The Pieces We Keep(2)

Instinct implored her to pick him up, yet her own lecture slammed back. Let them walk on their own. It was the instruction she gave any clients whose coddling, albeit well intentioned, stunted the confidence of their Chihuahuas, Yorkies, any number of small breeds. Treat them like big dogs and they’ll believe they are.

Whenever applied, the lesson proved reliable, swelling Audra with pride. A stark contrast to this moment.

If Devon were here, what would he say? What magical phrase would rid the stiffness from Jack’s steps? There was a huge difference between nurturing animals and children. It was her husband who excelled at the latter.

Audra rubbed the crown of Jack’s head, the airplane now in sight. His hair smelled of green apple, from a shampoo that claimed to prevent tears. “Nothing to worry about, buddy. I told you, this is going to be fun.”

“Good morning,” a uniformed woman said from the plane’s entryway. An ash-blond updo topped her petite form.

Audra was about to return the greeting when something yanked her arm. Jack had concreted himself a few inches from the door. His eyes went wide, not blinking.

The flight attendant leaned down to his level. “Is this your first plane ride, cutie?”

Jack didn’t answer.

Audra explained, “He flew a few times when he was a baby. But this is the first time he’d be old enough to remember.”

“Well, in that case,” she told Jack, “I’ll have to make this flight extra special. How about you take your seat, and I’ll see if I can scrounge up some pilot wings. What do you say?”

Jack perked ever so slightly. After a moment, he gave a nod and inched onto the plane. The red lights on his sneakers flashed like a warning.

Thank you, Audra mouthed.

She followed Jack’s shuffling into First Class, through wafts of a Bloody Mary and champagne from mimosas. Business travelers flanked them in suits and polished shoes and perfect layers of makeup. Audra, with her cushioned sandals and faded khakis, winced from the heat of her neon sign: Coach Class Passenger.

She tucked away stragglers of her bound black hair, a looped ponytail parading as a bun. For a moment she had the urge to overhaul her trademark look. But as she continued down the aisle, a smattering of baseball caps and windbreakers reinforced her practical nature.

Their assigned row waited empty near the rear. It was the usual quarantined section for those with children, of which today there were few. She encouraged Jack to take the window, a coveted seat for any kid.

He craned his neck to peer under the half-raised shade. Seeing where they were going would alleviate his worry.

But Jack shook his head.

The blond flight attendant announced over the intercom, “We’ll need all passengers to take their seats at this time.” By all passengers, she meant Audra and Jack. Pressure mounted around them from people anxious for departure.

“All right, you take the middle,” Audra sighed. She slid into the row, stowed their carry-ons, and buckled their seat belts. Surely, before their layover in Chicago, Jack’s nerves would morph into a thrill over their adventure. And maybe, just maybe, the excitement would resuscitate even half the innocence he’d lost.

Soon they were pulling away from the gate. Lights dinged, engines groaned, overhead compartments were clicked closed. A dark-haired flight attendant demonstrated the use of life vests and oxygen masks, the audience more interested in their conversations and magazines. Not long ago Audra, too, would have paid little mind. Now, solely responsible for the human beside her, she hung on every word, fending off doubts about a thin, aged seat cushion as a reliable floatation device.

When the emergency charades ended, she realized she wasn’t the only one absorbing the worst-case scenarios. Jack had latched onto the armrests. His knuckles were white, the toy plane glued to his palm.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” she said, trying simultaneously to convince herself.

His face had gone pale.

“Jack, really, it’s okay.” She layered her hand on his. And then it hit her.

This was how Devon had held Audra’s hand the day they met. They were strangers seated on a flight together, bound for various conferences, when a winter storm lashed out at their plane. Once back on the ground, passengers burst into prayers and applause, not a single complaint of connections being canceled. Supplied with vouchers for a meal and hotel, Audra and Devon shared a booth at a local diner, chatting nonstop until closing. She’d never been one to trust easily, but there was a kindness in his eyes, sincerity in his smile. Somehow everything about him made her feel safe. She had realized this in the hotel hallway as they lingered in a handshake before going their separate ways. Then a week later Devon tracked her down, and by the end of their date they joined in a kiss that ultimately led to an aisle lined with pews and candles and promises.