bowed.
Chapter 23
Bumpy Ride
The small puddle jumper was an agonizingly long ride. Storms chased us all the way from the island. The wind jostled us. The sea below was turbulent. Massive waves reached up into the sky, threatening to swallow our little plane whole. The pilot was forced to fly higher into the winds.
He said the ecosystem was protesting because of the battle on the island. I knew it wasn't true. It was me. Though I had very little energy, what I did have left was out of control. I couldn't help it. I kept picturing Ahi with her hands on her dead mother's face. I brought Shawn to the island, and they had defended me with their lives.
Several hours later, the pilot landed us safely in a small airport in Chile with enough money for another plane ticket. There was barely any time before boarding began, but we made it to the plane. Bee, who had barely slept was beginning to fuss. The wait on the tarmac seemed longer than it should be, and the pilot gave us no information. I gritted my teeth, willing the damned crew to take off. Finally, we began to roll forward. Bee was in a full scream now.
Hold on , I told myself. Hold on just a little bit longer and we will be home, safe in the tiny apartment above the bakery in the Seattle suburbs.
Just as the plane picked up speed, it lurched to one side. Passengers reacted, gasping so loudly they could be heard over the roar of the engines. Seconds later, the plane took to the air. One of the flight attendants came over the intercom and spoke rapidly in Spanish. Then she converted to English, "Ladies and gentlemen, we just experienced a minor earthquake. We will proceed to our destination. We cannot land as we cannot verify the stability of the ground. If you must contact loved ones you left behind, once we reach cruising altitude you may call from the plane’s phone free of charge."
I looked down at Bee, who had calmed herself having found her thumb. I felt like crying.
I couldn't bring myself to speak. Not even to coo at Bee. She did all the cooing for us. When she wasn't eating or napping, she was playing with my hair, or exploring my face, babbling about it all the while. I kept her close, giving her kisses, all too aware of how close I had come to losing her.
It was three a.m. by the time I came to the door of my old apartment above the suburban Seattle bakery. Micah had said he paid the bills, and put all my stuff in storage. Had they rented it out again? Was it no longer truly mine?
I raised my hand to knock, but stopped just short. It felt wrong to knock; wrong to ask permission to enter. This was the only home I had left. If it turned me away, I was going to lose it.
Instead, I tried the doorknob. With a quiet click the door swung open. I stepped in, unconcerned. Perhaps if I treated everything like it used to be, this whole, long nightmare would disappear. I set Bee down on the couch and flipped on the light to the kitchen. Everything was as I remembered. All my dishes were there – my photography magazines on the countertop. Even the plants Micah said he had donated, alive and well. I turned on the stove, filled my teapot with water and set it over the flame.
"What are you doing?"
Micah's voice snapped me out of my daydream. I looked around the kitchen. There were no magazines and no plants. Just a stove with a burner on. Not even a teapot. I was not just losing it; it was long gone.
But Micah was there. Real and solid and strong.
Chapter 24
All that Matters
Bee cried out from the living room where I had left her. We both froze. His eyes went wide; mine narrowed.
"Don't you dare go near her," I warned.
A flicker of pain crossed his face. "I came for you, to help you."
"Back away."
He was blocking the exit to the kitchen; blocked my path to Bee.
He sidestepped, perhaps just as weary of me as I was of him. I moved forward only when we could maintain the distance between us. I ran out of the kitchen to Bee, needing to feel
Chapter 23
Bumpy Ride
The small puddle jumper was an agonizingly long ride. Storms chased us all the way from the island. The wind jostled us. The sea below was turbulent. Massive waves reached up into the sky, threatening to swallow our little plane whole. The pilot was forced to fly higher into the winds.
He said the ecosystem was protesting because of the battle on the island. I knew it wasn't true. It was me. Though I had very little energy, what I did have left was out of control. I couldn't help it. I kept picturing Ahi with her hands on her dead mother's face. I brought Shawn to the island, and they had defended me with their lives.
Several hours later, the pilot landed us safely in a small airport in Chile with enough money for another plane ticket. There was barely any time before boarding began, but we made it to the plane. Bee, who had barely slept was beginning to fuss. The wait on the tarmac seemed longer than it should be, and the pilot gave us no information. I gritted my teeth, willing the damned crew to take off. Finally, we began to roll forward. Bee was in a full scream now.
Hold on , I told myself. Hold on just a little bit longer and we will be home, safe in the tiny apartment above the bakery in the Seattle suburbs.
Just as the plane picked up speed, it lurched to one side. Passengers reacted, gasping so loudly they could be heard over the roar of the engines. Seconds later, the plane took to the air. One of the flight attendants came over the intercom and spoke rapidly in Spanish. Then she converted to English, "Ladies and gentlemen, we just experienced a minor earthquake. We will proceed to our destination. We cannot land as we cannot verify the stability of the ground. If you must contact loved ones you left behind, once we reach cruising altitude you may call from the plane’s phone free of charge."
I looked down at Bee, who had calmed herself having found her thumb. I felt like crying.
I couldn't bring myself to speak. Not even to coo at Bee. She did all the cooing for us. When she wasn't eating or napping, she was playing with my hair, or exploring my face, babbling about it all the while. I kept her close, giving her kisses, all too aware of how close I had come to losing her.
It was three a.m. by the time I came to the door of my old apartment above the suburban Seattle bakery. Micah had said he paid the bills, and put all my stuff in storage. Had they rented it out again? Was it no longer truly mine?
I raised my hand to knock, but stopped just short. It felt wrong to knock; wrong to ask permission to enter. This was the only home I had left. If it turned me away, I was going to lose it.
Instead, I tried the doorknob. With a quiet click the door swung open. I stepped in, unconcerned. Perhaps if I treated everything like it used to be, this whole, long nightmare would disappear. I set Bee down on the couch and flipped on the light to the kitchen. Everything was as I remembered. All my dishes were there – my photography magazines on the countertop. Even the plants Micah said he had donated, alive and well. I turned on the stove, filled my teapot with water and set it over the flame.
"What are you doing?"
Micah's voice snapped me out of my daydream. I looked around the kitchen. There were no magazines and no plants. Just a stove with a burner on. Not even a teapot. I was not just losing it; it was long gone.
But Micah was there. Real and solid and strong.
Chapter 24
All that Matters
Bee cried out from the living room where I had left her. We both froze. His eyes went wide; mine narrowed.
"Don't you dare go near her," I warned.
A flicker of pain crossed his face. "I came for you, to help you."
"Back away."
He was blocking the exit to the kitchen; blocked my path to Bee.
He sidestepped, perhaps just as weary of me as I was of him. I moved forward only when we could maintain the distance between us. I ran out of the kitchen to Bee, needing to feel
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