The Chance (Thunder Point #4)(78)

He tried his best not to let the slight feeling of panic show in his lips, hands, actions—he believed her, she wanted to come back to him. He made a slow study of her body, holding himself back until he’d done all her favorite things. She was the screamer, not him. But on this night she was quiet. When he’d exhausted her and finally let himself go inside her, she had tears along with her fulfillment. “I do love you so much.”

“I love you more,” he said.

In the morning Eric let Norm open the station so he could see off Laine and Paxton. He made sure they started off with a good breakfast that he cooked for them and then by 6:00 a.m. he had them in the car.

“Call me at layovers if you can. Call me when you get there for sure. Call me too much, okay?”

“You’ll hear from me so much you’ll get sick of me.”

He shook his head. “Can’t happen.”

“Keep track of local gossip,” she instructed. “Take notes if you have to. Check in with my girlfriends. Tell them to text me or call me. I want to know everything.”

“I’ll check in.”

“I’ll be back soon. Before you know it.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll keep the place tidy.”

“Oh, I know you will,” she said with a laugh.

“Laine!” Senior demanded. “Just where the hell are we going?”

She took a deep breath. “It’s going to be a very long day.”

“Sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“I’m sure I have to. I’ll call you tonight when it’s over.”

He stood in her driveway and watched them drive off in Paxton’s rental from the Portland airport. Then he went back inside and cleaned up the kitchen, put everything back in order and thought, This just isn’t a home without her here.

* * *

Senior asked Laine where they were going four thousand times as they were en route to Portland. The drive was so long—she wasn’t sure why he hadn’t chosen to fly into a closer airport, but then the whole trip was a mystery. Then the hustle and bustle of the airport riled him a little; he didn’t want to let go of his bag. She had to cajole him to give it up to be checked, but let him keep his briefcase and phone, which she had turned off. Then in security, he got a little combative and she had to rescue him. “Hey!” she said to the TSA agent. “Go easy there—he has Alzheimer’s!”

“I do not!” Senior yelled at her.

It was best to keep her arm threaded through his. She was fast catching on. Being tired, being in strange surroundings, enduring crowds of strangers—these things particularly escalated his confusion. Once they were on the plane, before takeoff, Laine texted Pax. I’ve only gotten as far as Portland and I’m wasted already. I’ll take a cab to the house but I need help tonight. Hire it if you have to, but I need some help!

Aside from the fact that she had to tell him to stay in his seat about once every fifteen minutes and through one terrifying trip to the bathroom, the plane was at least confining. Baggage claim was a little unsettling, as it was difficult to look for bags and keep an eye on Senior—if he got turned around, all his orientation was messed up and he was inclined to wander. When they finally got home it was obvious Pax was in the house because it was lit up. The driver put their bags by the door and Laine paid him. Pax opened the front door and Senior walked right inside. He looked around and said, “That’s better. I didn’t like that other place at all.”

“Hi, Dad,” Pax said.

“Hi, yourself. I need a drink.”

“Coffee?” Pax asked, then saw the shaking of Laine’s head. She didn’t want him caffeinated! “Juice?”

“You must be tired,” Laine said to her father. “It was a long day. Let’s get you some tea and get you settled in bed.”

“I’d rather have a bourbon. Neat. And stop treating me like an old man!”

“Christ,” she muttered. “It’s all right,” she said to Pax. “He hasn’t had alcohol since he came to Oregon and I took away his medication. I’d rather have his medication prescribed by a neurologist or geriatrician than an orthopedic surgeon. As long as he doesn’t get impaired.... I mean more impaired. Water it, will you.”

“And stop talking about me like I’m not in the room!”

“Sorry, Dad. But sometimes you aren’t in the room....”

They retired to the study, where Senior kept comfy chairs and a bar. Laine sank into a deep chair and sighed.

Three minutes later Senior said, “How much f**king water did you put in this?”

Laine, being exhausted, began to laugh until she thought she might pee her pants. For real. “Make me a tiny tini, will you, buddy?”

“Want me to bring your bags in first?” Pax asked.

“They can sit out there all night for all I care. Concentrate on the Grey Goose for now.”

They sipped their drinks in oddly companionable silence. Since they couldn’t talk about Senior like he wasn’t present, since there wasn’t much to say and Senior and Laine were both worn out, it was just the three of them. Quiet. When Senior had finished his drink, Pax got up. “I bet you’re ready to get to bed, Dad. I’m staying over tonight so let me get you up to your room.”