Return by Air (Glacier Adventure Series Book 1)

by Tracey Jerald

Kevin guffaws loudly in my ear. “One thing I’ll say about you, Mom. You don’t lie.”

  Jennings flashes me a crooked smile but doesn’t say anything as he’s talking with the tower. A moment later he responds as we taxi toward the hangar. “I’m glad that went smoothly. I’ve got precious cargo on board.”

  “Kevin is absolutely that,” I agree.

  “I wasn’t just talking about him,” Jennings says mildly.

  I want to punch him for flirting so openly while our son is listening in, but I don’t. I tell myself it’s because he’s still navigating something that costs the price of my dream home into a ridiculously tight parking space at the direction of a ground crew member.

  I stubbornly refuse to acknowledge the warmth his words cause inside me because I’m terrified of what happens when I’m let down again. Lying in bed last night, I replayed my conversation with Maris. I recalled everything about the men I dated, especially my almost engagement. And I realized Maris was right; I’ve been holding back on living not only because of what my parents did, but because of the man next to me. I held back on living because no one else could make me feel what he did.

  Now that he’s here, I’m holding back because of my own fears. And still, he’s a part of every molecule of my being. How could he not be when I held a part of him next to my heart for ten months?

  I have no idea what to do, I think wearily. And right now, I wish with every fiber of my being I could pick up the phone and call my brother instead of typing him another letter I know I’ll never get a reply to. I can just see how this one’s going to go. Dear Dean, What should I do? Jennings is in our life again and I don’t know how to feel. What kind of big brother tests would you run him through to make certain he’s not going to crush my heart the way he did before? Frantically, I try to imagine his voice in my head, but all I get is the impression of me, Kevin, and Dean laughing on a Sunday watching football while I prepared something in the Crock-Pot. My heart aches when I remember how we used to have so little, but the reality is we had everything.

  Jennings turns off the engines. I’m lost in my memories as I remember Dean cursing over Jacksonville losing another game because we couldn’t get a decent quarterback to throw a pass. Suddenly, the headset that permitted us all to hear one another in the air is being lifted from my ears. Startled, I meet Jennings’s compassionate eyes as he pulls it away. “Did we lose you there, Mom?” he teases gently.

  “Maybe for just a moment,” I admit sheepishly.

  “All we need to do is get you unstrapped, and then we can get out of here,” Jennings assures me.

  Refusing to acknowledge the disappointment his words cause, I nod before turning to tease Kevin. “Are you ready to crawl back into bed?”

  “Yes, but it was so worth it,” he yawns. “Thanks, Jennings.”

  “Anytime. I mean that. And it doesn’t have to just be at dawn.”

  “Why did we go up, then?” Kevin asks as we climb out of the plane.

  Jennings doesn’t reply until we’re all standing next to the plane. “There’s something magical in the air when the night shifts between night and day.”

  “Do you take your planes up at that time a lot?” The question pops out of my mouth unbidden.

  Jennings shakes his head. “The last time I went up that early, I took Jed. He was in Seattle for a quick trip and spent the entire flight telling me about the man he’d fallen in love with.”

  “Dean,” I choke out. God, from my own thoughts of him to hearing this, it’s almost more than I can bear.

  “Yes.” We could be the only two people in the world as he telegraphs his heartfelt apologies with his eyes as the morning sun streams through the hangar. Clearing his throat, Jennings breaks our connection to finish answering. “Life got in the way, son. So, maybe it was fitting the next people I shared this magic with was you and your mom.” He stares out at the morning sky. “Magic isn’t in flight. It’s returning to your wishes you made upon the stars by getting close to them in the air.” Almost embarrassed, Jennings clears his throat. “Anyway, let’s get you both back so you can get some rest.”

  I don’t think before I make the offer; I just do it. “We’re going to sleep, then we planned on just gorging on junk food all day and movies. You’re welcome to join us.”

  I don’t know who looks more excited about the invitation, Kevin or Jennings. But I know it’s right when Jennings’s voice catches as he asks, “What time?”

  I don’t answer. I’m not the teenager who will sleep until tomorrow unless I’m cattle prodded out of bed. So, my lips twitch when Kevin declares, “No earlier than four, Mom.”

  I turn to Jennings and rephrase Kevin’s order more politely. “Is four okay?”

  “Four can’t come soon enough,” he assures us.

  And I hate how my heart skips because I feel the same way.

  Even as we head back to Jennings’s rental, I can’t help but worry. We may have landed safely, but why do I feel like somehow I’m going to end up crashing and burning?

  I’m dancing around the kitchen singing along with one of my all-time guilty pleasures. My hips are swaying as I’m tapping the wood spoon against the pot of simmering chili. Putting it on a paper towel, I jump to the side in time to the music, twisting my way across the expanse of the linoleum floor as I make my way over to the fridge. Flinging the door open, I shake my hips to another popular hit when the sour cream tumbles to the floor. “Crap,” I curse aloud but sigh when I manage to catch the Tupperware of freshly shredded cheese before it meets the same fate. Glancing down, I heave a sigh of relief when I see there’s not a gooey white mess to clean up. “At least I didn’t manage to screw up snacks.”

  I’m so caught up in the music, I never heard the knock on the door, so I scream when I hear Jennings answer, “I think for another performance like that, it would have been worth it.”

  “Jesus, Jennings.” I quickly turn to drop everything in my arms onto the counter before catching my breath. I call out to the speaker to lower the volume. “I thought I was alone.” My cheeks are stained in embarrassment. Reaching for a towel, I wipe the chili splatters in earnest.

  Before he can say anything, Kevin bounds into the kitchen. “Mom, how much longer until food? I’m starving.” he says, accompanied by a pathetic look of a puppy deprived of a treat.

  “It will go faster if you ask your father how hot he likes his nachos and if there is anything he doesn’t like on them,” I inform him sweetly.

  “Jennings…”

  “I’ll eat everything you have on the counter with the exception of raw onions. As for the heat—” There’s a slight pause. “—I prefer things hot.”

  “You and Mom,” Kevin says in disgust. “I don’t know how you do it. I’ll go get the first movie ready.”

  Ignoring the pounding of my heart, I assemble the nachos and gooey cheesy sauce, liberally applying topping in between the layers. After laying on a sprinkle of shredded cheddar and cojito cheese, I take the tray in my arms and move over to the wall oven to slip the nachos in to broil. Before I can struggle balancing the pan and the door, Jennings is there, ready to assist.

  Don’t get used to it, the little voice inside of me silently warns. “Thanks.” Closing the door, I wipe a hand across my brow. “I lost track of time,” I admit.

  His lips curve, causing his dimple to appear. “Would that be because you were too busy making what may be enough nachos to feed a family of twelve or because of the dancing.”

  I flush hotly.

  “And singing,” he says as he steps closer into my space, making my heart beat faster. I can smell the warm, woodsy cologne he put on, and I tremble inside.

  Damn him, I’m not going to fall for those thick lashes that surround crystal-clear eyes. I refuse to be stripped of all my sensible reasons why becoming involved with John Jennings is a bad idea. The problem is the pull between us is stronger than ever. I’m so damn attracted to him, it’s next to impossible to be this close to him and
not feel the magnetism radiating off him.

  Stepping back, I move over to the counter and pull out a chef’s knife and a head of lettuce to get rid of the tension so I can hold a conversation with some semblance of calm. I don’t want to feel this way with Jennings; I just can’t prevent it.

  Tension descends on the kitchen. I’d say Jennings feels it too, when he approaches me warily. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re attacking that lettuce like you’d prefer it to be my head. How could I have done something since I last saw you?”

  The problem is, it’s not anything he’s done, per se. It’s my anxiety flaring. There’s shared moments between us as we show Kevin we don’t hold animosity toward one another where I remember all the fun and the good times we shared, then…wham! Something reminds me of my fear. He’s been gracious, accepting, and understanding. I have to figure out how to fully trust Jennings because every day I see the bonds between him and Kevin growing. I just don’t know how to deal with them. I continue to chop my frustration out on the lettuce despite how my body yearns to lean forward and make him crazy with all the ways I know I could.

  Jennings must decide with Kevin nearby he’s smarter to leave confrontation alone, instead commenting, “I’ve rarely seen someone with knife skills that good unless they were trained.”

  Giving in to his waving of the white flag, I pick up a pepper and expertly deseed it as I tell him, “Jed taught me.”

  He smiles. “That explains it.”

  “He needed to if I wanted to pick up shifts at Hook & Ladder during the summer.”

  “Hold on,” Jennings interrupts me. “You said you teach high school, right?”

  “Yes,” I reaffirm. I pull another pepper toward me, but Jennings’s hand lands on mine just as I start to chop. “That was stupid! I could have chopped your finger off!”

  “Screw that, Kara,” he says, making me want to show him the damage a chef’s knife can really do. “Why were you working shifts at Jed’s bar?” he asks low, menacingly.

  I answer unthinkingly. “Why, to make more money to put towards Kevin’s college…Jennings!” Without warning, the knife is yanked from my hand and is skating across the cutting board. I’m being pulled into Jennings’s arms, pressed tightly into his chest where I don’t just smell his cologne, I’m devouring it. My “What is your problem?” is muffled against his sweatshirt.

  He doesn’t answer me anyway. Instead, he rocks me back and forth for long minutes before letting me go.

  I feel the loss of his warm body against mine, but it’s the look of painful agony on his face that has me whispering, “What’s wrong?”

  Trailing a finger down my face, his voice is so low, I can barely hear it when he says, “Everything,” before he turns and calls out to Kevin, “So, what are we watching?”

  Frozen, I stand there until the timer startles me. What was that all about? Having two hungry guys to feed, I shake myself out of my head and lift the nachos out of the oven.

  Moving the large pan to the counter, I smile to myself as I hear Kevin and Jennings debating back and forth about which is better, Jimmy Fallon and the Roots singing along with classroom instruments or James Corden’s carpool karaoke.

  I add my own two cents when I call over, “Jimmy Fallon singing ‘I Want It That Way’ is embedded in my heart.”

  Father and son exchange a long look before bursting out into laughter at my expense. I just shrug before sprinkling on the final peppers onto the mounding tower. Grabbing a stack of plates, I make my way over to the television. But I freeze when my son haughtily informs his father, “Unless you like classic rock, we can’t be friends.”

  Because it’s not the teasing I care about at all. That’s something Dean used to say to Kevin when he was little over and over as he schooled him on the Stones, CCR, and Lynyrd Skynyrd. “Can’t live in Jacksonville and not know our native sons by heart,” he’d tease my son with as he would cut his generic chicken patty with a dollar-store cookie cutter to make it look fancy.

  I hold my breath, waiting to see what happens next.

  “Who taught you that?” Jennings laughs. “Your mother and Maris used to listen to garbage. In fact, she kinda just confirmed she still did.”

  I stick my tongue out at Jennings as a reply but angle my head toward Kevin.

  His face twists for a moment before he blurts out, “Uncle Dean. I remember he used to play all this great music when he’d pick me up from daycare.”

  “He sounds like someone I would have enjoyed getting to know,” Jennings replies evenly, his tone not betraying anything beyond interest. I want to sag in relief, but that would be too obvious to our son. With a quick glance in my direction, he murmurs, “I wish I had the chance.”

  My son nods. “I’m certain you would have. He was great.” Then his voice takes on a hesitancy. I wouldn’t be the mother I am if I didn’t pray with every fiber of my being my son would open up to someone, anyone. Even if that’s his father he’s known about a month. So, I hold my breath as Kevin asks, “Maybe I could tell you about him sometime?”

  Jennings leans over to snatch the remote up from the coffee table. Flicking the television to Off, he casually says, “What’s wrong with now? The movie can wait.”

  And Kevin starts to open up. I don’t know if it’s because Jennings has no preconceived notions about Dean or because he wants his father to understand him better, but my son finally releases some of the pressure that’s been built up inside of him since Dean and Jed died.

  Shifting so I’m out of Kevin’s line of sight, I catch Jennings’s eye and mouth, “Thank you.”

  The corner of his mouth tips up, the only sign acknowledging he saw me. Then his focus returns entirely to our son. Exactly the way I always dreamed it would.

  Quickly, I deposit the plates on a side table, hurrying back to the kitchen to grab the nachos. My heart beats a rapid staccato in my chest. When I turn around, Kevin has leaned forward, his head dropped beneath his shoulders.

  Jennings has shifted as well. He’s braced his elbows on his knees. I hear him murmur, “Sounds like your uncle was a pretty good dad to you.”

  And my son agrees, “He was. He was a great dad. And then I had Uncle Jed. Most guys, they don’t get it. But you don’t mind if I say that, do you, Jennings? Mom said you talked about that.”

  Jennings’s head snaps to mine, his light eyes intent. I feel frozen in my space. Did I tell my son too much trying to ease this path? God, what if I was wrong? I realize I didn’t cross a boundary when Jennings turns his attention back to Kevin before decisively nodding. “Your mom is right. I’ve thought several times your uncle must have been an impressive man to have raised you to be the young man you are. And I feel honored you think I’d understand more than your friends.”

  Kevin’s head bobs up and down.

  The moment of silence extends. I’m afraid to move, afraid not to. But it’s Jennings’s words that free me at the same time they stagger me.

  “Son, there are days when you’re never going to believe this, but your mother is one of the smartest people in the world.”

  Kevin scoffs. “I already know that, Jennings.”

  But Jennings shakes his head. “I don’t mean when it comes to science, though I bet she’d still give any lab rat a run for their money. I mean about her love for you. There isn’t a thing she wouldn’t do for you. She’s brought nothing but good people into your life—starting with your uncle Dean. And when he couldn’t be there anymore, she knew you would need someone to talk with because he was such an important part of your heart. I hope you know by now your grief is very appropriate for a boy who just lost his ‘dad.’ She’s so smart she knew you’d need help and went to every length to get that for you.”

  “You think so, Jennings?”

  “Yes. And let me tell you, to be loved like that is the goal for anyone, no matter their age.” Jennings looks as troubled as Kevin for a moment before he schools his features. “Now, let’s help your mom. And maybe whil
e we’re munching on nachos, you can tell me more?”

  “That sounds like a deal.” Kevin shoots to his feet. For just a second he seems undecided, but as quickly as he wraps his arm around Jennings, he lets him go. Jennings’s arms immediately lift to wrap around him, but he doesn’t get the chance.

  I can’t move for a moment because it’s everything I ever wanted, my son reaching out to his father, but at the same time it’s devastating to my heart because deep down, secretly, I’d always imagined I’d be a part of the equation. Squashing that, I celebrate the breakthrough Kevin’s making by reaching for the platter of nachos. “Who’s hungry?” I call out. Turning, I almost stumble into Jennings. “I’ve got this if you don’t mind grabbing the trivets?” I ask.

  A muscle ticks in his jaw. “You’ve done so much, Kara. More than you could possibly know.” With that ambiguous statement, he grabs the trivets so we don’t burn up Maris’s coffee table.

  After I lower the tray, Kevin exclaims, “Awesome! Uncle Jed’s recipe for nachos.”

  I hand out plates. “Dig in,” I encourage.

  “Jed’s recipe?” Jennings questions.

  “For the restaurant. I made it so often, I memorized it.” I laugh. “Like after the first thirty orders the first weekend.”

  “Right,” Jennings clips out. Turning to Kevin, he says, “I’ll let the expert show me how to dig in.”

  Kevin doesn’t waste any precious time. Even with his plate filled high, he shoves a mouthful in as he sits back. “So good, Mom. Thanks.”

  I reach over and stroke my hand over his head. He bats it away like normal. I just grin. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

  Jennings sits back with a plate full of cheesy deliciousness, and his eyes dart between the two of us. “You’re a very lucky man, Kevin.”

  Kevin sits up straighter, the “man” comment startling him, I’m sure. “What makes you say that?”

  “You have a mother who loves you beyond anything. She gave you the best and even then wanted to give you more.” Jennings’s eyes shift to my face which must be frozen in shock. “I’m coming to realize she’s one of a kind.”