I’m not dating the pilot. I’m not sleeping with the pilot, I told myself over and over again.
Instead, I typed… How to deal with an arrogant pilot? My adventures with the big bad wolf on the way to Grandma’s house.
For the next hour and a half or so, I typed what I thought was a humorous piece until said pilot came over the speaker with that damn sexy voice of his.
“Strap in. It looks like we are taking a detour.”
I didn’t like the sound of his words and might have gone to the cockpit door to ask questions if the plane didn’t suddenly bank right, sending my computer to its almost death if I hadn’t caught it.
Hastily, I buckled in, wondering what was wrong as visions of the plane in a steep dive toward a fiery crash filled my head. There would be so many things I would regret not doing if I died. The first of many would be not telling my father how I really felt.
As I worked out the words that needed to be said, the plane smoothed out. Yet, I could tell we were descending.
So many questions were swirling in my head. I was grateful when his voice came through the speaker.
“The storm shifted weather patterns. The airports in New York have temporarily closed to inbound flights due to white-out conditions and possible wind shears. We are landing in Maryland. That’s as far north as I can risk going.”
Though I understood airports didn’t make decisions like that lightly, I was frantic with the idea I might not make it to my grandmother’s in time. Tears blurred my vision.
The one person in the world I knew loved me unconditionally was her. Yes, my mom loved me, but she had expectations about my life and who I should be. My grandmother, on the other hand, loved me as I was.
The idea that I might not get to say goodbye, that she could be at this very moment gone from this world, broke me in ways I didn’t know possible.
I fought the oncoming despair. As soon as the plane set down, I would call the hospital immediately. Which was what I did. Once the wheels struck the tarmac, I turned my phone on and made the call.
When it was answered, I managed only one word, “Father,” with so much desperation, he would have had to be an idiot not to hear the unspoken question.
“Jo,” he said with a much too long pause. I covered my mouth, afraid of what he was going to say next. “She’s still with us.”
I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Is she better?” I asked with so much hope, I probably sounded as if I was pleading.
“The same.”
It wasn’t the news I wanted, but better than hearing she was worse.
“I can’t get to New York,” I said. “Not in the next hour. They’ve closed the airports.”
“I heard.”
Of course, he had. He owned a major airline. News like that disrupted business, but it wasn’t uncommon and contingency plans were always made just in case.
“Can I talk to her?”
He sighed. “She’s sleeping right now. Once she’s up, I promise to call you.”
“Okay.”
Things were awkward then. We didn’t know each other well enough to have a conversation outside of family matters, which was why I called him Father and not Dad.
“I should go,” he said. “The doctor’s coming. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Thanks,” I said, but I wasn’t sure if he’d heard before he hung up.
I shivered in my seat. Wherever we were in Maryland was certainly colder than it had been in Palm Beach. The sweater I’d hastily packed didn’t fight the chill I felt. I would have to pull out the packable light down jacket I brought and hope it would do. I didn’t have much winter gear in my bungalow in Palm Beach. Plus, my job as a flight attendant took me to mostly exotic and warmer climates.
It was only recently I considered shifting teams, thus destinations grouping to avoid Carter Clynes. And even that was up in the air. Why should I change my life just because a man didn’t want me?
“We’re here.”
I glanced up, only realizing now we weren’t moving. The devastatingly handsome man stooped before me because of the low ceiling and wore a guarded expression. Not that I could blame him. I’d come at him like a bulldog. Not that he hadn’t deserved it.
“Where is here, exactly?” I asked.
“Clinestown.”
“Clyne’s town?” He couldn’t be serious.
“One word,” he said. “It starts with C. Common mistake.”
“I was thinking C,” I said. Just with a Y and not an I.
Was this karma coming to bite me?
“C L I N E S town,” he spelled out as if reading my thoughts.
He was just guessing, I chided myself. He couldn’t read my mind.
“How long are we here?” I asked.