Chapter One
Florida
Yee-haw! Florida, here I come!
There was no way around it.
I arched my back out of the coach class airline seat and stretched. It had been a long flight. Almost four hours from Denver and before that, one from Boise.
Florida. Two things came to mind when I thought of Florida: Mickey Mouse and the Orlando Magic. And that it was hot. I wasn’t a huge fan of the heat, but imagining lying on a white beach with a nice blue ocean for two weeks seemed ok. That’s how Mom put it anyway.
Mom. This was going to be interesting. Usually the first few days with her were good. Then the carefree feeling of vacation ended and it took a downturn to how depressed she was and how she wished I lived with her instead of being stuck in Idaho. She was never in one place for too long and I didn’t like being a nomad. I’d avoided visiting her for two years. I’m sure that would come up too.
The only reason I was visiting her this summer was because she’d thrown a massive fit about it being my last summer before I graduated and how I’d be off to Harvard or Yale and never see her again. The last time I’d seen her, she was living in Vancouver, Washington. Now she was in a tiny town in Florida called Vero Beach.
We were one “happy family” eight years ago. We lived in California at the time. Dad was an engineer and Mom was a hippie. I still don’t know why they got married. Opposites attract or something. I have to give them credit though, they were married for ten years. When they split, I went with Dad to Idaho. He wanted to be a cowboy, as Mom put it, and he succeeded.
We lived in a small town called Stanley near the Sawtooth Mountains and he was a rancher. We had a hundred acres and because Dad was such a cool guy, the locals kind of adopted him and taught him how to be a cowboy. I think it was a lot harder than he expected, but he persevered and by the time I was ten, I knew more about birthing calves and castrating bulls than I had ever wanted to know.
So here I am, cramped into a tiny seat with my straw cowgirl hat in my hands. I want to meet the engineers who decided that three inches was all a person in cattle class needed to recline to be comfortable. I want to meet them and force them to fly in that seat from LA to Tahiti. Maybe they’d change the design.
I sighed and looked out the window. Nothing but clouds. The captain had said we were nearing Orlando. Mom was picking me up in her “jalopy” as she put it. She said it didn’t have air conditioning. That was just great.
“So where are you heading once we land?” The little old lady on my left touched my arm gently and smiled a toothless smile. Didn’t they make fake teeth?
“Vero Beach,” I said.
“Oh!” Her face brightened. “You be careful when you go swimming. The merpeople in that area can be very forceful!”
Merpeople? She was clearly insane. The man sitting next to her shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Now Mom, you know better than to tell tall tales.” He smiled nervously at me. “I’m sorry. Her medication mustn’t have kicked in yet.”
“It’s ok.” I didn’t know what else to say. I hated flying.
Somehow he managed to keep her from talking to me the last twenty minutes of our flight, and when we landed he quickly escorted her off the plane. It was fine with me. Strange people were always attracted to me – like moths to a flame. I never understood it.
I could feel the humidity the instant I stepped off the plane. It was June and it wouldn’t be exaggerating to say that the barometer would clock it at 98 percent. I could feel my short blonde hair stick to my head. Thank God for the hat. I slapped it on my head and shoved my hands into my pockets.
It was my first time in the Orlando International Airport. I followed the herd. We boarded a tram that threw us out into the open where I could see just how big the airport was. The lights seemed to go on forever. A short moment later and we pulled into another building. I didn’t waste any time getting my bag. It was the easiest one to spot – bright yellow hard case. I knew better than to have a black suitcase. Everyone else’s looked the same.
“Morgandy!” That was undoubtedly Mom. She was the only person who called me by my full name. Everyone else called me Morgan. I turned around and scanned the crowd.
“Over here, honey!” There she was. I hardly recognized her. She looked like she’d reverse aged. She didn’t look forty; she looked like she’d just turned thirty. I had to admit, Florida agreed with her. She looked amazing.
Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a French braid that reached all the way down to the small of her back. She was wearing a broomstick green skirt that almost touched the floor and a white tank top that showed off her deep, smooth tan. A thick brown belt hung around her hips. As usual, she was covered in chunky silver jewelry. She pulled me into a tight hug. She smelled like green tea perfume.