Page 1 of Home for Justice
1
Tyler Marconi sprinted into the Atlanta International Airport, then grimaced at the line of people waiting to check their bags. His duffel was slung over his shoulder, and another bag was in his hand. His bootsteps were as heavy as his heart when he made it to the counter.
Silently handing his boarding pass and ID to the airline check-in agent, he tried to still the nerves coursing through his body. Finally, blowing out a long breath as she smiled up at him, she said, “I have you all checked in.”
Strangely, her smile remained in place as she said, “There’s been a delay with all flights going to the Midwest due to a weather system over Denver. It’ll be hours before your flight is ready to board. If you’d like to wait in the USO, you can go to the third floor until they call for your flight.”
He’d been through this airport enough times to know the location of the USO but had only used it once or twice. He would typically make his way through security, find his gate, and claim a chair to wait for his flight… usually with earphones and a good book.
“Ihaveto get to Montana,” he said, his words measured. “It’s a family emergency.”
At that, her plastered-on, corporate smile fell. “I’m so sorry, but no flights are leaving at this time.” She held his gaze for a moment, and when he didn’t move, she looked to the side and said, “Next.”
Summarily dismissed, he stepped back and wondered what he should do. It wasn’t like him to be indecisive, but the circumstances were threatening to choke him. He shifted his load and went to the elevator. Once out on the third floor, he made his way to the entrance to the USO.
He stood outside the doors, not wanting to enter. To do so would admit that he was stuck and not boarding a plane to take him home. Or rather to the hospital to be with the man who awaited him there.
Sucking in a deep breath, he forged ahead. Entering, he stepped toward the counter, not surprised to see that a few service members were in front of him. With most flights on hold, the USO would be crowded, and sitting in a packedanywherewas not what he wanted to do.
Finally, he made it to the front of the line, and his gaze fell to the woman beaming up at him. Her name badge, pinned neatly to her red jacket, read "Blessing." He didn’t know if that was her last name, first name, or just that she wished to bestow a blessing on everyone. Right now, he didn’t care. And to make him even more of a grump, he didn’t care about her smile, either.
He scribbled his name onto the sign-in sheet and felt enough decency to stow his glower but hadn’t the energy or the inclination to smile.
“Hello, my name is Blessing. And you are Tyler Marconi. Army. Heading to…?”
“Montana,” he replied.
Her smile faltered as her gaze held his. He wanted to look away, but he felt strangely captured.
“Oh, it’s an important trip. I see.”
He had no idea what shesaw, so he simply nodded. Swallowing deeply, he said, “Maybe I’ll just go to my gate so I’m ready when the flights can take off?—”
“No, Tyler. You’ll be much more comfortable here.” Her smile now seemed to offer comfort rather than just a greeting.
Another woman in a red vest walked up, and Blessing turned to say, “If you’ll take care of signing the others in, I’ll take this gentleman back.”
Tyler was curious, but Blessing hastily stepped around the counter and waved for him to follow her. As they walked down a hall painted red, white, and blue, he spied the large shelving unit holding bags, duffels, suitcases, and even strollers.
“You can keep your bags with you. Where I’m taking you will have plenty of space.”
They passed another room with uniformed men and women spilling out of the seating area, families trying to wrangle young children, and a general hubbub of activity as people moved about. The idea of getting to his gate seemed more and more like a better idea. Just as he was about to speak up, she turned down a hall.
“Showers and toilets are there, and where we just came from is the food.”
The idea of eating didn’t sit well with him. He wasn’t sure he would be able to keep anything down. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said.
She stopped and turned to him, once again, staring deeply into his eyes even though she was much shorter than he was.
“Montana… home.”
His chin lowered as he wondered what she meant. “Ma’am?”
“Montana is where you are going, and it’s also home. But you’re uncertain if you’ll make it there in time.”
His blood froze in his veins. He had just completed most of his Army retirement out-processing formalities, planning toreturn to Montana to spend time with his grandfather, his only living relative, when he received a call. His grandfather had suffered a heart attack, and the likelihood of his living much longer was in doubt.
He’d made the arrangements, thrown his belongings into his duffel, and hurried to the airport. Now thwarted, he felt the press of anxiety and fear choking the air from his lungs. But in no way could this woman have known any of that. He’d only told his superior and the person handling his out-processing. His voice faltered. “Ma’am?”
