She came back a few minutes later with a miniature bottle and a note saying she’d love to put the lay in my layover if I had time. I waited until after the flight attendant retreated to offer Grace the bottle. “Can I buy you a drink?”
She looked out the window, but her gaze kept creeping back to the bottle. “Buy? Just offer that bimbo a smile, and I’m sure she’ll give you anything.”
“Grace. Can I call you Grace?” She didn’t answer, and I took that for a yes. “I can’t help but notice you forgot to say, ‘Thank you for saving me from the meat-skin.’ That your first time in close quarters with one?” I pushed the wine toward her.
Grace grudgingly took the bottle. Then she sighed, and pratically whispered, “Thank you for saving me. But I did call an ambulance for you.”
“We’ll call it even, then. I saw your face while the meat-skin tried to kill you. What were you thinking of?”
Grace stared out the window at the clouds. “People I wouldn’t see again.”
“Your daughter. You spend a lot of time with her?”
“Not as much as I’d like.”
I refilled her glass, and held it up for her. “Please?”
As she took it from me, her fingertips touched my hand, smooth and warm against my palm, sending a spark of static electricity up my arm.
Grace took a long drink. “What do you want from me?”
That was a question I wasn’t ready to answer. “Just talk to me. Would it kill you to sit in that chair, relax, and talk to me?”
“I’m not the latest puzzle for you to figure out. How about you pay some attention to someone else? Like your biggest fan in the airline uniform?” Grace looked over the rows to where the flight attendant stood.
I kept my eyes on Grace. “I like puzzles.”
Her eyes lit up. “All right. I’ll make you a deal. You solve a puzzle of mine, I’ll talk with you the rest of the way. I’m sure with another hour, even I couldn’t resist your charms.”
Now that was my sort of agreement. “Lay it on me. Two trains in opposite directions? How much wood could a woodchuck chuck?”
Grace giggled. “Oh, please. There’s a secret about the relationship between the numbers one, three, seven, and eighteen. You tell me what it is, you solved my puzzle.” She flipped open a magazine and began browsing, making an impressive effort to ignore me.
And I spent the rest of the flight doodling. Doing sums, division. Putting them in every conceivable order and algorithm. When the plane touched down, I crumpled up the napkin and grabbed my carry-on. “Fine. You won. What’s the secret?”
Grace kept her mouth shut until we hit the concourse. “The secret is I didn’t want to have to talk to you. There’s no relationship between those numbers. Or us.”
I stalked off to rent a car and pretended I couldn’t hear her laughing to herself. While I waited for them to pull the car up, my anger cooled, replaced by a cold worry, like a headache and storm cloud over me at the same time.
From the moment we left the airport, I sunk into a funk that I couldn’t shake. With each turn and mile, my worry mounted. Finally, we pulled into the long gravel driveway of a sprawling one-story house. A porch swing hung from the wraparound deck, looking out across the cacti.
Without touching it, I remembered the feel of the wood and creak of the chains during hot afternoons. Everything, from the buzz of hummingbirds to the sawing song of grasshoppers reminded me of the last summer I spent here. Of why I left.
And why I hadn’t returned.
“Are we going in at some point?” Grace interrupted my reverie, a bead of sweat marring her perfect porcelain skin.
No. Not if I had my way. I’d just stay in the car for the next three weeks.
The front door flew open, and out burst my aunt Emelia. She had Mom’s dark black hair down to her shoulders and wore a tan cotton tank top and crucifix necklace. So much for staying in the car. I unlocked my door and swung it open, only to find Aunt Emelia blocking my way.
“Brynner Carson, I’m so glad you’re home.” She carefully hugged me, avoiding the stiches and my ribs. Then she let me go and walked around the car to grab Grace by the hand. “Maggie gave me a call. Told me you two were coming. Grace, isn’t it?”