Page 36 of In Flight

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IDON’T HAVE A VERYgood week.

The fact that I know Isaac must be hurting right now but I have absolutely no way to reach him—to check on him, to offer comfort, even to let him know he’s on my mind—is endlessly frustrating.

It feels wrong to be so disconnected, and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to be capable of going through the steps of my regular life without knowing if Isaac is okay or not.

So the days drag endlessly, and I spend half the time watching the clock or trying to distract myself with Jane Austen movie adaptations and five different film versions ofLittle Women.

When Friday finally trudges its way onto the calendar, I don’t let myself get excited about seeing Isaac. For all I know, he never came to Savannah this week and so he won’t be flying back to Boston with me this evening.

The soonest I can put my hopes in will be Sunday evening. Surely no matter what happened with his grandfather, he’ll be heading back to work by then.

So I don’t get to the airport early, and I don’t scour the crowds in the airport, searching for his familiar, handsome face.

I’m in line for boarding when I sense a presence behind me. There’s no way I can keep from a quick glance over my shoulder.

Isaac is standing there, looking tired but smiling at me.

“Hey,” I say, all the churning worry from the past week spiraling up in a way I can’t ignore. I pull him into the hug I really wanted to give him last week.

He stands very still for a moment as I wrap my arms around him and press my body into his. But then something cracks in his tension. He lets out a hoarse breath and hugs me back, more tightly than I expected.

I love the smell of his suit—clean and natural both. I love the urgency in his arms and the warmth of his firm body.

I love how safe I am wrapped up in this way. Safe and full and needy andstrong.

All at the exact same time.

It’s not until the woman scanning tickets calls out another announcement for our flight that he releases me and I step back.

He looks slightly sheepish as we hurry through the gate and down the ramp onto the plane. I wait until we’re seated before I ask the obvious question.

“How is everything?”

“He died on Sunday.”

My face is tight with sympathy. “I’m so sorry. Have you had the funeral?”

“Yes. We had it on Monday. We’re Jewish, in case you didn’t already have that figured.”

“Oh. Well, I thought maybe, but everyone holds their heritage differently, so I didn’t want to assume anything. Are you... devout?”

He gives his half shrug. “I’m not as observant as my parents, but I try to do what I can. I had to get back to work on Wednesday, so I couldn’t sit shiva with them for more than a day.”

“Are they upset about that?”

“No. They’re glad I stayed as long as I did.”

“That’s good at least. How are you feeling about everything?”

“I’m okay. Really. I was closer to my grandparents than a lot of people I know, so the loss is probably... more. But I think I’m holding up okay. It helped getting back into work.”

“Yeah. I guess maybe returning to normal things helps to pull us along. Were you... were you with him at the end?”

“No. He died just before dawn on Sunday. My mom was sitting with him, but my dad and I had gone to get a few hours of sleep. But I was able to say goodbye. I feel like... like I had some closure.”

I lean over and rest my head on his shoulder for just a moment before I straighten up. “I’m glad you got back home in time.”

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