The Widow's Walk (22 page)

Eddie stared at the now dark iPod. His face scrunched as he readied a howl.

“Music in a minute.” Liz fiddled with the headset, but there was no kid’s channel.

The baby’s patience evaporated, and he started to scream.
Just come for me. Put me out of my misery.

Papa sent a constable to retrieve me from the train, but I had my marriage certificate and Edward’s letter summoning me to come to America–and the tickets.
Earl or no Earl, the law was the law.

Liz tried to placate Eddie. He hurled the headset across the aisle. She took him out of his seat and tried to comfort him. Out of habit, he nuzzled her breast. Nursing would help, even though she had no milk. Whatever it takes
.

The businessman had moved as far away from the two of them as possible, and stared out the window. She pulled up her blouse, then pulled it down quickly as the first class attendant popped into the main cabin. “Come quickly, ma’am.”

“Why?” Liz squeaked it out.

“I’ve got a surprise.” She bent down to the caterwauling baby. “Ah, come now, it’s not so awful young man.”

Liz unbuckled her belt. “My things . . .”

“I’ll get everything. Quick, we’re about to take off.”

After they take me off.
Liz followed her into first class.

The woman directed her to a double seat. “This will be better for everyone.”

“You’re putting us in first class?” Liz almost cried with relief, disbelief.

“We try to keep all the passengers comfy, and the seats are empty. Here settle in. How about that drink?”

“Gin and tonic with a lime, please.” That would knock her out.

“Very good.”

She retrieved their carry ons, and put Liz’s cocktail in a real glass, inside the recess in the armrest.

“We’ve been cleared for takeoff. Flight attendants, please be seated.”

The plane taxied down the runway. Eddie sucked on the straw. Liz took a swig of gin.

Chapter 31

Eddie passed the time eating snacks and entertaining the very nice lady across the aisle who played peek-a-boo until she finally dropped off to sleep. He scribbled with the crayons on beverage napkins for a while, then snuggled to sleep against Liz’s chest.

The cabin lights dimmed, even though the rising sun of an uncertain tomorrow peeked through the partially closed shade. Liz, full of the first class filet mignon with mushroom garni, and wine on top of the gin, flew as high as the plane. Not trusting herself to carry Eddie to the restroom, she changed his diaper tucked and buckled him into his seat.

Ah, for a hot bath, a warm bed. The clutch in her stomach returned. She had no hotel reservation, damn, she didn’t even have pounds and pence. Where would she be this time tomorrow?

Flight attendants strolled the aisles, whispering responses to whispered requests. Slow, steady breaths, some snores, disturbed the peace. Exhaustion pulled her eyelids closed. Liz shook it off and collected her toiletries, covered Eddie with a blanket, and hurried to the vacant restroom. Nothing first class about it; she emptied her bladder and brushed her teeth.

Who was the woman looking back at her? The one with the mussy hair, sad eyes, surrounded by circles so dark they appeared black and blue in the fuzzy, fluorescent light. Elisabeth was swimming through her alcohol sodden body. And she could care less.

Liz splashed cold water on her face. Two pumps of the complimentary chamomile lotion soothed her cracked nails, ragged cuticles. She took another to smooth over Eddie’s chapped cheeks.

The plane pitched as she walked the aisle, and Liz grabbed the back of a seat to keep from falling onto a sleeping gentleman’s lap. Eddie didn’t stir as she traced lotion over his face, his pudgy hands. The soft scent perfumed the air around them.

Liz fastened her seatbelt and let the motion of the plane take her into desperately needed sleep as it sped across the Atlantic at a speed that Elisabeth could never have imagined traveling, into a tomorrow of unknowns, a new world of uncertainties.

The cabin lights flashed on, but Eddie had already pounded on his mother’s arm to wake her. The aroma of toasted bread and coffee wafted through the airplane.

Heather, an angel in a blue uniform, lowered Eddie’s tray and draped a tablecloth over it. She set out a cup and saucer, a plate of scones, some butter and jam. “Coffee or tea?”

“Tea with milk and sugar.”

She retrieved it from the galley, along with a cup of milk, cover and straw in place, for Eddie.

They ate and drank like it was their last meal. The plane dipped.

“We’ll be on the ground in about an hour. More scones?”

“Please, they’re so good.” Liz didn’t want to appear greedy, but she’d offered.

Heather brought four biscuits and a small plastic bag. “Carry them with you. It will be a while before you clear customs and get on your way. Fill this out.” She handed Liz a declaration form with a pencil.

Customs. Another opportunity to be intercepted. Hopefully, her note to Marianne had placated things. The form was deceptively simple. Nothing to declare. Business. No need to elaborate.

Andrew’s card slipped out of her travel folder. A diplomatic envoy? On the back he’d scrawled a number and the name Iman. Liz had no idea how to even use a phone here. She’d take her chances with a public cab.

Pain blossomed between her eyes. The grunge of unchanged clothes, the sticky residue of sleep clawed at her. The day was far from over, that hot bath a long, long way off.

Elisabeth chaffed. The memory of her departure, watching the shore fade away, the realization she’d never return to England, lowered a pall of sadness, loss, grief at choices made, consequences endured. Regret transcended it all, mixed up between the past and present: Edward and Gerry, dead. Jared and Mike, wounded. And the collateral damage: Elisabeth never saw her mother again, Katherine was separated from her sister. So much pain, all tied up in one ball of yarn that was now unraveling, releasing demons long confined to the recesses of memory.

The seat belt sign flashed. Heather went by and tugged Eddie’s seat to be sure it was secure. She helped Liz raise a sticky seat back, then retreated to her jump seat and slipped into the harness. She braced for the landing, but the plane touched down like a whisper and glided to a stop.

Heather stared directly at Liz as she spoke. “Ladies and gentleman, welcome to London, Heathrow. The local time is 3 p.m. The weather is cloudy, 0 degrees centigrade, with snow flurries predicted.”

Liz blew her a kiss. There was no way to thank the woman for her kindness, save writing the company president, which was probably meaningless. She collected her belongings as the plane taxied to the gate. The bells chimed, the seat belt sign flashed off.

Passengers crowded the aisles. Liz, loathe to leave, stayed put the warm leather seat to rush into the cold, bustling terminal, customs, another country, another currency, and a host of unknowns, not the least of which was where she was going. But soon the parade of passengers dwindled and she retrieved her bags, unbuckled the entire seat with Eddie in it and eased out into the aisle.

“Bye, love!” Heather was far too busy to help this time, only pausing to tickle Eddie and stroke Liz’s arm.

The laptop whacked her on the ass, the diaper bag snagged on every seat, jerking her neck into spasm, one vertebrae at a time. And she wasn’t even off the jetway.

Again, she balanced everything on the stroller waiting outside the cabin door and emerged into the terminal, following the horde to baggage claim. She stopped at a kiosk and exchanged dollars, dividing the cash into bundles to make it easier to keep track of spending. But she still had no change for a cart and had to go back to the kiosk to get some coins.

By the time she maneuvered to the carousel, her two light green floral suitcases were making the rounds by themselves. Grateful for a compact way to haul everything, Liz loaded the cart, collapsed the stroller and transferred Eddie into the front carrier. Hands free, she headed for Customs.

The line snaked around four, maybe five times. A cacophony of languages chirped around her–American and British English, French, Italian, German. Eddie turned toward a couple with an Irish brogue, frowning when it turned out not to be Mae and Kevin.

What were they, and Mike, doing right now? Anxiety built once again as the minutes clicked by, as each person passed the yellow line and was summoned to the window. Muzak played. Every muscle hurt, every bone ached. Liz’s head throbbed.

“Next!”

Liz trundled the cart through the narrow aisle, bumping the walls on either side.

Nonplussed, the agent waited until she reached the window and pushed the passports through. “What is the nature of your business in the UK?”

The accent never ceased to soothe. “I’m an author, doing research for a book on Victorian textiles and architecture.”

“And how long will you be visiting? You’ve left the return flight line blank.”

Liz’s tongue thickened. “About two weeks, perhaps less.”

He frowned. Could he tell she was lying? For all she knew she’d never be going home.

“At what hotel are you staying?”

Liz produced Andrew’s card. “I’ve the name of a driver who is to take me to one.”

Superb move. His eyebrows rose when he saw Andrew’s name and title.

“Have a pleasant stay, madam.” He scanned and returned the passports.

She was in! She’d just had breakfast, but it would be easier to eat in the airport at a food stand. There was probably a desk with hotel listings. She could find a cheap room in London, then plan how to get to Camberley.

Edward and I spent our wedding night at the Kensington
.

Strange coincidence that was Sandra’s last name. Likely no longer there, or too expensive.

Liz passed out into the main terminal. A line of drivers stood waiting for clients, holding signs with names. Her eyes lighted on the one that read Elizabeth Keeny. She blinked to be sure it wasn’t a hallucination.

The Middle Eastern man looked right at her and smiled. “Mrs. Keeny? This must be Master Edward.” He tugged Eddie’s dangling foot. “I am Iman. Andrew Richardson asked me to pick you up and see you to acceptable lodging. Come this way.” He reached for the cart.

How could she afford a driver? “I don’t know where I’m staying yet.”

“Mr. Richardson alerted me that you were traveling alone with a baby and needed assistance. He’s paid for everything, ma’am.”

“I—I can’t accept . . .”

“Already done. He’s a very generous man.” Iman tried to take the cart.

Liz didn’t move. “I . . . need to research hotels, get something to eat.”

“I will help you get settled.”

How could she get into a car with a stranger in a foreign country to take her God only knew where? Was she about to become a high-class call girl?

“I need to go all the way to Camberley, in Surrey” That should dissuade him. 

He grinned. “Really? I live there. Thirty minutes. Lots of places to eat, nice hotels.”

This had to be a sign. She stepped aside and let him take her things.

The phone rang. Mae ran.

“Don’t answer it,” Mike growled. It was either Jay or Marianne.

Kevin looked up from his newspaper.

Mae peered at the caller ID. “But it’s Marianne Hartley.”

“Calling to tell us that we can’t leave the country. We’re going.”

Mae put her hands on her hips. “What if they stopped Liz?”

“Then I’m taking
her
on a four day getaway to London. We both need to get away from this. You know, maybe she isn’t acting as crazy as we thought. I want to run away, too.”

The message clicked on. “Mike, the plane had already pushed back from the gate. But Liz sent me a message with an audio recording of her and Bill’s conversation. I’ll appear on her behalf Monday and present her message as evidence that she left before receiving the notice, and that Bill’s claims are groundless. I’ve gotten a subpoena for the doorman who was on duty and let Liz in. Bill may decide to just drop it rather than air his shitty diaper in public. Anyway, have a great vacation. You guys really need it.”

“Yeah, Lizzy!” Mae punched the air.

A smile tickled the corner of Mike’s mouth. That was the woman he married. But she was gone. She hadn’t contacted
him
. She was now a needle in the proverbial haystack. The mirth faded.

“Hell hath no fury, so they say.” Kevin pounded on Mike’s back. His grin disappeared when Mike glared.

“Let’s not forget that all that ingenuity will also be used to outwit us finding her. But at least we know she’s okay.”

“More than that, I’d say. Look at the message she sent ya, Mike.” Mae fiddled with the phone. “Ya really should come into the twenty-first century and get a mobile.”

He read her text. Tears stung his eyes.

“Listen.” Mae pushed a button and Eddie’s sweet voice emanated from the device. Some garble, but an unmistakable “Da.”

Kevin massaged his back. “You’re gonna find her.”

Hopefully, Sandra had been right about remaining open. “Surrey is a big place. I’m not sure what to do when we get to England.” Mike surveyed the property, neat and tidy, horses fed, the barn door closed, the gates latched, the bay glimmering in the distance. Only the mistress was missing.

“So what time are we leavin’ for the airport tomorrow?” Kevin asked.

Jared responded. “As soon as we’re all up and the chores are done. I’ve waited long enough.”