Where the Road Bends

by David Rawlings

  Eliza pursed thin lips. “The chairman has asked me to consider the CEO job.”

  “So you’ll be running your own fashion label? That’s amazing!”

  Eliza’s face showed she didn’t share Bree’s excitement. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? I’m one step from the pinnacle of my industry, but something isn’t sitting right. Going to the middle of nowhere and dropping offline is exactly what I need at the moment. And I’ve been researching it. Did you know there’s an outback thing in Australia called a walkabout? Although I read somewhere they don’t call it that anymore. A journey of self-discovery—maybe I could do something like that. Find out what I’m supposed to be doing in life.”

  “But you’ve got the perfect life. Aren’t you happy?”

  Eliza gave the tiniest shake of her head as she continued scanning the crowd. “I feel like I’m supposed to do something different, you know? Something that means something—”

  “But you’re so successful.” Bree couldn’t comprehend her friend’s perfect life being anything but a dream. “Unless this is about something else?”

  Eliza rolled her eyes. “I hope you’re not referring to having a man in my life. I’m above all that biological clock nonsense, and I’m not really looking for Mr. Right, although I sure have dated a few Mr. You’ll Dos over the past year. I think it’s deeper than that. I thought I’d have changed the world by now.”

  Bree put an arm around her friend’s shoulder. “What did you used to say to me in our dorm? You need to believe in yourself?”

  Eliza smiled. “I do believe in myself. Maybe I’ve reached the point where I wonder if I’m believing in the right thing.”

  “You and I can chat about it under the stars in outback Australia. At least it will be warm for us.” Bree surveyed the growing throng at the gate. “So we know Lincoln hasn’t changed since college, and do you think Andy has put on even more weight since the ten-year dinner?”

  “Who knows? I’ve spent hours online trying to find him, but even my ninja skills on Google couldn’t uncover him. And that cell phone number he gave me at the reunion was disconnected.”

  Bree leaned into her old friend with a conspiratorial whisper. “Have you worked out how you’ll handle Lincoln?”

  Eliza shrugged as behind them a plane pushed back from the gate. “There’s nothing to handle. Check his social media—he’s doing very well for himself and seems like he’s enjoying life.”

  “But what about those LinkedIn notifications you got saying he was looking at your profile?”

  “So?”

  “Twenty times?”

  “It’s a free country, Breezy, and he was probably checking my contact details for this trip.”

  “But twenty times? He hasn’t gotten over graduation, has he?”

  Eliza laughed it off. “I would hope so. We should have all grown up since then.”

  “Well, on social media it looks like Lincoln is living it up. It’s nothing but money and parties.”

  Eliza frowned. “What did Professor Snowden always say? ‘Change is inevitable; growth is optional.’ But as I said, that’s ancient history.”

  “Speaking of ancient history—” Bree leaped to her feet and waved at a tall man making his way toward the gate, sunglasses pushed up onto tousled brown hair that looked good despite the late hour. He wore a faded Switchfoot T-shirt under a linen jacket and chinos. “Linc!”

  He beelined toward them, a huge smile splitting his face. Bree rushed to throw her arms around him. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  “You too, Breezy. It’s hard to believe that the last time the three of us were together was fifteen years ago. It feels like yesterday.”

  A heady cloud of cologne enveloped Bree as she shot a raised-eyebrow look at Eliza, before she gazed back into a familiar face that could have been lifted from their yearbook photo. He hadn’t aged a day either. She hoped Andy had been battered by storms in life similar to hers, if only so she could share the tag of ugly duckling. “You didn’t come to the ten-year dinner.”

  Passengers milled around the gate as a shadow passed over Lincoln’s face. “Work was crazy so I couldn’t fly in. We’ve got this ridiculously long flight to catch up on all that anyway.” He peered past Bree. “Hey, Lize. Is it okay to still call you Lize or is Mrs. . . .”

  Eliza stepped forward, and Bree clocked the smallest hesitation before their polite embrace. “Lize is fine.”

  Bree stood dwarfed between two old friends who could easily have passed for runway models. Still.

  Lincoln surveyed the growing crowd. “Andy not here yet?”

  Eliza checked her phone. “No, and I couldn’t find him online either. How can you do business in the twenty-first century without being online?”

  Lincoln scrolled through his phone. “I need to see the airline.” He charged off to a counter staffed by a flight attendant in a green-and-yellow uniform.

  Bree grinned at Eliza. “Feels like yesterday, eh?”

  Eliza’s jaw clenched. “Ancient history.”

  Lincoln returned, his cell phone to his ear. “Do you remember what Andy was like in our early conversations? Couldn’t wait to get away on this trip, but since a month ago we’ve heard nothing, apart from one message asking me to lend him the money for his ticket.” He lowered the phone. “Voice mail.” He pulled back his sleeve and checked a glittering, chunky Rolex for a moment too long, as if giving it its moment in the spotlight. “We board in fifty minutes.”

  Eliza smirked. “When was Andy ever quiet about anything?”

  Bree’s gaze was drawn to Lincoln’s wrist and she whistled. “That looks expensive.”

  “When you’re in stockbroking, it’s important to wear your success.” Lincoln glanced at Eliza’s wrist. “Good to see you’re doing it, too, Lize.”

  Bree elbowed Lincoln. “That was a gift from my girls. Hey, didn’t you bring home a bracelet from that African orphanage you went to after graduation?” Another quick-fire glance at her old friend.

  Lincoln shuffled on his feet, a hardness swirling across his face. “Probably.” He studied the incoming passengers as he rose on his toes. “If Andy doesn’t turn up, I’ll have to get the money from him somehow, but I don’t really know how. It’s like he’s disappeared.”

  Three

  “Pacific Australia flight 8779 will be boarding shortly.”

  Lincoln’s blood pressure thumped in his ears with each unfamiliar face that joined the massing throng at gate 58. Heads down over phones—sharing the excitement of impending travel with the remote masses of social media rather than the living, breathing people within arm’s reach.

  He turned to Eliza. “I don’t even know what Andy looks like now.”

  “You would if you had come to the ten-year dinner. He was a lot quieter than he used to be and he’d put on some weight, but haven’t we all?”

  A bitter guffaw burst from Bree before she scrambled for a sheepish shrug. “Sorry.”

  Lincoln inwardly cursed Andy as he tried the cell phone number he had eventually pried out of him. Voice mail. Again. “So help me, if he doesn’t make it . . .”

  Eliza’s nose crinkled. “While I think it’s great you offered, why would you need to pay for him?”

  Lincoln looked forward to prying the real answer from Andy. “All he said was things are really tight at the moment. That’s fine because I’ve done really well this year, and I wanted us all to be here.”

  Eliza put a hand on Lincoln’s arm. “If he doesn’t make it, I’m happy to help cover costs so you’re not out of pocket.”

  Lincoln smiled down at her hand. “Thanks, I appreciate the gesture.”

  Bree’s foot nudged her carry-on suitcase. “If he misses the flight, I’m sure the three of us can still enjoy the trip without him.”

  Lincoln again checked his phone. “But I had something special organized.”

  “It’s a lovely thought anyway. How is San Francisco?”

  Lincoln’s chest puffed as he
ran through his honor roll of career achievements. “I won’t spoil the story I’ve got to tell about my success. I took an internship six months after I got back from traveling in Africa and have worked my way up. And the Bay’s an amazing place to sail on weekends.” His restless glances for Andy grew more frantic. He couldn’t miss their flight. The numbers that concerned Lincoln had no dollar signs in front of them—he could cover the cost of Andy’s nonappearance with his next stock tip. The number concerning him most was an odd one. Three. Two good friends stuck together like glue and him as the third wheel, making it almost impossible to get Eliza alone.

  He exhaled hard. “Bree, I see you’re in Nashville. It’s great you ended up in Music City. Still playing your guitar?”

  Sadness crept across Bree’s eyes. “No, not anymore. That dream is long over.”

  Eliza stepped forward. “But she’s got an amazing family—a wonderful husband and gorgeous kids.” Yep. Stuck like glue. Andy had about ten minutes before Lincoln would have to rethink his whole plan.

  Lincoln chuckled. “Kids, eh? I’m sure you’ve got dozens of photos to show me on the plane. What about you, Lize?”

  “Pacific Australia flight 8779 will be boarding in fifteen minutes.”

  A thin smile settled on Eliza’s face. “Not in the cards for me, but you know what it’s like. You just get on with whatever’s next.” She glanced away, and Lincoln’s mind raced. She was unconvincing. Where was Andy?

  Bree thumbed through her phone. “So what about you, Lincoln?”

  Another wave of passengers crested toward them, and it didn’t contain a heavier version of his college friend.

  “You seem quite popular, as we can all see on social media.”

  “What is that supposed to—” Lincoln snapped an angry glance back into the furrowed brows of the two women.

  Bree raised a hand to her mouth, admonished. “I’m sorry, Lincoln, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that . . .”

  Eliza’s nose crinkled, and Lincoln’s memory fired back to college, and backpedaled from an argument he didn’t want to have. Not at the start of a significant trip.

  “Lincoln, I insist on paying for Andy’s flight if he doesn’t make it. It’s obviously upsetting you.”

  Lincoln plastered a wide smile on his face. He had to start this trip on a better foot than this. “Thanks, I’m just tired, I guess. Work’s frantic at the moment.”

  “Well, try to relax. We’ll enjoy the trip without Andy.”

  Lincoln smiled into Eliza’s gaze, into eyes he thought he would lose himself in for the rest of his life. But the crinkle above Eliza’s nose remained.

  Lincoln pulled out his phone, eager for the distraction. He hadn’t started well. If this trip went like he planned, he would have to tread more carefully.

  Across the concourse, a gate opened, spilling passengers into the airport in a broiling wash of tiredness and excitement, trips ending and beginning. Lincoln scanned the crowd—Andy would be twice as wide as he remembered. There was no one even close to matching that description.

  Another check of his phone. Fruitless.

  Eliza and Bree thumbed through photographs on Bree’s phone, amid giggles he’d last heard at Flagstaff College.

  They were as close as they always were.

  He needed Andy, and it looked like he wasn’t going to show.

  Four

  Andy Summers stared at the drifting landscape miles below as empty country morphed into a patchwork of suburbia. He was lost in his thoughts or, more to the point, trying to lose them.

  His generous stomach strained against the seat belt as it dropped with a familiar lurch. His flight commenced its descent into Los Angeles. His clenched knuckles whitened on the armrests, and his stomach growled at the lateness of the hour. There had been no time to grab dinner—not with having to pack everything for a long trip—and he couldn’t afford to risk sitting in an airport terminal café while he waited. He had timed his run perfectly and made the flight as the cabin door closed.

  It had been a long week. In a long line of long weeks.

  Their college pledge—a promise made in the excitement of youth—would pay off in his thirties. A long-term bet that had come good at just the right time. A chance to escape from the month he’d had, the year he’d had, and the people who’d made it that way. And he was pleased Lincoln had covered his part of the costs without asking too many questions, although he needed to ready himself for when they came.

  The flight attendant paced down the aisle, reminders about tray tables and seat backs delivered on autopilot. She nodded at Andy’s white knuckles. “Nervous flyer, sir?”

  Andy gave her a grim smile. It wasn’t the flight he was nervous about, nor was it his late arrival that would make his connection to the Sydney flight a heart-pumping race against the boarding call. His nerves were primed for coming back into cell phone range. He fumbled for his phone and tried to switch off an already switched-off device. His stomach rumbled again. “I know we’re late coming into LAX. Are you able to check which gate I need for my Sydney flight? And do you have any more peanuts?”

  “No to the peanuts, sir, we’re about to land, but I can check your gate. Are you flying with us?”

  Andy’s simple nod shook free a bead of sweat that ran down his forehead and channeled between the jowls rolling out from under his chin. Another lurch. The ground inched closer.

  The business-jacketed woman in the aisle seat nodded down at the death grip on Andy’s armrest. “You don’t fly much?” She offered her hand, a thick gold chain swinging freely under her wrist. “Sue Garland. I’m in telecommunications.”

  “Andy Summers. I’m a”—he reached for his tried-and-true spiel—“risk management specialist.”

  “Great to meet you, Andy. Where are you based?”

  “Cincinnati.” He stared back out the window. Los Angeles and those who wanted to get in touch with him were now several hundred feet closer.

  Sue’s lean ushered a thick waft of perfume over to Andy. “So, risk management. Who do you work for?”

  Andy stared harder out the window. This was where conversations veered toward dangerous territory. He turned to his seatmate with a curt smile. “Myself.”

  “Great, a freelancer. Going to LA for business or pleasure?”

  Relief followed at the neutral question, one that didn’t require his answer to be measured for consequences. “I’m heading to Australia with some old college friends.”

  Catching up with his old college gang was the icing on top of a much-needed cake—the chance to disappear for a while. He hadn’t spoken to the girls since the ten-year dinner, but following their online stories from afar had rekindled happier times, memories from an age ago.

  “Sounds great! I’m on the way there myself. Who are you flying with?”

  Andy hesitated. This answer might require measurement, and he needed to get away from people, not drag them with him.

  Sue tightened her seat belt. “Sorry if I’m prying. I thought it might take your mind off the landing.”

  Andy’s stomach growled as it continued its downward lurch, unhappy with a two-minute gorging on the airline’s snack, laughingly listed as “dinner.” Not for a big guy like him. He turned back to his seatmate. There was so much he wanted to unload, so much that would relieve the pressure if out in the open rather than trapped in a mind revolving in ever-tightening circles. “Thanks, it’s . . .”

  Sue raised her eyebrows in the uncomfortable silence that settled onto the empty seat between them. But Andy’s words wouldn’t come—they were well trained to stay where they were.

  The eyebrows fell. “It’s okay, I used to have an anxiety about flying too. Listen, if you need any help on the flight over, you come and find me and I can help you through it.”

  The flight attendant leaned across Sue’s seat. “Mr. Summers, it looks like we’re landing at gate 56 and you’ll be boarding at gate 58. You’re in luck.”

  Andy sunk back into his
seat. The patchwork of suburbia gave way to skyscrapers and commerce.

  That was a nice piece of luck. It had been a long time since he’d had any.

  Five

  Eliza studied Lincoln over the top of her cell phone, as she fired off her final emails before boarding. For a guy seemingly happy to splash money around on cars and sailboats, he was too invested in losing the money he’d lent to Andy. But the bigger thought was both a worry and a relief. The man who’d snapped at Bree was no longer the compassionate idealist who was generous to a fault.

  “Pacific Australia flight 8779 will be boarding in ten minutes.”

  Lincoln angrily pocketed his phone with a huff. He glanced into Eliza’s gaze before plastering another false smile over it in a hurry. That was the relief. Her gut was right back in college. He wasn’t the right man for her, and Africa wasn’t the right place either.

  Two gates away, a crowd trickled from the Jetway. First came the business suits and expensive smart casuals. Then singles and couples without children strolled off the flight without a care in the world. The crowd poured out as economy took its turn to empty: tall, short, fat, and thin. The everyone else of travel. Among the crowd, a disheveled man pushed his way into the airport, his portliness straining a creased dress shirt at the buttons. Thin wisps of sooty hair poked out from under a battered fedora as the man frantically scanned the boarding queue at gate 58.

  Eliza nudged Lincoln and pointed. “You can relax about your money now.”

  The man who looked like he needed a good wash and iron had filled out further since the ten-year reunion dinner.

  Lincoln raised a hand and whistled. “Andy!”

  The disheveled man acknowledged the wave with a tired smile and made his way over to them, dragging his oversized, bulging suitcase, and his smile broadened. “My favorite Flagstaff College alumni. I can’t believe I made it.”

  Bree pushed aside his offered hand and embraced him. “You always did cut things close.”

  Andy laughed it off, but it looked like his eyes hadn’t gotten the memo to join in. He stood back from Eliza. “You look amazing, Lize.” He quickly moved toward her. “I’m sorry, I hope you’re not offended by that and it’s okay for me to—”