The Memory Keeper: A Heartwarming, Feel-Good Romance(4)
The woman turned her head sideways to view Hannah’s boarding passes, her trendy oversized gold earrings jingling with the movement. When she stepped closer to get a better look, her long sweater-like coat swished around her thin denim-clad legs. “Especially when you were going to Barbados. That’s really tough,” she said casually as she played with a lone tendril of hair that had escaped from her bun, addressing Hannah as if they’d just met at a coffee shop.
Her mind still in a fog with everything that had happened, Hannah stared at the woman blankly, unsure of what in the world she was even talking about. How did she know that Hannah wasn’t still catching her flight to Barbados? Had she seen her confrontation with Miles?
Then the woman pointed to the flight departures screen and everything became crystal clear. Hannah’s mouth fell open. A sea of red filled the right side of the monitor, nearly every single flight now saying, “Cancelled.”
“The storm’s a bad one,” the woman said, shifting the tattered bag on her shoulder. “If you manage to get a hotel room, I’d be happy to split it with ya. You look nice enough… My name’s Georgia Graves.”
“A hotel room?” Hannah asked, her voice croaky from her emotions.
“That’s if you can still get one. Looks like none of us are goin’ anywhere for a while…”
Hannah shot to her feet, her eyes wide, the severity of the situation finally hitting her: flights were grounded; the snow was still coming down. This entire airport was full of people who were going to be looking for other flights, hotel rooms, taxis, and rental cars—any way to make it to where they were going. She had to see Gran sooner rather than later—with the way her mother sounded during their call, time was not on Hannah’s side.
“I have to get to Franklin, Tennessee,” she said with resolve, leaning down and snatching up her boarding passes, not even processing the attempts to catch her attention as the lady held up a finger to say something. “Thank you for letting me know,” Hannah called over her shoulder as she ran toward the ticket counter, dragging her suitcase behind her.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the airline ticket agent said with a compassionate shake of her head, her perfectly painted lips set in a line as she typed feverishly, peering at her computer screen to double-check departures at Hannah’s request. She handed Hannah’s boarding passes back to her calmly despite the less than composed atmosphere around her. “We can reschedule your flight for another day, but we’ve got nothing going to Tennessee from LaGuardia today due to the weather. I do apologize.”
“I need to get home to a very ill family member,” Hannah said, frazzled. “I’ll have to try a different airline. Do you know of any other flights still going?”
“It’s an unprecedented snowstorm. All departures have been grounded for the time being. We’re doing our very best to get everyone to their destinations safely, but our planes can’t take off with all the ice. I can give you a voucher and you can call us in the morning to see if we have anything running…”
“All right,” Hannah said, barely acknowledging the agent, feeling like her head was under water.
What was she going to do? Perhaps she should go home and figure out her next move, if she could get home. Miles would probably be there, packing his things, and she didn’t want to see him right now anyway. Despite her growing anxiety about the situation, she took in a steadying breath and headed toward the taxi line to see if she could get back to her apartment, only to stop cold, her shoulders slumping in defeat when she saw the throngs of passengers waiting. She squeezed her burning eyes shut and took in a deep breath, a pinch now forming in her shoulder.
There were so many people in line that some of them were sitting on the floor in circles, talking, clearly giving in to the hours of waiting ahead of them before they’d get their turn. She kept walking down the usually airy corridor toward the bus stop, weaving in and out of hordes of weary travelers as they swarmed ticket counters and information desks. But when she got there, it looked worse than the taxi line. Maybe she could get to the car rental area before everyone else figured out that was the only option.
Hannah picked up her pace. “Pardon me,” she said over and over as she rushed past irritated travelers, pushing her fear out of her mind to complete the task at hand.
Any open space she got, she ran, tears welling up even more, but she blinked them away. She tried not to think about how the car rental kiosk was a twenty-five-minute walk, most of it outside. Anxiety rising up to maximum levels, she decided to stop and regroup. She took a deep breath and tried to collect herself. Okay, she’d call the car rental companies first to see if they had any cars. She could put a reservation on the books by phone—yes, that was the smartest idea.
Hannah sat down on a nearby bench, pulling her suitcase toward her and lumping her other bag on top. She took a second to catch her breath and then swiped her phone to life. What? Her office knew she’d be out of contact but she had two missed calls and five emails from work. She’d have to look at them later. She searched for the number of the first rental company and hit call.
Busy.
She checked another one.
Busy.
A television monitor was reporting the weather, and all major roads and thoroughfares were bright red, jammed with traffic from crashes and people trying to move about the city in the snowstorm, the afternoon rush hour beginning early as commuters attempted to make it home before the worst of it.