flight number—622—and the fact the plane had landed half an hour early.
Suddenly Ettrich was the only person running in the airport. He knew the building and its distances by heart but had no idea where she would be by now—clearing customs, baggage claim, or already out in the hall looking for him, dismayed to find he wasn't there.
All he could think to say while he sprinted toward her gate was "Perfect. Perfect. Perfect." The only time in the last five years he had been late for anything and it had to be this. Perfect.
Zooming along, he heard a man call out his name but Ettrich didn't even glance over to see who it was. The never-ending cor•ridor seemed as long as the one leading to the wizard in the film The Wizard of Oz. Perfect. Then someone else called his name, an•other man's voice. Was everyone he knew at the airport tonight?
Distracted, he actually jogged by Isabelle who was passing in the other direction on the moving walkway. She didn't see him because her head was down and turned away. One of the wheels on her brand-new suitcase wobbled badly and she was checking to see why. The only thing that stopped him was the jacket she wore.
Isabelle always dressed with great flair. She was vain. She liked clothes that showed off her graceful body and long legs. She wore tight slacks and thin jackets. Boots. Boots always, but the leather on them was thin, chic, and never practical. In the winter she was forever cold, often shivering so hard her teeth chattered. As a joke Ettrich ordered a fat goose-down jacket from the Lands' End catalog for her. It was navy blue and yellow. A road repair worker could have worn it in the middle of the freeway and never worried about being hit by traffic because the thing was so conspicuous. To his great surprise, Isabelle loved the jacket. When she wasn't wearing it, she allowed her dog Soup to sleep on it.
She was five feet past before he was able to get the surprise out of his mouth and say, "Hey you!" Their greeting always, the "you" stretched long and lovingly.
Isabelle's head came up fast and there was the smile. He once asked if she had a million teeth because her smile was that big and radiant. She put her pinkie on a front tooth and began counting them. He pulled her finger to his lips and kissed it.
Now she brought her hands together and held them under her chin. "I thought you weren't going to come, Vincent."
Instantly on guard, he had no rejoinder for that, witty or oth•erwise. Instead, he remained silent and only continued walking back•ward quickly to keep pace with her on her moving sidewalk. It was just as well that he said nothing because he saw that in spite of her smile, Isabelle was crying. Her beautiful blue eyes brimmed with tears that now spilled over and slid down her cheeks, making them gleam. "You weren't there and you weren't there and you weren't there, so I thought—" Overwhelmed, she threw her hand in the air to complete the sentence. She continued to smile but there was more sadness in her expression than he had ever seen. Ettrich almost fell to his knees with pain and pent-up longing for this woman. He had missed her so much. She was the only one who had ever mat•tered. For
months he had thought she's gone now, gone for good. He had honestly believed that. But now here she was near him again, saying she hadn't thought he would come. How could she believe that? How could Isabelle ever think he would not come when she called, wherever she was?
What happened next was without precedent. A big bearded man carrying a stained canvas duffel bag over his shoulder hurried down the moving walkway in the same direction as Isabelle. Once there, he banged into her so hard that she yelped in shock and staggered badly. Not even flashing her a glance, the man said "stupid cunt" and kept going.
Leaping over the barrier between the corridor and the moving walkway, Ettrich ran after him. When he was close enough, he timed it carefully and stuck out his
Suddenly Ettrich was the only person running in the airport. He knew the building and its distances by heart but had no idea where she would be by now—clearing customs, baggage claim, or already out in the hall looking for him, dismayed to find he wasn't there.
All he could think to say while he sprinted toward her gate was "Perfect. Perfect. Perfect." The only time in the last five years he had been late for anything and it had to be this. Perfect.
Zooming along, he heard a man call out his name but Ettrich didn't even glance over to see who it was. The never-ending cor•ridor seemed as long as the one leading to the wizard in the film The Wizard of Oz. Perfect. Then someone else called his name, an•other man's voice. Was everyone he knew at the airport tonight?
Distracted, he actually jogged by Isabelle who was passing in the other direction on the moving walkway. She didn't see him because her head was down and turned away. One of the wheels on her brand-new suitcase wobbled badly and she was checking to see why. The only thing that stopped him was the jacket she wore.
Isabelle always dressed with great flair. She was vain. She liked clothes that showed off her graceful body and long legs. She wore tight slacks and thin jackets. Boots. Boots always, but the leather on them was thin, chic, and never practical. In the winter she was forever cold, often shivering so hard her teeth chattered. As a joke Ettrich ordered a fat goose-down jacket from the Lands' End catalog for her. It was navy blue and yellow. A road repair worker could have worn it in the middle of the freeway and never worried about being hit by traffic because the thing was so conspicuous. To his great surprise, Isabelle loved the jacket. When she wasn't wearing it, she allowed her dog Soup to sleep on it.
She was five feet past before he was able to get the surprise out of his mouth and say, "Hey you!" Their greeting always, the "you" stretched long and lovingly.
Isabelle's head came up fast and there was the smile. He once asked if she had a million teeth because her smile was that big and radiant. She put her pinkie on a front tooth and began counting them. He pulled her finger to his lips and kissed it.
Now she brought her hands together and held them under her chin. "I thought you weren't going to come, Vincent."
Instantly on guard, he had no rejoinder for that, witty or oth•erwise. Instead, he remained silent and only continued walking back•ward quickly to keep pace with her on her moving sidewalk. It was just as well that he said nothing because he saw that in spite of her smile, Isabelle was crying. Her beautiful blue eyes brimmed with tears that now spilled over and slid down her cheeks, making them gleam. "You weren't there and you weren't there and you weren't there, so I thought—" Overwhelmed, she threw her hand in the air to complete the sentence. She continued to smile but there was more sadness in her expression than he had ever seen. Ettrich almost fell to his knees with pain and pent-up longing for this woman. He had missed her so much. She was the only one who had ever mat•tered. For
months he had thought she's gone now, gone for good. He had honestly believed that. But now here she was near him again, saying she hadn't thought he would come. How could she believe that? How could Isabelle ever think he would not come when she called, wherever she was?
What happened next was without precedent. A big bearded man carrying a stained canvas duffel bag over his shoulder hurried down the moving walkway in the same direction as Isabelle. Once there, he banged into her so hard that she yelped in shock and staggered badly. Not even flashing her a glance, the man said "stupid cunt" and kept going.
Leaping over the barrier between the corridor and the moving walkway, Ettrich ran after him. When he was close enough, he timed it carefully and stuck out his
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