The Good Provider

by Debra Salonen

  Daria didn’t know Libby well—Bruce hadn’t liked any of Daria’s relatives, including her grandfather’s extended family. But everyone knew Libby’s story, thanks to the TV show based on Libby’s modern-day fairy-tale romance with Hollywood charmer Cooper Lindstrom.

  “Hi, Daria. I’m so glad you’re on your way again—I think Cal had a rough night. Apparently, Bruce isn’t very happy with the situation and he aimed some of his fury Cal’s way.”

  Daria’s stomach writhed and contracted, sending a flood of acid up her esophagus. She was half afraid she’d need to stop the taxi so she could throw up. Last night’s spicy pizza, more than the coffee, was probably the culprit.

  “Thanks for being there for Cal, Libby. I talked to him before we left the hotel. He seemed okay, but I could sense he was upset about something. He probably didn’t want me to worry.”

  “No one’s blaming you, Daria. I just didn’t want you going in blind when you got to Cal’s.”

  “Thank you,” she repeated numbly as the taxi pulled up to the airport. “I’ll call when we get to Sentinel Pass to let you know we’re safe.”

  She practically threw the phone over William’s shoulder and had her door open before the cab came to a complete stop. As quickly as her shaky fingers would allow, she undid her seat belt and got out, gulping in deep breaths of cold, fresh air.

  William’s door opened a few seconds later. “Would you mind…?” he asked, handing her the cardboard drink tray.

  He leaned in to pay the driver, then shouldered her bag and his own after helping the girls with their backpacks. He wasn’t a father, but he certainly acted the part well, she decided.

  “Are we ready?” he asked. “Our plane awaits.”

  Between Libby’s call and the dozen or so text messages Bruce had left on her phone that morning, Daria felt as though she might be verging on a breakdown. She ordered herself to stay strong. And focused. One step in front of the other. But her head ached and her stomach was on its own damn roller coaster. She might have curled up in a comforting little catatonic ball on the tarmac if William hadn’t gently, respectfully walked her through the motions.

  He hustled them aboard the plane, instructing the girls to eat while he made all the necessary checks. Daria remembered snapping her seat belt then closing her eyes—for a minute—to collect her thoughts.

  When she opened her eyes, the plane was in the air. Looking out her window, she saw a thick white blanket of clouds far, far below them. Her mouth was dry and she was exceedingly thirsty. The cup of coffee she’d ordered from the fast food menu was sitting in the cup holder in the seat across from her. The thought of cold coffee made her queasy again, so she grabbed the bottle of water she’d slipped into her purse and took a sip.

  Her stomach made a complaining sound audible even over the hum of the engines. Food. She needed food. A white bag with its easily identifiable logo was in arm’s reach. She opened it and looked inside. By the number of choices available she could only guess that William had decided against sampling any of the items he’d purchased.

  She didn’t blame him. She wasn’t a fan of fast food, either, but the granola bars she’d brought from home yesterday were long gone. She selected an English muffin and egg duo that looked fairly edible.

  “Mom? You’re awake. Are you feeling better?”

  Daria leaned sideways to look at Miranda. The two girls had switched sides of the airplane, for some reason. She finished chewing and nodded. “Much. I didn’t sleep very well last night. What are you watching?”

  Miranda held up the case of a recently released DVD. It didn’t belong to them, so Daria had to assume William had provided it. “Nice. You wanted to see that one, didn’t you?”

  She nodded. “It’s good. Hailey’s watching the new Disney movie. We’re going to switch when she’s done. If we have time before we get to Great-Grandpa’s. William said we’re cruising on a tailwind and making good time.”

  Daria heard an apology in her daughter’s tone. Miranda had her father’s temper, but she didn’t stew and sulk for days the way Bruce did. Miranda was quick to forgive, like Daria.

  “Do you need anything, sweetie?”

  Miranda shook her head. “No. I’m good. Sorry for earlier.” Then she put her headphones on and focused her attention back on the DVD.

  Daria finished her not-terribly appetizing meal with a swig of cold coffee and then got up to check on Hailey. The little girl was curled around her new bear, sound asleep, the movie still playing. Daria hit the pause button, but left her exactly as she was.

  “Where’s your bear?” she asked Miranda, hoping it got packed. She’d been so frazzled this morning she hadn’t made her usual final sweep through the hotel room.

  “In my backpack. I’m not a baby, Mom. I can’t be seen carrying a stuffed animal. Jeesch.” She rolled her eyes and continued to watch her movie.

  Jeesch, Mom, are you the dumbest person on the planet or what?

  She worked her way to the front of the plane, intending to ask William about their remaining flight time. The plane hit a little air pocket and she stumbled slightly, falling against his seat. He looked around sharply. “Hey, sleeping beauty, how are you feeling?”

  “Better. Thanks.”

  “Have a seat,” he said, pointing to the copilot’s chair.

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “Please.”

  She had to shimmy sideways and sort of drop into the cockpit, but once she was seated, she felt very comfortable. “This is nice. What a view.” After fastening her seat belt, she leaned forward and looked around. Her pulse sped up, but she wasn’t sure if she should blame the wide open sky or her proximity to William, who looked movie-star handsome and every bit the pilot.

  “Are the girls okay?”

  “Perfect. Miranda’s watching a movie she’s been dying to see, and Hailey is sleeping with her new bear as her pillow. Couldn’t ask for more.”

  “Maybe you should start.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  He fiddled with the controls a moment then removed one side of his earphones and looked at her. “I hope I’m not out of line here, but is it safe to assume you heard from your ex this morning?”

  “A flurry of texts and a voice message from last night. I think he might have been drunk. I listened to it while the girls were getting ready. He’s very upset.”

  Last night’s message had been tearful and rambling, punctuated by name-calling and spikes of temper as he listed all the ways she’d wronged him over the years, including emasculating him in bed.

  “Judging by your appearance this morning, it’s apparent that communicating with him on any level isn’t good for your health and well-being. Maybe you should cut yourself some slack and let your lawyer handle that side of things.”

  “Easier said than done, I’m afraid. But that’s the plan,” she said, glancing at her watch, which was still set on California time. She kept her voice low, not certain if the cabin noise was enough to keep their conversation private. “My lawyer is supposed to be meeting with him about now. I’m hoping when the dust settles I’ll have my life back, with a fair and equitable property settlement and sensible custody arrangement. That’s not asking too much, is it?”

  “Not at all,” he confirmed.

  “How soon will we be there?” She studied all the gauges in front of her. The plane was even more high-tech than she’d imagined. “Libby’s call made me a little worried about Grandpa. There’s no chance Bruce could beat us there, is there?”

  “None. I figured you might be worried about that, and I checked in with Cal before we took off. I suggested he unplug his phone. He said he’d already turned off his recorder and was screening calls. Smart fellow.”

  Daria had warned her grandfather to expect the worst from Bruce if she and the girls came to stay with him, but Cal had pooh-poohed her worries. “I’ve lived through bad times. The low spots in life are there to make you appreciate the high spots, and you’ll hav
e plenty of those once you get started fresh.”

  A fresh start. Exactly what she wanted. And, if she read William’s hint correctly, exactly what she had every right to demand for herself. Her friend Julie had said the same thing that night in the E.R. “If not now, when? Life doesn’t come with any guarantees, Daria. My mom has this embroidered doily thing that says ‘The best gift a father can give his children is to love their mother.’ Well, in my opinion, the best gift a mother can give her daughters is to love herself.”

  Daria leaned sideways to look down. She tried to spot some familiar landmark or terrain, but the clouds whizzing by were too opaque. “Where are we?”

  “Northeastern Colorado. We should be passing over the panhandle of Nebraska any minute. These clouds are leftover from yesterday’s storm. Doesn’t make for the most scenic trip. Sorry. I’m hoping to be on the ground in about an hour.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Seriously? I slept that long?”

  “It’s a pretty quick trip, without the weather interference.”

  He moved suddenly to make some sort of adjustment. A bell sounded and he muttered something incomprehensible into the slim mike on his headset. She suddenly understood the value of having a copilot.

  When he gave her his attention again, she asked, “What would happen if something happened to you? Would I be able to land the plane or would we all be dead?”

  He cleared his throat. “On that happy note…let me give you a—forgive the pun—crash course in landing a plane. First, put your hands on the stick. Like this.” He reached out and adjusted her hands the way he wanted them on the second set of controls. His touch was different, but it felt good. As if they’d held hands for years.

  “You’ve done this before. Reassured nervous non-pilots, I mean.”

  “Not really. Shane and Cooper have both had flying lessons. If you were going to be doing this a lot—flying back and forth to the Black Hills—I’d advise you to take a course. I’m no teacher.”

  She shook her head. “I disagree. I watched you with the girls last night. When you were helping Miranda with that jet fighter game, you were very patient. With Hailey, too, picking out her much-too-expensive prizes. And when we first arrived yesterday afternoon, Lucas told me you let him handle things that other instructors might not have thought he was ready for.”

  He looked surprised. “That’s because he’s a natural-born flier. I’m not, but I make up for that lack of instinctual knowledge with training and practice.”

  “Why do you do it? Isn’t flying a terribly expensive hobby? Bruce took a few lessons but said he didn’t want to spend the arm and leg it would have cost to own a plane and fly it.”

  “I’m sure there’s a way to quantify the cost-benefit ratio of private versus commercial, but for me, I look at this—” he made a sweeping gesture, encompassing the brilliant blue sky “—as money I’m not paying a therapist.” His tone was wry, but Daria sensed a deeper truth behind the statement.

  “Have you always wanted to fly? Or was this something you realized as an adult?”

  “Actually, I can tell you the exact moment I knew this was something I wanted to do. I was about Miranda’s age, and my uncle was escorting me to Kenya. Mum was working with the World Health Organization or some such entity and it was her turn to shoulder some parenting time.” Although he tried to sound cavalier, a gritty edge of bitterness poked through like rust on a glossy painted surface.

  “Africa? My goodness, you’re well-traveled.”

  He didn’t dispute the claim or elaborate further. “Because of my uncle’s connections—or his job, I’ve never been certain which—we often traveled on military transport planes. Not the most glamorous way to fly, but for a young, impressionable boy, these giant flying fortresses were pure adventure.”

  “So it was the excitement that attracted you. I was thinking maybe, subconsciously, you associated flying with a maternal connection.”

  “Doubtful. Once we hit the ground, there were usually long, dusty overland connections that involved large, diesel trucks loaded with medical supplies. I can’t say for sure which of the two things—me or the penicillin—Mum was happier to see.”

  Interesting.

  “Do you think all that back-and-forth traveling was a good thing or bad?” she asked, thinking that although his parents hadn’t divorced, William had ended up volleying between them, much the way her daughters would once Daria and Bruce finalized a custody agreement.

  He reached out and squeezed her hand supportively. “You can’t compare my situation to yours. The two are as different as song and snoring.”

  She let go of the breath she’d been holding. She looked at their hands, wondering how William’s touch could feel so reassuring when she barely knew him. Supportive, yes, but there was another element that spoke to the woman in her. Something timeless and basic that had no place in her consciousness at the moment. She was a mom first, a woman a very distant second.

  He dropped his hand, as if sensing her decision. “I meant to tell you earlier,” he said, businesslike in tone again. “I’m picking up a van at the airport. I’d be happy to give you a lift to Sentinel Pass, unless Cal is meeting you.”

  “Since I didn’t know when we’d be arriving, I’d planned to rent a car, but Grandpa was scandalized by the idea. He told me this morning to call him once we arrived, but he isn’t exactly the speediest driver on the road.” And she truly wasn’t looking forward to entertaining the girls in a small, regional airport for an extra hour or so. “So thanks. That would be great. You’re sure it’s no bother?”

  “None at all. I’m staying at Libby’s house tonight then picking up some outdoor heaters that were used at a wedding recently. Cal’s house is practically on the way.” He stretched his neck as he had earlier in the taxi. “I’m hoping Libby has better pillows than the motel.”

  She smiled, recalling the hard time Miranda had given him. Bruce would still be pouting, not joking about it.

  “What time are you leaving tomorrow?” Would it be wrong to offer to fix him breakfast to thank him for all he’d done?

  “I don’t know yet. I have a conference call in the morning—some tricky negotiations on behalf of a brilliant-but-chemically-challenged client of mine.”

  She made a face. “Oh. Well, um…if you have time, I’d be happy to offer you some homemade chocolate-chip scones.”

  He looked interested, but a fleeting frown crossed his face.

  “You don’t like scones? They’re English, aren’t they?”

  His smile returned. “Very. I love scones. I know a little shop in London that makes the lightest, most melt-in-your-mouth pastries. You’d swear their clotted cream comes from a cow tied behind the building. And their raspberry preserves are pure manna from the…” He laughed self-consciously and smacked his lips. “I’d forgotten about that place. I’ll have to swing by when I’m back next.”

  “Oh, right. Your father. Have you heard any news?”

  Daria touched his arm supportively. She felt his muscles tense beneath her fingers and let go right away. “Not really.”

  “I feel awful about distracting you from what’s going on with your dad. Is there anything I can do? Maybe I could arrange to have those heaters shipped so you could head straight to the East coast. Would you fly this plane or park it and take a commercial flight?”

  He looked a little taken aback by her questions. “Neither. I’m not planning a transatlantic trip right this minute. My mother is with him. There’s nothing I can do.”

  His blunt words and impassive attitude shocked her. She knew him to be a kind and caring person—look at how magnanimously he’d treated her and her daughters. She leaned between the two seats to check on the girls. Hailey was awake now and the two were passing their stuffed animals back and forth in some sort of made-up game. “I wonder if Hailey and Miranda will feel the same way about me and Bruce someday?” she wondered out loud.

  William brushed his microphone away from his lips impa
tiently and looked at her. “No, Daria. I promise you, there is no parallel between my childhood and the wonderful, beautiful connection you have with your daughters. None. You’re a great mom.”

  “By comparison to yours?” she asked, a bit more facetiously than she’d intended.

  “Actually, when I was a young lad and first realized my home life was drastically different from my chums, I started to pay attention to details I thought were important—and missing—from my life. I’m not sure why. Maybe I thought I might run across a Family Fairy some day and be allowed to trade my parents in for a new pair. I wanted to make certain I chose good ones.”

  “A Family Fairy, huh? You had quite an imagination.”

  “Yes, but the little bugger never showed up. Anyway, by the time I gave up on the idea, I had compiled quite a list of motherly and fatherly attributes. And believe me, you embody most, if not all of them.”

  The twinge in her side suddenly kicked in, making her shift in her seat. “That’s nice of you to say, but according to my ex, I’m a kidnapper whose actions are going to leave deep, permanent scars on my daughters’ psyches.”

  She couldn’t bear to see the look of sympathy she knew would be in William’s eyes. She was so damn tired of being pitied and pitiful. She got up, struggling awkwardly to escape the confines of the cockpit, and returned to her seat.

  “Hi, Mommy,” Hailey said cheerfully. Her giggle made Daria want to pull the little girl into her arms and never let go. She loved being a mother and couldn’t imagine not seeing her children for weeks, let alone months at a time. How had William’s mother stood it?

  She didn’t know, but she did know that Bruce would never give up his children completely. At one time, he’d even threatened to manufacture evidence to prove Daria was an unfit mother so he could gain full custody. Despite Bruce’s bad behavior, Daria had promised herself to do whatever it took to keep the girls from becoming caught in their parents’ tug-of-war.

  She wondered if that’s what had happened with William. Had he been the prize his parents had fought over so intently that William, the boy, had become lost in the rhetoric? She couldn’t be sure, but the entire conversation had left her with a pain in her side and the beginnings of a headache.