Mistletoe Reunion

“I’m in the back,” he said, making a face.

Norah shook her head sympathetically. “I’m in the middle,” she replied, indicating the obvious. It was the kind of banter they’d always been good at and a little of the initial tension between them eased. During their marriage they’d had a long-running debate about which was worse—back of the plane with its noise and turbulence or crushed between two passengers who seemed to think they had claim to all armrests.

“Trade you?”

Norah smiled. “Not a chance.”

Tom moved on just as the crew chief announced another slight delay to allow passengers on a late-arriving plane to make their connection.

A large man carrying a briefcase, carry-on luggage and an overcoat opened and slammed several filled overhead compartments. Norah pulled the airline magazine from the seatback pocket and flipped through it hoping he had the vacant seat across the aisle.

No such luck. He forced the luggage into an overhead bin two rows ahead of them, then threw his coat onto the seat and sat down heavily, his bulk and the coat spilling over into Norah’s space as he jammed the briefcase under the seat in front of him.

Norah nodded at him as she gently pushed his coat off the armrest they shared. The man ignored her.

“Hey, Mom,” Isabella said. “Guess what?” Izzy was accompanied by a young woman with a toddler in tow and what looked like a newborn cradled in her arms.

“This is Emma and she’s got the two seats next to Dad and she’d be willing to switch, so I said that would be great—I’ll even take the middle.”

Norah tried not to take perverse pleasure in the look of pleading horror the businessman gave her. “You’ll take the middle?”

“Yeah, come on.”

“Excuse me,” Norah said sweetly as she recovered her purse and Isabella’s backpack and stood.

“But,” the man protested as Norah slid past him.

“Everything all right here?” the male flight attendant asked.

“Perfect,” Isabella exclaimed. “My dad’s back there and this nice lady traded so that now we get to sit together and—”

“Okay, I just need everyone to get settled as soon as possible. We’re about to close the cabin door.”

Tom was standing in the aisle waiting for them. Norah tried not to stare at the way his hair—brown streaked with copper—was still thick and silky. She did not meet his chocolate-brown eyes, fixed on her as she slid next to the window and Isabella took the middle without protest.

“You put her up to that—switching,” Norah said.

“What?” Tom’s eyes were wide with innocence.

“It was my idea, Mom,” Isabella said. “Honestly.”

Norah had her doubts.

“How are your folks?” Tom asked politely once they were buckled in.

“Fine,” Norah answered equally as polite. This was going to be interminable. Suddenly she was glad to be in the back where the engine noise would surely make conversation impossible.

“This is going to be so great,” Isabella exclaimed, ignoring the tension between her parents. “I mean, just wait until we all show up together. They are going to seriously freak.”

“How’s work?” Tom asked Norah.

“Fine,” she said and looked out the window as the plane slowly taxied toward the runway. She wondered if she could be capable of more than that one-word response to anything Tom might ask.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the short delay, but we should be airborne in about twenty minutes.”

There was a ripple of muttered comments. “It’s sleeting,” Norah said.

Tom leaned across Isabella’s lap to look out. Norah could not help but be aware of the scent of his aftershave—familiar and at the same time exotic. “From the looks of that sky we just need to get going,” he said as the plane inched forward in line. “You okay?” He glanced up at Norah and she knew that he was remembering how nervous she got when flying. She couldn’t help being touched that he had remembered.

“Fine,” she replied and then grimaced. “I seem to have the same answer for everything, don’t I?”

“Well, yeah,” Isabella said before Tom could answer. “You’re acting like you’re on a first date or something, Mom.”

Tom leaned back in his seat. “And just what would you know about first dates, young lady?”

Isabella blushed and giggled. “Oh, Dad.”

Norah reached for her purse and pulled out a Sudoku puzzle book.

“Mom!” Isabella protested, casting a sidelong look from the book to Tom.

“Are you any good at those puzzles?” Tom asked, ignoring Isabella.

Norah shrugged. “Not really, but I can usually manage the simple ones.”

“Can I try?” Tom asked, holding out his hand for the book.

Norah passed him the soft-covered book and held out her pencil.

Tom pulled a pen from his pocket and grinned. “No guts, no glory,” he said and settled in to work the puzzle with Isabella’s help.

Norah watched as he clicked the pen on and off—his hand tan against the pale cream starched cuff of his shirt. He wore dark brown casual slacks and a pullover sweater in a sort of copper shade that accented his tan and highlighted the gold flecks in his eyes. She heard his deep voice consulting with Isabella on an entry, his laughter when Isabella stopped him from making a mistake. He bent forward and ran his free hand through his hair. When a lock fell over his forehead, she literally had to tighten her grip on the armrest to resist the urge to smooth it back into place as she would have before.

Before. When they were married. When they were—

“Mom!”

Norah blinked. “Sorry,” she said softly, still caught up in the fantasy of who she and Tom had once been to each other.

“I said, can you see what’s happening? Why aren’t we moving?”

Norah turned her attention to the window. It was coated with sleet. “I can’t see,” she said and just then the plane made a slow turn to the right. “I think we might be—”

“Ladies and gentlemen, weather conditions have changed. We need to de-ice the wings before we can take off. Please feel free to move about the cabin for the time being. We’ll be on our way as soon as possible.”

This time a chorus of groans rolled through the cabin as passengers crowded the aisle, rearranging the contents of overhead bins, stretching as they commiserated about the inconveniences of modern travel. Tom took advantage of the extra space afforded by being in the last row across from the galley. “Come on, Bella, stretch your legs.”

Isabella followed her father’s lead in a series of calf stretches and knee bends. The crew toured the cabin offering packages of pretzels and promising full beverage service once they were airborne.

“Your turn,” Tom said and held out his hand to Norah. Norah slid across the row and stood in the aisle without taking his hand. “Feels good,” she said as she stretched her arms high over her head, her fingertips grazing the ceiling.

Isabella lifted the armrests on their row and stretched out across all three seats, her MP3 player earphones in place. She closed her eyes and bounced her head and shoulders to the music they couldn’t hear.

“I’m going for a little walk,” Norah said, suddenly uncomfortable to find herself standing next to Tom—far too near to Tom for comfort.

He grinned. “Just stay inside the plane,” he called as she edged forward.

The truth was she needed some time to think about the impact of spending Thanksgiving three blocks away from Tom and his family. In fact, there was no doubt that they would be thrown together often once they were back in Normal. His parents and hers belonged to the same church and were still close friends. Isabella would move easily between the two houses. Izzy’s aunts and cousins would surely want to include Isabella in whatever extravaganza they were concocting for the anniversary. They would certainly include Norah’s parents—and Norah—in the invitation as well.

The aisle was crowded with other passengers and the plane was not nearly long enough for Norah to stay away indefinitely. She glanced back and saw Tom talking to another passenger. Ahead stood the businessman glaring at her as the young mother tried in vain to soothe the newborn and the toddler, both of whom were crying now. The scene gave new meaning to “between a rock and a hard place” but by far the lesser of the two evils was to return to her seat.

Isabella had dozed off, so Norah perched on the aisle armrest. Tom finished his exchange with the passenger waiting to use the restroom and turned. He was standing toe to toe with her, his forearm resting against the overhead bin. He’d removed his sweater and rolled back the sleeves of his shirt.

“How was your walk?” he asked.

“Fine,” she replied and then blushed. “Uneventful,” she added with a slight smile.

Tom did not return her smile. Instead he studied her closely. “You look great, Norah,” he said.

Norah ran a self-conscious hand through her hair. “I’ve been up since four and my—”

“Why do you do that?” he asked. “You never used to do that.”

Norah fought a twinge of irritation. I never used to doubt that a marriage I thought was forever could fall apart in a matter of months. What did he know about her these days? “Do what?” she asked.

“Put yourself down. Someone pays you a compliment and you—”

“You know, Tom, it has been a number of years. I might have changed in that time.”

“I expect we both have, but—”

“Izzy tells me you’re seeing someone new,” she interrupted, determined to turn the focus from herself to him.

“Izzy doesn’t approve of my choice in female companionship,” he said with a glance at their sleeping daughter.

Norah shrugged. “She just needs time.”

“Speaking of time,” Tom said clearing his throat. “Five years and not once seeing each other, Norah—it’s a long time. How did that happen?” He leaned in to allow another passenger to pass. His face was closer to hers now. His eyes locked on hers and she saw that he looked tired.

“It’s not like we weren’t in touch,” she countered. “I mean we were always on the phone or leaving messages about Izzy. I think we’ve done well by her, don’t you?”

“Stop changing the subject. You didn’t want to see me. Why?”

Norah shifted uncomfortably. “That was just at first. I mean it was all so fresh and we were both so vulnerable and I thought that maybe—”

“But to let not one, but five years pass?”

“It just happened, Tom. I didn’t plan it and you could have just as easily—” She was whispering, keenly aware of others around them but equally aware that she could have been shouting and few other passengers would have cared. They were all that wrapped up in their own problems.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts.”

This time the general chorus of commentary was filled with relief and even laughter as passengers returned to their seats and buckled up.

Norah tapped Isabella’s leg. “Turn that off and fasten your seat belt,” she instructed.

Isabella swung her legs around and did as she was told, only she took the obvious seat—the one by the window.

“I’ll take the middle,” Tom offered.

“No, I’ve got it,” Norah said as she sat down, lowered both armrests and fastened her seat belt. She picked up the puzzlebook Tom had left on his seat, waited for him to sit down and then handed it to him.

“Thanks.” He took out his pen and concentrated on the puzzle as Isabella stared out the window.

After several moments she reported their progress. “I think we’re going back to the terminal.”

“That’s impossible,” Norah said, leaning across her to look out the window. But her daughter was right. “Now what?” Norah muttered.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are returning to the gate area. We regret that the airport is being closed for the time being. A major winter storm is passing through the area and we had hoped to get away in front of it, but it’s coming too fast. Once we are at the gate you may deplane and there will be airline personnel inside the terminal with more information. Please feel free to make use of your cell phones to notify those who may be meeting you in Chicago of this unexpected situation—and thank you once again for choosing—”

Chapter Three

Even before the announcement ended, Tom had his cell phone out dialing his office. When he got voice mail, he glanced at his watch and realized that everyone had already left for the holiday.

“I was hoping to get my assistant to work on finding us an alternate flight,” he explained, noting Norah’s raised eyebrows.

“I didn’t ask,” she said.

But you questioned, he thought. You always used to think I was putting work ahead of you and Bella. He covered his irritation by pulling his sweater back on as they waited their turn to leave the plane.

If the country’s fifth busiest airport had seemed crowded before, it was in total chaos when they emerged from the jetway. Harried airport personnel tried in vain to reassure passengers. Most passengers were accepting their fate, while a few like the businessman who’d shared a row with the screaming babies were demanding to speak with higher authorities. “You have to do something,” he shouted, his mouth inches from the face of the gate agent. “From the looks of things we could be here for hours.”

“Sir,” the gate agent explained, “look at that weather.” She pointed to the large windows where visibility was near zero. “Unfortunately none of us is going anywhere until this storm passes and we can get the runways cleared.”

“And how long will that take?” the man demanded.

“I don’t know, sir. Only God knows the answer to that one.”

“She’s right,” Isabella said as she and her parents edged past the angry man. “This is God’s work. He’s got something in mind here and I think I know what it is.” She looked up at her parents, then linked arms with them to either side of her. “Now let’s get some food. I am so starving.”

“You and your mother take care of getting us something to eat,” Tom said handing Isabella money. “I’m going to see about getting us a hotel room—rooms—” he clarified when Norah’s head shot up and her wide eyes met his. “There is no way we’re going to get out of here tonight.”

“We’ll meet back here then?” Norah asked and realized she was glad that Tom was there. Tom had always been able to make things happen without berating people to get what he wanted.

“Give me half an hour,” he said and strode away.

“What should I get for Dad?” Izzy asked when they were finally close to ordering.

“Turkey wrap with brown mustard, no mayo, tomato, lettuce, no sprouts,” Norah said as she gathered bottled drinks from the cooler. “Pasta salad if they have it. No chips unless they’re baked.” She glanced up to find Izzy grinning at her, her eyes wide with surprise. “What?”

“How do you know that? I mean the details?”

Norah shrugged. “Lucky guess,” she murmured.

“Right,” Isabella said softly and smiled as she repeated the order verbatim and multiplied it by three.

The cashier rang up the sale and Isabella peeled off two twenties from the bills Tom had given her, then waited for change.

Tom was waiting for them at the assigned spot. “Well, here’s the deal,” he reported. “The airport is bringing in buses to take people to hotels. I was able to book us one room—two queen beds,” he assured Norah.

“But what about the party in Normal? The grands?” Isabella protested.

“Honey, be thankful your father was able to get us a room.” One room—with two beds, but still one room.

“We do have another option—staying here,” Tom said as if he’d read her mind. “It might be something we want to consider.”

“All night?” Isabella exclaimed. “Now let’s see—on the one hand we have a reserved hotel room with TV, room service and our own bathroom and on the other we could bunk down here. Gee, tough one, Dad.”

“Staying here means we are here when they get a runway cleared. The hotel room I got is at least twenty-five miles away and in this weather getting here from there—”

“—could take hours,” Norah finished his thought, then focused her attention on Isabella when she caught the look in Tom’s eyes. When they’d been together they had laughed about the way they used to finish each other’s sentences on a regular basis. Is the next step that we start to look alike? Tom had teased. Norah focused on Izzy. “Staying here gives us the best possible chance for getting to the grands,” she explained.

Izzy rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“Bella, attitude,” Tom warned. “Hey, it’ll be an adventure—like camping.”

Isabella gave him the wide-eyed grin of a six-year-old. “Oh goody, can we build a campfire and tell ghost stories and make s’mores?”

Tom laughed and wrapped his arm around her. “Come on. Let’s see if we can snag a couple of those cots.” He nodded to the area where people had lined up as skycaps wheeled in carts with folding cots loaded on top.

“Maybe Izzy should wait here with me,” Norah said, eyeing the desperation of the stranded mob.

“You don’t think I’m going into that, do you?” Tom said, his eyebrows raised in mock surprise.

“Well, how else—”

“Come on, Bella.”

Norah watched as Tom steered Izzy to a corner on the outskirts of the crowd. She saw him approach a man and his wife—each with a cot in tow. A conversation ensued and next thing Norah knew Tom and Izzy were coming her way each hauling a cot.

“But, how—” Norah stuttered.

“We made a trade,” Izzy told her. “Dad gave them the hotel room. They handed over the cots. No problem.” She looked adoringly at Tom as if the man had suddenly sprouted a cape and tights.

As Norah followed them down the concourse, she saw Tom nod pleasantly to gate agents and other passengers as if spending the night at the Denver airport was no big deal. At the airline’s private lounge he punched in a code and opened the door, holding it for Izzy to wrangle her cot inside and then waiting for Norah. “Over here,” he added, spotting a pair of chairs in the corner.

“Do you think they’ll unload the luggage?” Norah asked as Tom and Izzy set up the cots and she distributed the lunch.

“Not likely,” Tom replied, following her glance toward an older woman at the desk who was explaining that her husband’s medications were packed in their checked luggage.

Norah watched the woman leave the desk as she bit into her sandwich.

“Hey,” Tom said softly, “leave the social working to the airport staff, okay?”

You can’t save the world, Norah, he had once shouted at her when they were arguing. But he wasn’t shouting now. His tone was gentle and sympathetic and his eyes told her that he understood that she really wanted to help.

“This looks great,” Tom said, turning his attention to the sandwich. “And you remembered the mustard,” he said.

“Mom remembered,” Isabella replied before Norah could.

“Did you remember your father’s change?” Norah asked.

Isabella dug one hand into the pocket of her jeans. “Oh yeah. Here.” She handed him a wad of crushed bills and some coins. “That’s it,” she said when Tom stared at the money. “Airport food equals inflated prices.”

“I wasn’t counting,” her dad said with a chuckle. “I was just wondering how this fist-sized wad fit into the pocket of those jeans. What did you do? Have Mom sew them on you this morning?”

“Dad! They aren’t that tight.”

“They’re pretty tight,” Norah agreed. “You might wish you’d worn something more comfortable before this journey ends.” She pulled at the leg of her own stretchy trousers to illustrate her point.

“Mom dresses like an old lady these days,” Izzy explained to Tom as if Norah had suddenly disappeared.

Now it was Norah’s turn to protest. “Isabella Wallace!”

“Well, it’s true. I’ve been thinking of nominating you for that show where they make you throw out your entire wardrobe and go shopping for a new one.”

“My clothes are fine—serviceable. Comfortable.”

Izzy took another bite of her sandwich and continued to study her mother. “On that show they completely change your hair and makeup too. They can make the person look ten years younger.”

Norah saw Tom mask a smile by taking a swallow of his bottled water.

“Do something. She’s your daughter too.”

Tom cleared his throat and spoke to Izzy while looking at Norah. “I think your mother looks—fine, Bella. Especially the way she’s wearing her hair now—and the color—”

Norah’s hand flew to her hair. “What about the color? This is my normal color. I do not—”

Tom and Isabella both burst out laughing and Norah smothered a grin. “So this is the way it’s to be,” she said sternly. “The two of you ganging up on poor defenseless me?”

Tom gave a hoot of laughter. “Defenseless? That’ll be the day.” He turned to Isabella. “One time there was this neighborhood bully. Your mother was—what, Norah? Nine—ten?”

“I was Izzy’s age,” Norah replied.

“But smaller than you. The bully must have easily outweighed her by fifty pounds or more. What was that kid’s name, Norah?”

“Oscar,” Norah said.

“So Oscar starts picking on this new kid and your mom had had it. She marched up to him, stood toe to toe between him and the new kid and told Oscar that—you finish it,” Tom said, looking at Norah.

“You’re telling it.”

“Said what?” Isabella demanded.

Her mother sighed. “I simply informed the young man that if his name was a problem for him he should change it.”

“Or words to that effect,” Tom said.

“And what did Oscar do?”

“He asked me how he could change it when it was the one he was born with.”

Tom took up the story. “She asked him what name he would choose for himself.”

“And?” Izzy asked, glancing from one to the other. “What name?”

“Bruno!” Tom and Norah said in unison then chuckled.

Izzy took obvious delight in seeing them sharing a memory, looking at each other with no reservation, then Norah looked down and away. “And that’s when you fell in love with Mom, right?”

Her father began clearing the trash from their lunch. “Uh—”

“I thought you said those paperbacks you’ve been reading were stories of inspiration and faith,” Norah said, turning the focus on Izzy and away from her and Tom.

“Well, even God loves a good romance, Mom,” Izzy replied as she took the trash from Tom and stuffed it into the paper bag that had held the sandwiches.

“We should see if there’s been any change in what’s happening,” Norah said and Izzy watched as her mom relieved her of the trash and they headed off in opposite directions—her to deposit their trash and him to check in with the woman at the desk. When they returned Izzy had pulled her novel out of her backpack and settled into one of the chairs.

By late afternoon Norah had called her parents and Tom had spoken to his sisters. They whiled away the endless waiting by reading, working, or—in Isabella’s case—listening to music. Around five, Tom shut his laptop, stood and stretched. “Come on, girls, let’s go for a walk and see about getting something hot for supper.”

It had been several hours since the announcement had come through that the airport would close. Airport personnel had put the contingency plan for such situations into operation. But as night came on and the storm gathered force, it became clear that no one was going anywhere at least until morning and maybe not then.

The first thing to hit Norah as they entered the concourse was the sheer level of the noise—people shouting at each other, babies crying, toddlers and their siblings fighting in loud shrieks over some toy or snack, bleary-eyed parents slumped on the floor or on chairs ignoring their children’s pleas for mediation. In spite of the fact that shopkeepers and other airport employees were as stranded as the passengers, several restaurants and shops had shut their doors. The desks at every gate stood empty of airport personnel and the arrival and departure boards had simply been turned off.