Thanks for all the positive words, everyone. The good news is that I now have a definite feel for where this is going; beginning/middle/end. The bad news is that life might interfere some with my ability to actually get it all written down. And, the other news (good or bad, depending on what you think of it), is that this might end up being many chapters long. So, here's part 2. Thanks for reading.

Damn. Now why in the world had he gone and told her his real name? When was the last time he'd done that? Ah, hell. It didn't matter. With any luck, they'd be off the ground soon and in Miami before closing time. It didn't matter what he did or didn't tell her. With any luck, they'd be parting company a little over three hours from now.

"So, James, is your trip to Miami business or pleasure? Or do you live there?"

"None of the above; I'm going to my uncle's funeral in Immokalee."

"I'm really sorry." Her voice and face were both filled with concern. She really was sorry, he realized.

He liked his solitary life. Doing what he did, it made absolutely no sense to make real connections. But, man, there were times like this, few and far between, when he longed to be honest. No more lies. Just let someone feel sorry for him. Explain how his uncle had been there for him when he was a kid. And how despite that, he'd spent a good part of the past two decades doing everything he could to distance himself from his family.

"Was it sudden? Your uncle's death?"

"A heart . . ." he nearly ate the last word . . "attack."

Shit, isn't that why she was flying home? Hadn't her dad had a heart attack this very morning? Yep. Those blue eyes, which had become more and more mesmerizing, had filled with tears. Dammit. This. This right here was why he was no good at this sort of thing. Making women cry was somewhat of a specialty of his, but watching those incredible eyes film over with tears was more than he could take. See where honesty gets you?

"Hey .. . now, don't worry 'bout a thing. My Uncle Jake smoked three packs a day since 1961. And he weighed at least 300 pounds. Something tells me your daddy ain't a big overweight chimney."

That got a chuckle and set her to talking about her dad. How the heart attack was a surprise, he jogs five days a week, keeps in great shape, jogs with her a few times a month, even. She seemed very close to her dad, and he loved listening to her talk. And what a relief to just listen. He wasn't looking for clues or "ins" that he could later use in some sort of scheme against her. So refreshing, and endearing, when on two occasions she slipped and didn't say "my father," but "Daddy."

She stopped suddenly.

"I'm sorry. I'm babbling."

"Well, you only kept me from telling some of my favorite Uncle Jake tales." And then Sawyer launched into some of them. The time he and his cousins spilled a can of paint in their grandparents' upstairs room, and Uncle Jake helped them cover it up. The time they stole Uncle Jake's Playboys and took them down to the creek, only to run smack dab into a Baptist revival. The time Uncle Jack set off a bottle rocket in Grandpa's shed.

Christ, now he was doing it. Babbling. Juliet probably just wanted to get back to her book. He was as bad – no, worse – than Tammy Faye Bakker over there in the window seat. At least she had the common courtesy to stick to her Word Find, and not tell ridiculous tales of her hick uncle. He could see it now. Juliet would get to the hospital in Miami, and when her sister asked about her flight she'd say, "It was fine, except this yutz sitting next to me insisted on talking about his redneck family."

"Well, I'll let you get back to your book," he said.

"Thanks," said Juliet.


He probably thought she was thanking him for leaving her to her book. But, the truth was, she was thanking him for his thoughtfulness. She's felt comfortable telling him about her dad, and before she got too maudlin, James stepped in to talk about his crazy uncle. More than once she'd laughed out loud at some turn in his stories. For once on this God-forsaken day she wasn't thinking of how desperate she was to get home. Maybe it was just a five-minute reprieve, but it had been nice.

She was even able to enjoy her book with a clear mind, getting through a whole chapter without glancing at her watch or fretting over how much longer they were going to be sitting on this damn plane. Likewise, she noticed James reading -- Watership Down. She fought the urge to tease him over his reading material, then remembered she, too, was reading "Young Adult Fantasy."

A motion across the aisle caught her attention. The man sitting there had his arms lifted over his head and his eyes closed. He began a series of hums and elaborate stretches from the confines of his seat. Far be it for her, who had only recently turned to alcohol to cut the stress, to judge her fellow passenger's stress-relief technique. But, good grief, he looked like an idiot. She cut her eyes to him and tried to keep from laughing. No, she wouldn't laugh.

Of course, at that very minute, James leaned in and whispered, "Buddy over there looks like the next incarnation of the Dalai Lama." And that was it. A torrent of giggles until she could catch her breath. And when she did, she turned to James and said, "I was thinking more Karate Kid. 'Mr. Miyagi says Daniel-san must be patient on planes.'" And now it was James's turn to laugh – a hearty bark.

But their jollity was short lived. The intercom clicked in again. "OK folks. I'm afraid I've got some really bad news. In addition to the problems in Chicago, the storms north and east of here are blocking us in, too. I'm afraid this flight has been canceled. We have gate agents standing by to assist you with your travel plans, and I apologize for the inconvenience."

Immediately the plane was in an uproar. Complaints, moans, shouts, people flipping up their cell phones. Everyone began to file out.

Bedlam prevailed in the terminal. Theirs wasn't the only canceled flight, and it looked like every man for himself to find another way home.

Juliet got in the shortest line she could find. She HAD to get home. She just had to. Window Seat Word Find Lady was right in front of her. Just great. And to make it worse, in the hustle and bustle of the terminal, she'd lost sight of her new friend, James. Just as well, she thought. He didn't seem the type to do well dealing with short-tempered gate agents and pushing, shoving, ticked-off passengers.


Sawyer scanned the terminal. An absolute zoo. Clearly, theirs wasn't the only cancelled flight. Clusters of passengers surrounded harried gate agents. Some passengers were shouting, others looked resigned. What the hell was he going to do? Just get in line and hope for the best? What was the point? That he might get an early morning flight out of here tomorrow? If that was the case, he might as well wait an hour or two and stroll right up to the gate agent. No point in waiting in one of those disorganized lines.

He saw the fat guy in the Bears jersey at the front of one line. The hot halter top woman was leaning against a wall with her cell phone stuck to her ear. She seemed on the verge of tears. He looked around but didn't see Juliet. As soon as the captain had made his announcement, Sawyer had heard her say "Oh, hell," and open her phone to call her sister. They'd filed out of the plane, and into the nuthouse of the terminal, and that was the last he saw of her.

One way or another, he was going to be stuck in this damn airport overnight and not even stuck with enjoyable company. He thought about trying to score a room at one of the airport hotels, but given the crowd here, he wondered if he'd even have any luck with that. Trapped. That's exactly how he felt. If he could just get out of here . . . and then he had an idea. A phone call later, and it was all set. He'd go pick up a rental car and be off. He could drive through the night, take a short break, drive some more. It would probably be a longer trip than just waiting for the next available flight, but at least he wouldn't be stuck here anymore, simply waiting.

He had a spring in his step as he headed down the terminal towards ground transportation. He hadn't gotten too far when he saw Juliet sitting on the floor next to a row of chairs. A crazy idea flitted through his mind, and he took the empty seat right next to where she was sitting, cross-legged, on the floor.

"Hey, you." She said in greeting.

"Hey back. You know, they put these chairs here so you don't have to sit on the floor."

"Hmmmm. Guess it was occupied when I got here."

"Wanna hear my plan?" he asked.

"Shoot."

"I'm renting a car and driving to Miami."

"DRIVING all the way to Miami? That's a stupid plan."

"Well, I'm open to suggestions," he replied. Weird, he thought. Very weird. Hadn't they had this conversation before? Pfffft. Of course not. He soldiered on. "What about you?"

"I'm on the standby list for a flight at 11:30," her tone was flat, defeated.

He glanced around the teeming terminal. How many of these people were standbys? How many more flights were going to be cancelled before the night was out?

"You do realize," he said, "there's no way in hell you're making a flight out of here on standby."

"It's no reason not to try," in the same flat tone.

"Why don't you come with me?" he asked. That at least got her to look at him. "It sure would help to have someone to split the driving with – it's an 18-hour drive. It is stupid to try it by myself. Besides, you're really gonna make me ask Mrs. Word Find and the Karate Kid?" he looked down at her – that line got a genuine smile. Maybe there was a chance . . . "Come on. Just give me 18 hours, that's all I'm asking. Eighteen hours."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. She looked away. And he knew what she was going to say. In the second that passed between his plea and her answer, he knew with absolute certainty how she was going to respond. She wasn't going to say "OK." She wasn't going to say "No, thanks." She wasn't going to say "Let me think about it." No, she was going to say "All right. Eighteen hours."

But it didn't make it any less spooky. "All right. Eighteen hours," she said, and every hair on the back of his neck stood on end. What was going on? How did he know she would say that? He sat dumbfounded.

"James?" Juliet asked, standing to go. "You OK?"

"Yeah," he said, "Just a really weird déjà vu."

"That seems to be going around," she said. She stood up, collected her bags, and they set off together down the terminal.