The Seat Beside Me (3 page)

So be it.

Sonja paid for her coffee and pulled her suitcase toward the gate, juggling her laptop bag over the other shoulder.
Some day what? I’ll get what I deserve?
She shook the negative thought away and focused on another voice that was friendlier.
What you deserve is to be given a chance. Now you’ve got one. If your bosses were more savvy and fair in the first place, they would have seen your potential long ago instead of forcing you into this position. It’s their fault
.

Sure it is
.

Back and forth. Up and down. Guilt could be so annoying. This was not how she wanted to feel just minutes before her flight left for the convention. She needed to recapture the feeling of victory that had been hers just moments before. She needed … to call her parents.

Sonja got to her gate and nodded to Allen and Dale before taking a seat that offered a modicum of privacy. She dialed her parents’ number. This trip would make them proud of her. This trip would make them stand up and notice that she was a success in her own right, that she wasn’t the same underachiever who never worked to her full potential no matter what wonderful opportunities they’d given her.
After all we’ve done for you, Sonja …

The inner voice from her memories matched the voice that answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Sonja? Is that you? Why are you calling?”

Sonja felt herself retreating. “No reason.”

“There’s always a reason. Now, your brother … he’ll call for no reason whatsoever. He’s such a good boy.”

That
boy
was thirty-five, the cherished only son, Sheffield D. Grafton III. Sonja had long ago realized that being the only daughter did not carry the same level of adoration. Did it have something to do with the Roman numeral after her brother’s name, his gender, or was it just her?

“Is Dad there?”

“So there
is
a reason.”

“No, not really. I just wanted—”

“To talk to him more than me.”

“Mom! I’m off to Phoenix, and I just wanted to tell you. Both of you.”

“Playing hooky from work, are you?”

“Of course not. I was chosen to go to a convention. I’m one of only three people going—in the entire company.”

Her mother laughed. “And there’s four in the company, right?”

Sonja’s breathing quickened. Her mother knew very well how many people worked at Sanford Industries. She’d even given her mother a tour of the office once.

“Shef went to Atlantic City for his last convention. He stayed in a room that had a marble tub right there in the middle of it. And two phones. One in the bathroom.”

“We’re going to be staying in a hotel at a desert resort.” Did one painted desert beat a bathtub and two phones?

“I despise that dry air. Makes my skin feel like it’s going to crack off.”

Sonja massaged the space between her eyes.

“Did you know Shef just got a bonus? He said he’d buy us something nice with it. Last year he bought your father and me new watches. Expensive watches with the day and date on them. Did you know that?”

Sonja’s finger pushed harder. “Yes, Mother, you told me.”
And Shef told me. And Daddy told me. And Aunt Dottie told me
. Sonja wouldn’t have been surprised if Shef had taken out a full-page ad to
announce his good deed. Sonja thought of the last present she’d given her parents: a fancy food processor with five speeds. Last visit home she looked for it and asked where it was. Her mother had put it in the closet, saying it was too complicated to figure out.

Not any more complicated than a watch that showed the date and day.

“Oh! Here’s more news. Did you know Shef is going to—?”

“Will you be quiet!”

“What?”

Sonja sucked in a breath and looked around the gate. A few waiting passengers glanced up, then down again.

“Sonja? Did you just tell me to—?”

She leaned into the phone. “Mother, I’m sorry, so sorry.”

“I can’t believe you told—”

“I didn’t mean it. I’m … I’m just nervous about the convention.”
And how I got there
.

“I’m surprised they chose you to go anywhere with an attitude like that. If it were my choice you wouldn’t—”

“I know. I was out of line. It’s just that when you kept mentioning everything Shef was doing and didn’t pay any attention to what I—”

“Can I help it if we’re proud of your brother? He’s done wonderful things with his life.”

“And I’m doing wonderful things with my life too.”

Silence. “Don’t go getting into any contest with your brother, Sonja. You know that wouldn’t be right. Comparisons are always wrong.”

Exactly!
A flurry of words escaped. “But you and Daddy are the ones who compare us, who pit us one against the other.”

An intake of breath. “We … we do not.”

“Mother …”

“Can I help it if we’re proud parents?”

A question hovered near the surface.
Uh-uh, Sonja. Don’t push it
.

“Proud of whom, Mother?”

Another moment of hesitation. Why was it so hard for her parents to say something nice? “I’m proud of all my family.”

“Shef?”

“Of course Shef.”

“And …?”

“And … you.”

Sonja thought the compliment would mean more; she thought she would feel relief, or a surge of pride. Maybe the compliment was impotent because she had to drag it out of her mother.

Sonja looked at the cold snow outside. “Gotta go, Mother. I’ll call you when I get back. Say hi to Daddy for me.” She pushed the button on the phone, disconnecting herself from her parents. But she didn’t really need to go to the trouble. They’d disconnected years ago.

12:29
P.M.

All airline people were idiots. Anthony Thorgood was sure of it. He stood in the first-class check-in line while his own personal airline idiot checked her computer … again.

Her fingers stopped tapping. She looked up at him and smiled a condescending smile he was sure she’d mastered her first day on the job. But if she thought he was going to merely accept the smile and move along, she was in for a surprise.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Thor—”

“
Doctor
Thorgood.”

“Doctor Thorgood. The computer shows your reservation is in coach, not first class.” She set his confirming printout on the counter between them. “See? It even states on your e-ticket that you’re in coach.”

She was right.

He scanned his mind for someone else to blame. Candy. His
receptionist. She was the one who made the reservation. He had trusted her and she’d blown it. He’d deal with her when he got back.

He read the clerk’s name tag. “Fine. But, Sandy … certainly you can change—”

Their attention was diverted to the check-in line for regular passengers a few feet away. A dowdy woman was near tears, a young girl glued to her side. The woman slapped her hand on the counter, which was at her chin level. “Don’t tell me to calm down. You’re not listening to me! We
can’t
go on that flight.”

“Ma’am, the airport is closed, but I’m sure it’s temporary. They just need some time to plow the runways. Everything will be running normally soon.”

“No, it won’t. Don’t you get it? Something’s going to happen to that flight.”

The airline employee raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know this, ma’am?”

The woman put a fist to her gut and looked into the face of the girl at her side. “I just know it. I feel it. From the time I got up this morning I’ve felt a burden of impending disaster and now with the airport being shut down because of—”

The employee looked bored. “Does this feeling happen often?”

The woman set her jaw and stood the full extent of her five-foot frame. “Listen, miss, frankly, I don’t care if you believe me or not. If you don’t want me turning around and announcing my bad feelings to the rest of your passengers, I suggest you give us our money back.”

“But you and your daughter have nonrefundable tickets, ma’am. See here? In the fine print?”

The woman snatched the tickets away from the employee, grabbed the hand of the little girl, and stomped away, the wheels of their suitcases whirring against the floor.

“Dr. Thorgood?”

He remembered the goal at hand: a first-class seat. He turned back to Sandy. She smiled at him nervously. “You get many of those?” he asked.

“Some people aren’t as good at flying as others.” She paused and smiled. “As good as people like yourself.”

He knew he was being manipulated, but instead of jumping her for it, he let himself admire her tact. “So, what’s the verdict?”

“There are no more first-class seats. Period. I’m sorry. But I have found you a first-class seat on your return flight. Of course, there will be an increase in price.”

Anthony pulled out a Visa.

1:00
P.M.

Henry Smith sat at the gate, his eyes closed, praying. He hated to fly and thought it was ironic that God had placed him in a job that required him to continually face that which he feared the most.

It’s not that he was afraid of dying. When the time came, he would be ready. The difficult thing about flying was that it required such a leap of faith, such a surrender of control. Even if he weren’t a God-fearing man, it would require such a leap. Henry could think of no reason why this heavy, bulky plane should be able to fly. None. It defied logic. And so, once airborne, Henry had to trust that the pilots, the mechanics, the engineers, and the Wright Brothers knew what they were doing.

Beyond that, he also had to trust God. If a crash fit into God’s plan, Henry realized that he had absolutely, positively no control over its outcome. Cruising at thirty thousand feet, traveling at hundreds of miles per hour, he understood how small and inconsequential he was. Not that God wouldn’t listen to his prayers … He would. But there was always the bigger picture to consider. And during the large moments of life, Henry knew God had a lot to think about. One man’s prayers were like a single piece of a jigsaw
puzzle, and God had the unenviable job of putting all those pieces together into a finished work. Henry had no say whether he was an exasperating piece of the sky, a favored edge piece, or the beloved last piece in the puzzle.

But ever since last night, Henry felt as if he’d been handed a new piece of the puzzle—and he had no idea where it went.

It had all started with the temptation—the kind that was always there for a salesman on the road. The kind that was intent on chipping away at his good-man facade, trying to uncover the real Henry Smith.

Who was the real Henry Smith?

Last night had been an ample test. He ate in the hotel bar and grill, feeling the need for a celebratory steak with all the fixings after a great sales day.
If only Ellen were here
.

But his wife wasn’t here, and the redhead was, all smiles and curves, with the flattering words he wanted to hear. “I just love a man with a beard.” When she suggested a nightcap in his room.

He got so far as to have the door open before he came to his senses and told her thanks, but no thanks. He quickly closed it, locked it, and leaned against it, the smell of her perfume lingering like a tantalizing lure. He needed a distraction and ran to the bed, switched on the TV, flipped channels, and tried to think of anything but the woman.

And then, without planning it, he took the Bible from the drawer of the bedside table, opened it, and bowed his head, reintroducing himself to a God he’d previously put on a back burner.

His prayer was simple:
Help me through this
.

Before he opened his eyes, he felt a sudden wave of peace. He found he could even think about the redhead without wanting to go to her.

He was so thankful for God’s instant response that he dared to ask another ever present question:
Show me what You want me to do with my life
. Then—for the second time in one night—he received
an instant answer as his eyes were drawn to a set of verses someone had highlighted with a yellow marker. Isaiah 30:19–21.

The verses stayed with him even now.

Henry ran a hand over his beard, glanced around the airport, then closed his eyes and recited to himself. “You will weep no more. How gracious he will be when you cry for help! As soon as he hears, he will answer you. Although the Lord gives you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, your teachers will be hidden no more; with your own eyes you will see them. Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’ ”

The last line was the clincher.
This is the way; walk in it
. Henry grabbed on to those seven words like a lifeline. They became his mantra, his hope for the future. And the cause of his confusion.

What was “the way”?

He opened his eyes and looked outside to the raging blizzard. At the moment he just wanted to finish his work and get home. Maybe Ellen would understand what it all meant. She was good at life issues and Bible verses. Much better than he was.

He’d hoped that the morning light would make everything clear. But it hadn’t. He was pleased that he still remembered the verse, but as far as the rest? He traveled the road between thinking his life was in shambles to a kind of fearful anticipation. As if “the way” loomed in the near future, and no matter what it was, it would be better than what he had now.

In fact, what he had now.

He reached for his phone and dialed.

“Hey, Elly.”

“Hiya, hon. What’s up?”

He sat back, taking comfort from her voice. She was the constant in his life. The
“way”?
“The airport’s closed for a while. I’m bored.”

“Then I’ll do my best to entertain you. Where you headed next?”

“Phoenix.”

“Since when do you go to Phoenix? Isn’t that Bill’s territory?”

“Bill’s son is getting married. He covered for me last year when Joey graduated from high school. Now it’s my turn.”

“You take too many turns,” Ellen said. “You need to learn to say no.”