Не дети, а слоны, или Все в сад!. Маша Рупасова
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are out of the question,” Merry said quickly.
“It’s pretty important you get home, isn’t it?”
“I’m supposed to be home today, by the evening at the latest. I know that’s the same song and dance that you’re hearing from all the passengers, but I’ve got a promise I need to fulfill to my kids.”
She saw April’s eyes soften slightly. “You have children?”
“Oh, no, at least, not my own. I’m a child psychologist and I’m on a grant at The Family Center in a small reservation town northeast of Santa Fe called Wolf Lake.”
“I’ve heard of it,” April said with a nod.
“The children I work with are challenged by their limitations and by their lives. I had to be at a seminar the past few days, but when I left, I promised them I would be back today before they went home.” She picked up her bags and released a heavy sigh. “I never thought about this happening, but I’ll figure this out, someway. Thanks for trying.”
“Sure, and good luck,” April Z. said, then called after her, “If I find anything at all, I’ll page you, okay?”
“Thanks,” she replied as she headed away from the counter. She felt exhausted, not to mention disgruntled that even though she’d given it her best shot, it hadn’t made a difference. Worse yet, she didn’t know what to do now, except call Dr. Moses Blackstar, who was her supervisor at the Center, and fill him in on what was going on.
Merry headed off to find a place to sit and make the call, then settled for a seat by a side window and dropped down in the thinly padded chair. Setting her luggage at her feet, she sank back and glanced out the windows as a sleek, smaller jet climbed out of sight into the gray, cloudy sky.
She almost chuckled at a crazy image that came to her of her standing on the runway, thumb out, trying to hitch a ride on one of those private jets. They had to seat eight or ten, and surely one of them would have an empty seat and be heading to the Santa Fe area. Then the humor died as she fumbled around in her purse to find her cell phone.
She called Dr. Blackstar’s number, but it was a dead end. The doctor was in an emergency surgery and his assistant was gone for the day. She left a message, briefly explaining about her delay and that she was still trying to get back. Then she called an associate at the center—Marsala O’Brian, a twenty-two-year-old intern working under the grant, too.
The girl picked up on the second ring. “Merry, are you back?”
“No, I’m not.” She described her situation, then added, “I’m trying as hard as I can to find out how to make it back there today, but so far I’ve hit nothing but brick walls.”
“What a mess, but it’s good that they landed safely, isn’t it? I mean, those planes are huge and—” She bit off her words. “Forget I said that. You’re okay and that’s what’s important.”
“But I promised the kids,” she said softly.
“And you’ll be back, just a bit later than you said. I can explain it to them, and tomorrow you can explain it to them yourself.”
That made sense, but that didn’t mean she was going to sit back and wait for tomorrow. “Thanks, Marsala. But don’t say anything to them until I know for sure if I can’t get back. I’ll call you as soon as I know, okay?”
“Yes. I’ll wait until six, when they’re being picked up. That’s just two hours. Can you get here by then?”
“Maybe not, but just wait until I call you back.”
“You got it.”
“One more thing? Could you tell Erin one on one, not with the boys around? Can you do that for me?”
“Of course I can. I’ll do it first.”
“I owe you big time,” she said, then ended the call and stood.
It was two in the afternoon, and something had to happen soon if she had any chance of getting back by this evening. She grabbed her bags and purse, then decided to make one last trek to the car rental counter at the far end of the terminal. There was still hope.
As she strode along the concourse, ignoring the gift shops and boutiques on her way, she glanced out the windows overlooking the runway. She saw another small jet taking off, glittering silver in the streaks of sunlight that cut through the gathering grayness of high clouds. She paused to watch the elegant carrier until it was out of sight, thinking that if she only had money, she could charter a plane like that. Well, maybe not like that one, but a plane that could get her home in time.
“That would take a miracle,” she breathed at the same time a man cut across the walkway directly in front of her.
She managed to sidestep any impact, but he never even noticed her, he was so intent on the call he was taking on the cell phone pressed to his ear. There was no three piece business suit on his six-foot-plus frame, but instead, he gave more of an impression of an impatient cowboy, in snug jeans, a sheared wool trimmed denim jacket and scuffed boots that were as well worn as the rest of his getup. A baseball cap was the only thing not determinedly Western about the man.
She watched him stop halfway between where she stood on the walkway and the desk for charter flights over by the windows. He tugged sharply at the dark cap worn over slightly shaggy, midnight-black hair, framing an angular clean shaven face. When someone bumped her from behind, trying to get past her, Merry moved to her right, and off the walkway to get out of the way. The maneuver brought her closer to the man she’d been watching. In fact, she was near enough to hear most of his end of the conversation.
“I’ll check with him as soon as I can.” He listened, glanced around, his dark eyes sliding right past Merry, before he exhaled. “I told you, I’m waiting for clearance.” Pausing, his attention apparently on the tiled floors underfoot now. “Nothing serious. A glitch. You know how it goes.” He checked the watch on his wrist. “Soon. They said it was almost done. Should be up in half an hour at the most.”
While he was speaking, Merry saw a security guard approach the man, then hesitate before he reached out to tap the stranger on the shoulder. At first the man kept talking. “You, too. I’ll call when I get a chance.” The guard tapped his shoulder again, and the man turned to him, but still spoke into the phone as he held up a forefinger to acknowledge the guard. “Let me know if I can help. I have to go,” he said, finishing the call. “What is it?” he asked. The guard straightened a bit before speaking.
“Are you Mr. Gage Carson?” He nodded and the guard looked relieved. “They sent me to let you know the work’s done on your ride, and you’ve been cleared to take off in the next half hour.”
Merry didn’t hear the rest of the conversation between the two men as she stared at Gage Carson. A miracle? She couldn’t believe the luck or Fate or serendipity or whatever was at work here.
Gage Carson. The man, dressed like a roughhewn working cowboy, was the adult version of a young teenager she’d known over twenty years ago in Wolf Lake. Well, she hadn’t actually known him, but she’d seen him enough around town with his two brothers, and she knew of him. Everyone knew the Carsons, and she remembered him all too well.
Now he was within ten feet of her, talking to the guard about his “ride” and “taking off soon.” To make this a true miracle, he had to be going to Wolf Lake. She knew there was an airstrip on the Carson ranch.
The guard nodded at something Gage had said before striding off into the growing crowd from a flight disembarking farther down the concourse. But her full attention was on the man who could just be her own personal savior. All she had to do was figure out the best way to talk him into helping her get back to Wolf Lake.
Suddenly, Gage Carson turned, startling her as he seemed to look right at her. But before she could raise a hand and introduce herself, his gaze skimmed right past her as if she didn’t exist. Abruptly, he made for the nearest desk for the charter businesses near the