A Man's Heart (36 page)

“What's going on?”

She turned, completely at a loss of direction. The largeness of the airport engulfed her. Until the lights came on, she was imprisoned. Five, then ten minutes passed. An eerie calm now swallowed the terminal. No one could move with any certainty. Occasionally a small flashlight beam swept the packed area. Jules was still in the security line. Standing. Finally she thought of the woman in front of her and she bent and spoke into the void. “Do you have a cell phone?”

“Why … yes. My daughter gave me one last Christmas. It's disposable, but I have seventeen minutes left. I carry it for emergencies — do you know how to use it?”

“I can try.” Jules knew Crystal's cell number by heart. If she could get a signal, she'd have Crystal turn around and come back for her. They could call Cruz and inform him of the delay … She couldn't let him go to the airport and not find her on the flight — but then the flight wouldn't be going out. Elation filled her. He'd know the flight was delayed.

“May I try and use the phone?”

The reply came swiftly. “Yes.” A phone landed in her hand. Turning it on, she carefully counted off the buttons and punched in Crystal's number. The phone rang four times.

“Come on … Crystal. Pick up.”

Five more unanswered rings.

Jules closed her eyes and was about to click off when Crystal answered. “Oh thank goodness. Turn around and come back. The storm knocked the power out in the airport.”

“How bizarre. Don't they have generators?”

“I don't know — if they do they're not running. Come
back and get me. And call Cruz immediately and tell him my plane's been delayed.”

“Okay. I'll turn around and come back. Do you want a burrito? I was just about to pull through a drive-in.”

“I don't want a burrito! Call Cruz and I'll feel my way back to the front entrance and meet you there.” Even she knew the idea was ludicrous, but she'd do it. Somehow, she'd find that manual door she'd walked through fifteen minutes earlier.

“Are you serious? That's a big airport, and you're not familiar with it.”

“I'll do it. Just turn around and come back.” She'd crawl to that door if she must. She reached out to return the phone. A hand took it.

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

Mentally she retraced her steps with the help of stranded passengers to the arrival entrance. Easing through the darkness, she gently parted bodies with no faces or shapes; stepping on toes, making apologies when someone said something not so encouraging. Only the feel of fabric and audible grunts met her efforts. She had a strong sense of direction in her favor. One or two flashlight beams focused, momentarily blinding her, but she kept her pace.

She had to find that entrance door.

Crystal punched the Delgados' home phone number as she wheeled off the exit ramp eating a drippy burrito. The phone rang five times before the answering machine picked up. “Hey, Cruz. This is Crystal. Jules's flight is delayed. She
won't be in on time. There was an earlier electrical storm, and it's knocked out power to the airport. She wanted me to call. So don't go to the airport. She'll let you know when air traffic resumes.” She clicked off and turned around, taking the nearest exit back to Fort Walton.

When she pulled into the terminal, the place was dark. She sat with the engine idling, spooked. Nothing was stirring. It was like one of those horror movies when some alien force had struck and left only a few survivors.

She was one of them.

Creeping the Fiat to the airline arrival gate, she wondered how Jules could possibly escape the dark cavern. Her headlights beamed on the airline employees standing around, some smoking cigarettes, others sitting on pieces of luggage. She pulled up and leaned over to crank down the window. “I'm looking for my …”

Jules shot by the attendant and got into the car. “Step on it. If we hurry, I might be able to catch a flight out of Panama City yet today.”

Crystal swallowed a yelp.
Alien
was her first thought. “What about your luggage?”

“It'll catch up with me. Just get going.”

Crystal gunned the motor and the Fiat surged ahead.

As the car pulled onto the interstate, lights in the terminal flickered, and then came on.

A
rmed with a gold bracelet, wrapped with a large yellow bow, Cruz came out of the jeweler's and headed for the mall patio. He checked his watch. Eight p.m. Still plenty of time before Jules's flight landed.

“What do you kids want to eat?”

“Chicken!” they chorused.

“You're both going to turn into a chicken,” he teased, tickling Livvy under her chin. “Chicken nuggets, chicken strips, cashew chicken — no nuts or green onions, chicken drumsticks.” Olivia held out her hand and wiggled her fingers.

“Okay. Chicken it is.” His eyes scanned the patio, and then focused on the teenage server. “A round of chicken strips, my good man, and make those extra crispy.” He was feeling generous tonight.

“This weather is murder!” Crystal scooted closer to the steering wheel and tried to clear the fog off the windshield. The wipers could barely keep up with the now falling rain. “I'm
dying of thirst, Jules. Can't we take a moment to hit a drive-through and get something to drink? I was in such a hurry to get you I forgot to order a soda.”

Jules was caving in, herself. It had been hours since breakfast, and then she had only eaten a protein bar. But if they hurried, she could still make it home tonight.

“There's a truck stop up-ahead. Pull in there.”

“I'll take anything.” The Fiat rolled off the exit ramp and pulled into the big lot where rigs were nearly stacked on top of each other. “It's the rain,” Crystal explained. “When it comes down like this, the truckers stop and eat.”

When the women entered the building Jules spotted a case with hot food. Corn dogs, chicken strips, tater tots, some dried-up macaroni and cheese, baked beans. She glanced at the restaurant door situated between the men's bathroom and showers. A hamburger wouldn't take that long, and she was most likely going to fly stand-by on a red-eye flight.

Minutes later Jules slid on a stool next to a burly looking driver. He glanced over, smiling.

Nodding, she ordered a burger and two large drinks to go while Crystal visited the ladies' room. When she returned, she had to sit on the driver's opposite side. Jules peered around him. “Did you call Cruz?”

“I did, but nobody was home. I left a message.”

Jules frowned. “But what if nobody goes home before it's time to meet my flight? I'll be very late getting in … he has to know.”

“I don't know, Jules. I called, and nobody was home. He'll find out when he gets to the airport.”

“Did you try his cell phone?”

“No …”

She reached over the driver. “Give me your phone.”

Crystal handed it over and she punched in Cruz's number.

“Come on, Livvy. Give back my phone, and eat your dinner.” Cruz reached for the cell, Olivia's favorite toy. She fiddled with the ringer off and on and babbled to her imaginary friend. She was telling “Tote” everything that happened in the last five minutes. Cruz forbid her from touching the keypad and the child was content with Tote's end of the conversation. The imaginary friend knew they were now sitting at the mall, eating chicken at the Dairy Queen before they picked up Aunt Jube at the airport.

Olivia covered the mouthpiece. “Can Tote get Aunt Jube with us?”

“Sure.” Cruz took a bite of fry, used to deciphering her kid talk. “Tell her we'll swing by and pick her up at the gas station.”

“Kay.” She relayed the message. “You can come, Tote.” She crossed her leg. “But you hafta tell Cruz when you have to go potty.” She pretended to hang up. “Drink?”

“If I get you a drink, you'll have to go potty again.”

Ethan nodded. “Just eat your fries.”

“Drink.”

Mentally groaning, Cruz got up and ordered a milk. When he set it on the table, the child's face wrinkled. “Orange.”

“Drink your milk.” Maybe if she didn't fill up on caffeine, it would cut down on the potty stops.

Livvy crossed her arms. “Orange.”

“No can do. They don't have orange,” he fibbed.

She pointed to a child at a nearby table. The clear plastic cup clearly indicated that somewhere nearby had orange soda.

Livvy met his eyes and he saw Sophie's determination. He glanced at his watch. Then shoved back from the table. “A small one.”

The little girl grinned and wiggled her fingers. “Orange.”

Jules clicked off with disgust. “He doesn't answer.”

“But you left a message?”

“I left a message.” Jules handed the phone back to her. “I'd feel more comfortable if I could reach him.”

“I tried Adan earlier. He doesn't answer either.”

The trucker beside her turned to address her. “Got problems, lady?”