My One and Only

I’d miss Montana, I realized with a small shock. Lake McDonald was dark blue and choppy today. On the far side, the craggy mountain loomed, the white of the glacier ruthlessly bright. My heart squeezed. Chances were, I’d never make it back here. For some reason, things felt…unfinished, somehow.

“Oh, well, Coco-Butter,” I said to my dog. “Time to go home.”

The line for the shuttle was rather long…looked as if everyone was leaving today. I was glad I’d made a reservation last night. The young mother whose baby had dropped the pacifier came up behind me and said good morning, and I nodded back. The shuttle driver took tickets and checked our names off his list. “And twelve,” he said, checking my name off the list. “Okay, that’s it. Sorry, ma’am,” he told the young mother. “Can’t take any walk-ons today. These folks all had a reservation. You’ll have to wait for the next shuttle at noon.”

“Oh, no! Shoot. Do you think I’ll make my flight?” she asked him. “It’s at twelve-thirty.”

“Probably not,” the driver said.

Should’ve thought of that before, I thought, picking up Coco and grabbing the handle of my suitcase. But then I stopped. Glanced at my watch. It took about forty-five minutes to get to the airport; the shuttle left hourly. I had plenty of time.

“You can have my spot,” I said magnanimously. “My flight’s not till one forty-five.”

The young mother’s face lit up. “Really? Are you sure?” But she was already hoisting the diaper bag and grabbing the handle of the baby’s car seat.

“Sure. Go ahead.” The child stared at me solemnly. Destiny, as I recalled. Quite a name. She certainly was a beautiful child…flawless skin and a rosebud mouth, giant, wise blue eyes.

“Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver!” the mom exclaimed. “Have a great day! Safe home!”

“You too,” I said. There. Random act done, and it was a significant act at that. I couldn’t wait to tell Father Bruce. Feeling rather holy, I waved to the mother and child, then got another cuppa joe.

Fresh mug of coffee steaming, I went back out on the patio to read a little more.

There was Nick, sitting at the table I’d vacated not ten minutes earlier, staring out at the lake. I jerked to a stop—damn, it was still a shock to see him—then kept going.

“Nick,” I said as I passed.

“Harper,” he answered, flicking his eyes to me for the briefest instant.

I sat at another table, not too far away. Didn’t want to seem like I couldn’t stand the very sight of him.

I’d have to accept that should Willa and Christopher stay together, I’d be seeing Nick once in a while. The occasional holiday or birthday or whatnot. And that would be fine. We had a turbulent past, we’d always have some feelings for each other, and so on and so forth, ad infinitum. He was simply a mistake from my youth. Everyone has her heart broken at least once. Didn’t mean the heart didn’t mend and indeed, grow stronger.

I took out a pen, turned to the crossword puzzle and settled Coco on my lap (she liked to help). Coffee, delicious. Crossword, challenging. Dog, adorable. Ex-husband, invisible, thanks to a senior citizen tour group, which had descended from a motor coach. A veritable sea of white heads prevented me from catching even the slightest glimpse of Nick, and I was grateful.

A short while later, my random act of kindness bit me in the ass.

“What? How can it be shut down?” I asked.

“Ma’am, all I know is what they told me at the airport. The last flight left an hour ago, but since then, the whole fleet’s been grounded. Something about a problem with a software upgrade in the navigation system. Nobody can take off, nobody can come in.”

“That can’t be.”

“All they told me is that until this is fixed, no planes are leaving Kalispell City Airport, none are coming in.”

“None is coming. It’s singular.” He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Sorry. Um, well, what about the other airports near here?”

“All three of the regional airports have the same problem.”

“Are you kidding me?” I yelped.

“No, ma’am.” He stared at me, resigned patience clearly running thin.

“When will they be flying again?”

“The controller at the airport said two days, minimum.”

“Two days?” I screeched. Coco barked, voicing her own indignation. “Seriously, are you kidding me?”

“No, ma’am.” I sensed he was about to kick me.

I took a breath. “Okay. Can you take me to the nearest unaffected airport?”

“That would be either Yakima, Washington, or Salt Lake City. And no, ma’am, I can’t take you there.”

“Crotch.” I thought a second. “Well. How about a rental car? Can you take me to Avis? My boyfriend just returned our car this morning. I’ll pick it up again and just drive myself to wherever.”

“Well, when we got the news, a bunch of folks asked me to take them to the same place, but sure, I’ll take you there. You might want to call first and see if they have any cars available.”

They didn’t. Ten minutes later, I’d tried the other two rental car companies in the area. The surly driver was right. Oh, this was maddening! Apparently, when the fleet had been grounded, the people already at or en route to the airport (and I would’ve been among them, had I not done my stupid random act of kindness) had been bused to the rental places and snapped up the rather few cars in stock. I was stuck here.

Well. That would be okay. I could stay a day or two. I had my laptop, of course. I could work from my room…let’s see, I didn’t have court this week, so that was good…I had a meeting with opposing counsel on a case, but I could conference-call that one. And maybe I could even see a little more of the park, and that unfinished feeling would fade.

I wheeled my luggage, Coco in tow, over to the desk clerk. “Hi,” I said in my warmest tone, the one I used on Judge McMurtry’s clerk when I needed an extension. “Listen, I have a little problem. I don’t have a way of getting home, so I’ll need to keep my room for another day or so.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” the girl said. “Sorry to say, we’re booked.”

“Booked?” I blurted.

She smiled sweetly. “This Elderhostel group has all the rooms. I’m really sorry. Do you want me to try somewhere else in the park?”

“Yes, please,” I said, a trickle of panic flowing up my spine. The girl began typing…and typing…and typing. “Anything?” I asked tightly.

“I’m super sorry,” she said after typing seven or eight more pages. “A lot of the park is already closed, and it looks like Elderhostel kind of owns the rest of the rooms we do have this next week.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” I asked.

“We have tent rentals available,” she suggested.

“I’m not sleeping in a tent!” I protested, my voice a tad shrill. “Do I look like the camping type? Plus, I was already almost eaten by a grizzly bear! And I’d freeze to death! It was thirty-four degrees last night!”

“Harper.”

Super. Insult to injury. I turned around. “I’m a little busy, Nick.”

His face was neutral. “You can come with me.”

My mouth dropped open. “You.”

“Yes. I’m driving East. I can get you to an airport along the way.”

“You’re driving?”

“Yep.” He folded his arms across his chest.

“How far?”

“All the way to New York.”

A prickle started in my stomach, reminding me of something before my brain caught on. Oh. right. There it was. My face flushed.

“Take it or leave it, Harper,” Nick said, glancing at his watch. “I’m leaving in fifteen minutes.”

CHAPTER TEN

AN HOUR LATER, I WAS sitting in Nick’s rented Mustang, Coco and her bunny at my side, a map on my lap. We were heading east on Route 2. The plan was for Nick to take me to Bismarck, North Dakota. All the other airports between here and there had grounded their tiny fleets, thanks to some glitch in an air-traffic-control-software upgrade. Damn computers.

Glacier was behind us, the Rockies towering in the rearview mirror as clouds scudded among their peaks. Thanks, Teddy, I thought with a pang as we left the park, and I turned back to say goodbye. Someday, maybe, I’d come back. Sure. My future child and I would vacation here, and I’d show him/her the spot where Mommy was almost mauled by the giant grizzly bear. Or not. That might be upsetting to a child. Note to self: buy Dr. Spock ASAP. With a sigh, I turned to face forward and fondled Coco’s silky little ears.

Nick’s ’Stang was a convertible, of course. A man can’t have a suitable midlife crisis without his trophy car being a convertible or his trophy wife being a blonde. The wind ruffled Nick’s hair as if directed by the gods of GQ Magazine. Add to this the fact that he wore blue-tinted sunglasses, a black T-shirt and jeans and looked irritatingly gorgeous. Coco, who got quite squealy around Dennis, had thus far ignored Nick. Good doggy.

Nick glanced at me, making me realize I was staring at him. “So what happened to Dennis?” he asked.

“He had an earlier flight. We, uh…we couldn’t get seats on the same plane.”

“Really.” His tone suggested he knew something different.

“Mmm-hmm.” Abruptly, I shifted my attention to the map. “So, okay, the interstate is about—”

“We’re not going to.” He didn’t look at me.

“But—”

“I know.”

“Nick, that means—”

“Yup.”

“Seriously, Nick? You do realize that not taking the interstate will add hours and hours to our lovely sojourn together, don’t you?”

“Yes, Harper. I’m aware. But this is my trip. You’re merely baggage, emotionally and cargowise.”

“Ha, ha.”

He deigned to look at me. “It’ll take about thirteen hours, all told.”

I glanced at my watch. “Okay, it’s one now, so if we take turns driving and drive all night, we’ll—”

“We’re stopping for the night.”

I gritted my teeth. “Great! Then we can enjoy each other’s company that much longer.” I smiled sweetly at him, which he ignored. Fine. So we’d stop at some hotel. I’d be in Bismarck…let’s see…I could be there tomorrow by ten, assuming we drove till nine tonight and were on the road by seven tomorrow morning. Not bad. Survivable.

But still. Stuck in the car with Nick. The hum of electricity was quite uncomfortable.

“So. A road trip, huh?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“Quite the midlife crisis you’re having, Nicky.”

“I’m thirty-six,” he said.

“Almost thirty-seven,” I couldn’t help saying.

“And it’s been a lifelong dream,” he said, finally looking at me. “As you well know.”

I sure did. Pulling Coco onto my lap, I turned my attention out the window. U.S. Route 2 was no more than a two-way road, though it was a corridor through the entire Northwest. We’d left the mountains surprisingly fast, and around us were only the Great Plains—fields of browning grass as far as the eye could see, and above us, the endless blue sky, streaked with thin white clouds. The air was cool, the sun relentless, and I was glad to have slathered on the fifty-factor sunscreen, as I burned easily. Towns with sweet names and tiny populations were listed on the map—Cut Bank, Beaver Creek, Wolf Point.

Nick had been quiet since offering me the ride. I was rather sure he regretted it now. For someone who’d blurted that he’d never stopped loving me, kissed me into the middle of next week and was now chauffeuring me to the next state, he seemed a bit…constipated. Perhaps therein lay the problem.

“So, Nick, do you want to talk about what happened this weekend?” I offered, turning to look at him. Strands of hair had escaped my ponytail, and the wind whipped them into my eyes.

Nick glanced at me. “No.” Then he reached into the backseat, groped around for a second and pulled out a faded Yankees cap. “Here,” he said.

I took the extended offering. “Won’t I turn into a pillar of salt if I wear this? Being from Red Sox Nation and all?”

He gave me a lightning smile, and my heart answered with a quick trill. “Give it a try and let’s see,” he said, turning his eyes back to the road.

I put on the hat. Not only did my hair stop whipping around, my face was shaded, too. “Thanks,” I said. He nodded. “Okay, well, if you’re not going to talk about things, I will,” I added.

Nick closed his eyes briefly.

“Here’s the thing, Nick. Um, that thing you said when we thought the bear would eat us…pretend I didn’t hear. Just a little blast of ubersentimentality, heat of the moment, death imminent and all that.”

He sighed. “No, Harper. It was the truth.”

Well, crotch. “You still…love me.”

“Yes.”

My ability to remain speechless lasted roughly three seconds. “And you also said you hated me, too.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think you meant that. I don’t hate you.”

“I can’t possibly state my relief.” He took a swig of water.

“And as far as the kiss…well. We were both feeling very nostalgic. Let’s just give each other a free pass on that, okay?”