stream would zig when it should have zagged, or that the arctic blast would collide with a stream of Gulf moisture along the mid-Atlantic.
Hundreds of flights were being diverted as, one after another, airports from Atlanta northward were shutting down. Evidently she was among the lucky ones. According to rumor, there were a number of loaded flights trapped on runways, unable to take off, unable to return to the gates because of the planes already stranded there.
From now on, she’d just as soon stick to Greyhound.
With the diaper bag and carrier in one hand, and her big, lightweight purse that was supposed to bejust the thing for traveling over her shoulder, she hugged the infant who was chewing on her yellow fringed shawl and said, “Come on, sugar-britches, let’s go before your daddy sends out a search party.”
He was hovering like a dark cloud just outside the ladies’ room door. Hetty wondered if he was even aware of all the women who glanced at him and then turned back for a second look.
Probably used to it. He was that kind of man. George Clooney with a harder edge, a narrower backside and broader shoulders. She’d noticed that much standing in line behind him, before she’d ever seen his face, which seemed to wear a perpetual scowl.
“About time you showed up. I was starting to worry.”
The crowd was thicker than ever, and from the snatches of conversation, growing more impatient by the minute. “Sorry. These things take time. Your little girl’s got a rash, and she’s either hungry or teething or both, but at least she’s dry now.”
Reluctantly she handed the baby to her father, thinking about the baby she’d left behind. As long as she was going to have to find work quickly once she got back home, she might as well try something in the care-giving line. At least she’d had plenty of experience.
She’d hoped the weather might have miraculously cleared while she was inside. It hadn’t. Fortunately she still had plenty of time to reach Miami.
Smiling, she gave the baby a goodbye pat on herpadded bottom and said, “This isn’t the way the travel ads described it, else I might not have tried it.”
“Tried what?”
“Flying.” Sunny snuggled into her father’s arms and began to gnaw on his collar. The man was a mess. An expensive-looking suede jacket was slung over one shoulder, his tie was loose, the two top buttons on his shirt unfastened. Hetty thought she’d never seen a more strikingly attractive man in her life, scowl and all.
The scowl moderated. “You mean you’ve never flown before?”
“I never needed to go anywhere farther than Oklahoma City.”
“You picked a lousy time for your maiden voyage.”
“I’m beginning to—” Someone struck her in the back, and she stumbled against the man and baby. His free arm came around her, the carrier and diaper bag slammed into her behind, and she inhaled sharply, absorbing the mingled scent of bergamot and leather.
It occurred to her that with spare time on her hands for the first time in her adult life, she might just weave herself a lovely romantic fantasy from this chance encounter.
The fantasy gripped her arm and growled in her ear. “Let’s get out of this mob.”
Startled, Hetty glanced around. If there was a place out of the flow of traffic, it must be a closely guarded secret. Children played reckless games of tag or whined and tugged at parents’ arms. Babies cried.Tired travelers tried to hang on to baggage, children and patience against a constantly shifting current of humanity. Over all that came the confusing din of weather updates, distorted loudspeaker announcements and the polite beep-beep of motorized carts on some mysterious mission of their own.
Such was the power of a well-directed scowl, that Sunny’s father was able to lead her through the throng to a relatively clear corner behind a deserted service desk. “Hold her while I shift these trash receptacles, will you?”
Hetty watched as he
Hundreds of flights were being diverted as, one after another, airports from Atlanta northward were shutting down. Evidently she was among the lucky ones. According to rumor, there were a number of loaded flights trapped on runways, unable to take off, unable to return to the gates because of the planes already stranded there.
From now on, she’d just as soon stick to Greyhound.
With the diaper bag and carrier in one hand, and her big, lightweight purse that was supposed to bejust the thing for traveling over her shoulder, she hugged the infant who was chewing on her yellow fringed shawl and said, “Come on, sugar-britches, let’s go before your daddy sends out a search party.”
He was hovering like a dark cloud just outside the ladies’ room door. Hetty wondered if he was even aware of all the women who glanced at him and then turned back for a second look.
Probably used to it. He was that kind of man. George Clooney with a harder edge, a narrower backside and broader shoulders. She’d noticed that much standing in line behind him, before she’d ever seen his face, which seemed to wear a perpetual scowl.
“About time you showed up. I was starting to worry.”
The crowd was thicker than ever, and from the snatches of conversation, growing more impatient by the minute. “Sorry. These things take time. Your little girl’s got a rash, and she’s either hungry or teething or both, but at least she’s dry now.”
Reluctantly she handed the baby to her father, thinking about the baby she’d left behind. As long as she was going to have to find work quickly once she got back home, she might as well try something in the care-giving line. At least she’d had plenty of experience.
She’d hoped the weather might have miraculously cleared while she was inside. It hadn’t. Fortunately she still had plenty of time to reach Miami.
Smiling, she gave the baby a goodbye pat on herpadded bottom and said, “This isn’t the way the travel ads described it, else I might not have tried it.”
“Tried what?”
“Flying.” Sunny snuggled into her father’s arms and began to gnaw on his collar. The man was a mess. An expensive-looking suede jacket was slung over one shoulder, his tie was loose, the two top buttons on his shirt unfastened. Hetty thought she’d never seen a more strikingly attractive man in her life, scowl and all.
The scowl moderated. “You mean you’ve never flown before?”
“I never needed to go anywhere farther than Oklahoma City.”
“You picked a lousy time for your maiden voyage.”
“I’m beginning to—” Someone struck her in the back, and she stumbled against the man and baby. His free arm came around her, the carrier and diaper bag slammed into her behind, and she inhaled sharply, absorbing the mingled scent of bergamot and leather.
It occurred to her that with spare time on her hands for the first time in her adult life, she might just weave herself a lovely romantic fantasy from this chance encounter.
The fantasy gripped her arm and growled in her ear. “Let’s get out of this mob.”
Startled, Hetty glanced around. If there was a place out of the flow of traffic, it must be a closely guarded secret. Children played reckless games of tag or whined and tugged at parents’ arms. Babies cried.Tired travelers tried to hang on to baggage, children and patience against a constantly shifting current of humanity. Over all that came the confusing din of weather updates, distorted loudspeaker announcements and the polite beep-beep of motorized carts on some mysterious mission of their own.
Such was the power of a well-directed scowl, that Sunny’s father was able to lead her through the throng to a relatively clear corner behind a deserted service desk. “Hold her while I shift these trash receptacles, will you?”
Hetty watched as he
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