d have been able to get back to the aircraft carrier and message me to tell me he was all right. I knew he’d have done anything to get back to me as quickly as possible—especially considering how our last conversation had been interrupted. He wouldn’t string me along for nearly two days.
When I finally put my phone away, I did my best not to break down again as I recounted the information to Rachel. Afterward, I sank into my own quiet reflection, watching the coastline as we whizzed up the 101, and turned over all of the facts like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle inside my head.
The sun was shining on the road ahead of us and I thought back to the day I’d taken off to Holiday Cove almost two months before. I’d been in a completely different mindset. The beauty of the scenic drive was the first thing I’d seen to start tearing away the stress I’d been carrying throughout tax season. As Rachel drove up the coast, all I could think about was getting there faster. My mind wasn’t on palm tree lined beaches, white sand, or soaking up the sun in my bikini or taking a late afternoon nap without a hint of guilt. I just wanted to get to the air museum and talk to Aaron.
And hopefully get the answers that I desperately needed.
As we neared, I began giving Rachel turn by turn instructions, remembering the day Jack had taken me to the museum to let me pick out a plane for us to take up for the afternoon. A smile tugged at my lips, remembering the moment he’d flipped our plane upside down and the way that my string of cuss words had only made him laugh harder. Everything about that day had been magical.
The sound of gravel crunching under the tires pulled me from my memories, as we made our way up the driveway that led to the parking lot in front of the Rosen Air Museum. My heart jumping even higher into my throat as the main building came into sight.
This was it.
“Is this the place?” Rachel asked, her eyes scanning left and right until she found a free spot.
There were a handful of cars in the lot, and I wondered if that was the reason Aaron hadn’t been able to answer my call. I knew the museum was a family-owned business, but I couldn’t recall if I’d seen any other employees the day Jack had taken me to visit.
