Flight to Paradise (Flight Trilogy, Book 1) (21 page)

She slapped the table with her palm, “Listen to me! It’s not something that is going to happen—EVER!”

“Emily, it’s inevitable!” His voice tone grew louder. “It’s just a matter of time. And when the time comes, I don’t see that I have a choice.”

She stood quickly, sending her chair flying backwards. Putting both hands on the table, leaning down, her eyes boring into his like lasers. “Here’s the only choice you have. It’s either me, or her! I don’t have the time or the patience to be somebody’s nurse, and the last thing I’m planning to do is spend my hard-earned money to take care of your mother. What has she ever done for us?”

“If I had the money it would be a different situation, but I don’t.” He paused. “Thanks to you.”

“Oh! So, now you’re saying it’s my fault we have a nice house, drive new cars, and a decent life! Well, if I had left it up to you, do you know what we’d have? Nothing! I’d still be living in some dumpy apartment, driving a broken down car, and praying I could make it to the grocery store and back without the piece of junk breaking down on me.” She leaned down and picked up the chair she had sent flying.

Grocery
store
?
When
did
going
to
the
grocery
store
ever
concern
her
?

“Please, Emily, I don’t want to argue with you. I just want to do what’s right for my mother. We’re going to have to make some decisions soon. To be honest, I don’t think we have many options. We can either scale down to the point where we can pay someone else to care for her in Atlanta, or we can keep everything the way it is, for as long as we can, and move her in with us.”

“Well, I’m not ‘scaling down’ and I’m not giving up my lifestyle, either, so it looks like your only decision is who you want to live with: me or your crazy mother.” She shoved her chair up against the table and walked away.

His biggest question was how long could his mother continue to work?

Hopefully
,
long
enough
for
Emily
to
get
used
to
the
idea
of
her
moving
in
with
them
.

CHAPTER 34

When Ryan woke the next morning, Emily was gone. He’d heard her stirring earlier, but instead of taking a chance and subjecting himself to more of her verbal abuse, he played opossum and eventually dozed off. When he heard the kitchen door to the garage slam closed, he knew it was safe to get up.

Today he planned to hop a flight to Atlanta and visit his mother. He wanted to see for himself if Dr. Wilson was right about her memory. If Wilson was right and his mother was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s, he needed to have a plan. He couldn’t worry about Emily; he didn’t have a choice.

After he showered, dressed, and packed a bag, he headed to the DFW airport. Flights between Dallas and Atlanta ran frequently. Even with the one-hour time change, he figured he would be in Atlanta by noon. He wanted to be there when she came home from work.

* * *

With his window down, the sound of gravel crunched beneath the tires on his rental car as it rolled slowly up the driveway.

To his surprise, his mom was sitting on the front porch. He glanced at his watch: two o’clock. When he walked up on the porch, she greeted him with a big smile and open arms. “Ryan! What are you doing here? You should have warned me you were coming.”

“I wanted to surprise you.” She looked great. They hugged and then he joined her, sitting in the familiar high-backed wooden rocker next to the swing.

“Can I get you some iced tea?” she asked.

“No, I’m fine. How are you feeling?”

Sounding surprised he would ask, she said, “Me? Never felt better.”

“I thought you would be at work.”

“I decided to take the day off. I sure am glad I did now that you are here.”

The swing slowly glided back and forth, hanging by chains mounted in the ceiling of the porch. Crossed at the ankles, her feet rhythmically motored the swing like a metronome set at its slowest speed.

Beneath her cooking apron she wore a dress with a flower pattern. “You been cooking?” Her apron was a dead give-away something tasty was in the oven.

“Your favorite,” she said with a smile. “Apple pie, just the way you like it.”

Ryan smiled. He could almost smell the pie baking and imagined how it would taste, piled high with vanilla ice cream. It had been a long time since he had eaten anything home cooked.

“I can’t tell you how good that sounds,” he said.

“Well, you can eat the whole pie all by yourself. And if you want more, I’ll bake you another one. How about that?” She took a sip of her sweet tea.

“Makes me feel like I’m eighteen again.”

“So tell me, how are you and Keri doing?”

“You mean Emily?” He corrected her.

This
must
be
what
Dr
.
Wilson
was
talking
about
.

“Oh yes, Emily. Of course. What was I thinking?”

“We’re doing fine,” he lied.

As
long
as
we
don’t
talk
to
each
other
.

“She wrote me.”

“She did?” Shocked by her words, he asked, “What did she say?” He could not imagine why Emily would write his mother.

“She told me how much she enjoyed being a flight attendant.” Her eyes widened and she asked, “Do you two ever fly together?”

Her confusion alarmed him, but for now, he decided to play along. “No. We rarely fly together.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Yeah.”

Unexpected thoughts entered his mind: thoughts of Keri and what it would be like to fly with her—to be married to her. The sound of her name stirred-up long-forgotten emotions. For a moment his thoughts drifted into the past. Hearing his mom talk about her, and the old wooden rocker—the swing where he had spent many evenings with Keri—brought back feelings that only being home could have given him—good ones.

Then he remembered Keri’s letter and the shocking news she had met someone; an airline pilot named Bill. The thought was like a steel wall suddenly dropping, dividing his pleasurable thoughts from the painful challenges ahead of him. Reality slapped him back into the present when he thought of Emily and the reason he had come to Atlanta.

He had no doubts, now, that he would need to start working on a plan to move his mother to Dallas. Based on Dr. Wilson’s professional opinion, and what he was seeing, he probably had six months, maybe less.

“How long can you stay?” she asked. “You know I want you to stay as long as you can.”

“Mom, I received a call from Doctor Wilson.”

“
My
Doctor Wilson?”

“Yes.”

“He is such a sweet man.” She looked off at the tall oak in the front yard, as a squirrel scratched its way up the bark. “Why would Doctor Wilson call you?”

“He told me about your condition. He suggested I visit with you.”

“Oh, that. It’s really nothing to worry about. I’m just getting old, and like all old folks, we just forget things now and then.” The swing continued to glide with her gentle push.

“He says you have the beginning signs of Alzheimer’s.” Ryan sat quietly.

She glanced down at the floor and then back at Ryan; like he’d discovered something she’d been hiding.

“It’s really nothing you need to worry about. I’m sure I’ll be fine; just a part of getting old.” She tried to laugh, but instead, her eyes grew watery. “I started forgetting a few things I knew I should remember. And then last Sunday….” She chuckled. “I woke up, dressed, and drove to work like I always do.” She turned and looked at Ryan. Tears spilled from her eyes. “The store is closed on Sundays. It frightened me a little, that’s all. It’s normally little things and doesn’t happen all the time, but I never know when.” She took a tissue from the pocket of her apron and blotted her watery eyes and dried her cheeks.

Ryan moved over to the swing and put his arm around her. “It’s going to be okay. That’s why I’m here. I want you to think about moving to Dallas and living with us.”

“I don’t want to be a bother to anyone.”

“You’re not a bother,” he comforted her. “I’m the one coming out smelling like a rose. Just think of all those apple pies I’ll get to eat.” They both laughed.

“What about Keri? Do you think she would mind having her old friend around the house?”

“Not at all, mom. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

As he lied, the image of Emily pounding on the table, issuing her ultimatum—“Your mother is not moving into this house!” —screamed in his head. Not to mention the thought of how she would react the first time his mother called her “Keri.”

He didn’t know whether to cry or laugh out loud. What he did know was he loved his mother. He only hoped, when it came down to it, Emily wouldn’t make him choose.

After spending the night and tanking-up on his mom’s home-cooking, he started back to the airport. The quiet drive through familiar residential streets reminded him of the years he spent growing up. He always loved the change of seasons: the smell of azaleas and honeysuckle; freshly mowed lawns and budding pink and white dogwoods beneath towering oaks.

He felt good about his mom. Except for her continuing to think he was married to Keri, she appeared to be fine. She should be okay for at least six months, but when he thought about Emily, six months didn’t seem long enough.

He continued to think about the logistics surrounding the move. She didn’t have much in the way of material possessions, but he would need to sell what he could. Paying for storage was out of the question. He could convert the spare bedroom and bath into a small apartment. The details poured into his head, mixed with imagined responses from Emily.

After exiting the freeway, large signs directed him around the airport’s perimeter road toward the rental car return area. He mindlessly glanced into a passing car

That
woman
looked
exactly
like
Keri
!
And
the
man
with
her
…
he
could
have
passed
for
Rex
Dean’s
twin
brother
!
Impossible
.
That’s
great
!
Now
I’m
hallucinating
.
Hearing
mom
talk
about
Keri
must
have
really
messed
with
my
mind
…
but
,
Rex
?
With
Keri
?
I
am
going
crazy
.

The mere thought of Emily washed his mind clear of any momentary fantasies of Keri, returning him to his uncomfortable reality. In a matter of hours all hell would break loose when he presented Emily with the news—like it or not—mom is moving in.

CHAPTER 35

Keri was dying for Rex to meet her parents, especially her mother. She knew if Rex could win the approval of her mother, her dad would follow. So far, her mother’s receptiveness to verbal descriptions of Rex had been encouraging.

Rex, however, knew very little about Keri’s parents or her past and was not that excited about making the trip to Atlanta. During the nine months they had dated, she had purposefully avoided conversations that might lead them into talking about her parents’ affluence. She wanted Rex to love
her
, not her money, or better said her parent’s money.

They arrived in Atlanta about noon. Keri opted for a rental car, knowing her mother hated to drive in Atlanta traffic and especially hated the congestion at the Hartsfield Airport. The last thing she wanted was for Rex to see her mother in a tizzy.

After picking up the car, she navigated clear of the rental car parking lot and onto the perimeter road. For some strange reason, her eyes followed an approaching Ford sedan. As it grew closer, she locked-in on the man behind the wheel. In a matter of seconds, the car passed and was gone, but not before she was able to get a clear shot of the man’s face.

That
man
looked
exactly
like
Ryan
Mitchell
.

A rush of electrical currents swept through her body. She glanced at Rex to her right. He was staring out his side window. Her heart swelled in her chest. Underneath her calm exterior, a part of her was tugging for her to turn around and chase the car. Her eyes searched for a place to reverse directions.

A
traffic
light
ahead
.
I
can
make
a
U
-
turn
.
The
turn
arrow
is
green
.
What
will
I
tell
Rex
?

But before she could act, the traffic light was behind her. She questioned her stupidity. Even if it were Ryan, how crazy would it be to run after him? The urge quietly left, but her thoughts continued.

What
would
he
be
doing
here
?
Visiting
his
mother
,
maybe
?
I
could
call
her
.
Have
you
lost
your
mind
?

A minute passed; more thoughts arrived.

Is
this
the
way
my
life
is
going
to
be
?
Am
I
always
going
to
be
looking
for
Ryan
Mitchell
in
every
man
I
see
?

Forty-minutes later, she turned onto West Paces Ferry Road. She couldn’t hide it from Rex any longer, they were in Buckhead; the place she called home.