The Christmas Layover

by Robert Tate Miller

  “Robbie. Amelia’s home from college,” Jake said, and then realized stating the obvious probably wasn’t all that helpful. He thought he noticed Robbie’s lips move a little, but he certainly couldn’t make out any words.

  “Hi Robbie,” Amelia said. Jake was impressed. To her credit, the girl was acting as if everything was perfectly normal.

  “Hi,” Robbie mumbled. He didn’t seem capable of looking at her.

  Maddie came over and hopped up on a counter stool. Jake could see his niece was perplexed by the busboy’s oddly out-of-character behavior. “Robbie, what’s wrong with you? You’re acting funny,” she said. Libby cleared her throat, and Jake could tell she was doing her best to swallow her laughter.

  “Need to check something in the walk-in,” Libby said. “Merry Christmas, Amelia.”

  “Merry Christmas,” Amelia said as Libby retreated to the safety of the kitchen. Jake could tell that Robbie wanted to go with her, but his shoes seemed to be stuck to the floor.

  “Robbie!” Maddie said. “Let’s go! I want to continue whupping your butt.” Jake knew he had to do something to break the awkward impasse, so he picked up Amelia’s takeout container and started bagging it.

  “Okay,” Jake said. “Here you go.” Then, as if a light switched on in her precocious head, little Maddie seemed to clue in. Jake watched her look from Robbie to Amelia and back again.

  “Oh wow. I know why you’re acting so weird, Robbie. You like her.”

  “I do not!” Robbie said. He’d found his voice. Jake thought he might have wanted to take a bit of the sting off his denial. He looked at Amelia. Her cheeks were flushed bright pink. Then Maddie started to chant, an old familiar singsong chant that had terrorized children on playgrounds for generations.

  “Robbie and Amelia sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

  The busboy didn’t wait for the second verse; he beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen. Maddie giggled at the chaos she’d wrought. “Yep,” she said to Amelia. “He likes you.” Jake looked at Amelia and shrugged. He thought she didn’t seem all that bothered by the little girl’s verbal assault. As a matter of fact, she didn’t seem to mind at all. Jake handed her the bag.

  “Tell your family hello for me,” Jake said.

  “I will,” Amelia said. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Nelson. Merry Christmas, Maddie.”

  “Merry Christmas!” Maddie said. Just as Amelia made her escape, Jake’s sister Tina came in, saying a quick greeting to the pretty coed as they traded places. “Mommy, guess what?”

  “What?” Tina said as she approached the counter. She brushed her daughter’s hair back from her eyes.

  “Robbie’s in love with Amelia. They’re going to get married and have babies.” Tina looked at her brother.

  “Jake? Is there something I’m missing?”

  “No,” Jake said. “Her report’s pretty much accurate.”

  “Right,” Tina said. She cupped her daughter’s chin in her hand. “Uncle Jake’s not overworking you, is he?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “Hey now!” Jake said. “You cleaned up on tips today.”

  “Okay,” Tina said. “I’m taking my daughter Christmas shopping. I’m sure you haven’t even started yet.”

  “Not even close,” Jake said.

  “That’s my brother.”

  “Bye, Uncle Jake,” Maddie said. She looked back toward the kitchen. “Bye, Robbie! You can come out now. Your girlfriend’s gone.”

  “All right,” Tina said. “That’s enough outta you.” She reached into her purse, plucked out a wrapped fortune cookie, and tossed it to her brother. “You’re welcome. Had lunch at Chi’s Chinese.” Jake watched his sister usher her giggling daughter out the door. He watched them cross the street, hand-in-hand, heading off to navigate Bethlehem’s handful of quaint gift shops. He flashed back to another Christmas, and a special evening by the big pine tree in the square. She was there that Christmas Eve, and it was snowing.

  And, for a moment, he really could almost see her there, her face glowing in the lights from the tree, snowflakes glancing off the curves of her smiling cheeks. In his mind, she was looking up at him again, watching him again, whispering the most beautiful single-syllable word ever uttered.

  Yes.

  The diner door chimed as a customer came in, snapping Jack back to the present. Stop torturing yourself, Nelson, he ordered himself. He tore open the fortune cookie, cracked it, lifted out and unfolded the little paper. He read his fortune twice as he chewed on his lower lip.

  Something new is on its way.

  Chapter Three

  Jake was among the last to get the word. He was refilling the napkin holders at Charlie’s when Tina texted.

  Call Mom ASAP.

  For reasons Jake had long ago given up trying to explain, his mother Peggy Nelson loathed speaking on the telephone. Whenever she was forced to, her conversations were short and crisp to the point of rude, and she acted as if each call were her very first, as if she was afraid she was going to say too much and bring down the entire network.

  “Mom?”

  “Jake, I need you to pick up my people.” Jake had the diner cordless cradled between chin and neck as he counted out change for mail carrier and mayor Frank Farmer at the diner register. Peggy was speaking so loudly she could easily be heard over the phone receiver.

  “People?” Jake said.

  “Your mother’s talking about the plane people,” Frank said. “Damn, Jake. Haven’t you heard?”

  “Is that Frank?” Peggy said over the phone.

  “Yes,” Jake said. “Plane people? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “The ones from the airport,” Peggy said.

  “Can’t believe you haven’t heard,” Frank repeated. “Big passenger jet got diverted to MCR on account of that big-ass winter storm back east.” Jake absorbed the news. Moffat County Regional was a sleepy little one-runway airport dubbed MCR by locals. Jake knew it well. He’d worked there when he was in high school. He knew the tiny airport hadn’t been re-paved in ten years, and there were spidery cracks running all through the dull gray pavement. It wasn’t exactly a hotbed of plane activity. Airport manager Walter Hopkins was always complaining that he had no budget for re-paving.

  “Plane landed with 287 passengers and crew,” Frank said. “Walter got the word less than an hour ago and put in calls to the local police and fire departments, The Bethlehem Bugle, the post office, and KHEM radio. He told them to get the word out, ’cause we’ve got company coming for Christmas, and they need a place to stay.”

  Jake knew the Bethlehem Manor was the only hotel in town, and it was closed for renovation after a big oak tree branch broke off and tore a six-by-six-foot hole in the roof. There was no other alternative. Homes had to be opened, guest rooms readied. It was all hands on deck.

  “Apparently, the storm’s a doozy,” Peggy said. “The biggest storm ever or some such.”

  “Plane landed a good half hour ago,” Frank said. “They’ve been sorting through everything, assigning beds and such.”

  “I volunteered to house passengers for the night,” Peggy said. “And I just received word that I’ll be hosting two young ladies.”

  “Wow,” Jake said. “This is a first.” Jake was amused at the sudden turn of events. Little Bethlehem was about to get a dose of excitement for Christmas, and he could almost feel the buzz in the air.

  “Yep,” Frank said. “Most exciting news we’ve had around Bethlehem since the whole thing with Principal Weller and the widow Hawkins.”

  “Tell Frank to stop being vulgar,” Peggy said.

  “Mom says to watch your potty mouth,” Jake said.

  “Sorry, Peggy,” Frank called into the phone.

  “So, what do you want from me?” Jake asked his mother.

  “Well, you know I don’t drive, so, naturally, I need you to go to the airport and pick them up. You can have Libby watch the diner. After all, I know that, since it’s after t
hree o’clock, the only ones left are Esther and Mabel playing canasta in their usual booth by the window.” Jake glanced over at Esther and Mabel sitting right where his mother had predicted. Esther was just laying down the winning hand to go out. Frank gave Jake a wave and headed out.

  “Gotta pick up my own boarders,” he said.

  “And I win again,” Esther said. Jake watched Mabel throw down her cards in frustration.

  “I don’t know why I bother playing this stupid game.”

  Jake turned back to the call. “Okay. I’m on my way.”

  …

  “Ally, where are we?”

  Ally lugged Noel’s tote bag as they moved across the remote tarmac toward a small white block building some hundred yards in front of them. Behind them, the Boeing 767 that had ferried them there sat on the desolate runway looking surreally out of place, stranded passengers still making their way down the air stairs. Ally looked around. The pilot had said it was northwest Colorado, and the first thing Ally noticed was how fresh the air felt. It was crisp and sharp, and the sky was a deep azure. She took in the surroundings and thought how shockingly stark it looked. There were jagged Rocky Mountains in the distance, coated with snow. She noticed a few dark clouds on the horizon. Looked like more snow was coming. Not her idea of paradise.

  She’d had her heart set on getting back to speeding taxi cabs and towering buildings, Broadway lights and the crowded skating rink and towering Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. Instead, she was stuck in some Podunk nightmare. She felt a shiver run up her spine. It wasn’t from the cold.

  “The pilot said northwest Colorado,” Ally said. She wondered what the plan was. Is there a city nearby, lodging? Is it each man for himself? She had a thousand questions swirling around in her head. How long will I be here? What about my wedding? What am I going to do? Why in the world hasn’t Tim called? Ally fished her smartphone out of her pocket and checked it. Dead. “Perfect,” she said aloud.

  “Ally, what is it?” Noel said.

  Ally looked at Noel. It was now clear that, for however long this ordeal would last, they would be joined at the hip. She decided that she would have to put on a brave face for her new friend. It was far worse to be eight months pregnant in a strange place than a bride-to-be with an MIA fiancé.

  “Nothing. My phone’s dead. I guess I had it on the whole time.”

  Noel fished her phone out of her purse. “Mine’s charged, but there aren’t any bars. What kind of place doesn’t have service?”

  “A place in the middle of nowhere,” Ally said. She took another look around. There’s a reason they call this flyover country, she thought. She recalled all the times she’d looked down from 35,000 feet and wondered how in the hell someone could exist down there. And there she was. It was much worse up close. Karma was pranking her.

  “You’re not going to leave me, are you, Ally?” There was a tinge of genuine worry in Noel’s voice. Ally just looked at her. Strangely, the thought that she could just go her separate way and be free of her had never entered her mind.

  “No, of course not. We’re in this together. Right?” Noel squeezed Ally’s hand. Ally noticed the pink bear heads peeking out of Noel’s tote bag, as if they, too, were wondering where in the hell they were.

  “Thank you so much,” Noel said. She seemed relieved. “So, I guess we’re friends now, huh?”

  “Yes,” Ally said. “I guess we are.” Ally saw that the luggage was piled up on the runway below the plane’s cargo hold, and passengers were heading over to retrieve their bags. “Okay, come show me your luggage, so we can grab our stuff and get inside the terminal before we both freeze our butts off.”

  …

  Ally thought the cramped one-room terminal seemed like a mosh pit at a rock concert. The nearly three hundred passengers and crew crammed in a space that likely had never seen more than a dozen or so people at one time. Ally took it in. The carpet was old and worn, the decorations nonexistent. There was one framed poster that looked to be from the fifties. It said Take a Break. Colorado to Ski. Book Your Adventure Today! It showed a pair of skis and poles stuck in the snow against a wintry mountain backdrop. The other wall, in big booming letters, read Welcome to Big Corn Country.

  “Big corn country?” Noel said. “I’m all ears.” She sniggered at her joke, and Ally had to smile. Thankfully, the mom-to-be still had a sense of humor. Ally again thought of her big-city hometown. There was the Big Apple, with museums and awesome restaurants and culture on every corner, and then there was big corn country, where culture came to die. Still, Ally felt a rush of excitement. She was on an adventure in this nowhere land, and, in recent years, she’d had precious little adventure in her life.

  Fate has a strange way of making plans.

  The thought popped into Ally’s head, and she tried to identify where it came from. Then, it hit her in a flash. It was Chinois on Main in Santa Monica. She’d had lunch there the previous week with her friend Jen. That was the message in her fortune cookie. She remembered reading it aloud after Jen had shared hers. It had given her pause at the time and had lingered with her later as she headed back to the studio to teach her afternoon beginners’ yoga class.

  “Still no service,” Noel said, jarring Ally from the memory. Ally noticed Noel’s cheeks were flushed, and she could see the tears welling up in her eyes. “How am I supposed to call Brian to let him know I’m all right?” Ally noticed the passengers checking their smartphones, moving them around in the air trying to find a precious bar. Ally was thinking she needed another kind of bar, but there were none of those, either.

  “Must be a dead spot,” Ally said. Noel’s lower lip began to tremble.

  “But I have to call Brian. He’ll be so worried.”

  Ally looked around and spotted a lone wall phone. There was a line of at least thirty people waiting to use it. She grabbed Noel by the arm and pulled her along with her. “C’mon, I’m going to get you on that phone.”

  “But, what about our stuff?” Noel said.

  “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. Now, try to look desperate and pitiful.”

  “That won’t be hard,” Noel said.

  “Excuse me? Hi?” Ally brought Noel to the front of the line where a fortyish man stood holding the phone with a blank look on his face. He turned to Ally. “My very pregnant friend here has to use that phone right away. It’s an emergency.” The man held it out as if offering it to her.

  “It’s no use. Lines are all clogged with weather calls,” he said. “Nobody can get through.” He raised his voice on the last part, announcing it to the line. As the crowd groaned at their latest misfortune, the man put the phone back in the cradle and walked away. Ally turned to Noel. Her fellow castaway looked on the verge of bursting into tears.

  “Hey,” Ally said, taking her by the arms, “it’s going to be okay. I’m sure Brian’s fine, and the airline has probably already called to let him know you’re okay. We’re going to get through this together. I’ll take care of you.”

  Noel nodded, and Ally could tell her words were helping. “I know…why don’t we look at it as our Christmas adventure?”

  Noel beamed. Maybe I’ve hit on something, Ally thought. “Our Christmas adventure,” Noel echoed. She brightened at the thought. “Okay, let’s do that. We’re on an adventure.”

  Ally smiled, relieved that at least she wouldn’t have to deal with a manic pregnant woman. “It’s going to be okay,” she said. “They’ll probably have service when we get into town. If there is a town, I mean.”

  “May I have your attention, please?”

  Ally looked toward the sound of the voice. There was a woman standing on a chair, holding a red-and-white megaphone. She was in her late thirties, her hair tied up in a bun, and was wearing a Denver Broncos sweatshirt. “Good afternoon, passengers and crew of Flight 1225, and welcome to northwest Colorado.” The folksy tone in her voice made Ally feel a little better. “My name’s Pamela, and I’ve got some very important information f
or you, so please listen up real well, so I won’t have to repeat myself.” Ally watched dozens of hands go up.

  “Nope. Nope,” Pamela said. “I’m not taking questions at this time. If you’ll listen, I bet I’ll answer most of them for you. Now, the reason you’re here in Big Corn Country and not the Big Apple is because a little winter storm, sometimes known as a blizzard, has shut down every airport from Bangor to Baltimore. There are no planes going in or going out. But, you folks are luckier than most. Instead of being stranded in some noisy crowded big-city airport terminal, you’re here in our little slice of heaven, and don’t you fret, because we’re going to take real good care of you.”

  That noisy crowded big-city airport sounds like heaven, Ally thought.

  “I think it’s going to be okay,” Noel said. Ally was happy she was self-soothing. “We’re going to be just fine.”

  For the next few minutes, Ally, Noel, and the rest of the passengers and crew of Flight 1225 listened while Pamela carefully laid out the ever-evolving plan. The residents of nearby Bethlehem had graciously offered rooms in their homes for the night. A list matching passengers with residents had been hurriedly thrown together, and Pamela (their “sort of” cruise director) would call out passengers by name when their ride into town arrived. She ordered everybody to remain in the terminal until their host family showed up.

  “We’re going to have to spend Christmas with complete strangers?” a frustrated middle-aged man shouted out.

  “I’m pretty sure they won’t be strangers by the time you leave,” Pamela said with a smile. Ally liked her; she had moxie and a can-do attitude. She wondered if Pamela was a school teacher, because she knew how to handle an unruly crowd. Ally felt Noel grip her hand and turned to her. The expectant mother looked pale.

  “Noel, you okay?”

  “I think so,” Noel said. “Just a little winded.”

  “Come on,” Ally said. “You need to sit down.”

  There were a dozen seats in the mini-airport, and all of them were occupied. Ally found one where a young man was sitting, lost in his earbuds. She pulled Noel over, hovered until he looked up.