Come Fly With Me

by Sandi Perry

  "Why not leave the handling up to him?" she asked.

  "Definitely not a good idea."

  "Honey, it's a great idea. It's high time you trusted a man. And I also heard he's very good-looking." She leaned in toward her daughter, "And very sexy."

  Allison reddened, "Oh, so it was Kenyon who told you."

  "Actually it was Emily."

  "Emily! Maybe it's time to get a new assistant," Allison grumbled.

  "Allison, life is mercurial. We don't know from one minute to the next what's in store for us out there."

  "I know," Allison got up and gave her mother a warm hug. "And I need you to be extra careful."

  "Why, have you heard something from the police?"

  "Not lately, but I'm in constant contact with Detective Fitzsimons. Just as an aside, Jeremy and I are meeting Paul Franklin for dinner this evening."

  "Would you like me to join?" her mother offered.

  "No. Definitely not."

  "That sounded a little sharp. Paul is harmless, surely you don't suspect..."

  "The police aren't ruling anyone out and neither should we. We're talking about a two billion dollar company, here." She paused as she noted her mother's widened eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't come up here to stress you out. I thought you'd like be in the loop. We're meeting Paul to see how he is in a relaxed setting away from the firm and to see if he could handle the CEO position. Please don't worry. Let me help you pack up the garlic bread and soup and get it all into the car."

  "Only if you're sure..."

  "I am. Really. Please go and have a good time. We're handling this."

  She waved her goodbye as she watched her mother back out of the garage. It had been a good idea to follow her impulse and come up for the weekend. It gnawed at her that she hadn't checked in on her mother more often. Insisting she get a place in the city was the next item on her list, right below catching a murderer and manning the company. Her mother was vibrant, beautiful, and very young looking and Allison didn't like the idea of how isolated the suburbs got during the winter months. Soon she would apply pressure on her to move to the city. In the meantime, she walked upstairs with her small weekend bag, pausing as she passed the bathroom. She flashed back to herself as a child and saw her father leaning over the tub, washing her hair.

  "Why are you giving me a bath? Mommy always does it."

  "Mommy had to go and spend a couple of days at Nana's."

  " Why?"

  "'Y' is a crooked letter. Here, lean your head back so I can rinse out the shampoo...good girl," he said as he lathered up again.

  "You're only supposed to do it once!"

  "What? Really? Because it says right here," he reached for the shampoo bottle that smelled of strawberries, "Rinse. Lather. Repeat. You can read, right?"

  "Of course! Daddy, you're funny."

  Allison was brought back to the present by the ringing of the front doorbell. As she went down to answer it, she remembered how safe her parents had always made her feel. It was many years later that she found out her father's unusual presence at bath time was due to a miscarriage her mother had suffered when she'd been four months pregnant. Allison regretted her mother couldn't have any children after that—she would have welcomed a little sibling that she could've bossed around.

  By the time she reached the foyer, Jeremy was unlocking the door.

  "Why'd you ring if you had the key?" Allison asked.

  "Because if I'd come sneaking up behind you, you would have jumped a country mile," he said.

  Allison smiled and gave his arm a light punch. "I'm impressed that you didn't seize the opportunity to give me my first gray hairs."

  "Hey, it's just the two of us...and Mom. We have to band together," Jeremy said quietly.

  "Yeah, how have you been doing with all of this?" she asked.

  "Some days I wake up and reach for the phone to call Dad, and then I have to put down the receiver when I remember he isn't there...here. Anymore," he said.

  Allison closed her eyes, "I mostly let it bubble on the back burner of my mind while I try to keep the business intact. But, a couple of days ago I was at the grocery store and this adorable couple in their seventies was on line in front of me. They were immaculately dressed and speaking about their grandchildren—I almost fell to my knees when I realized Mom and Dad are not going to have that to share."

  Allison gathered her arms across her chest and rubbed her hands on her cashmere sweater. The simple act helped her regain her control, and she turned to look at Jeremy, grateful he had given her a few moments to collect herself.

  "I really appreciate that you rearranged your schedule to come up and have dinner with me as I try to interview Paul Franklin for the CEO position."

  "I'm glad you thought to ask; this is a lot for you to shoulder on your own. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful, but if he keels over during dinner, I'm your man," Jeremy said. "It's almost seven, let's get going. Hopefully the car's still warm, it's freezing up here!"

  ****

  Two hours later Jeremy and Allison were driving back toward the house, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Jeremy spoke up, "There was one point there where I had a really good power nap. The only thing is he was still talking about clogged fuel injectors when I woke up fifteen minutes later."

  Allison punched his arm, "You did not take a nap—your eyes were open the whole time."

  Jeremy looked at her and smiled, "It's a trick I learned when I was a first-year resident—I can sleep with my eyes open. You want to see?"

  "That's so not funny, Jeremy, keep your eyes opened and focused on the road, please."

  "Bossy, bossy."

  "It doesn't matter if Paul's boring, we simply need someone very familiar with the business who can keep it running," Allison said.

  "I don't agree. Dad was such a charismatic man, and he built the company with his own hands. It would take a hit if such an unimaginative person were at the helm. What about the two other board members?"

  "You mean 'Dull' and 'Duller'?"

  "All right," he replied with a catch of laughter in his voice. "How about

  the guy I met at the We Care auction—wasn't his name Alexander Coventry?"

  Allison told him about the time she'd spent with Alex in Buckhead, and especially relished sharing the stolen newspaper story with him.

  Jeremy nodded as he pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, "I think I like this guy. He has balls, he's creative, and most importantly, he has something to prove to his father. And you and I both know that's reason number one for success."

  ****

  The next morning Allison was sitting at the kitchen table sipping her first coffee of the day. Her mother came in the room, "I see you found some old albums," she said as she peered over Allison's shoulders to take a peek. She poured herself a mug full of the aromatic liquid. "Um, so delicious. I forgot what it was like to come down in the morning and have the coffee already made."

  Allison put down the album. "You're so amazing; it's hard to remember you have needs, too. I haven't always been the easiest child." She smiled and shook her head, looking at a picture of herself at five years old with her back to the camera.

  Her mother joined her at the table. "Yes, I remember that, you absolutely refused to face the camera and your father took the picture anyway so you could see what he had to deal with."

  "And it got a lot worse," Allison added. "I always fought with him, even at such a young age. I can't figure out how that all started."

  "Let's see," her mother said as she tightened her robe. "You were strong-willed and fiercely independent and your father wanted things done his way and right away. It was a recipe for disaster."

  "And then, when I got older, I resented him appearing from time to time to bark orders and then wonder why they weren't being followed."

  "Well, your father was very busy, first starting up RossAir and then trying to grow it. It wasn't easy on any of us."

  "But I could have made it easie
r if I wanted to."

  "I guess. And your father could have as well," she sighed

  Allison looked at her mother, "But for all of it, I never doubted that I was very much loved."

  "And still are. You know, as you go through life you make certain assumptions. As a young girl, growing up I always assumed I'd get married and have the wedding of my dreams. Then I assumed I would have a beautiful family." She smiled at Allison, "And then, as the family grew up I assumed they'd get married. I always had visions of your father and me walking you down the aisle." She paused, her voice catching, "I always assumed we'd grow old together."

  Allison sipped her now cold coffee. "I can't imagine how hard this must be for you. Dad's gone, but it's odd. Everything here feels perfectly the same to me—like nothing's missing. Every picture on the wall has Dad in it looking robust and," she paused, "alive. We're a smiling, happy family, frozen in a moment of time." She took her mother's hands in hers, "But you sit here every night and eat dinner by yourself, and I'm in the city, sitting at his desk. It feels so wrong."

  Her mother put her hand over Allison's trembling one as the tears poured silently down their faces. "Sometimes I think there'll be a day when I wake up and the first thought won't be of the accident," she said.

  They sat like that for a long while. "I know you wanted me to get married young like you, but I'm a different person," Allison said. "It never was a priority for me and it still isn't. We'll add that to the list of my shortcomings."

  "Don't say it that way. I'm not disappointed, a little frustrated maybe. I lust after other people's grandchildren," her mother sighed.

  Finally, Allison got up. "I'm not thirty yet, there's still plenty of time to panic." Her eyes crinkled as she spoke. "I think I'll shower now, and then I'll help you sort through Dad's things. I know that can't be an easy thing to do." She gave her mother a hug. "I really am sorry for all of this craziness. But we'll stick together and get through it. And if I haven't said it enough in the past, I'll say it again now. Mom, you're spectacular, and I love you."

  ****

  A couple of hours later Allison stood, arms akimbo, as she surveyed the piles of stuff in her parents' large walk-in closet. "How did you accumulate so much stuff?"

  "Not me, your father. I'm the thrower-outer; he was the pack rat. I guess we can throw everything out now," she sighed.

  Allison reached for a box at the back of the closet and sat down cross-legged on the floor as she studied her find. "So, this is where my first sketch of Zeidy was all along. Dad had it?"

  Her mother nodded, "He was very proud of you."

  "Really?"

  "You're surprised? You know how much he loved you."

  "Yeah, but Dad always pushed me. He never seemed pleased."

  Her mother sat down on the closet floor next to her."You're right. It was difficult to please your father, but only because his standards were so high, not because you weren't smart or talented. That was his flaw, not yours."

  "Well, it might have helped if I had known that years ago." She wiped away a tear as she spoke.

  Her mother smoothed down her hair. "I would tell him that he pushed both of you too hard. He said it was a tough world out there and it was his responsibility to prepare you for it."

  At eye level with the bottom shelf, Allison spotted a worn, leather-book. Reaching for it, she recognized it instantly. "This was Zeidy's prayer book; I remember watching him reading it for hours when we'd go up to their house for the weekend."

  "This was his book of Psalms. He would pull it out on occasion, because he said it gave him comfort to pray when the world seemed too much for him."

  "I remember one time when Dad got so mad at him. I'd never heard him raise his voice to Zeidy, before."

  "Pop, could you put that book away? We're on vacation now. Why don't you give it a rest?"

  "Does God take a rest? Look at all the beauty surrounding you and the sun in the sky. You have food in your belly and a beautiful family. It wouldn't hurt you to say thank you to Him once in a while."

  "Where have your prayers gotten you, Pop? You have one son in the ground and the other you won't talk to because of your revered religion. I'm an only child. Should I thank G-d for that?"

  "Of course not. You can't humble yourself when you have anger in your heart. One day you'll appreciate all that you have."

  "I am grateful and I don't have to read some archaic words in a book to know it."

  "I remember at the time being so scared that Daddy was yelling. Zeidy was always so tranquil; I never understood how such a gentle man had such a fierce son." She smiled, "I'm happy to see that Dad saved these things; they did mean something to him, after all."

  "Of course they did," her mother responded. "And for the record, I think your father took after your Bubby. I think we've done enough here for now. Come on, let's go downstairs and have some ice-cream."

  "Only if you have double-chocolate chip."

  "Of course I do, what kind of mother would I be if I didn't stock my only daughter's favorite flavor?"

  As they walked downstairs, Allison asked if Patrick's Farm was still open.

  "It is, but apple-picking season is over. Why would you bring that up, now?"

  "I saw a picture of that day we went riding and you all rode away and left me."

  "Oh my! That was a moment!" her mother laughed.

  "Do you think they still have their stables?"

  "Yes, why?"

  "I'm feeling a little nostalgic. I was thinking of taking a ride over there tomorrow."

  "That's a nice idea, just remember to dress warmly," she said. "Would you like to take a drive over to my studio, now? I have some new pieces I've been working on."

  "I'd love to. Tell me about them."

  "It's better to show you, but I've created a theme and the vases and bowls can be bought separately or in a group. I went for a pop-art neon look," her mother said.

  "Wow! That's a departure, and I like that you're thinking in terms of selling them—that's always been my role."

  "And you've done it brilliantly. I think you might be surprised with your old Mom and her new creative juices."

  "Bring it on!" Allison said as they laughed together.

  ****

  The next morning Allison put on her boots, a pair of faded jeans, her bright orange down vest and a knit ski cap pulled down low over her hair. She took the windy mountain road on Route 202 toward Suffern and pulled up to the farm. The day was crisp, but the strong sun took out most of the sting. She got out of the car and walked the short distance to the fence surrounding the property. It was so peaceful. Smiling as she spotted the horses off in the distance, she remembered her ill-fated attempt at riding.

  "Come on, Ally, get up on the horse, already," Jeremy urged her.

  "Give her a minute," her mother said kindly. "Allison, is the horse looking a lot bigger to you than you thought it would be?"

  Allison nodded woodenly.

  "Well this family outing was her idea," Jeremy scowled.

  "Get on the horse. It's a dumb beast and you're a whole lot smarter. Show him who's boss," her father encouraged.

  They all turned their heads as the young grandson of Mr. Patrick came over to offer his help."We've got a smaller one out back. It'll take me a second to bring her around," he offered.

  "That's not necessary," her father said. "She has to learn to face her fears."

  "Daniel, she's only eleven," her mother said.

  Her father took a deep breath and made a pitiful stab at lightening up the situation. "Well, it's a good thing we don't live in the eighteen hundreds, huh, Ally? You stay here with, what's your name, son?"

  "It's Ritchie."

  "Ritchie will show you around the place. Show you how to feed the goats. We paid for our time, no sense in taking a total loss."

  Relief washed over her only to be replaced by shock a second later when they all went off on their trot without her.

  A movement to her right brok
e her reverie, and she took notice of a ruggedly handsome man riding his horse toward her. He jumped off in one swift movement and tied the horse to the fence where she had been leaning. She cocked her head as she studied him carefully.

  He came toward her and doffed his hat, "Good morning."

  "Good morning," she responded.

  "Do you want to take a horse out for a spin?"

  She shook her head vehemently, "Definitely not."

  His features broke into a wide grin, "I think I know you. I remember your eyes; I'd never seen ice-blue eyes before. Or since." He extended his hand, "I'm Ritchie Patrick."

  She smiled warmly as she shook his hand, "Allison Ross."

  "So you never did get on a horse in all this time?"

  She shook her head and laughed, "Some things are not meant to be. Do you still come up here on weekends?"

  "I took over the farm about five years ago after my grandfather passed on. I work in the city during the week and leave the place in very capable hands while I'm gone." He laughed as he shook his head, "Your expression when they left you in the dust got seared in my brain."

  "I'm still not sure I'm over that! I guess it was my father's passive-aggressive approach to teaching me that fear is not an option."

  "How is your Dad?"

  "He passed away a few months ago."

  "I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

  "It still doesn't feel real to me. I guess I'm on some sort of journey to try to make sense of something that makes no sense at all."

  He nodded, "I understand. That summer you guys came to the farm was the year my father had passed away. Every minute of that summer is etched into my memory. It's almost like time stood still."

  They stood together shyly for a few moments. "I could help you get up on a horse if you'd like. You wouldn't have to ride. Just...sit."

  For some reason Allison felt complete trust in this almost total stranger standing before her. She took a deep breath, "Actually, I think that might help. Would you mind leading a twenty-nine year old overgrown baby on the pony path?"

  He put out his hand, and she smiled at him as she took it gratefully.