A Note From an Old Acquaintance (27 page)

Over the next three weeks, he never heard another word from Joanna. A part of him was deeply hurt that she’d given up so easily; while another part was relieved she hadn’t shown up at the office or his apartment, something he would have done.

As it was, he’d been a nervous wreck every time the phone rang, either at home or the office. He’d started screening his calls, just in case, hating himself, but he couldn’t take the chance. He knew his heart too well. If he’d seen or spoken with Joanna, he would have broken down, told her everything, and then God only knew what would’ve happened.

Perhaps, as Ruby had said, she was doing fine. Conceivably he’d played the part of the caring fiancé so well that she’d already put Brian behind her. Written him off. He didn’t want to believe that, but her silence spoke volumes.

By April fifteenth, all his preparations were completed and he sat on the front stoop waiting for his ride to the airport with only his suitcase and his guitar. Not much to show for the seven years he’d lived in Boston since starting college.

He spotted Bob’s Honda approaching from down the block and met him at the curb. Bob waved and popped the trunk. Brian wasted no time putting in his luggage and slamming it closed. He turned, and gave 334 Beacon one last look. He’d miss this place. So much had happened there, so many words written—and two hearts broken.

Shaking his head, he climbed into the car and Bob pulled away from the curb, taking the left at Gloucester and then another at Marlborough. Soon they were on Storrow Drive, braving the mid-afternoon crush of traffic.

“You going to be okay?” Bob asked.

Brian turned from the window where he’d been reading the sign advertising the adjacent apartment complex:

IF YOU LIVED HERE YOU’D BE HOME NOW.

“I’m fine. Looking forward to seeing my folks. Been awhile.”

“You give them my best. And please tell your dad that I’m pulling for him. I always enjoyed his company.”

Brian nodded, feeling like a heel. He’d hated telling that lie. But that one paled in comparison to the one he’d told Joanna.

“He’ll appreciate that. He’s always had a tremendous respect for you.”

Bob smiled and nodded. “Thanks for telling me that.” Bob slapped the steering wheel, shaking his head. “Damn, I almost forgot.”

“What?” Brian said, frowning.

“Someone called the office looking for you yesterday. Someone named Joanna.”

Every hair on Brian’s body stood up. “What? What did she say?”

“She wanted to know if you’d left town yet. I told her you were flying out today. She thanked me and hung up.”

“That was all?”

“Yeah, she definitely seemed agitated.”

Brian sat back in the seat, a wave of emotions racing through him: joy that Ruby had lied and she’d not simply given up, and fear. Fear for his parents, for himself...and for Joanna.

“She’s the one you met at Nick’s party, isn’t she? The curly redhead Debbie was so high on?”

“Yeah.”

“She seems like a sweet lady.”

“Sweet is an inadequate word for her.”

Bob gave his friend a look and returned his attention to the road. They were silent for the rest of the ride to Logan.

At the Delta terminal, Bob threw the car into park, ignoring the disapproving glare of the State Trooper eyeing the flow of traffic. He fetched suitcase out of the trunk and placed it on the sidewalk. Brian held the guitar.

“You take care of yourself, you hear?” Bob said, grasping Brian’s shoulder. “And anytime you want to come back, you let me know. The door’s always open.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that, and your understanding.”

Bob snorted. “Come on, your family’s got to come first.”

Brian nodded then stole a glance at his watch.

Bob noticed. “You better get going.”

“Right. Give Debbie my best.”

Grabbing up the suitcase and the guitar, he headed into the terminal, joining the check-in line. It wasn’t too long, thankfully. The downside was it gave him time to think.

She hadn’t given up. And she’d probably called at a time she knew he wouldn’t be there, trying to find out anything she could. Again, it was something he would have done were the shoe on the other foot. It meant only one thing: she was headed for the airport. But how would she know where to find him?

Brian fought back a wave of regret. While he wanted to see her again with all of his being, he knew if he did he would never leave.

At the ticket counter, Brian gave the woman his ticket and suitcase.

“You’re going to have to check that guitar,” she said.

“I called up about this the other day, this will fit in the overhead.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Listen, ma’am, this guitar is a 1961 SG/Les Paul and is older than I am. It won’t take getting banged around.”

Maybe it was the way he’d said that, or the look in his eyes, either way, the woman relented, handing back his ticket, along with his boarding pass.

“Have a good flight,” she said.

He nodded and headed toward the gates.

Joanna gunned the Mercedes through the Callahan tunnel, for once grateful that she’d gone along with Erik’s choice in automobiles. The powerful German car easily passed the other vehicles with power to spare. The fact that she’d crossed the double line, risking a ticket, didn’t even faze her.

Ever since getting off the phone with Brian’s partner, she’d been calling the airlines trying to find out what plane Brian was flying out on. Thankfully, there were only so many flights to Columbus, Ohio, narrowing down the task considerably. The problem was finding someone willing to reveal whether or not he was on a specific flight. The break came at six o’clock this morning. She’d found a sympathetic older woman, telling her that she’d had a fight with her fiancé and had broken off their engagement. Could she please tell her the flight number Brian was on so she could run to the airport and beg his forgiveness?

It had worked like a charm.

Now, she had less than half an hour until his plane left and the traffic had slowed to a crawl just past the tollbooths.

“No, please, not this,” she said.

Joanna tried calming herself with her breathing exercises, and when that didn’t work began jabbing the horn and shouting, joining the cacophony around her.

For her, the last month had been a living hell, trying to hide her feelings from Erik and desperately trying to find some way of reaching Brian. She knew he was avoiding her, but in the deepest regions of her heart she knew it wasn’t because he wanted to. And that tenuous knowledge buoyed her, and made her all the more determined to learn what had happened. She’d given up trying to call him at home, and she’d tried driving by the office and his apartment several times, to no avail. Somehow she’d always missed him.

A horn honked behind her, bringing her back to the present. The traffic had begun to move, though it took another ten minutes to get into the airport. She passed two crumpled cars that had collided, nearly blocking the entrance. It figured.

Pressing the accelerator once more, Joanna sped up the ramp to the departure level, watching for the Delta terminal. She spotted it up ahead and nosed the car into a spot near the curb. The car would probably be towed, but she didn’t care.

A quick glance at the clock confirmed her worst fears.

Twelve minutes until departure.

Turning off the engine, she got out and ran into the terminal, ignoring the angry shouts of a State Trooper. Inside, she paused to confirm the gate his plane was departing from—the last one at the end of the terminal—then ran down to the security checkpoint. There were a dozen people waiting to get through, but when her eyes found the sign, her heart sank.

TICKETED PASSENGERS ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.

“You’re not getting away this easy, Brian,” she said, turning and dashing back up into the terminal. The only area of the counter that didn’t have a wait was First Class. She ran up, breathless. The middle-aged black woman behind the counter regarded her with a bored expression.

“May I help you?”

“I need a ticket,” Joanna said, pulling out her credit card and sliding it toward the woman.

“Destination?”

“The Columbus flight.”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am, that flight’s sold out, and it’s nearly departure time.”

“I just need a ticket to get past security. I don’t care where it’s going. There’s someone on that flight I have to see...before it’s too late.”

The black woman’s jaded expression softened. “Your boyfriend?”

Joanna nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “Yes, please.”

“Okay, honey, how about Boise, Idaho? That sound good?”

“It sounds wonderful,” she said, laughing through her tears.

The black woman’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “I’m just givin’ you any old seats, Honey, so it’ll be spittin’ outta here in just a second. In the meantime, let me run your card.”

The black woman slid the credit card through the card reader and handed it back to Joanna, just as the ticket printer started chattering. A moment later the woman ripped it out, slapping it into Joanna’s waiting hands.

“I hope you make it, dear.”

“Thank you,” she said and ran off back toward the security checkpoint.

The line for security was longer than it was before. She craned her neck trying to get a glimpse of his gate, but it was below a rise in the corridor and she couldn’t see past the halfway point.

Six minutes left.

One of the Security officers, a swarthy man in a too-tight uniform nodded to her. “Your purse, ma’am.”

God, she was so stupid.

Joanna threw her purse onto the conveyer and walked through the metal detector.

BEEEP!

Four minutes!

No!

Frantic, Joanna pulled off her two bracelets, dumping them into the proffered plastic tray. The swarthy security man watched her, his jaw moving in a lazy circle as he chewed his gum.

She went through again.

BEEEP!

Her necklace!

She tore it off, breaking the catch.

The small diamond skittered off across the floor, and she slammed the chain into the tray then went back through the detector.

Nothing....

She let go of the breath she’d been holding and glanced at the clock.

Two minutes!

She was going to make it!

She ran.

She ran past dozens of passengers coming off flights through two opposing gates, nearly colliding with a cluster of chatty flight attendants. She yelled back her apologies and put on another burst of speed.

The gate was just up ahead. It was...

...empty.

No, please, no!

She reached the desk, startling the gate attendant, a bottle blonde with too much makeup and round owlish glasses.

“Has it left?” Joanna said.

The woman gave her a sour look. “It’s just pushing back now. Where were you during boarding call?”

Joanna’s lips quivered, her shoulders sagging.

“Oh, God, no....”

Her eyes darted to the plate glass window, spotting the tail of the plane reversing from the gate.

She ran to the glass, moving with the plane, her eyes searching every one of its tiny windows. If she could somehow see him, maybe she could draw his attention. She’d hop around like a madwoman if she had to, she didn’t care. If somehow he saw her, he’d know...

...that she really loved him.

Please, please see me, Brian!

Where
was
he?

Was he seated on the other side of the plane?

The airliner turned, the windows catching the glint of the sun, now making it impossible for her to see anything, or anyone, behind them.

“No, no, no....”

The plane moved farther and farther from the gate. A moment later it stopped. The driver of the truck pushing back the plane jumped out and disconnected the long metal arm from the airliner’s front wheel strut then hopped back into the low-slung vehicle and drove off.