Charley
Before I could make my confession, the pilot informed us that we were descending to our destination. Despite everything that had happened, I went through my usual nervous flyer routine. But I had to admit that it seemed easy compared with the terror of the oxygen masks and the dive.
Was it my imagination, or was Harry withdrawing as we landed? I could guess what he was thinking: wait, what did I do here? They’ll be plenty of chicks below on the island. No reason to get stuck with this one just because we had a moment.
I had never been lucky in love.
Okay, wrong word. We’d spent a few hours together.
When it came to men, I wasn’t lucky, period.
We got separated while exiting the plane. He stopped to help someone who was struggling with luggage while I got pushed forward by people who were eager to hit the beach and start partying. We ended up walking separately to the terminal. The tropical air was hot and humid, but it felt delightful. A steel band was playing lively Caribbean music as we were ushered into the welcome lounge at Grand Cayman’s small but tidy airport.
Harry and I ended up in different immigration lines. His moved much more slowly than mine. I’d expected to see him in the baggage and customs area, but he must have gotten stuck behind me. I loitered a bit, but I didn’t want to seem too obvious about it.
Strangers on a plane. He didn’t even know we had a history because I’d been too much of a coward to tell him.
As I was headed out of the arrivals terminal into the blasting sunshine, I heard a voice call my name. A female voice.
I froze. My mom? What the hell? Her flight wasn’t due in until this evening. I’d told her I’d rent a car and drive back to the airport tonight to pick her up, but she’d urged me not to bother. She’d catch a cab and see me later.
But there she was—waving, smiling, and hurrying toward me. Uh-oh. I looked back over my shoulder, and, sure enough, Harry appeared, exiting the customs area and looking around. He was shielding his eyes with the palm of his hand. Was he looking for me?
I had to get Mom away from here quickly. Harry hadn’t recognized me, but for sure he’d know my mom. She hadn’t changed a bit; she never changed. She’d worn the identical hairstyle for as long as I could remember—very flattering, but exactly the same. And, let’s face it, he’d known his principal and fellow faulty member a whole lot better than he’d ever known me.
I should have told him, dammit. What kind of a fool was I to think I could get away with this without him finding out?
“Hi, Mom,” I said, giving her a quick hug and grabbing her arm to tug her away—far away—from the terminal. “I thought you weren’t getting in until tonight?”
“I caught an earlier flight,” she said, kissing my cheek.
“Hey, Emily,” I heard from behind me. “Hang on. Don’t rush off.”
Dammit. He’d seen me. Wait. I wanted him to see me. I wanted to see him. Oh shit, this was such a mess.
I kept walking. My mom paid no attention to the shout. My middle name was Emily, but nobody had ever called me that.
Harry had never been shy or reticent. He caught up with us easily, and touched me from behind. His fingers caressed the skin at the back of my neck, making me quiver. “Emily? Wait a sec.”
I turned because I had to. I couldn’t just walk away from him without a word. The sun was bright and Harry had donned a pair of aviator sunglasses. My mother turned too, a quizzical look on her face.
Harry smiled. “Where are you staying while you’re here?”
I stammered the name of our resort.
“Is that the one on the east side of the island? That’s convenient. I’m over there, too.” He grinned and flashed his cell phone at me. “The number I gave you should work; it’s supposed to keep taking calls even when I’m out of the country.”
“Emily?” my mother said.
Harry looked at her fully for the first time. Her expression did not change, but his did. He looked quizzical for a moment, and then his brow knotted. His smile disappeared.
“My daughter’s name is Charlotte.”
Harry looked from her to me and back to her. He didn’t say a word.
“Actually,” my mother went on, clueless, “Her middle name is Emily. Charlotte Emily. After the Bronte sisters, of course.”
“Of course,” said Harry, the former English teacher, in a totally flat voice. “Charlotte Emily Pendleton. And you are her mother, Adele Pendleton.”
My mother smiled politely and extended her hand. “Do we know each other?”
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
It sounded like an accusation. But with those reflective sunglasses he was wearing, it would have been hard for anyone to recognize him.
I found myself leaping to my mother’s defense. “You didn’t remember me.”
The look he gave me was difficult to interpret. My heart was slamming, and the sun was beating mercilessly down on the three of us. It’s always summer in the Cayman Islands. After living in San Francisco for a while, I was having a hard time adjusting to the heat.
“I do now,” Harry said. Then he turned and walked away.
“What was that all about?” My mother asked, gazing after him with a frown between her eyes. “Who was that? Should I remember him? He looks familiar, but I can’t place him.”
“Oh god, oh god, let’s just go. Please. Can we get out of here?”
“Okay,” Mom said, slipping her arm through mine. “But who was he?”
“Just some guy I met on the plane.” Just some guy I hooked up with on the plane. A mistake. A big mistake. “Let’s go.”