A car pulled out between them, and she slammed on the brakes. The rubber on her tires skidded, reminding her of the morning of her fender bender and the concussion that had kept her from flying. Things would have been so different if the accident hadn’t happened. Drastically different.
She swerved around the car and headed in the direction she’d seen Addison travel. He was blocks up ahead, but she changed lanes and wove between cars until she was close to him. He pulled into a condominium complex and parked his car. Erin drove in to double-park behind him, cut off her engine, and got out of the car.
“You’re wasting your time, Erin,” Addison shouted, slamming his own door. “I don’t have time for your games.”
“Games?” Erin shouted. “You think this is a game?”
Addison started up to his apartment. “Call it whatever you want. It was a dirty trick, and I would have expected you to be above something like that.”
Erin followed behind him, taking three steps for every one of his. “I’m not above anything that will keep that little boy from having to defend his father and his name. I’m not above anything that’ll keep Mick’s memory from being dragged through the mud!”
“I don’t drag people’s memories through the mud,” Addison said through his teeth. “I tell the truth! That’s all!”
“No matter who it destroys? No matter what it means?”
Addison rammed his key into his lock, then swiveled to face Erin, his face flaming. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want to destroy anyone. Especially that little boy. I was going to meet him, talk to him. You had no right to set me up!”
“When
were you going to? You still haven’t even met his mother. You’re afraid to, Addison. I saw your face when you realized who he was. You were horrified! I don’t think you would have done it voluntarily.”
“I would have, Erin! It’s my job! I just don’t happen to enjoy seeing people’s pain. I remember it, Erin. I was there myself, remember?” He started to pass through the door, then turned back as if to push it shut, but Erin burst through and closed it behind her.
She leaned back against the door, staring at him across the small foyer. “I don’t know who you lost, Addison, or what happened. But that little boy lost his father, and Maureen lost her husband. I can go on, but the balance of their lives will never be the same again.”
“That isn’t my fault!” Addison rasped. “Did I make him crash? Did I kill him?”
“No, but you’re killing his memory. You’re taking away anything good Jason can be proud of about his dad!”
“I can’t do that!” Addison said. “If Mick Hammon made an impression on his son, nobody—not you or I—can take that away from him.”
“They can, Addison. You don’t know what it’s like. Mick was his father. His
father!
You don’t know what he’s going through already,
without
the rumors and smears.”
Addison slammed his fist against the wall, and Erin jumped. “I
do
know, Erin! I
do
know! Amanda was my
wife!
I lost my
wife
in a crash.”
Erin caught her breath, and her bold resolve drained slowly out of her. She regarded Addison as he slumped against the wall opposite her, the admission draining him of his fight. His eyes glistened again, and his face seemed to lose all color.
“So don’t tell me I don’t know what those people are feeling,” he said, his voice dropping to a waver. “Don’t come in here and accuse me of bypassing them out of cruelty. I know what it’s like to be questioned, when you have more questions yourself than you could ever answer. I know what it’s like to be hassled by the press, when all you want is to be left alone with your grief. I know the pain a person experiences when he’s slept in the same bed with someone every night for years and suddenly has to get used to that bed being empty. I was trying to spare them for as long as I could, Erin. I had hoped I’d be able to clear him of responsibility first, so my interview with him wouldn’t be necessary!”
He choked on the last words, rubbed his jaw. His eyes focused on her with disgust. “But you had to play God and get me together with the innocent little boy, corner me so I’d learn my lesson.”
Erin’s gaze faltered. That was exactly what she’d done, and for the life of her she couldn’t find any defense.
“Well, I learned a lesson, all right,” Addison added. “About you. I never thought of you as a manipulator before today, Erin. But that’s just what you are. And what about Jason? What will he think about either of us when he finds out who I am…when I really do have to talk to him? It’ll just make it a thousand times harder for him, because he trusted me for a time.”
Tears of shame and regret stung Erin’s eyes, and she stepped toward him, hands outstretched. “Addison, I—”
“Go home, Erin,” he said, his tone as dead as the look in his eyes. “Just go home.”
What could she say? That she was sorry? In all fairness, she wasn’t certain she was. But she didn’t like the image he had of her now, or the determination he had to end what they had begun. Slowly, she went to the door, opened it, and stepped back into the sunshine.
She stood on the step for a moment, looking out toward the parking lot, then heard the door being pushed closed behind her. Her heart sank a dozen levels before she forced her legs to move back to her car.
A
ddison pulled into the driveway of the Hammon’s house and regarded the brick, split-level home that had been groomed and maintained with great care for years. The home lay nestled in an upper-middle-class Shreveport subdivision, complete with security at the gates that isolated it from the crime and violence of the city streets. He shut off his engine and sat in the dark car for a moment. His job stank, he decided. When he’d started it, he’d never expected to become a post-death agent whose inevitable knock on the door dredged up heartache and grief.
And what would Jason think when he saw that
he
was the one “nailing” his dad? Would Jason hate him? Curse him, in his nine-year-old way?
He rubbed a hand over his rough chin and thought of Maureen’s grief—grief that would have to be set aside while he asked her what he needed to know. He hadn’t forgotten the “official” visits he’d gotten after Amanda’s death.
“We’re terribly sorry about your loss, Mr. Lowe. We hate to bother you, but we need to talk to you about a settlement…”
No one had blamed Amanda, a mere passenger, for the crash, though. No one had drilled him to support a theory that the person he loved was in the wrong…the way he would drill Maureen tonight.
Maybe Erin had been right. Maybe it had been his conscience that kept him from going to the family. Or maybe what he’d told her was true—that he dreaded making them relive the tragedy, and that he simply wanted to spare them for as long as he could. For the life of him, he didn’t know if his procrastination had been noble or cowardly.
Regardless of the answer, he had no choice but to see them tonight. Erin’s stunt this afternoon had cinched it. Now there was no putting the interviews off.
Like a man heading voluntarily into a lynching, Addison got out of his car and started up the walk. Mrs. Hammon had left the porch light on, probably for him, since he’d called to tell her he was coming. He couldn’t help remembering the night that the airline official had called him to say
he
was coming to discuss the terms of their settlement to avoid a lawsuit. He had paced the small, empty living room in the dark before the man came, gnashing his teeth and asking himself how those idiots thought they could pay him any adequate compensation for his wife’s life.
Was Maureen pacing now, wondering what this NTSB official would demand to know about her personal life with her husband and wondering if throwing him out would do Mick’s cause more harm than good?
He reached the front door and rang the bell, then wiped his palms on his jacket. He hung his head and waited.
Maureen answered quickly, a tentative smile on her pale face. She looked smaller than he’d expected, more fragile, and there was a delicate beauty about her. Her red hair was pulled back in a chignon, and she wore little makeup. “Mr. Lowe?” she asked.
“Yes.” He held out his hand in greeting, and she took it in her own. “Mrs. Hammon, I’m terribly sorry about your loss…”
T
he visit went well, much better than Addison had expected, for Maureen was unexpectedly honest in answering his questions. She never dangled the guilt over his head that Erin had, never mentioned the cruel phone calls she’d been getting, never referred to Jason’s pain. She simply said that she wanted to get the investigation over as soon as possible so that she and her son could go on with their lives.
Addison was just closing up his clipboard of notes when Jason came downstairs. At the sight of Addison, he halted midstep.
Maureen stood up. “Honey, it’s all right. You can come in. This is Mr. Lowe of the National Transportation Safety Board.”
Jason’s hands coiled into fists on top of the banister. His lips drew back into thin lines. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked Addison in a voice full of loathing.
Thinking he was addressing her, Maureen frowned. “I told you he was coming,” she said.
Addison held up his hand to her, silently conveying that this was between the two males. He took a few steps toward the boy. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know who you were until you told me who your dad was.”
Jason contemplated the explanation, his small nostrils flaring. “But Erin knew, didn’t she?”
Addison dropped his gaze to the floor. Jason needed Erin now. It wouldn’t help to make him angry at her. “She…she thought if we met that I’d change the thrust of my report,” he said, knowing his voice lacked the conviction needed to excuse her. “That knowing you would change my mind.”
Maureen knitted her brows together, puzzled. “Wait a minute. You two have met? Through Erin?”
“She tricked me,” Jason said, lips quivering. “She didn’t tell me he was the one who’s saying the crash was Dad’s fault.”
“Jason…” Addison reached for him, but the boy backed away, his eyes glossed with tears.
“Get away from me!” he demanded as he ran. When he slammed the front door, the impact shook the house.
Silence wove an explosive web between Addison and Maureen as they looked awkwardly at each other. “I’m so sorry,” Addison said. “Erin meant well, but…” His voice faltered and he looked toward the door through which the angry child had disappeared. “Do you…do you mind if I go talk to him?”
Tears came to Maureen’s eyes. “Please,” she said. “I don’t know what to say to him anymore.”
Addison left her alone then, and went quietly out the front door, his eyes searching through the darkness for the boy. He followed the deck that surrounded the house until he found Jason sitting on the redwood floor, legs hanging over the side, feet scuffing the dirt below him. Gritting his teeth and fighting the searing emotion tugging at his face, Jason took a rock and launched it through the air. It landed some yards away with a thump.
Addison leaned against a post and gazed down at the boy. “You have a right to be mad,” he said quietly.
“I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” Jason returned.
The words were like a cold hand squeezing his heart, but Addison wouldn’t give up. “Then can you listen?”
Jason didn’t answer. He only sent another rock barreling through the air. It plunged into a pile of leaves.
Addison sat down on the deck next to the boy, his shoulders slumped. It was a dark night, for the clouds hung low beneath the moon and stars, lending a dismal feeling to the already charged atmosphere. What could he say to the boy, when his world seemed to have ended? He racked his brain, his heart, for the needs he’d had when Amanda had died. He remembered that he’d wanted to know what had gone wrong, in grueling detail. He’d actually wanted to picture the crash so it would become real, something he could grasp. Only then could he begin to sort out the senselessness of it all. But Jason was just a child. Did he have that same need? The haunted look in the boy’s eyes told Addison that he did.
“I want to tell you what I know about the crash,” Addison said finally. “Because I think you have a right to know. Has anyone told you how it happened?”
Jason’s hand froze in midair just before launching another rock. “No,” he said.
“Do you want to know? Because I’ll only tell you if it’s something you want…or need…to know.”
Jason turned his hand and let the rocks slip to the ground, one at a time. A slow nod was Addison’s answer.
Addison thought for a moment, choosing his words with painstaking care. “According to the tape and all the other information we have, nothing went wrong during flight,” he began quietly. “It was on the final approach into Shreveport that something happened.”
Addison picked up one of the rocks that Jason had dropped and rolled it in his palm, considering how to say what Jason most needed to hear, without taking the easy way out and lying. “Jason, do you know what a glide path is?”
“Yeah,” Jason whispered. “I think so.”
Addison wasn’t convinced, so he explained to make sure, using hand gestures to illustrate what seemed vague. “It’s the angle of about two and a half degrees from the runway, one that the plane has to line up with on its approach. There’s also the localizer, which lines you up with the runway. After you’ve centered up the localizer and are aligned with the runway, the glide path bar comes down on the instruments, and when it reaches the center, you’re on the glide path. If the bar goes up a little, you pull the nose up a little…if the bar goes down a little, you push the nose forward a little. Staying on that path helps you make a smooth landing.” Addison fingered the rock in his hand and pushed out the breath constricting his words. “Well, your dad got a little below the glide path.”
Jason didn’t say anything. He sat frozen, staring into the dirt beneath his feet.
“Sometimes things go wrong that distract a pilot,” Addison continued, his voice blending with hushed night sounds. “Maybe he was thinking about getting home or was tired or maybe something important was on his mind. All we know is that the plane slipped below the glide path, and he didn’t get it pulled up in time.”
“That’s not how it happened,” Jason refuted, each word uttered with great emphasis. “Dad wouldn’t have gotten distracted. He wouldn’t have done it.”
Addison set his gentle hand on the back of Jason’s neck, trying to make the truth into less of a monster. “Jason, your dad was one of the best pilots I’ve ever profiled. He had an excellent record. People had the utmost faith in his ability. I know that he didn’t let it fall on purpose.”
“My dad didn’t kill all those people.” Tears burst from Jason’s eyes, and even the dim hues of moonlight caught them rolling down his cheeks.
Addison stroked Jason’s neck, not sure what to do to comfort the child. “Jason, we’re not talking about him holding a gun to someone’s head or snapping or doing anything malicious. It just happened. Even if the report says pilot error caused the crash, it doesn’t mean that your father was any less of a pilot, or any less of a man.”
“He didn’t do it,” Jason repeated. “You’ve got it all wrong. You need to look harder. You’ll find something else. Something else went wrong.”
“I’ve looked through everything, Jason. I’ve done everything I can to get to the truth.”
“But it’s not fair!” Jason shouted, launching himself off the deck and turning furiously back to Addison. “It’s not fair!” He rubbed his fist across his face. “You aren’t looking hard enough!”
The sting of rare tears ached in Addison’s eyes, and he tried to swallow the emotion in his throat. “Jason, I’ve tried to be fair. And I’ll keep trying. I wish I could tell you something else, but I thought you deserved to hear the truth…to try to understand.”
“Well, I
can’t
understand,” Jason cried, wiping away his tears with his sleeve. “Can you?”
Helplessly, Addison shook his head. “No, I can’t. And I wish to God that it wasn’t my job to report it. But would it make it any easier if there
were
something else? If I found that the crash was out of his hands? That he had nothing to do with it? Would it really make any difference in the way you feel?”
An eternity passed between them as Jason wept against the post, his back turned to Addison while he pondered the question. Finally, he turned around, his sobbing gasps racking his small shoulders. “No, it wouldn’t make a difference,” Jason choked. “He’d still be gone. It still wouldn’t bring my dad back. But it would make
them
shut up about it. All those people saying—”
A tear dropped onto Addison’s cheek, and he tilted his head and arched his brows, grasping for some words of comfort to offer the boy. With only instincts to guide him, he opened his arms, and Jason came to him, clinging as he wept his heart out.
“It hurts,” Addison whispered. “I know how it hurts. I lost my own wife in a crash. It’s like somebody ripped out your heart and there’s this great big hole there, empty…But your mom told me your dad was a Christian, Jason. And we don’t have to grieve as non-Christians do, because we’ll see them again. To God, it’s only a few minutes until we’re with them again. But it still hurts, and no one can understand unless they’ve been there. I’ve been there, Jason. I’ve hurt like you hurt.”
He held the boy as Jason sobbed out great chunks of his misery, soaking Addison’s shirt, never letting go of his neck until the agony was spent.
T
hat night, Addison lay on his bedcovers, staring at the ceiling, feeling more alone than he’d felt in the last four years. The feeling was so similar to the one he’d experienced during the days after he’d first learned of Amanda’s crash. Then, he couldn’t believe that she wasn’t going to walk in through the front door. The loneliness had been suffocating, painting his life in dead, gray colors.
Erin
, his heart called in the night.
Why did you have to set me up? Why couldn’t you have trusted me to do the right thing?
He threw a wrist over his eyes and thought of the red welts around Jason’s eyes when he’d cried himself dry tonight. Then he thought of Erin’s angry, guarded eyes yesterday after he’d warned her of the conclusions in his report. Usually, her eyes shone like rays of sunlight into his empty heart. But they had been cold today, and Addison Lowe had caught enough of that chill to last a lifetime.
We were a fairy tale,
Addison thought.
My fairy tale.
But fairy tales, like life, shouldn’t always be played out. Their relationship simply wasn’t meant to be. They were two opposing forces, neither willing to give in.
Maybe some men were only meant to know love once in a lifetime, he thought with a heartrending sigh. Maybe he’d already had his share.
So now why did he see Erin, instead of Amanda, when he closed his eyes? And why had her pain penetrated his professional numbness and become his own pain?
And why had he let an angry, frightened pilot and a troubled child make him feel like a heel for doing his job?
Why had the crash even happened?
Why had he ever met Erin…?