by Moody, Diane
Hannah popped the kinks out of her neck, closing her eyes behind her sunglasses. “No, Kylie. Stop smothering me.” The last thing she wanted to do was cause a scene. “You are not going and I’m not going to discuss it further. Got it?”
They moved up in the line as it snaked toward the Delta ticket counter at the Raleigh-Durham International Airport. The twenty minute drive from Chapel Hill had been a blur between their on-going argument and the fear of what they might see in the rearview mirrors. She’d begged Kylie to drop her off at the curb, but the fiery redhead would have no part of it.
Now Kylie’s eyes narrowed, her arms folded tight across her chest as she tapped her foot. “You are so . . . so . . . childish! You are in no condition to travel anywhere by yourself. So just get a grip, Hannah, and stop playing the brave little soldier off to war. This is ridiculous!”
“Will you leave? Just go home. I don’t need this right now, thank you very much,” Hannah growled under her breath.
A middle-aged couple in front of them turned around and peered at them over half-glasses perched on their noses. They looked the girls over from head to toe, then looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
Kylie couldn’t stand it. “Excuse me, is there a problem?”
They lobbed insulted stares then turned around, moving their luggage closer to them.
“Now look what you’ve done!” Hannah croaked.
“Oh for heaven’s sake, why is it all my fault? You’re the one who had to go flying out of your apartment like a bat out of hell.”
Hannah screwed up her face, standing nose to nose with her best friend. “Well, I guess I had a perfectly good reason to fly out of there, if you’ll recall. Was there or was there not a news van careening around the corner toward my apartment? Huh? Was there or was there not just the tiniest fraction of a second before we made it off that street? Huh?” She pinched her thumb and forefinger together in Kylie’s face. “They were that close, Kylie! They would have eaten me alive and you know it.”
She turned her back, folding her arms across her chest. She took a deep breath and blew it out in a huff.
“And exactly who was it who drove that successful getaway? Huh? Huh?”
Hannah could feel her friend’s breath against the back of her neck, just inches below her broad-rimmed hat that hopefully concealed her identity. She rolled her eyes at the thought of Kylie talking to her back.
“I’ll tell you who—it was me! You need me and you know it but you’re just too STUBBORN to admit it!”
The couple turned around once again, having completed their business at the counter. “WHAT? What is your problem?” Kylie blasted.
They scurried off, clutching their tickets in hand. Hannah moved up to the counter, Kylie hovering close at her elbow.
The thirty-something man behind the counter, whose astonishing good looks had silenced both of them, already locked eyes with Kylie. “How can I help you today?” he asked with a broad smile.
“We have one reservation for the next flight to Tampa,” Kylie instructed, “and we’d like to add an additional ticket on the same flight.”
Hannah tipped her head, looking at Kylie over her sunglasses again. She looked back at the ticket agent and tried to maintain her composure. “No, my friend is mistaken. Just one ticket, please.”
“Two.”
“One.”
“Two!”
“ONE!”
“Whoa—hold on there, ladies!” The agent laughed, holding up his hands. “I’m sure we can work this out. Let’s all take a calm breath and see what we’ve got here. Name?”
Hannah edged closer to the counter, giving her name and ID as quietly as she could.
Kylie crowded beside her. “And my name is Kylie Reynolds. Here’s my driver’s license. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble rustling up another ticket, right?”
Hannah felt her pulse rate accelerating. She’s flirting? At a time like this? She looked up at the agent, noticing his name tag. Jason. “Of course. What else would it be?” she muttered to herself. “Why does everyone on the face of this earth have to be named—”
“Excuse me?”
“Look . . . Jason . . .”
“Ohmygosh,” Kylie gasped.
His brows dipped. “I’m sorry, is there a problem?”
“Your name,” Kylie attempted to explain. “It’s Jason.”
He grinned at her. “Well, actually, I already knew that, but thanks for the reminder.”
If he wasn’t so handsome, she might have slugged him.
“Never mind.” Hannah straightened her back. “What I need right now is my ticket. The one I reserved. I’d appreciate it if you’d process the ticket and let me make my flight in time.”
His fingers flew across the keyboard, that same smile spread across his perfect face. Hannah was ticked at his apparent amusement over their squabble. Kylie continued schmoozing, hoping to get her way.
“Well, let’s see . . . it looks like we have a solution to your problem here,” he offered. “The flight is overbooked. Miss Brooks has a ticket, but there are no more seats available.” He looked up at Kylie. “Sorry,” he said, obviously meaning it.
“Thank you,” Hannah breathed, looking up at the ceiling, her appreciation aimed a lot higher. She closed her eyes, then leveled them at Kylie. Of course Kylie was still staring at Jason. The look on her face was all too familiar to Hannah.
“Look, I know there are ways to—”
He cut her off. “Ordinarily, yes—normally there are ways to get you on that plane. But we’ve already had to ask for volunteers to give up their seats. We’ve been tweaking this thing for an hour now. I’m afraid there’s nothing else we can do.” He looked back at Hannah, his fingers continuing to tap the keys. “Miss Brooks, how many bags will you be checking through today?”
“I can’t believe this.” Kylie turned and stomped her way toward a seating area across from the counter. She plopped down into a seat, crossed one leg over the other and swung it wildly.
“Thank you . . . Jason,” Hannah said after she completed her business.
“No problem. Your flight departs in forty-five minutes from Gate 35. Thank you for flying Delta.”
She put her billfold back in her purse and walked over to Kylie. “Want to grab some coffee over at that Starbucks before I go through security?” Hannah continued walking, not giving Kylie a chance to stew any longer. Kylie blew out an exasperated sigh and caught up with her.
Hannah pulled her hat down lower over her forehead and avoided looking anyone directly in the eye. She was disappointed to see a long line at the Starbucks counter. So many people. She slowed her gait as a knot of fear gripped her stomach again.
“Come on,” Kylie said softly, pulling her away from the crowd. She led her to a corner out of the traffic and clusters of travelers.
“You wait here. I’ll get us a couple of lattes. Just keep your head down.” With that, she blended into the crowd and disappeared.
Hannah lowered herself to the ground, leaning against the wall. She pulled her knees up against her, wrapping her arms around her legs. She closed her eyes, uttering a prayer for calm.
“Anyone here order a vanilla latte?”
She looked up, reaching for the familiar cup with the brown teddy around it. “That was fast. Did you cut in line?”
“As if?” Kylie slid down beside her, careful not to spill her cup as she plopped her backpack between them. “Well, okay, maybe. I saw that hottie from my bio-chem class. Can I help it if he wanted to chat? Next thing I know, I’m ordering and outta there. Works like a charm.”
“You’re incredible.”
“I know. How’s your latte?”
Hannah lifted the lid, inhaling the comforting aroma of the espresso blend then took a sip. “It’s wonderful. Thanks, Kylie.”
“You’re welcome. Look, Hannah, I’m really sorry.” Kylie spoke quietly, setting the cup on the ground beside her. “With everything else, the last thi
ng you needed was for me to pull a tantrum in the ticket line. Geez. When will I ever learn?”
Hannah looked up, casting a weary smile at her friend. She reached out, squeezing Kylie’s shoulder. “Never. None of us ever learn. It’s just part of life. But I appreciate what you were trying to do. I know you just want to help. But right now, I need some time alone. I need to think all this through. Sort out my feelings and try to get a grasp on everything. It’s been such a circus.”
Kylie leaned her head back against the wall. “That’s an understatement. Good grief, Hannah. Your life has been like that Montu rollercoaster at Busch Gardens. Don’t bother riding it while you’re in Tampa. It would seem like a kiddy ride compared to what you’ve been through lately.”
“Kylie, you have to promise me something.”
“Oh sure—you won’t let me go with you but now you expect me to make a bunch of promises?”
“Stop it. I’m serious.”
“I know. I’m sorry. So what’s this big promise I’ve got to make?”
“You’ve got to swear to me that you won’t tell a soul where I am. I mean it. Not anybody. Not Jim or anybody.”
“I’ll cover for you at work. Don’t worry about that.”
“Just be really careful not to let it slip, okay? I’m totally serious, Kylie. You saw the press. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Okay, okay! I promise! But classes start in a week. This is our last semester. You just make sure you get back in time. Don’t blow it when we’re so close to graduation.”
She set down her cup. “Geez. I forgot all about school.” She rubbed her face with her hands, accidentally knocking off her sunglasses. Butterflies drifted through her as she quickly replaced them. With the wall of legs and luggage which had quickly surrounded them, she realized she was still safely out of sight.
“I’ll be back in time. I refuse to let all this screw me out of graduation. Fortunately I have a pretty light load this semester.”
“You sure you’re going to be okay? I’m really worried about you.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll call you as soon as I get settled into my room. You’ve got the number, right?”
“Yeah, it’s here in my pocket,” she said, patting the pocket of her jean jacket. “And don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul where you are. Where exactly is this place anyway?”
“Belleair Bluffs. It’s a tiny little area sandwiched between Clearwater and St. Petersburg. It’s a family-owned place right on the beach. We used to go there every summer when we were little. Nothing fancy but quiet and secluded.”
“Okay, but now it’s my turn to ask for a promise.” Kylie pulled her long red curls back into a loose pony tail.
“What kind of promise?”
“You have to promise you’ll call me every day. Every single day, Hannah.”
“I will.”
“And . . . if you have any problems or just need some company, promise you’ll let me know. I’ll be down there in a heartbeat.”
“I promise. You’re the best, Kylie.”
“Yeah, well if I’m so special then why are you leaving me here? I could use some sunshine about now,” she laughed. “Sand between my toes . . . the warm ocean breeze blowing across me as I work on my tan—”
“Ladies and gentleman, Delta Flight 495 with service to Tampa is now boarding at Gate 35.”
“That’s my flight. I better run.”
They stood up simultaneously, Kylie handing Hannah her carry-on bag. “Just take care of yourself, okay?” Kylie hugged her.
“I will. And thanks for understanding.” She blinked the pesky tears gathering in her eyes. “I’ve gotta go. Love you, Kylie.”
“Love you too, Hannah. Don’t forget to bring me one of those lousy sea shells, okay?”
They hugged again and Hannah dashed for the security gate.
Kylie stood watching her until she passed through the security inspection. Hannah turned to wave a final time then disappeared down the hall. “Well, back you go to your dull and boring life,” Kylie mumbled as she turned to leave. “But who knows? Maybe Johnny Depp will be waiting on your doorstep when you get home. Of course, with your luck it’d be someone like Dwight from The Office.”
Smiling at her joke, she approached the entrance noticing a flock of people rushing through in a near stampede.
“You guys head down that way; Mike—you come with me; Jeff, you and Craig take the other concourse.” The guy giving the orders handed them each a paper. As Kylie passed within a couple feet of them, she caught a glimpse of the flyer. There on a wrinkled page was a color eight-by-ten of Hannah Brooks—a still shot from the television freeze-frame that turned Hannah and Kylie’s day upside down.
“If you see her, call me on my cell immediately. And whatever you do, do NOT let her get on an airplane!”
“But you don’t understand. It’s extremely important that I talk to Hannah.”
“Yeah, right lady. You and everybody else in this hemisphere.”
“That’s just it. I’m not everybody else!” Laura looked around the store then back at the manager. She’d approached the man behind the service counter hoping to find out if anyone knew where she could find Hannah. “Is there somewhere I could speak to you in private?”
“Look, lady, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have a store to run here. So if you have something to say, you’ll just have to say it right here.” He returned his attention to the schedule in front of him.
Laura sighed in frustration. “Fine. Have it your way.” She leaned over the counter, her face only a foot from his. “My name is Laura McKenzie. Does that mean anything to you?”
“Sure it does,” he answered, peering over the glasses hanging on his nose. “And I’m Brad Pitt. Nice to meet you.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Laura snapped. She plopped her purse on the counter, pulling out her billfold. She flipped it open to her North Carolina driver’s license and shoved it in front of him.
“That’s nice, Ms. McKenzie. You’re the third Laura McKenzie in here today. Not to mention the two Mrs. Michaels and six Mrs. Greers. You know, I have to be honest with you. If I was a reporter, I think I could come up with something a little more original than trying to pass myself off as Jason McKenzie’s mom.”
She held her tongue, projecting steely eyes at the store manager. She jerked her billfold to the wallet photos, pulled out a picture and held it up to him.
He studied the picture. “This is real nice, lady, but—” He tilted his head closer for a better look through his glasses. His face started to redden and he tried to smile. “Well, now . . . that would sure enough be Jason McKenzie right there with you. Everybody knows Chapel Hill’s favorite celebrity . . . and can I assume that’s Mr. McKenzie as well?”
Laura plastered a satisfied smile across her face. “Yes, that would be me with my husband and my son.”
Jim removed his glasses while handing the picture back to her. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “I am so sorry, Mrs. McKenzie.”
“Laura.”
He smiled sheepishly. “Laura. I hope you understand my position. Hannah’s like one of my own kids. We’ve been inundated all day with these reporters looking for her, and—well, I was only trying to protect her. I am truly sorry.”
Laura slowly put the picture back in her billfold, returning it to her purse. “No problem. In fact, I must apologize too. I’m not usually so pushy. But I’m terribly worried about Hannah and she isn’t answering her cell phone. Is she here by any chance?”
Laura was touched by the genuine concern in his eyes. Walking around the counter, he held out his arm, showing her to the break room. As he opened the door for her, a young redhead ran into them—literally.
“Oh Jim, I’m sorry! I didn’t—” She stood eyeball to eyeball with Laura. Then, with a sick grin, she bolted without another word.
“Wait a minute!” Laura called out to her. “You’re Hannah’s friend—I remember you from
the other day. Please—I need to talk to you.”
“Kylie, come back here,” Jim said.
The redhead froze. Slowly, she turned around. “Uh—”
“In the break room. Now.”
She offered another peculiar smile then slipped by them back to the break room.
“Mrs. McKenzie here is looking for Hannah, Kylie. Now, you told me she was taking the week off, but you didn’t tell me where she was.”
They both looked at Kylie, expecting an answer. She scratched the back of her neck, pulling off the blue bandana headband she was wearing. “Well, see the thing is—”
“Kylie, we haven’t been introduced, but I take it you know who I am,” Laura said, approaching her.
“Oh yeah. I know who you are.”
Laura couldn’t help smiling at the precocious girl, with her wild curls, bright green eyes, and splash of freckles across her nose. “And I trust Hannah has told you about—”
“Yes.”
Laura looked relieved. “Then you know it’s very important that I talk to her as soon as possible.”
Kylie paced back and forth, twisting the bandana in her hands. “I know . . . I mean, I’m sure that—”
“Where is she, Kylie?” Laura interrupted.
“But you see, I promised.”
“Promised what?” Jim asked.
“Not to say anything. She’s so upset. You have no idea.”
Laura’s eyes misted. “I’ve been so worried about her. I haven’t known her that long, but Jim—just like you, I’ve felt like she was one of my own from the first time we met. And then she and Jason—” She looked at Jim, suddenly uncomfortable to be discussing something so personal with Hannah’s boss.
“Oh, I’m sorry. How rude of me,” Jim apologized. “I’ll leave you two alone to talk. But Mrs. McKenzie—please, if there’s anything I can do, I hope you won’t hesitate to call on me.” He thrust his hand toward her. “I never even introduced myself. I’m Jim Carson. Hannah has worked for me since she first came to UNC. Again, I apologize for doubting who you were. It’s been a little scary around here today.”
“Don’t give it another thought. You did exactly what I would have done in your shoes.”