by Jenny Hale
“Miles’s ex-girlfriend,” Hannah said, her attention sliding over to Miles, piercing his complacent face like razors. Her entire body trembling, she kicked the duffel bag of toiletries she’d packed for him to his feet and pushed forward his suitcase. “These are yours,” she said. “How fitting, they’re already packed. When I get home, the rest of your things had better be gone as well.” She put the other duffel bag’s strap over her shoulder and lifted the handle on her suitcase, steeling herself so as not to break down completely and make a scene.
As she started to walk away, Miles caught her arm. “Hannah, wait,” he said halfheartedly.
“I’m done waiting.” In that moment, she understood the reason she’d worked such long hours was because she needed to keep herself from the realization she’d really been waiting for Miles to come around when he probably never would. She needed more than this, and it was clear that she’d been wasting her time thinking Miles would give it to her.
Hannah walked off at a clip, pulling her suitcase behind her until she rounded the corner, out of his sight. Then she stopped and leaned against the wall to keep her balance, trying to push down the sobs rising in her throat with an avalanche of emotion that felt as if it were crushing her. Her entire future, everything she’d worked for, had been ripped away from her in the span of a single moment. She tore the lily from her hair, tossed it in a nearby trash can, and slid down to the floor. Completely overcome, she hung her head and began to cry.
Two
Hannah knew she had to get herself together enough to stand up and figure out how to change her flight, but she needed another minute, her body feeling as though it were submerged in quicksand. The boarding passes she’d printed and tied with a ribbon, so that she could hand them to Miles to add a special gesture to the surprise, had fallen out of the front pocket of her bag and lay next to her on the floor. She picked them up and slid off the ribbon, peering down at them, all her plans crushed—her entire world changed.
Dropping the papers back onto the floor, she hugged her knees, and hid her face in them to try to get herself together so she could concentrate on the issue at hand: she needed to figure out a way to get to Gran. But how could she be her grandmother’s support in this state? Hannah’s chest ached with a kind of pain she’d never felt before, the realization of what she didn’t have in her life settling in. She was hollow, empty.
“Tough, innit?” a woman said from above her.
Hannah recognized her southern accent right away, and it felt like home. She lifted her head up to find a woman who looked to be in her mid-forties, with a giant smile and dark eyes staring down at her. She was naturally beautiful without even trying, her wavy amber-colored hair twisted into a messy bun, and it didn’t look like she had a stitch of makeup on.
She held a carrier with something whining inside it, a portfolio of some sort was jammed under her arm, and a camera bag dangled from her neck in front of her, as she stood next to a suitcase that was larger than she was. The woman smiled down at Hannah, revealing the wad of chewing gum between her back teeth. Despite her smile, however, there was an undeniable sadness etched deeply behind her eyes that even her beauty couldn’t mask.
The woman turned her head sideways to view Hannah’s boarding passes, her trendy oversized gold earrings jingling with the movement. When she stepped closer to get a better look, her long sweater-like coat swished around her thin denim-clad legs. “Especially when you were going to Barbados. That’s really tough,” she said casually as she played with a lone tendril of hair that had escaped from her bun, addressing Hannah as if they’d just met at a coffee shop.
Her mind still in a fog with everything that had happened, Hannah stared at the woman blankly, unsure of what in the world she was even talking about. How did she know that Hannah wasn’t still catching her flight to Barbados? Had she seen her confrontation with Miles?
Then the woman pointed to the flight departures screen and everything became crystal clear. Hannah’s mouth fell open. A sea of red filled the right side of the monitor, nearly every single flight now saying, “Cancelled.”
“The storm’s a bad one,” the woman said, shifting the tattered bag on her shoulder. “If you manage to get a hotel room, I’d be happy to split it with ya. You look nice enough… My name’s Georgia Graves.”
“A hotel room?” Hannah asked, her voice croaky from her emotions.
“That’s if you can still get one. Looks like none of us are goin’ anywhere for a while…”
Hannah shot to her feet, her eyes wide, the severity of the situation finally hitting her: flights were grounded; the snow was still coming down. This entire airport was full of people who were going to be looking for other flights, hotel rooms, taxis, and rental cars—any way to make it to where they were going. She had to see Gran sooner rather than later—with the way her mother sounded during their call, time was not on Hannah’s side.
“I have to get to Franklin, Tennessee,” she said with resolve, leaning down and snatching up her boarding passes, not even processing the attempts to catch her attention as the lady held up a finger to say something. “Thank you for letting me know,” Hannah called over her shoulder as she ran toward the ticket counter, dragging her suitcase behind her.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the airline ticket agent said with a compassionate shake of her head, her perfectly painted lips set in a line as she typed feverishly, peering at her computer screen to double-check departures at Hannah’s request. She handed Hannah’s boarding passes back to her calmly despite the less than composed atmosphere around her. “We can reschedule your flight for another day, but we’ve got nothing going to Tennessee from LaGuardia today due to the weather. I do apologize.”
“I need to get home to a very ill family member,” Hannah said, frazzled. “I’ll have to try a different airline. Do you know of any other flights still going?”
“It’s an unprecedented snowstorm. All departures have been grounded for the time being. We’re doing our very best to get everyone to their destinations safely, but our planes can’t take off with all the ice. I can give you a voucher and you can call us in the morning to see if we have anything running…”
“All right,” Hannah said, barely acknowledging the agent, feeling like her head was under water.
What was she going to do? Perhaps she should go home and figure out her next move, if she could get home. Miles would probably be there, packing his things, and she didn’t want to see him right now anyway. Despite her growing anxiety about the situation, she took in a steadying breath and headed toward the taxi line to see if she could get back to her apartment, only to stop cold, her shoulders slumping in defeat when she saw the throngs of passengers waiting. She squeezed her burning eyes shut and took in a deep breath, a pinch now forming in her shoulder.
There were so many people in line that some of them were sitting on the floor in circles, talking, clearly giving in to the hours of waiting ahead of them before they’d get their turn. She kept walking down the usually airy corridor toward the bus stop, weaving in and out of hordes of weary travelers as they swarmed ticket counters and information desks. But when she got there, it looked worse than the taxi line. Maybe she could get to the car rental area before everyone else figured out that was the only option.
Hannah picked up her pace. “Pardon me,” she said over and over as she rushed past irritated travelers, pushing her fear out of her mind to complete the task at hand.
Any open space she got, she ran, tears welling up even more, but she blinked them away. She tried not to think about how the car rental kiosk was a twenty-five-minute walk, most of it outside. Anxiety rising up to maximum levels, she decided to stop and regroup. She took a deep breath and tried to collect herself. Okay, she’d call the car rental companies first to see if they had any cars. She could put a reservation on the books by phone—yes, that was the smartest idea.
Hannah sat down on a nearby bench, pulling her suitcase toward her and lumping her oth
er bag on top. She took a second to catch her breath and then swiped her phone to life. What? Her office knew she’d be out of contact but she had two missed calls and five emails from work. She’d have to look at them later. She searched for the number of the first rental company and hit call.
Busy.
She checked another one.
Busy.
A television monitor was reporting the weather, and all major roads and thoroughfares were bright red, jammed with traffic from crashes and people trying to move about the city in the snowstorm, the afternoon rush hour beginning early as commuters attempted to make it home before the worst of it.
Hannah continued to dial the rental companies anyway, over and over, unable to get a single person on the phone. Slowly, she put her cell down in her lap and let the tears come. How could everything have gone so wrong? Think, she told herself. But as she looked around at the pandemonium, she just felt bewildered.
Unsure of what she was even doing, Hannah got up and began walking, hoping a new idea would come to her. Some people had spread coats and blankets on the floor, making beds for the night. A woman nursed her fussing baby, rocking her while looking around dazed. Two toddlers ran in circles, playing and chasing each other while their parents were lost in conversation, alarm on their faces. Others were chirping madly into their phones and tapping on laptops. Airlines passed out snacks and offered sodas and bottles of water. Travelers barked at service desk employees, frustrated, while the desk clerks attempted to calm them down. The more Hannah paced, the more she understood that everyone was stuck; no one was getting out of there. It was total chaos.
As she resigned herself to the fact that she wasn’t going anywhere, Hannah leaned against a large window, trying not to totally break down. She noticed some people had made signs with their destinations, in an attempt to find other passengers going to the same place. In surrender, with no other options that she could think of, she found an open spot on the floor where she could put her bags against the wall behind her and take a seat. She decided it couldn’t hurt to make a sign—she could at least try like the others. She pulled out a pad of paper from her carry-on and wrote “Franklin, Tennessee” in big letters on it, setting it beside her on the floor. It occurred to her that Liam might be going to the same place, and for a while she watched the passers-by to see if she could locate him, but it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.
Hannah’s feet were tired and her head pounded from stress. She closed her eyes and tried to drum up happy thoughts. She imagined walking in through the glass-paned front door of Gran’s little blue bungalow with her grandmother’s signature red seasonal flowers flanking the entryway, passing the porch swing full of pillows, the buttery glow of evening lamplight illuminating the front hallway, the quiet shifting sound as the old woman moved around the kitchen while she danced to vintage music she had playing, and the sugary vanilla scent of her snickerdoodle cookies when she carried them to the back porch overlooking the lush green yard. She conjured up Gran’s soft movements as she settled with Hannah on one of her white rocking chairs, draping a blanket over her legs… Hannah squeezed her eyes tightly to keep in the tears, but they spilled down her cheeks anyway.
Then suddenly, tearing her away from her thoughts, she was aware of someone standing beside her, and she quickly wiped her face. When she tipped her head up, she pulled back, surprised and relieved to see Liam. He had the same green eyes with flecks of gold in them that she remembered from when they were young.
“Hannah?” he asked, looking even wearier than she did.
She nodded as she blinked at him through her wet eyelashes. Every time she attempted to clear the tears, more came.
He stood quietly next to her. Even though it was awkward with her crying, it felt comforting to have him there; it made her feel as though she wasn’t so alone. When her tears slowed, he squatted down next to her, obviously unsure of how to approach her. He cleared his throat, and then out of nowhere he asked, “Do you remember when we were young, and your friend Morgan refused to swing on that vine over the river because she was too scared to climb up to the rock to grab it?”
“Yeah,” she managed.
“Remember what you told her?”
She shook her head.
“I still remember it. You said, ‘Sometimes, you have to push yourself through the hard stuff to be able to enjoy the fun stuff.’” When he said this, there was a power behind his look that made her wonder if he’d learned that advice firsthand somewhere along the way.
She grinned through her emotions. “My gran used to tell me that. It’s funny, she’s always so positive about everything that I have to wonder if she ever faced ‘hard stuff.’ I know she must have, but it’s difficult to imagine.” Her lip started to wobble at the mention of her grandmother.
She turned toward him, his face returning to a melancholy expression. He seemed so different now from the boy she’d known back home. That boy had been fearless, laughing all the time, quick-witted, and confident. Now, he seemed serious, grounded, focused.
“Your gran gave wise advice,” he said.
Her mind went to a memory of Gran twirling around her flower shop, nestled out of the way and down a side street, popping chocolates into her mouth as she pulled flowers from their buckets for an arrangement she was making, music from the old record player filling the air. A woman had come in through the double glass-paned antique doors, the bells jingling to alert Gran to a visitor—her old friend. “Oh, hello, Darlene!” she said, setting down her flowers to pull out a pitcher of iced tea so she could offer Darlene some. She handed Darlene the beverage, and the two of them boogied like a couple of schoolgirls before Darlene finally put in her order for a basket of wildflowers to take to her book club.
When Darlene left, Gran had said, “Darlene’s been feeling lonely since she lost her job and had to take on one she doesn’t really love. She joined the book club to find a little joy. And I made her smile today. There’s nothing dancing can’t solve.” She laughed as she grabbed Hannah’s teenage hands and gave her a spin. “Most of our problems are of this world—they’re created by us—when really our souls just long to sing and dance. When we do that, we become ourselves again, and we rise above whatever worries us. But we have to get through the hard stuff first. That’s how we see good—when we can compare it to the bad.” Despite how wise she was, Gran always seemed so young for her age, her skin glowing, her eyes vibrant and happy. She could melt all Hannah’s fears in an instant.
“My gran’s not well right now,” Hannah told Liam, as she grabbed her handbag and started rooting around inside it. “I don’t have any tissues,” she said, her voice quivering. She sniffed and wiped her eyes with her fingers.
“Poor thing,” a woman’s empathetic voice floated over to her, and Hannah realized they had an audience of one: the woman from before—Georgia—who was openly shaking her head at Hannah’s emotional state.
“Hello again,” Hannah said, trying to get herself together.
Georgia nodded toward the destination sign Hannah had made. “You ran off before I could say anything, but we’re headed to Franklin, too,” she told her. Then Georgia waggled her finger at Liam. “It looks like you two already know each other.”
“Yeah,” Hannah said, allowing a slight grin to observe the coincidence of running into him, while still blinking away tears. “We knew each other as kids.”
“Wow, that’s crazy,” Georgia said with a wide smile. “Small world.”
Liam smiled at Hannah meaningfully. “Yes, it certainly is.” Then he stood up. “Anyone need to go to the ladies’ room?”
Hannah gathered her sign and cell phone, sliding them into her handbag, curious as to his question.
Georgia offered her hand and pulled Hannah to a standing position. Then the woman elbowed Liam, who was clearly surprised that Georgia had made physical contact.
“I convinced Liam to stay with me, and then I saw your sad face back at the baggage claim, and
I just knew that you needed someone with you, so we’ve spent the last few minutes trying to find you.” Georgia turned to Liam. “Tell her,” she said, bouncing excitedly, so much that the animal in the carrier finally barked, which confirmed that it was a small dog.
Liam swiped an app on his phone and turned it around. It was some sort of confirmation number. His eyebrows rose, and finally she saw a glimmer of anticipation. “I have a car…”
“You do?” Hannah asked, her mouth hanging open.
She couldn’t believe it: This man from her past was the answer to her prayers. Not only did she have a way home, but she was also able to ride with someone she completely trusted instead of a stranger. Relief flooding her in the form of happy tears; she threw her arms around Liam’s neck and hugged him, clearly surprising him.
He pulled back quickly and looked down at her with an unreadable expression on his face. Their shared past from two long-lost lives settled between them, taking Hannah back for an instant to the T-shirt-and-cut-offs-wearing, wild spirit of a girl she’d been so long ago.
“We should go,” he said, turning toward Georgia. “Ready?”
“Absolutely,” Georgia said, as her inquisitive gaze bounced back and forth between Liam and Hannah.
Three
When she’d awakened this morning, Hannah would have never thought for one second that she’d find herself sitting in an unmarked Chevy Malibu with Liam, Georgia, and a baby-blue-sweater-clad Chihuahua named Jerry as they pulled out of the airport rental car garage and into the gridlock on Grand Central Parkway, headed for Tennessee.
They’d all agreed to split the cost of the rental, even though Liam had offered to pay the whole thing—Hannah had handed over her credit card before he could object. She was just so thankful and ready to be on her way home.
Liam put the blinker on, and inched the car over slightly to change lanes so that he could take the exit highlighted on the navigation map. Hannah kept trying to figure out what had changed to make him so stoic, but she couldn’t get a read on him. From the look of his well-tailored trousers, his fashionable haircut, and high-end shoes, he was definitely doing well for himself. The clerk had also apologized that they didn’t have the luxury car he had initially reserved. However, there was still something very down-home about him too. Perhaps it was the casual way he leaned back in the driver’s seat, or the way he had rested his wrist on the steering wheel when the car was idle, just like Ethan had in his old farm truck when he’d driven her home from high school every afternoon.
