To Fall in Love Again Read online

  ***

  Amy had been trying to tell him something when the thunder had boomed, drowning out her words. Drew had turned and reached out to take her hand, but the wind had gusted, pelting his face with sand and stinging drops of rain. He noticed a small white blur fly out onto the tarmac, carried away with the wind—someone head lost their claim ticket, no doubt. He pulled his hand back before his ticket went flying too.

  He stepped to the luggage cart and grabbed the handle of his bag, but as he turned back, Amy was already entering the terminal. He dashed toward the door, reaching it as the rain began to fall in earnest. When he entered, Amy had disappeared.

  He started to hurry though the terminal, to look for her, but as he did, he glanced back over his shoulder, catching sight of the airplane standing on the runway in the torrential rain.

  He had been here before, just a bit over a year ago. He had been returning from a conference and they had landed just ahead of a storm. How the rain had fallen, in sheets, just as it was falling now. It was mid-June and the next day he and Di had gone to the mountains. Two weeks later, she began to experience spells of dizziness, to have difficulty walking. Two weeks after that, they were at home, and Di was seeing a neurologist.

  Drew began rushing through the terminal once more. He had to find Di. She was meeting his flight. He passed security and up ahead he saw her blond hair. Di looked up and smiled at…someone behind him. He stopped short. The woman wasn’t Di.

  He shook his head. “I’m losing it,” he said quietly. “Totally losing it.” He began to walk again, almost tripping over a little boy who was running in circles around one of the seating areas.

  “Zachary, watch where you’re going. Say you’re sorry.” His mother grabbed his arm to stop him from making another circle.

  “Sorry, mister,” the little boy said.

  “That’s all right.” Drew smiled. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  Drew resumed walking, then he slowed and glanced around to look for Amy—he should tell her he had enjoyed talking to her—but he thought about Di again and, instead, he turned and headed to the parking lot.

  He found the doorway clogged with people who seemed unwilling to venture out into the storm. Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out a small umbrella and nudged his way through the crowd. As he stepped through the door and stood under the awning, he saw that the thundercloud still hung over the city. Drew knew he should wait until the storm moved up the coast, but he wanted to get home. As he raised his umbrella and dashed for his car, the rain began pelting his umbrella like sleet as it pounded on the roofs of the taxis idling near the terminal doors.

  ***

  It had been raining like this the morning Amy had returned from Atlanta after photographing Jack and Marci. She could have taken a moment to look for Drew inside the airport, to repeat her invitation to lunch, but maybe she wasn’t ready. She would let him decide. He had her card. So, instead of finding him, she strode through the terminal—Elaine and her children were meeting her, and Amy did not want to keep them waiting.

  She approached Arrivals, still thinking about Drew. He seemed to be so nice. He had listened when she talked, something Jack had seldom done. He missed his wife, it was obvious. He was different from Jack. Her steps slowed. In that case, then, she didn’t deserve him. She had ruined one man’s life…

  She stopped walking, shaking her head. No. That wasn’t true. She’d done nothing to Jack. He’d left her, and he…

  Amy sighed. It didn’t matter what had happened. Another relationship was not what she needed now.

  She hurried past security, then spotted her grandchildren, who ran up and jumped on her, Amber grabbing her around the legs, Zach jumping into her arms.

  “Grandma,” they squealed.

  Amy staggered, but caught herself, regaining her balance.

  “Grandma, I missed you,” they said, almost in chorus.

  “I missed you, too.” She hugged and kissed each child. “There are presents in my suitcase.”

  “Presents,” Amber screamed.

  “Let me go in here.” Amy pointed toward the restroom. “Maybe the luggage will be ready when I come out.” She looked above the children’s heads. “Hi, Elaine. Thanks for meeting me.”

  “Hello, Mother.”

  Amy hurried into the restroom to avoid a discussion. The expression on Elaine’s face when she’d greeted her told Amy that her daughter was irritated at having to drive out to the airport on Saturday afternoon. “I’d have asked Cathy to meet me if she’d been in town,” she muttered as she dried her hands. “It’s not like the airport is an all-day trip. It can’t be more than five miles.”

  When she entered the terminal again, Zach was dancing around the seats chanting, “Presents. Presents. Presents.”

  “Zach, calm down.” Amy scooped him up in her arms.

  “Grandma,” Amber called. “Zach almost tripped a man.”

  “Did he really? He needs to be more careful.”

  “The man said he wasn’t watching where he was going,” Zach said. “Anyway, he was walking too fast. That backpack looked heavy.”

  Amy’s eyes opened wide. “Black backpack with a yellow luggage tag?” She put Zach down and took his hand.

  “I don’t know,” Zach replied as he tried to pull free. “Let me find your suitcase.”

  Amy held on. “You need to calm down. We’ll find it together.”

  As they entered baggage claim, Amy could hear thunder rolling and rain pinging on the roof of the terminal. A large crowd stood around the carousel awaiting their luggage. The PA system crackled, coming to life as they walked in.

  Elaine sighed when it was announced that the checked luggage was still on the airplane and could not be unloaded due to the lightning.

  Amy looked at her and shook her head apologetically. “Sorry.”

  They found seats near a window where Zach and Amber could watch the rain.

  “Did you have a good trip, Grandma?” Amber asked. “Did you and Aunt Lucy go hiking like you said you would?”

  “They went for walks, Amber,” Elaine said. “Hiking is for young people.”

  Amy knew that her daughter had long ago decided that anyone over fifty was ancient, and she seldom responded to Elaine’s comments about her age. She leaned toward the children. “We did go hiking, all the way to Independence Pass. It took us two days. We camped overnight.”

  “In tents?” Amber’s eyes were big.

  “Did you cook on a campfire?” Zach asked.

  “Mother!”

  They all spoke at once, and Amy laughed.

  “No tents. The weather was good and we curled up in sleeping bags. Yes, we cooked over a fire, and we did a good job if you ask me—steak and baked potatoes.”

  “Yum.”

  “Mother, that’s not safe.”

  “Why not? There were seven of us. We stayed in a campground. A van met us at the summit to take us home.” She turned back to the children. “I’ll show you pictures. You two will have to come with me next time.”

  “Can we? Can we?”

  “We’ll have to see.”

  Elaine’s words were deliberate and controlled, and Amy didn’t have to look at her to know she was most likely glaring too.

  Thirty minutes later, the thunderstorm seemed to have weakened, and when Amy looked out at the parking lot, she saw that the lightning was now flashing in the north, up the coast.

  The honk of a horn signaled that the carousel was beginning to move, and suitcases started to slide down a ramp onto the conveyor belt. They retrieved her luggage and walked out into the parking lot

  “Here’s the car.” Elaine pushed the button on her remote. The trunk opened and the door’s locks popped up.

  “Let’s get Grandma home. She’s exhausted.”

  “Not really.” Amy placed her luggage in the trunk. “I had a good trip. I sat next to the nicest man on both flights, all the way from Denver. He teaches at the med school.”
She glanced at Elaine. “He might have been the man who almost tripped over Zach.”

  “Great, Mother. Just what you need at your age.”

  “At my age?” Amy couldn’t resist this time. “What does that mean?”

  “I just mean that you’re a grandmother and you don’t need to get involved with some man.”

  “Involved? I said he was nice. He was. We talked the entire time.” Amy shook her head. “At my age,” she mumbled.

  They drove home in silence, but as they approached her street, Amber leaned over the seat. “Who was the nice man on the airplane, Grandma?”

  “Oh, his name is Drew. He’s a psychologist who works at the medical college. He had been in Colorado taking photographs.”

  “He said,” Elaine added.

  “What?”

  “That’s what he told you. You have no way of knowing if it’s true or not.”

  Amy was tempted to tell Elaine that she had given Drew her number—just to see her reaction—but she decided not to continue the conversation. She had enjoyed the flight. Even if she never saw Drew again, it would be a pleasant memory. No need to muddy it with Elaine’s foolishness. She smiled. She would call Lucy and share it with her.

  She laughed quietly, recalling how she had spilled the coffee on Drew’s pants. Lucy would no doubt speculate about unconscious impulses and suggest that Amy’s clumsiness was more than a simple accident.

  “Why are you laughing, Grandma?” Amber asked. ”What’s funny?”

  “Just something that happened on my flight. I spilled my coffee all over the man in the seat next to mine on the airplane. I was thinking about it.”

  “It was funny?” Zach asked.

  “I’d have been furious,” Elaine said. “You need to be more careful, Mother. Did you offer to pay to have his pants cleaned?”

  “Pay him? No, it didn’t seem necessary.”

  “It certainly doesn’t sound funny. I’d have been mortified.”

  “You’re probably right, Elaine.” Amy smirked, knowing that it was dark and Elaine would not be able to see her satisfied smile.

  ***

  Since most of the arriving passengers had stopped at the door, Drew’s was the only car leaving the parking lot and he was soon heading down the interstate into town. He pulled off a couple of exits down and stopped at the Briar Patch Restaurant.

  A stop at the Briar Patch for dinner after a flight was almost a tradition. He recalled how, after they returned from a trip to Greece and Turkey several years ago, Di had dashed into the restaurant, placing her order for fried chicken and collard greens before she had even chosen a table. Drew had teased her for weeks about preferring Southern food to that of her homeland.

  As he ate his chicken tonight, Drew pondered the events of the day. He was surprised at how much he had enjoyed talking to Amy. He generally did not enjoy talking to strangers and he always made an effort to take work, or a book, with him when he went on a trip to discourage seat mates from attempting conversation.

  He had made an effort to avoid talking to Amy today too, but she had continued to ask questions. Almost as if she were on a mission of some kind, he thought. It was only after she had spilled the coffee, and attempted to clean it up, that he had even really looked at her. After he had gone to the bathroom to clean up, as he had started back to his seat, he had seen her, slumped against the airplane’s window, her face deep red, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  It had reminded him, he decided, of an incident with Di several years before. She had been walking down the aisle at St. Phillips when her foot had slipped out from under her, and she had landed flat on her bottom.

  Di had not been hurt. Drew had helped her up and into a pew. The service was about to begin and five hundred pair of eyes had been directed toward her. She had huddled in the pew, her face like a beet, tears coursing down her cheeks. Drew had put his arm around her, causing her additional embarrassment. Then, suddenly, she had begun to giggle.

  He’d had the same impulse this morning—to put his arm around Amy to comfort her. He didn’t know her, though, so he didn’t. Instead, he brought her more coffee and conversation had just seemed natural. Drew smiled. Amy had been laughing too, about the coffee, before they landed in Chicago.

  The waitress poured more tea now, as Drew stared through the window, watching the cars racing past. He’d likely never see Amy again, but it had been a good day, a day he would remember.

  ***

  On Monday morning, Drew stood in the doorway of Di’s office. It looked much as it had the day she had left. Books rested in stacks on the floor, papers were piled on her desk, and her computer was ready for her login.

  The only change was the two boxes he had placed on the corner of her desk, two boxes that held the items he had brought from the nursing home. He had returned there early on the morning after she’d passed away, before the day-staff reported and the other patients’ family members began to arrive.

  There had not been much to bring—the clothes she’d worn the day she checked in, t-shirts, pajama pants, her Bible, prayer book, eReader. He had been in and out in less than twenty minutes, not long enough to have to speak with anyone except the head nurse. Di’s room had been full of flowers. He had asked the nurse to send some to the chapel, and he had taken a few arrangements to other patients’ rooms. Then, when he’d reached home, he had called a local charity to pick up Di’s television set.

  He needed to go through the office. The boxes had sat untouched for six months. He knew he would not read the books, and he didn’t know what the papers contained—ideas for the book she had been writing perhaps—but he needed to sort through it all.

  Just not today.

  Today, he was searching for her editor’s address. He had finally finished revising the manuscript, working for ten hours straight following church on Sunday, and it was ready to go.

  Drew sat at her desk. It occurred to him that he had never sat in her chair before, had never seen the room from this perspective—her perspective. To his right were two sets of double windows, looking out on the garden. Even without the flowers Di would have planted, it was attractive. Thirty-year-old azaleas lined the walls, benches stood at either end, and the fountain gurgled in the middle of the small plot of grass. Behind him were bookshelves filled with books, bric-a-brac, family pictures.

  Across the desk he could see the icon corner, as Di called it. He counted ten icons hanging on the wall, and one empty space, left by the one she had taken when she had gone to the nursing home. He glanced in the closest box to make sure. Yes, the icon was there. He had not forgotten to bring it home. He needed to return it to its place on the wall.

  But not now.

  He opened the middle drawer and found a spiral notebook. Addresses covered the first three pages, and the editor’s name was at the top. Drew copied the address onto the envelope that held the manuscript. He would put it in the mail when he reached school.

  As he stood to leave, he glanced around the office. He needed to decide what to do with the space.

  There were two file folders lying on the desk where Di had left them. He picked one up and flipped through the papers inside. They contained notes for the novel on which she had been working. In the other folder, he found ideas for future books. One of them had the outline for a novel about a single father whose former wife appeared after a decade, seeking custody of their two children. A second was an historical romance concerning a poor, English immigrant who arrived in Charleston on Christmas Eve one year in the seventeen sixties. Those books would never be written now. He slid the folders into the waste basket.

  Turning, he looked at the framed photographs on one shelf of Di’s bookcase. They were all rather old, as if she had attempted to hold on to the past. One was a fading wedding picture, him and Di cutting the cake. There were photos of Matthew—one of him riding his tricycle and another taken at the lake in the mountains. He smiled when he saw the image of Jennifer when she was about seven years old w
ith, what she would later call, the haircut from hell. She had turned her head at the wrong moment while having her hair trimmed, and her bangs on the left side had ended up almost an inch shorter than those on the right. When they were made even, well…she would have burned that picture, if she’d been given the chance.

  He would likely scan the photographs into his computer, perhaps use them as a screensaver. Newer images would replace them on the shelf.

  Walking across the room, he inspected the icons closer. A life-long Episcopalian, Drew didn’t understand the icons, but Di had been raised in the Greek Church, and they had been very important to her. He might throw her notes away and replace her photographs, but he wouldn’t touch her icons.

  Jennifer had told him that he shouldn’t leave the room as a shrine to Di. She was probably right, but the thought of cleaning it out, rearranging furniture, setting the room up to serve some other purpose—even an office for himself—made him feel ill. Di’s office was all he had left that was totally hers. Drew sighed.

  ***

  Amy hurried across the plaza, afraid she would be late. She had started work in March and she was still becoming accustomed to the office routine. She would never tell Elaine, but she was, in fact, exhausted after her trip. She had taken an unaccustomed afternoon nap after church on Sunday and had hit the snooze button on her alarm twice this morning.

  After reaching home on Saturday, she had called Lucy to report on her assignment. She smiled now as she recalled Lucy’s fit of laughter when she’d described the incident on the airplane. They had both laughed, and it had been five minutes before they could talk seriously again.

  “So,” Lucy had said, “when are you going to see him again?”

  “I don’t know. I gave him my number. It’s up to him.”