Realizing she was not going to sleep any time soon, she swung her legs around and stood. One last glance at Erica’s work attire made her thank her lucky stars she’d packed a change of clothes in her backpack. She was sure she felt a hundred times better than most people around her, having changed into a pair of black wind pants and a royal blue T-shirt, but she could feel that hard-to-explain sticky feeling that comes from not having seen the inside of a shower in almost two days. Her scalp was itching like crazy, but she didn’t dare take her hair down from the ponytail. Its flattened stringiness would test even her best I-don’t-give-a-fuck-what-others-think attitude.
In the lobby area, two people were talking quietly on the phones, and the stocky woman with the silver bob who’d been present and smiling upon their arrival was still shuffling around, humming softly to herself. There was a crate of apples and bananas that hadn’t been there earlier and Abby’s mouth began to water almost instantly.
“Help yourself, dear. That’s what they’re here for.” Her smile reminded Abby of a younger version of her grandmother, long dead but never forgotten, and the slight lilt to her voice sounded almost Irish.
“You’re sure?” Abby kept her voice low, not wanting to disturb any of those lucky enough to grab a little sleep.
“Absolutely. You people can’t subsist on bags of chips and cans of soda. That’s not right.”
Abby nearly swooned at the first bite of the perfectly ripened banana. “Oh, that’s good. Thank you so much. My name is Abby, by the way.”
“Corinne MacDougal.”
“Mrs. MacDougal, you have been so wonderful. I don’t know how we can thank you. You must be as exhausted as we are.”
“First of all, it’s Corinne. Mrs. MacDougal is my mother-in-law and I’d prefer not to be confused with her. Second, I figure it’s the least we can do. My husband Tim is the president of the Lions Club, which is why we’re here. Otherwise, we’d be at the high school or the legion or one of the other locations the passengers are being housed.” At Abby’s nod, she stopped what she was doing and asked pointedly, “How are you doing? Such an unbelievably awful thing. Are you all right?”
Abby blew out a breath. “I don’t know. I’m trying not to think about it too much. My mom is okay, and that’s the main thing for me.”
“She’s in New York?”
“Yeah. She said it’s just crazy there right now.”
“I can imagine it would be.”
Abby dropped into a nearby plastic chair, feeling the need to talk and feeling that Corinne MacDougal was as safe as they came. “I just can’t wrap my brain around it. I mean, who thinks doing something like flying planes full of people into buildings full of people is the way to make their point? What kind of logic says, ‘If I kill thousands of people, maybe I’ll be understood?’ Why—?” She stopped in midsentence, embarrassed to feel her eyes well up, and she waved a hand. “I’m sorry.”
Corinne laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Oh, no, Abby. Nothin’ to be sorry about, dear. It’s a terrible, cowardly, tragic thing. You need to cry, you go right ahead and cry. I certainly did.”
Abby cleared her throat, sat quietly, and willed her composure to return. “Cheer me up,” she said, forcing a smile. “Tell me about Gander. Are you a native?”
Abby let herself fall into the gentle lull of Corinne’s voice, the lilt almost musical. She unloaded fruit and set it out on the tables as she explained that Gander was a small town of just 10,000 people, a Super Walmart, an arts and cultural center, and a golf course. “I’ve been here all my life, born and raised. My husband, too.”
“Do you have children?”
“One daughter. She’s working in Vancouver, teaching at university.”
“Vancouver, huh? It’s gorgeous there. And kind of far away from here.”
Corinne sighed. “I know. But she comes home every chance she gets and I go out there a couple times a year. Plus I have three sisters and a brother here and they all have kids, so I have a slew of nieces and nephews that I dote on. That helps with Kate so far away. What about you? Kids?”
“Oh, no,” Abby said with a laugh as she shook her head. “No. Not yet. Maybe someday. Right now, I’m not sure I could keep a plant alive.”
“Well, you’re young, dear. You have plenty of time.”
“Yeah. I believe in seeing the world, traveling all over the place before I settle down. If I settle down.”
“Oh, you will.”
“I will what? Settle down?” At Corinne’s nod, Abby cocked her head, interested in her assumption. “How can you be sure?”
Corinne’s hands stilled on the fruit and she grinned knowingly at Abby. “Isn’t that what everybody wants eventually? A home and somebody who loves them living in it?”
“I never really thought that hard about it.”
“You will,” Corinne said again, still with the Cheshire cat expression, back to sorting fruit.
“I’m a little afraid of you, Corinne.” Abby squinted at her, feigning suspicion. Corinne laughed and waved her off. “So, how many planes were supposed to land here today?” A glance at the clock made her correct herself. “Er, yesterday.”
“Tim says eight.”
“How many actually landed?”
“Thirty-nine.”
Abby blinked at her. She’d seen all the planes lined up on the tarmac, the Gander Airport looking for all intents and purposes like an airplane parking lot, but she had no idea there had been that many. “Thirty-nine?”
“That’s what I heard.”
“Holy crap. So, if there were an average of two hundred people on each plane . . . that’s an extra, what? Almost eight thousand people!”
“Give or take, yep.”
“Holy crap. Your town has almost doubled in population.”
“That it has, dear.”
“So, there are thirty-eight other places around town that look like this one?” Abby gestured the whole of the Lions Club with an arm, taking in all the people.
Corinne counted off on her fingers. “The high school. The community center. The golf club. The legion hall. Those are just here, locally. I know they bussed some passengers to other suburbs a little ways away because we were running out of room. Some went to Appleton. Some went to Gambo. Some went to Glenwood . . .”
“Wow.” The scope of the entire operation boggled Abby’s mind. She had to assume that the other planes were following the same rules as hers—specifically that nobody could get their baggage. That meant nobody had extra clothes or toiletries or any necessities they might have checked at the airport. And who knew how long they’d be here? Even with an extra outfit, Abby wasn’t going to last long with no other clothing. And she didn’t even want to think about how she’d smell tomorrow if she couldn’t find a shower. The lobby space they chatted in now was brimming with supplies for the needy travelers: bins of toothpaste, toothbrushes, soap, shampoo, flip-flops, cereal, aspirin, bandages. Coolers overflowed with soda, juice, milk, and water. There were pies, cookies, and brownies that all looked homemade, spread out on one of the tables, fruit and bags of snacks on another.
The front double doors opened and a large man with white hair and wire-rimmed glasses wheeled in a handcart piled with boxes.
“Mornin’, Corinne,” he said cheerfully, as if it was not barely six in the morning. “Got some more things for your guests. And breakfast.” He gestured to one box labeled “eggs.”
“Hey, Bill. Bring ’em right on over here.” Corinne gestured to the doorway of the kitchen and Bill followed her directions, the two of them chatting like these were the most normal circumstances in the world. Abby yawned.
“Hey, there, Abby.” Mrs. Baker laid a warm hand on Abby’s shoulder. “Did you sleep?”
Abby snorted and swallowed the last of her banana. “Maybe ten minutes. You?”
“Nah. I won’t be able to settle down until I know Tyson’s okay. Do you think the phones are still working?”
“I’m sure they
are.” Abby walked with her to the tables and listened while she called her daughter and received the same news as last night: nobody had been able to get a hold of her son. Corinne had given her the direct number to the Lions Club, so Mrs. Baker rattled it off again and told her daughter to call as soon as she heard anything. At the worried and crestfallen expression on Mrs. Baker’s face, Abby put a hand on her arm and squeezed.
“I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” Mrs. Baker said, her voice barely a whisper, her hands trembling.
“He’ll be okay,” Abby offered, unable to think of anything to make the poor woman feel better.
Corinne pulled up a chair and sat next to her, laid a gentle hand on her knee. “We’re going to be shuttling anybody who wants to go to the Super Walmart to pick up some things later today. Maybe you should join in, take your mind off things.”
“Oh, no, I think I’d better stay right here. I don’t want to miss it when my daughter calls.” She smiled apologetically at Corinne.
“Of course. I’ll stay here with you then. Okay?” She patted her leg. Abby thought she’d never seen a kinder, gentler expression on anybody’s face.
“When does the store open?” Abby asked. “It’s not even seven.”
“They’re going to open it special for the visitors. They’ll probably take people in shifts.”
“I’ll see if I can round some people up for the first one.”
Corinne nodded her thanks and Abby felt a sense of relief that Mrs. Baker had somebody to sit with her. Over by the televisions, Mr. Baker was watching the news coverage; he seemed shaken and lost.
The young couple with the baby was still pacing up and down the aisles quietly. She explained the Walmart trip to them, then moved on to the woman who’d sat across the aisle from her on the plane, thinking maybe she’d like to get herself a new book or two. Then she hit the twenty-somethings that sat in front of her, the middle-aged couple across from them, and so on. By the time she made it back to her cot, the room was beginning to buzz with activity and Erica was just opening her eyes.
“Hi there, sleepyhead,” Abby said, her tone gentle.
Erica managed a groan and rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Jesus,” she muttered. “This is the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever slept on.”
“At least you slept.”
“You didn’t?”
Abby shook her head.
“Not at all?”
“I just couldn’t get those images out of my head. I was too wired or something. I think a lot of people had the same problem.”
Erica looked around then, noticing how many passengers were milling about. She almost felt guilty for actually sleeping, but was distracted when the smell of bacon hit her full force. She was surprised she managed not to drool on herself, suddenly shocked by just how hungry she was.
“Oh, my god.” Abby lifted her nose up like a dog catching a scent. “Do you smell that?”
“I’m starving.”
“Me, too. Let’s beat the rush. Wanna?”
Just as the passengers had been drawn to the TV the previous night, they all gravitated toward the kitchen like water flowing downstream. Abby counted six people in the kitchen cooking eggs, bacon, and toast, pouring orange juice, arranging piles of paper plates, plastic utensils, napkins.
“Where’d they all come from?” she asked aloud.
“Who?” Erica asked, arming herself with flatware.
“Only Corinne was here a few minutes ago. These Gander people are amazing.”
Once they had food, Erica headed back to the cots. Abby looked around at the people sitting at tables. Hmm . . . sit with strangers or follow the hot redhead?
The choice wasn’t a difficult one.
Her plate balanced on her lap, Abby filled Erica in on the trip to Walmart. “I could use some air. Want to grab the first shuttle?”
“To Walmart?”
“Yeah. Don’t you need underwear? Some clothes?”
“From Walmart?” Erica’s light eyebrows reached into her hairline.
Abby shrugged, took a bite of bacon. “It’s your call. Get some pants and a T-shirt from Walmart or stay in your suit for who knows how long.” She watched Erica’s face, could almost hear her internal arguments, the listing of pros and cons in her head. “I’m sure there’s a designer store around someplace. Or maybe a Victoria’s Secret.” She winked. “But who knows how long we’ll be here, how far away those stores are, if we can get to them? Do you want to risk it? Do you want to be stuck in your monkey suit—nice as it is—for days on end?”
Erica looked down at her clothes, chewing her eggs and analyzing. What if they were allowed to fly today? She could manage for another half a day or so in these clothes, couldn’t she? Shifting in her seat, she grimaced. The skirt felt like it had shrunk another size while she slept. She really wanted some clean panties and she was feeling sticky all over. Why did flying always make her want a shower? A clean shirt would go a long way in helping her feel at least a little bit better. But Walmart? Seriously? She would never buy clothes in one at home. Small kitchen appliances, yes. Picture frames, sure. But clothes? No. She had her reasons.
“At least come with me and take a look,” Abby suggested. “You don’t have to get anything. But just getting out into some fresh air will be good. The sun is shining. Looks like a beautiful day.”
“What does it matter to you?” The question was out before Erica could censor herself and she tried not to look chagrined that she’d said it.
Abby looked taken aback for a split second, then reverted to the same ever-present grin and gave a half-shrug. “It doesn’t. I just thought it would be good to get away from those news reports and the devastation a lot of us are feeling and focus on something else for a little while. I wondered if you thought the same thing. No biggie that you don’t.” She got up and took her empty plate to the garbage can that had been set up in a corner.
Erica had a hard time reading her. Had she hurt Abby’s feelings or had it really not mattered? She couldn’t tell, and that bothered her. The only thing she was sure of was that it suddenly felt a bit lonely without that stupid grin aimed at her—and she didn’t like it. Blowing out a frustrated breath, she took her own empty plate to the garbage. Abby was chatting with a young woman holding a baby. Erica tapped her on the shoulder.
“Fine,” she said when the blue eyes caught her and held her, damn them. “I’ll go with you.”
“Okay,” was all she said, then turned back to the woman and continued on with their conversation.
Erica stood there for a minute, then felt a bit silly, so she meandered to the TV corner, where people seemed to be congregating once again.
Chapter 5
Erica was quiet on the bus ride to Walmart. Not that she didn’t seem to be that way most of the time, but this was different. Abby studied her profile—the mole on her right cheek, the gently curved bridge of her nose, her full lips—and for some reason she wanted to know what was going on inside that head.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Erica gave a quick, staccato nod, but continued to look out the window and didn’t elaborate.
The school bus carted about twenty-five people down the roads of Gander. It was going to be another nice day, unseasonably warm according to Corinne. The sun shone brightly and if they didn’t all know what had happened at home, it would seem like any other early fall day.
“So, Roy,” she said, leaning forward in the front seat of the bus and addressing the driver; she’d introduced herself when they boarded. “You drive this bus all the time?”
Roy had salt-and-pepper hair and thick glasses. “Not this particular one, but yeah, I drive. Took the job after I retired.”
“Nice way to make a little extra cash?”
“It’s all right. Wish our employer would listen a little better. We’re actually on strike right now.”
Abby squinted at the back of his head. “On strike?”
/> “Yep.”
“But you’re driving now.”
“Extenuating circumstances. We put things on hold when we heard you all were coming.”
“All of you?”
“Yep, every driver. We’ll go back to strikin’ after all this is over.”
Abby caught his eye in the rearview mirror and gave him what she hoped was a grateful smile. “Thanks, Roy.”
“Hey, we’re all Americans right now, hon.”
She sat back in her seat and tried to fathom the bottomless hearts of the Canadians she’d met so far. She had no idea how she could ever thank them enough. Next to her, Erica hadn’t moved, hadn’t changed expressions, just continued to look out the window.
Despite the relatively small number of passengers on their bus, the Walmart was busy. Six other buses sat in the parking lot, spitting out passengers from other planes. It was the first time Abby really got a taste of the immensity of the situation. Gander had nearly doubled its population. How would it not burst at the seams?
“Okay, first things first,” Abby said as she took Erica’s arm and steered her.
They wandered through baby clothes and girls’ jeans until they came to a wall of underwear. Erica wasn’t sure if the swarm of women buying panties made her feel better or more self-conscious about her situation. She stood and blinked at the display, taking in the myriad of cotton panties—so many of them in pastels—and thinking about the lacy silk ones she had tucked at home in her dresser drawer.
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