Table of Contents
Synopsis
By Susan X Meagher
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
By Susan X Meagher
Who are you? Is the real you a moving target or is there an essence that remains unchanged?
Avery Nichols is certain that she is a better, more evolved person than she was when she left home for college. But not everyone has watched her mature. When she returns to her childhood home, the one person she most wants to get close to is also the one whose impression of her remains fixed in the past.
Casey Van Dyke wants to think the best of Avery, but old hurts have a way of calcifying when they’re not explored. They both want to be closer, they both long for connection, but their images of who they are now and who they were then keep getting in the way. To get past their stumbling blocks, they have to open their hearts, something neither of them has excelled at. They’re both motivated, but is that enough?
Friday Night Flights
© 2020 By Susan X Meagher
This Electronic Original Is Published By Brisk Press, Wappingers Falls, Ny 12590.
Edited by: Catriona Bennington
Cover design and layout by: Carolyn Norman
First Printing: February 2020
This is a work of fiction. names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the author or publisher.
ISBN-13: 978-1-7343038-0-3
By Susan X Meagher
Novels
Arbor Vitae
All That Matters
Cherry Grove
The Lies That Bind
The Legacy
Doublecrossed
Smooth Sailing
How To Wrangle a Woman
Almost Heaven
The Crush
The Reunion
Inside Out
Out of Whack
Homecoming
The Right Time
Summer of Love
Chef’s Special
Fame
Vacationland
Wait For Me
The Keeper’s Daughter
Friday Night Flights
Short Story Collection
Girl Meets Girl
Serial Novel
I Found My Heart In San Francisco
Awakenings: Book One
Beginnings: Book Two
Coalescence: Book Three
Disclosures: Book Four
Entwined: Book Five
Fidelity: Book Six
Getaway: Book Seven
Honesty: Book Eight
Intentions: Book Nine
Journeys: Book Ten
Karma: Book Eleven
Lifeline: Book Twelve
Monogamy: Book Thirteen
Nurture: Book Fourteen
Osmosis: Book Fifteen
Paradigm: Book Sixteen
Quandary: Book Seventeen
Renewal: Book Eighteen
Synchronicity: Book Nineteen
Trust: Book Twenty
United: Book Twenty-One
Vengeance: Book Twenty-Two
Anthologies
Undercover Tales
Outsiders
Acknowledgments
My thanks to Millie Ireland, Catherine Lane, and Rachael Byrne for their feedback during various drafts of the book. They each had expertise in elements of the story I could only guess at, and I’m appreciative to them for sharing their thoughts and reactions.
Over the past two years, I’ve visited breweries and tasting rooms all over the Hudson Valley, gleaning information whenever and wherever I could find it. I’m pleased to report that my research was pure pleasure.
Dedication
To my wife, my dearest friend, and my publisher, who just happen to be the same person. My life is made better in every way by having Carrie by my side.
A child can teach an adult three things: to be happy for no reason, to always be busy with something, and to know how to demand with all his might that which he desires.
Paulo Choelho
Chapter One
Summer
Columbia County, New York
If the laws of nature had been in effect, a woman would not have been significantly better looking sixteen years after you’d last seen her. But this woman was either Casey Van Dyke’s doppelgänger, or adulthood had been very, very kind to her.
She stood about fifty feet away, near a small bar located in a greenhouse-style structure on what appeared to be a big farm, but was, in fact, a brewery. Two longish lines of people waited for a pair of bartenders to pull beer, but Casey wasn’t in line. She stood at the end of the bar, leaning against it with an arm slightly behind her, providing a little support as she scanned the crowd, looking satisfied. A bearded guy was talking to her, and she laughed easily and often, sometimes giving him a playful elbow.
Avery Nichols settled onto a tall stool, then dropped her bag onto the table top. Actually, calling the thing a table was a stretch. It was a wooden spool that had previously been used to transport wire or cable, now serving out its second life of holding glasses for the local beer-loving crowd. As Avery shifted her gaze, she saw a bright, hopeful look on her mother’s face. “Seriously?” Avery hissed, with her irritation increasing when her mom gave her an overly innocent look.
“Seriously what?” she asked, actually batting her eyes like a schoolgirl.
“I told you I wasn’t interested in meeting up with Casey, Mom. I know she’s your current project, but I’m not going to change my mind.”
“Project? What a ridiculous thing to say. Ken,” she said, snapping her fingers to catch Avery’s dad’s attention. “Is Casey Van Dyke my project?”
He turned and cocked his head slightly. “Project? I don’t—”
“See?” her mom said, vindicated in her own mind. “Your father would know if I had a project, wouldn’t he?”
“Fine. You don’t have a project. But I told you I wasn’t interested in reconnecting. Yet, here we are, out in the middle of nowhere on a Friday night, and blind luck has plunked Casey down right in front of us.”
“They make beer here,” she said, as if that was an obvious reason for driving a half hour north once they’d picked Avery up from the train station.
“You don’t like beer.”
“No, but you do. You love it,” her mother said, beaming.
“There’s a brewery right in town. My train got in at six, and we could have been there at six oh five.”
“But they have food trucks here!”
Avery counted to ten, certain she wasn’t going to win this argument. Her mom had run into Cas
ey a few times over the last year, and had obviously decided that the forces of destiny were going to pull the two of them together into happily married bliss. That wasn’t going to happen, but she was thirsty. “I’ll go get in the beer line.”
Avery put her hands on the table top to secure her balance on the packed dirt floor. As she pushed off, Casey looked over and started to walk their way, smiling and shaking hands with people along the short journey. Unable to look away, Avery admired her stride, seeing the same loose-limbed grace the woman had displayed in high school.
Way back before Avery had spent any time thinking about sexual orientation or gender presentation, she’d known Casey wasn’t exactly like the other girls. She still wasn’t, but now she clearly claimed her uniqueness, with Avery certain Casey had confidently grown into her body and her sexual orientation. If an advertiser was looking for a model to proclaim lesbian pride, she was standing right here.
“Hi, there,” Casey said, leaning over slightly and speaking so she could be heard over the bluegrass music coming from outside the translucent skin of the building. She put her arm around Avery’s mom and gave her a hug. “Haven’t seen you in weeks, Kathy. Where’ve you been hiding?”
“I haven’t had time to hide. My scout troop keeps me running.”
Casey slowly turned toward Avery, giving her a tiny smile. “Long time no see.”
“Not since graduation,” Avery said, reaching out to shake her hand. Thickened calluses marked the base of each finger, with Casey’s grip strong and sure. “You obviously know my mom. How about my dad?”
“I don’t think I do,” she said, turning to offer her hand to him. “Casey Van Dyke.”
“Ken Nichols. And even though it’s been a long time, I definitely remember you. Everyone around us at Senior Honors Day started to laugh when you had to run back up to the stage time after time. I recall one grumpy guy mumbling that you should give the other kids a chance.”
Casey shrugged, revealing a bashful smile. “I left all of the academic honors right on that table for Avery to claim. For me, high school was only a place to play team sports until I had to get a job.”
Avery hadn’t taken her eyes off the woman for a second, hoping her dad continued to talk so she could gawp.
In high school, Avery hadn’t even realized Casey had been in her class, at least during their first two years. But she’d come into her own as they grew older, and had created a persona that seemed not only genuine, but unique. Over a single summer, she’d shaken off her shy, almost skittish mien, to reappear as a hovering presence, barely even a member of the student body. From the first day of their junior year, she gave off the air of a woman for whom circumstances had conspired to force her to cool her heels for a bit before she was allowed to strike out on a much more interesting path.
Avery recalled her being lanky, almost skinny, kind of like a gangly puppy. Long arms and legs and unrealized physical potential. Now, as Avery looked up at her with rabid interest, Casey’s chocolate brown T-shirt was filled by broad shoulders, sinewy muscle, and full, modest breasts. The kind that stood up firm and proud even without a bra. From Avery’s perspective, that potential had been realized in spades.
Just as in high school, Casey effortlessly carried off her butch-inflected, jock style. Her khaki shorts revealed legs that had lost their knobby knees a long time ago, now lean and tan. Flip-flops were a little silly to wear at what seemed like a working farm, but the bit of straw that clung to a strap was…charming. That detail reminded Avery of the high school Casey. If she wanted to wear flip-flops, she wore flip-flops, not noticing, or even caring to notice that she was the only one. Being a high school girl who didn’t mimic a larger group had taken some guts.
Avery looked up, finding dark eyes gazing at her questioningly. Her mom bumped her on the shoulder to knock her from her reverie, saying, “I haven’t bragged about Avery before? Seriously?”
Casey gave her a very sweet smile, shaking her head.
“Well, she did go to on to Bard. Then all the way to Iowa to get her MFA.”
“I not positive what an MFA is, but it sounds impressive,” Casey said, her straight white teeth an improvement over what Avery recalled as a gap-toothed smile. She reached up to urge her nearly black hair behind an ear. It was a little past chin-length now, longer and significantly more mainstream than when she’d looked like a fledgling riot grrrl.
“I didn’t actually wind up needing the masters degree,” Avery said, trying to catch up with the conversation. “But I wasn’t in a rush to get a job.”
“Oh, she’s so modest,” her mom said, wrapping an arm around her and leaning over to rest her head on Avery’s shoulder. “She’s got a big job in New York now. And a radio show,” she added, seeming like she might burst with pride.
“It’s a podcast,” Avery corrected, resigned to the fact that her mother would never understand the difference. “And I’m just the host. No one listens to hear me.”
“I listen to some podcasts,” Casey said, her level of interest so mild it was almost funny. “What’s the name?”
“Um, it’s one of several that Ad Infinitum produces. That’s the magazine I work for.”
“Uh-huh,” Casey said, gazing at her blankly. “What’s the name?”
“Oh! It’s called Short Shorts, but you have to drill down from the Ad Infinitum main menu to find it.”
“I think I can do that.” She took out her phone, pulled up a blank note, and handed the device to Avery. “Will you write it down? I might remember Short Shorts, but the rest is already gone.”
Avery started to type, finding herself rambling. “The podcast has a good following, especially in its category, but it’s certainly not topping the charts in the app store.”
“It’s fascinating,” her mom interjected. “I skip a lot of the stories just to listen to Avery, but if you like to listen to people read…”
Casey took a look at the screen, then shut her phone off and put it back into her pocket. “I’m still not sure what your podcast is about, but I’ll try to give it a listen.”
Avery squeezed her eyes shut, annoyed with herself for doing such a shitty job of convincing even one person to listen to her show. “Let me back up a little. My magazine hosts a monthly series where writers read one of their stories before a live audience. I host the program and ask a few questions. Nothing earth-shattering. That’s my main job,” she clarified, “running that program.”
“It’s a very big deal,” her mom said, either lying or delusional. “Some of the most famous writers in the country go to her little parties.”
Avery couldn’t help but smile. “They’re not parties, Mom. They’re readings, held at bars big enough to accommodate a bunch of literary types who like to drink.” She looked up at Casey, who was clearly just being polite. “The magazine’s subscriber-based, so anything we can do to attract attention is helpful.”
“Well, I’m not much of a reader, but I’m a good listener.” Her gaze shifted to the table. “You people need a drink. Mind a suggestion?”
“Casey works here,” Avery’s mom said. “She’s very important, too.”
“I’m not very important, but I’ve been the brewmaster for almost a year now. Best job I could have ever imagined.” She pointed to the lettering on her shirt, and Avery took the time to read it, trying not to focus on her breasts, which were well worth a second glance. I’m the brewmaster. If you run out, I can make more.
“I’ll take the advice of the woman who makes the stuff,” Avery’s dad said. “What should we drink?”
“Our summer ale’s very popular,” she said, seeming very thoughtful. “But I like something with more body. How do you feel about sours? I can’t take credit for this particular beer, but I’m crazy about our Triple Wild Cherry.”
“Sour beer?” Avery’s dad said, looking suspicious.
“It can take some getting used to,” Casey admitted, “but once you develop a taste for them, sours are addictive.” She
held a finger up. “Hold on and I’ll bring you a taste.” She’d been tamped down so far, but now her personality began to shine as she talked about her work, with her smile nearly blinding. “Get ready to have your minds blown.”
She disappeared into the crowd, with Avery grasping her mom’s hand and holding it so tightly she began to squirm. “Will you give it a rest now? We’ve reconnected. Mission accomplished.”
“You’re not even trying,” her mom said. “Where’s that bubbly personality I hear when you’re doing your radio show?”
She released her hand and let out a laugh. “Casey’s clearly not interested in my bubbly personality, but at least she’s easy on the eyes.”
“I certainly think so,” her mom said, as if Casey’s good looks were her doing.
“Did you come right out and ask her if she’s gay? I’m just trying to figure out how far you’ll go in finding me a wife.”
Her mother’s pale blonde brows rose. “Everyone knew that when you girls were still in school, didn’t they? Some idiots at Senior Honors Day grumbled that she should have had to take a chromosome test. Jerks,” she added, scowling.
“I don’t remember her ever coming to the house,” her father said, gazing at Casey as she leaned over the bar.
“I’m sure she never did,” Avery said. “We never hung out together.”
“Wait,” he said slowly. “Wasn’t she the girl who punted for the football team?”
“I think she did everything you could do in sports. I remember people losing their minds over some sportsy thing, but I’m not sure that was it…”
“Sure, sure, it was in the papers for weeks,” he said, showing more than his normal level of excitement. “How do you not remember that? Everyone had an opinion about whether a girl should be able to play for the local team. Some idiots started a petition to have the coach fired. They acted like she was going to upset the bedrock of civilization by kicking a ball fifty yards.”
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