There’s some kind of delay on the runway. Could be the weather. I hear there’s snowstorms all over the Midwest right now. Just perfect for flying into Detroit, right? I stop reading long enough to check the time.
Russel turns around in his seat. “Are you all right?” he asks. I’m not sure what prompted him to check up on me like this. Did he hear me stop reading and wonder what was going on? Did he sense the dark thoughts I’ve been having?
It’s like this sometimes. I can go weeks hardly thinking about Henry at all. In fact, until I started having panic attacks a couple years ago, I thought I was over my past entirely.
Shows how naïve I was.
I smile at my husband, worried that his compassionate eyes will see straight through me. That he’ll know what I’m keeping from him, the truth about what I did in order to become the survivor I am.
“I’m all right,” I answer, “just tired.”
That seems to be all he needs to hear. He reaches out for my hand. The gesture is surprisingly gentle. He’s usually not one for public displays of affection. I’m glad to see him looking happy and content. I hope this vacation does him good. He’s been under a lot of stress. I feel bad, like it’s my fault. Like a good wife would anticipate her husband’s needs well enough in advance to keep his life running smoothly.
Was Sarah that kind of wife? I wonder. Was she the kind who always had a home-cooked meal ready for him at exactly the same time every evening? Who tucked their children into bed after an elaborate routine that was full of love and attention and care?
Russel doesn’t talk about his first wife. Doesn’t tell me what it was like as Sarah was dying, how the children reacted to the news of her passing. I don’t bring it up. I’m afraid that if I did, I’d see that sadness in his eyes. A sadness that I can’t take away no matter how hard I might try to fill the hole in Russel’s heart.
The captain makes an announcement. We’ll be on our way soon. It’s about time. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about meeting Russel’s family, but I also have no desire to sit here in a grounded airplane for the rest of my life. I’ve never flown with kids before. Wonder what will happen when Andrew needs to use the bathroom. Will he want me to take him or his father? Do I have to go in with him, or do I just wait outside the door?
Again I picture Sarah. Tired, haggered Sarah, aged beyond her years. Did she like wearing her head-coverings? Did she mind the way her long skirts always got bunched up around her ankles? Maybe she grew up that way, so she never knew any differently. I don’t even know where she was from or if her mom or dad are still alive. If the kids have grandparents from that side of the family, is it now my job to make sure they stay connected?
There are so many things for me to think about, so many plans I need to make. Russel and I are basically still on our honeymoon, but after this trip to Detroit, it’s the start of normal life. There are so many things I need to figure out. How to schedule our homeschool days so that we have some semblance of order. What to do with the younger kids while I’m working with the older ones on their lessons. I haven’t mentioned this to Russel yet, but math was never my strong suit. Before too long, Betsy’s going to have to ask somebody else for help.
I take a deep breath. Remind myself that nobody’s doing any math lessons today. We’re all fine. We’re here, we’re healthy, we’re safe.
Safe …
I sense the change in the cabin before I see anything out of the ordinary. A tension. A kind of electric charge. It would be easy enough to dismiss if I weren’t already on edge.
I look around, hunting for the source of my unease. Something’s wrong. Something happened …
Then I see him.