The Big 5-OH!

by Sandra D. Bricker

  Hallie reached across the table and squeezed Liv's hand, yanking her back to the moment. “This is the answer for you,” her friend stated, as if she’d been in on every moment's thought. “You haven’t had a vacation since the trip to Galveston with Robert six years back, Liv.”

  The memory pinched her. “I can’t, Hallie.”

  “Yes. You can.”

  Liv propped the phone on her shoulder with her chin and sighed. She’d forgotten where Hallie had gotten her cheerleaderness. Josie Parish was Hallie's mother. She was Hallie times two.

  “Oh, of course, you can, Pumpkin. The house will just be sitting here with nothing to do but provide you a little nesting place.”

  “Ms. Parish, honestly, I appreciate the offer. I really do.”

  “Didn’t we establish when I was there visiting the last time that you were not going to call me that anymore?”

  “Sorry. Josie.”

  “Okay then. We’re on a first-name basis. As close as you are to my Halleluiah, my goodness, we’re nearly family. The least you can do is come and babysit my home for a couple of weeks. Oh, do you like dogs, Pumpkin?”

  Liv shook her head briskly to make the leap with her.

  “Dogs? Umm, yes. I like dogs.”

  “Oh, that's so good, because my little baby has recently had surgery. She had a bit of a bad jump across the sofa. She's won’t be able to travel, that's for certain. You wouldn’t mind looking out for her while you’re here, would you, Pumpkin? It would really help me out.”

  “Josie, really, I just can’t see my way clear to take a trip right now.”

  “Of course, you can. In fact, from what my daughter tells me about everything you’ve suffered through in the last year or so, I’d say you really have no choice. Now, I’m going to make my flight arrangements, and I’ll tell Missy Boofer that you’ll be here the same day to look after her—”

  Missy Boofer?

  “—and I’m thinking of arriving on Wednesday. Would that work out all right for you?”

  “Well, I—”

  “Oh, good. Now I’m off to call Halleluiah and give her the good news. I’ll leave you all the information you’ll need on the dining room table, and the key to the house will be under the neon pink palm tree in the garden.”

  Neon pink palm tree?

  “Josie.”

  “Olivia, I want you to know that I do appreciate this very much. If you weren’t going to be here to take care of Missy Boofer, there's no way I could come to see Halleluiah and her family before I get tied up with my next book deadline. You’re a little angel is what you are, and I know Jesus will take good care of you here on the island. I have a good feeling about it. I do. My insides tell me your whole outlook is going to change down here, Olivia. The Florida sun has a way of baking up fresh possibilities, you know. And that's all you really need, isn’t it? Some new possibilities?”

  Liv tossed up her hands and dropped her chin to her chest.

  “Okay. Why not?” she said in surrender. “Thanks, Josie. I’ll be there next Wednesday.”

  “Oh, that's wonderful, Pumpkin. Boofer will see you then.”

  2

  Prudence saw the rickety bridge stretched out before her.

  She didn’t know if she had the courage to make the trek across. The ravine below was jagged and steep. She didn’t really want to get to what was on the other side anyway. And certainly not enough to go about it this way!

  “I wish I’d just stayed in my meadow this morning,” she brayed. “Why, oh, why, did I leave the grasses of home to set out on this terrible journey?”

  “You know why,” Horatio hooted from his perch at the other end of the bridge. “Now come along and put one hoof in front of the other. Before you know it, you’ll have put the hardest part behind you.”

  Have you left your bags unattended at any time?”

  “Umm, no.”

  “Did you pack your luggage yourself, or did another party pack them for you?”

  “I packed them.”

  “Are you carrying anything sharp in your bags, such as tweezers, scissors, or other cutting instruments?”

  “No.”

  “All right, Ms. Wallace. Here's your boarding pass and your gate assignment. Have a pleasant flight.”

  As she headed for the gate, Liv remembered the toenail clippers in her pedicure kit, and she wondered if she should have declared them.

  “Please remove your shoes and place them in the bin with your purse and carry-on.”

  Remove my shoes?

  It had been a long time since Liv had flown, and she’d heard the stories, but this was far more elaborate than she had imagined. She slowly made her way through the security tower, setting off the buzzer as she did.

  “Please step back and come through again.”

  Groans from the line behind her set her pulse to pounding, but she did as she was told, and the buzzer sounded again.

  “Step forward, please, ma’am. Stand here and raise your arms.”

  The plump uniformed man smelled like tuna and onions. Liv tilted her head away from him and held her breath as she lifted her arms and focused on the business traveler in the line to the left unpacking his laptop from its case.

  A louder alarm went off as the security wand floated near her hip, and Liv gasped.

  “Oh! I’m sorry,” she said, and then she reached into her pocket and produced a jangling key ring. “I forgot I had them in my pocket.”

  The guard took the keys from her and tossed them into one of her shoes.

  “Please step over to the holding area, ma’am.”

  Woman arrested at airport for carrying too many keys. Detained for two full weeks, entirely missing her Florida vacation. Film at 11.

  But a few minutes later, Liv was on her way to the gate, with plenty of time to spare before departure. As she sat down in one of the rows of awkward leather chairs at the gate, she locked eyes with the man seated across from her.

  His salt and pepper hair, deep-set brown eyes, and smooth, suntanned skin gave him a Richard Gere quality that made Liv's heartbeat flutter. His smile was as pearly-white as she’d ever seen outside of a commercial, and he gave her a friendly nod that she tried to return, but she was pretty sure it looked more like an odd little twitch. Before she could rectify it and try again, he’d glanced away, crossed one leg over the other, his pleated charcoal trousers draping perfectly as he did. He placed a pair of wire-rimmed glasses on his nose, and then he opened The Enquirer to the sports page.

  Oh, great. He probably thinks I’m a special needs traveler. How wonderful that she's able to be so independent, the poor thing. I wonder what's with that strange twitch.

  Jared struggled to focus on the newspaper before he surrendered to the magnetic draw of the woman seated across from him and peered over the top of the paper. He took the opportunity to watch her fuss with something inside her large leather bag.

  Green eyes and fire-red hair were a killer combination, and Jared had found himself attracted to her since the moment he’d seen her being frisked at the security gate. She obviously didn’t fly often because the whole process appeared to be one surprise after another to her.

  Jared was fifty-five years old, and the only hints that the woman was anywhere near his age were the few random streaks of silver glistening in her hair and a remote shadow of … what? … weariness? … that he’d noticed in that one isolated moment when their eyes had met. He’d seen that shadow before in the eyes of some of his older patients, but Red seemed far too young to have reached that place of tired resolution.

  Her loose, S-shaped curls and fringe of long bangs vibrantly framed her oval porcelain face, and a spattering of dark copper freckles dotted her small, upturned nose and pinkish cheeks.

  She's just as cute as she can be.

  He realized then that any woman over the age of thirty would more than likely object to being categorized as cute.

  “Delta flight 1896 will now begin the general boarding proce
ss. If you’re seated in row fifteen or higher, please step up to the gate with your boarding pass and I.D. in hand.”

  Jared took his time folding the newspaper, and then he tried not to be rude as he sidestepped an elderly couple so he could take his place in line behind the green-eyed beauty. As she dug through the contents of the satchel that was much too large for her to handle, he noticed a sweet citrus fragrance that he attributed to her shampoo.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to the gate attendant. “I can’t seem to find my boarding pass.”

  Jared debated for only a moment, and then reached forward and pulled the pass from the outside pocket of her bag and handed it to her.

  “Oh.” She seemed to glare at him before her face melted into a pretty smile. She thanked him on a bouncing, nervous chuckle and then quickly turned away to walk down the ramp.

  After boarding, he paused to help a twenty-something get her bag into the overhead compartment, and then found his place just a few rows behind and across the aisle from Red's seat by the window. The center and window seats of his own row were filled, and the woman next to him reeked of a too-sweet, flowery perfume. As the endless line of people filed in, he hoped no one would take the empty seat on the aisle next to Red.

  A buff guy with a duffle headed toward them.

  Don’t do it, buddy. Don’t sit next to her. No, no, no, no, no.

  Jared smiled as Muscle Man stepped into the row ahead of hers.

  Two more stragglers stumbled toward them, separating before they reached Red. The attendant made her walk down the aisle, checking tray tables and seatbelts, making sure each overhead compartment was clamped shut. Jared tried not to hold his breath until the jet finally left the gate and taxied down the runway.

  The engines roared as they left the ground. The couple beside him chattered about seeing their grandchild for the first time in just a couple of hours, but Jared couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the lighted seatbelt sign. The instant it went dark, he flipped open the latch on his seatbelt and stood up.

  “There's an open seat up the aisle,” he told the elderly couple beside him. “I’m going to take it and give you two some room.”

  “How kind of you.”

  Jared leaned into Red's row. When she looked up at him and their eyes met again, his breath momentarily caught in his throat.

  “Would you mind if I sit here?” he asked her. “We were pretty jammed in back in my row.”

  “Y-yes,” she said.

  “You mind?”

  “Yes. I m-mean, no. I-I don’t mind,” she stammered. And then she took a deep breath and grinned. “I mean, it's fine. Sit here. Please.”

  “Great,” he replied, and he slipped into the aisle seat and loosely buckled his seatbelt. After a moment, he extended his hand toward her and said, “Jared Hunt.”

  He was stunned by the strength of the handshake she returned, and her wide, toothy smile just about blew him back to his original row.

  “Olivia Wallace.”

  Olivia. Beautiful woman, beautiful name.

  “Do you live in the Fort Myers area, Olivia?” he asked her.

  “Oh, no. And you can call me Liv. I’m headed down to Florida for a vacation. Sort of. You?”

  “Central Florida is home for me. And I’m looking forward to getting back before my son has to return to London. He teaches there and has been visiting for the Easter break. So you’re on a sort of vacation?”

  “Well, it's more like forced R&R.” A fraction of a giggle followed, and Jared was enchanted. “My best friend decided I needed it to get over my birthday curse.”

  “You’re cursed?” he asked her. “Maybe I didn’t want to sit next to you on an airplane after all.”

  They shared a laugh, and Liv's deep green eyes sparkled like the Gulf of Mexico. Jared found his heart pounding a little harder than it should, realizing once again how electric the attraction was to this virtual stranger. He was no believer in love at first sight but, if he were, he might have taken this for what it would feel like.

  “It seems like my birthday is always a conduit for disaster,” she told him. “And I have a pretty significant one creeping up on me. Aside from that, I’ve just managed to defy the odds with cancer, so I’m feeling a little anxious about what's around the next bend.”

  “Cancer. I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Thank you. It was a long road that is, thankfully, finished.” She paused, and then tilted slightly toward him so that he got another whiff of that citrus shampoo. “Of course, with cancer, you never really know for absolute certain that it's fully behind you.”

  “That's the sad truth,” Jared told her. “I lost my wife to breast cancer after several battles with it.”

  The warmth in her eyes nearly burned a hole right through him. “I’m so sorry, Jared.”

  “Thank you. It was a long time ago. But you never do forget it, do you?”

  “I don’t think so. But I live in hope.”

  Oh, Lord. This woman's eyes cut straight through me. What's going on here?

  Out of nowhere, the plane jolted, and Liv's hand jerked toward him, and she grabbed his arm and dug in.

  “Sorry, folks,” the pilot announced. “We’re running into some bad weather as we cross the border into Tennessee. I’m turning on the seatbelt sign and would like everyone to remain in their seats with their seatbelts securely fastened until we cross down into Georgia and find some blue skies.”

  Jared placed his hand over hers and squeezed it. He didn’t know how many years it had been since he’d seen a woman over thirty blush, but Liv's cheeks were stained a light crimson.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, as she pulled her hand away.

  “For what? I appreciated having someone to hold on to.”

  She laughed and, again, it was lyrical. Jared felt his insides twist.

  You’re not a teenager anymore, man. Get hold of yourself.

  “You know,” he said, working hard to summon up the verbiage to complete the thought, “I was wondering if you’d like to—”

  The jet dropped and bounced, and Liv let out a scream and slapped her hands over her mouth. Closing her eyes, she pulled the seatbelt as snug as it would go, and then clamped down on the arms of her seat.

  Even after the pilot let them know that they’d reached clearer skies, Liv remained glued to the armrests, her eyes closed, and her head tilted back. Her lightly frosted lips twitched slightly, and he thought she might be praying. Jared didn’t have the heart to intrude, so he put his suggestion that they have dinner on hold until they landed and headed in the direction of baggage claim. He knew she might be flying into Fort Myers and vacationing an hour or more up or down the coast, but he didn’t really care how far he would have to drive. He had the unsettling inclination that the possibility of one meal with this woman might have been worth riding a camel across the desert to reach her tent.

  After they disembarked Jared stuck close to her as the current of people moved them along, but they were immediately separated by an electric cart and a stream of wayward passengers trying to get out of its way. A flight had just arrived at the gate across from theirs, and the influx of people only made it more difficult to keep his eyes on Liv as the tide dragged her farther away from him.

  Jared pushed his way toward baggage claim and scanned the crowd. Not a hint of red hair in sight. The couple from his original row waved at him from the other side, and he tapped the rail in irritation as he waited for the luggage to arrive. His heart pounded out a mantra as he scanned the faces at the carousel.

  Where is she? Where is she? Where IS she?

  Boxes and suitcases began sliding down the metal ramp and making the rounds in front of the crowd. He moved into a clear spot and grabbed his garment bag as it passed by at knee level. Then he helped the woman next to him as she struggled with an overstuffed canvas duffle and a damaged Samsonite case held together with twine.

  “I was afraid that might happen,” she told him. “Thanks for your h
elp.”

  “Any time.”

  Jared stood back and inspected the throng of people still gathering their belongings. She’d said she was on vacation; certainly, she would have luggage to pick up. But where was she?

  He glanced through the windows and noticed a blue Super Shuttle van slowing at the curb. A cop in an airport vest waved the van on after a moment, and the driver slapped the steering wheel before taking off. Jared looked back one more time in hopes of a glimpse of red hair, but she was nowhere in sight.

  He slowly made his way to the automatic door, and then stood there blocking the flow of pedestrian traffic as he scanned each and every face within eyeshot. When the blue van came around again and hugged the curb, Jared sighed and reluctantly jogged toward it.

  “Jared Hunt,” he told the driver as he boarded.

  “I thought you were lost.”

  “Not me,” he told him, tossing his bag into the rack. “Somebody else.”

  3

  Prudence screeched to a stop and then stood there, planted.

  Her eyes stung, and they ached from opening up so round and wide. Once again, she found herself wishing she’d never ventured away from home. She’d never seen a creature like this one in all her days in the valley.

  It growled at her and snorted, and there seemed to be fire burning in its bright golden eyes. She tried to run away, she really did, but her legs just wouldn’t move from that spot. Surely this beast would tear her to pieces and have her as a midday snack!

  “Oh, me, oh, my,” Prudence brayed. “What a horrible way to go.”

  Liv looped the airport three times before finding her way to the parkway. She tossed Hallie's handwritten directions to Josie's home up on the dash of her rental and settled back into the leather seat.

  For the twentieth time since leaving the airport, she thought of Jared Hunt and wished she hadn’t stopped in the ladies’ room. Not that she could have helped it, of course. Nearly three hours on a plane without braving the turbulence to use the facilities, and she would have taken off for the ladies’ room at a full run if not for the possibility that he was watching.