Читать книгу Mistletoe Reunion - Anna Schmidt - Страница 10

Norah could not have been more surprised if the president himself had been sitting next to her. Her lips twitched, but her voice seemed frozen as a number of catchy comebacks rocketed through her brain.

Gee, obviously the last five years have been great to you—you look…

Well, imagine this—

Tom Wallace, how long has it been? Let’s see, must be five years, three months and twelve days or something like that.

Izzy bounced to her knees on the chair to Norah’s left and rescued her. “Do you believe this? I mean what are the odds that we’d all end up in the same airport at the same time and waiting on the same plane?”

“Pretty good given the fact you knew I was coming this way, young lady,” Tom said, but his eyes never left Norah’s face.

Her gaze shifted to Isabella. “You knew?”

“Sorta, kinda,” Izzy said and looked down.

Norah blinked, her thick black lashes feathering her cheeks. “Isabella Wallace, I am surprised at you.” She realized she could not avoid acknowledging Tom’s presence forever, so she took a deep breath and plastered on her biggest smile. “How are you, Tom?” she asked as if they were former classmates who had run into each other unexpectedly.

“Good. Fine,” he said, clearing his throat. “You?”

“Fine,” she said.

Isabella made a face and they both heard her sigh of frustration. The sigh brought Norah’s attention back to her daughter. “You should go to the restroom,” she said.

“Mom,” Izzy moaned. “Stop treating me like I’m eight. I know when I do and don’t have to go, okay?”

Isabella had been just about to celebrate her eighth birthday when the divorce papers arrived. Norah had had the phone in hand ready to call and put Izzy on the line so she could tell her father all about the party that Norah had arranged. In those early weeks and months she had remained in shock. It seemed impossible that she and Tom—of all people—had gone their separate ways.

The airport public address system crackled to life. “They’re calling first class,” Norah translated the garbled message and nodded toward the open door leading to the jetway.

He smiled. “I’m in coach. Busiest travel day of the year—you know how it goes.”

“You can sit with us,” Isabella said.

Simultaneously Norah and Tom opened their mouths to object to that idea.

“The plane is packed, honey,” Norah said.

“We’re running late, Bella. Let’s not complicate things,” Tom said.

Norah glanced his way, acknowledging with a slight nod of her head that he had backed her up. But then they had always been a team when it came to their daughter. The one thing they had both held sacred was that whatever differences they had, those would not affect Isabella any more than they had already.

She’s still so young and lots of her classmates have divorced parents, they had both rationalized. In time, surely….

“Why did you decide to travel under such circumstances?” she asked. “No one’s ill, are they?” she asked alarmed and saw that familiar flicker of irritation because he took her comment wrong. No doubt he thought that she was implying that the only thing that could drag Tom away from his work on a moment’s notice had to be something to do with his parents. Most of their arguments in those last months together had been about his devotion, or as she saw it obsession, with his career.

“Clare and Liz got this idea that we should all surprise Mom and Dad over Thanksgiving for their fiftieth,” he replied. “You know Clare. Once she gets an idea it’s easier to let her have her way than try to debate the timing of the idea.”

“Aunt Liz is coming, too? And the cousins?” Isabella clapped her hands in delight. “I mean is this the best Thanksgiving or what?”

The gate agent called Norah and Isabella’s row. Norah busied herself gathering her things and organizing Izzy’s belongings in her backpack.

“We could share a car when we get to Chicago,” Tom said.

“I’ve already reserved one,” she replied and then immediately added. “Of course, I could cancel it. Yes, sharing a car would be nice. Thanks.”

“Okay, so see you in Chicago,” he said as he hugged Izzy.

“You and your father can talk more there,” Norah promised Izzy as she hurried her toward the gate.

You and your father…meaning what? She didn’t intend to say anything?

She glanced back wanting to apologize for what he might have thought she was implying, but Tom was packing his computer, his back to her.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Isabella announced as soon as they had located their seats and she had stowed her backpack under the seat nearest the window leaving Norah with the middle.

“I warned you,” Norah said, but stood aside, blocking boarding passengers so Isabella could make her way to the rear of the plane. She sat down again and bent to rearrange their belongings so that she would have some legroom. When she looked up Tom was standing in the aisle waiting for other passengers ahead of him to get settled.

“I’m in the back,” he said, making a face.

Norah shook her head sympathetically. “I’m in the middle,” she replied, indicating the obvious. It was the kind of banter they’d always been good at and a little of the initial tension between them eased. During their marriage they’d had a long-running debate about which was worse—back of the plane with its noise and turbulence or crushed between two passengers who seemed to think they had claim to all armrests.

“Trade you?”

Norah smiled. “Not a chance.”

Tom moved on just as the crew chief announced another slight delay to allow passengers on a late-arriving plane to make their connection.

A large man carrying a briefcase, carry-on luggage and an overcoat opened and slammed several filled overhead compartments. Norah pulled the airline magazine from the seatback pocket and flipped through it hoping he had the vacant seat across the aisle.

No such luck. He forced the luggage into an overhead bin two rows ahead of them, then threw his coat onto the seat and sat down heavily, his bulk and the coat spilling over into Norah’s space as he jammed the briefcase under the seat in front of him.

Norah nodded at him as she gently pushed his coat off the armrest they shared. The man ignored her.

“Hey, Mom,” Isabella said. “Guess what?” Izzy was accompanied by a young woman with a toddler in tow and what looked like a newborn cradled in her arms.

“This is Emma and she’s got the two seats next to Dad and she’d be willing to switch, so I said that would be great—I’ll even take the middle.”

Norah tried not to take perverse pleasure in the look of pleading horror the businessman gave her. “You’ll take the middle?”

“Yeah, come on.”

“Excuse me,” Norah said sweetly as she recovered her purse and Isabella’s backpack and stood.

“But,” the man protested as Norah slid past him.

“Everything all right here?” the male flight attendant asked.

“Perfect,” Isabella exclaimed. “My dad’s back there and this nice lady traded so that now we get to sit together and—”

“Okay, I just need everyone to get settled as soon as possible. We’re about to close the cabin door.”

Tom was standing in the aisle waiting for them. Norah tried not to stare at the way his hair—brown streaked with copper—was still thick and silky. She did not meet his chocolate-brown eyes, fixed on her as she slid next to the window and Isabella took the middle without protest.

“You put her up to that—switching,” Norah said.

“What?” Tom’s eyes were wide with innocence.

“It was my idea, Mom,” Isabella said. “Honestly.”

Norah had her doubts.

“How are your folks?” Tom asked politely once they were buckled in.

“Fine,” Norah answered equally as polite. This was going to be interminable. Suddenly she was glad to be in the back where the engine noise would surely make conversation impossible.

“This is going to be so great,” Isabella exclaimed, ignoring the tension between her parents. “I mean, just wait until we all show up together. They are going to seriously freak.”

“How’s work?” Tom asked Norah.

“Fine,” she said and looked out the window as the plane slowly taxied toward the runway. She wondered if she could be capable of more than that one-word response to anything Tom might ask.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the short delay, but we should be airborne in about twenty minutes.”

There was a ripple of muttered comments. “It’s sleeting,” Norah said.

Tom leaned across Isabella’s lap to look out. Norah could not help but be aware of the scent of his aftershave—familiar and at the same time exotic. “From the looks of that sky we just need to get going,” he said as the plane inched forward in line. “You okay?” He glanced up at Norah and she knew that he was remembering how nervous she got when flying. She couldn’t help being touched that he had remembered.

“Fine,” she replied and then grimaced. “I seem to have the same answer for everything, don’t I?”

“Well, yeah,” Isabella said before Tom could answer. “You’re acting like you’re on a first date or something, Mom.”

Tom leaned back in his seat. “And just what would you know about first dates, young lady?”

Isabella blushed and giggled. “Oh, Dad.”

Norah reached for her purse and pulled out a Sudoku puzzle book.

“Mom!” Isabella protested, casting a sidelong look from the book to Tom.

“Are you any good at those puzzles?” Tom asked, ignoring Isabella.

Norah shrugged. “Not really, but I can usually manage the simple ones.”

“Can I try?” Tom asked, holding out his hand for the book.

Norah passed him the soft-covered book and held out her pencil.

Tom pulled a pen from his pocket and grinned. “No guts, no glory,” he said and settled in to work the puzzle with Isabella’s help.

Norah watched as he clicked the pen on and off—his hand tan against the pale cream starched cuff of his shirt. He wore dark brown casual slacks and a pullover sweater in a sort of copper shade that accented his tan and highlighted the gold flecks in his eyes. She heard his deep voice consulting with Isabella on an entry, his laughter when Isabella stopped him from making a mistake. He bent forward and ran his free hand through his hair. When a lock fell over his forehead, she literally had to tighten her grip on the armrest to resist the urge to smooth it back into place as she would have before.

Before. When they were married. When they were—

“Mom!”

Norah blinked. “Sorry,” she said softly, still caught up in the fantasy of who she and Tom had once been to each other.

“I said, can you see what’s happening? Why aren’t we moving?”

Norah turned her attention to the window. It was coated with sleet. “I can’t see,” she said and just then the plane made a slow turn to the right. “I think we might be—”

“Ladies and gentlemen, weather conditions have changed. We need to de-ice the wings before we can take off. Please feel free to move about the cabin for the time being. We’ll be on our way as soon as possible.”

This time a chorus of groans rolled through the cabin as passengers crowded the aisle, rearranging the contents of overhead bins, stretching as they commiserated about the inconveniences of modern travel. Tom took advantage of the extra space afforded by being in the last row across from the galley. “Come on, Bella, stretch your legs.”

Isabella followed her father’s lead in a series of calf stretches and knee bends. The crew toured the cabin offering packages of pretzels and promising full beverage service once they were airborne.

“Your turn,” Tom said and held out his hand to Norah. Norah slid across the row and stood in the aisle without taking his hand. “Feels good,” she said as she stretched her arms high over her head, her fingertips grazing the ceiling.

Isabella lifted the armrests on their row and stretched out across all three seats, her MP3 player earphones in place. She closed her eyes and bounced her head and shoulders to the music they couldn’t hear.

“I’m going for a little walk,” Norah said, suddenly uncomfortable to find herself standing next to Tom—far too near to Tom for comfort.

He grinned. “Just stay inside the plane,” he called as she edged forward.

The truth was she needed some time to think about the impact of spending Thanksgiving three blocks away from Tom and his family. In fact, there was no doubt that they would be thrown together often once they were back in Normal. His parents and hers belonged to the same church and were still close friends. Isabella would move easily between the two houses. Izzy’s aunts and cousins would surely want to include Isabella in whatever extravaganza they were concocting for the anniversary. They would certainly include Norah’s parents—and Norah—in the invitation as well.

The aisle was crowded with other passengers and the plane was not nearly long enough for Norah to stay away indefinitely. She glanced back and saw Tom talking to another passenger. Ahead stood the businessman glaring at her as the young mother tried in vain to soothe the newborn and the toddler, both of whom were crying now. The scene gave new meaning to “between a rock and a hard place” but by far the lesser of the two evils was to return to her seat.

Isabella had dozed off, so Norah perched on the aisle armrest. Tom finished his exchange with the passenger waiting to use the restroom and turned. He was standing toe to toe with her, his forearm resting against the overhead bin. He’d removed his sweater and rolled back the sleeves of his shirt.

“How was your walk?” he asked.

“Fine,” she replied and then blushed. “Uneventful,” she added with a slight smile.

Tom did not return her smile. Instead he studied her closely. “You look great, Norah,” he said.

Norah ran a self-conscious hand through her hair. “I’ve been up since four and my—”

“Why do you do that?” he asked. “You never used to do that.”

Norah fought a twinge of irritation. I never used to doubt that a marriage I thought was forever could fall apart in a matter of months. What did he know about her these days? “Do what?” she asked.

“Put yourself down. Someone pays you a compliment and you—”

“You know, Tom, it has been a number of years. I might have changed in that time.”

“I expect we both have, but—”

“Izzy tells me you’re seeing someone new,” she interrupted, determined to turn the focus from herself to him.

“Izzy doesn’t approve of my choice in female companionship,” he said with a glance at their sleeping daughter.

Norah shrugged. “She just needs time.”

“Speaking of time,” Tom said clearing his throat. “Five years and not once seeing each other, Norah—it’s a long time. How did that happen?” He leaned in to allow another passenger to pass. His face was closer to hers now. His eyes locked on hers and she saw that he looked tired.

“It’s not like we weren’t in touch,” she countered. “I mean we were always on the phone or leaving messages about Izzy. I think we’ve done well by her, don’t you?”

“Stop changing the subject. You didn’t want to see me. Why?”

Norah shifted uncomfortably. “That was just at first. I mean it was all so fresh and we were both so vulnerable and I thought that maybe—”

“But to let not one, but five years pass?”

“It just happened, Tom. I didn’t plan it and you could have just as easily—” She was whispering, keenly aware of others around them but equally aware that she could have been shouting and few other passengers would have cared. They were all that wrapped up in their own problems.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts.”

This time the general chorus of commentary was filled with relief and even laughter as passengers returned to their seats and buckled up.

Norah tapped Isabella’s leg. “Turn that off and fasten your seat belt,” she instructed.

Isabella swung her legs around and did as she was told, only she took the obvious seat—the one by the window.

“I’ll take the middle,” Tom offered.

“No, I’ve got it,” Norah said as she sat down, lowered both armrests and fastened her seat belt. She picked up the puzzlebook Tom had left on his seat, waited for him to sit down and then handed it to him.

“Thanks.” He took out his pen and concentrated on the puzzle as Isabella stared out the window.

After several moments she reported their progress. “I think we’re going back to the terminal.”

“That’s impossible,” Norah said, leaning across her to look out the window. But her daughter was right. “Now what?” Norah muttered.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are returning to the gate area. We regret that the airport is being closed for the time being. A major winter storm is passing through the area and we had hoped to get away in front of it, but it’s coming too fast. Once we are at the gate you may deplane and there will be airline personnel inside the terminal with more information. Please feel free to make use of your cell phones to notify those who may be meeting you in Chicago of this unexpected situation—and thank you once again for choosing—”