"Excuse me." Calleigh apologized as she whirled around, her carry-on swinging with her and hitting a passenger standing close to her. "I'm so sorry."
The now-bruised man looked her up and down slowly, sending chills down her spine – and not the good kind. "S'alright, little lady." He slurred.
Ugh. He was drunk already. They hadn't even boarded yet. Calleigh tried to back up as unobtrusively as possible, looking for an opening in the crowd. Maitea and Warrener had dropped her off early that morning, hugging tearful goodbyes, and letting her go only if she promised to visit again soon. Maitea had filled up every container she could find with food and sent it home with her.
"It's what all good Abuela's do." She reasoned as Calleigh tried to protest.
"Really, Abuela, I don't need that much."
"Find someone to share it with, then." She winked at her, and Calleigh blushed. Point taken.
Warrener had been more tight-lipped, reticent to discuss her impending departure. They'd gone for long walks like they used to, more silent now. He found he missed her childish chatter terribly. Now they walked, arm in arm, in companionable silence.
"How long have you known Abuela?" Calleigh's question surprised him.
"Since 1947." He replied. "She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen."
They lapsed into silence once more.
"Will you come for the holidays?" He missed his Liebchen. She had been such an important part of the family for so long. It didn't seem like Christmas without her.
"I'd like that." He noticed she didn't say "yes," but dropped the subject. She knew she was invited.
"What made you stay away so long?" He changed his mind, deciding to ask after all.
"I don't know." She answered honestly. "I just felt like, if I came back, I'd never be able to leave. You know?"
He did. He felt the same way about his home, back in Bavaria. It was nothing like Darnell, Louisanna, but this was home now.
"It's not that I didn't want to see you." She stopped, worried he'd been offended by her absence. "I…" She paused, searching for the words to express the emotion. "I wasn't sure I could handle it."
"I understand, Liebchen. I do." He hugged her with one arm, and continued walking. "Just, don't stay away so long from now on, gut?"
"Gut." She repeated, smiling.
Calleigh was leaving all that behind her now. Leaving it again. Her heart had nearly broken when she left for university. Honestly, she'd never missed her parents. She was grateful to be away from their bickering over china and bank accounts. But she had physically ached with grief at the separation from Maitea and Warrener. She had never wanted to be away from them, even as a child. She remembered crying when her parents bought a house three miles away and moved her down the road.
"It's only three miles, Liebchen." Opa bounced her on his knee, wiping at her tears. "You can still come visit us."
"Three miles, three HUNDRED miles." She'd exploded, sobbing. "I won't go."
"You have to." Abuela handed her a tissue. "Blow." She commanded.
"I'll run away." She threatened.
"You'll do no such thing!" Opa was not messing around. He softened his tone. "Liebchen, if you can't change what's happening, you have to change how you're looking at it."
"What can I do?" She'd sobbed. At seven years old, little Calleigh was just not prepared to think this philosophically on her own. "They won't listen. It's so far away."
"If you can't change the distance, what can you change?"
"I don't know."
"Think, Liebchen." He encouraged. "Yes, you do."
"But it'll take forever to get here!" She wailed. "I'll never be able to come."
"So find a way to go faster."
Calleigh thought about it for a moment. She'd only ever considered WALKING to their house. It was just across the street and down a few hundred yards. "I have a bike." She offered, calming a bit. "That would be faster."
"Gutes Mädchen." He praised, pushing her long, blond braids behind her back.
Warrener always made her think, find ways to solve her problems. It made her a good scientist, and an extraordinary CSI. She'd taken his advice, too. Every day, she came got off the school bus, grabbed her bicycle out of the shed, and pedaled as fast as her legs would take her to see Maitea and Warrener. Abuela was always waiting, ready with snacks and hugs. Opa helped her with her homework at the kitchen table. After, they would go for walks or Maitea would teach her new Spanish phrases over a plate of cookies and hot chocolate. When it got late, she would ride back home to find her house empty. She'd brush her teeth, wash her face, lay out clothes for the next day, and go to bed. Calleigh learned to be self-sufficient at a young age, and found it difficult, even as an adult, to step back and allow others to do things for her. Well, it was hard to let people other than the Walmond's to help her.
Calleigh shook her head, clearing her thoughts away, grabbed her shopping bag stuffed with food, and followed the line of people to board her plane.
"Finally." She muttered to herself. Four hours, two airports, and one bumpy plane ride with a screaming baby later, the captain gave the "okay" for them to all exit. She remained seated as the first of the stampede passed by. It wasn't worth getting trampled to stand and wait for her ride. Grabbing her belongings, she headed off the plane, nodding a tight smile at the flight attendants who greeted her.
Most of the crowd had thinned out as she entered the terminal through the last checkpoint. Her eyes were downcast, but she caught a glimpse of something that made her turn and look. There, in front of her, leaning casually against a pillar, was Eric. Her heart skipped a beat, and she wasn't certain if it was because for once she didn't have to wait for a ride, or because it was him, physically and in person standing in front of her looking ruggedly casual and handsome. She'd rarely seen him so dressed down. The outdoorsy look suited him well, she decided, walking up with a smile.
"Hey, you!" She grinned, suddenly shy.
"Hey yourself." He pushed himself off the pillar, and took her bags from her, noting her absence of protest. "How was your flight?"
"Loud. Screaming infant." She shook her head to rid herself of the memory. "And bumpy."
"You look no worse for the wear." He observed. She'd never looked better to him, funny airplane hair and all.
"Tell that to my head." She joked, then regretted it as his smile dissolved into worry.
"Do you need some aspirin?" He stopped her, hand on her shoulder. "I have some in the car, I can go get it."
His offer was touching, truly, but she wasn't in that much pain. "It can wait." She assured him. "I'll take you up on the offer once we get to the car."
He stood in front of her, memorizing her face. He knew every inch of already, but she looked different. More…rested. Peaceful. He looped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him, walking forward and forcing her to come along as well.
"It's good to have you back." He understated.
She tipped her head and met his eyes. "It's good to be back."
"What's all this stuff?" He held the shopping bag in front of him, indicating.
"Food." Came her simple reply.
"Your mom?" He asked, not quite understanding the family dynamic. "Mine does the same thing, always sending me –"
"Not my mom." She broke in, shaking her head and looking at her shoes. Her family was so different from his.
Eric didn't quite know how to respond to this change in demeanor. He replayed the conversation in his head, searching for something that could have been upsetting, and not finding anything. "Grandma?" He tried again.
"Sort of."
He just eyed her, confused.
"I'll explain, just not here." She glanced around at the throngs of people waiting to collect their bags, and he understood. Calleigh did not do personal conversations in public places. He grinned as he watched her watch the conveyor belt. This was going to work out great.
Once all the bags were collected and deposited safely in the trunk, Eric grabbed the bottle of pain killers and handed it and a bottle of water to Calleigh.
"Take these." He urged. "They'll help with the head."
She'd just grinned at him, and popped two into her mouth, sighing as the cool water quenched her parched throat. "So," her eyes widened. "What's this surprise I keep hearing about?"
"You'll see." He answered coolly, steering the car through airport traffic.
She pretended to pout for a moment, then thought better of it. "We're heading west." She observed.
"I'll blindfold you if you don't stop that." He teased. What did he expect, though, in all honesty? He was trying to pull a fast one on Calleigh, of all people. No one was more observant than Calleigh. She was probably already factoring their direction and speed into velocity and using it to triangulate distance with an estimated time of arrival. He shook his head and grinned, eyes forward.
"Something funny there, Delko?" She teased. It was good to be home.
"Naw." He turned his grin to her. "Just thinking."
Calleigh felt bad. She had promised to explain things to him. Promised herself that she'd explain things to him, but now she found her courage failing. She was always so much braver inside her own head, so much more articulate. Words failed her when she opened her mouth to verbalize her thoughts. She tried to console herself, deciding it was the vehicle that was preventing her from talking. She didn't want to distract Eric while he was driving. That would just be unsafe! She knew it was just another excuse, though. And not a very good one, at that.
"Are we there, yet?" She asked, eliciting a hearty laugh from Eric.
"No. And stop that." It was good to have her home. He'd missed her more than he'd realized.
"How far is it?"
"Far enough."
"That's not an answer." She pointed her finger at him. He was enjoying this.
"It's all the answer you're getting. So, relax and enjoy the ride." He knew she wouldn't. Her brain was already in overdrive, he'd have to distract her. "How was your trip?" He hoped it wasn't a sore subject, given it's intention.
"Good." She replied. "Really good. It was good to be back…home…again." He noticed she'd stumbled over the word "home," and made a note to ask her about it later.
"See any old friends?" He really wasn't that great at "small talk."
"Some friends of the family." She affirmed, meaning Warrener and Maitea mostly. "It was good to see them again." The timbre of her voice had changed subtly, and Eric noticed it immediately.
"People you're close to?"
"Yes." She was whispering now. He needed to change the subject again. His plan was not to upset her.
"Gloria's due next month." He decided that maybe his family was a safer subject for now.
"She must be so relieved." Calleigh smiled. His sister had been very nice to her the few times she'd met her. "Is it a boy or a girl? I don't remember."
"They decided not to find out."
"Really?" She hadn't meant to sound so surprised. "It's just – I mean, I didn't know people still did that, is all."
"You know Glo. Hard core it all the way."
"I don't know how she does it." Calleigh shook her head in awe. "Is she getting drugs with this one?" Meaning an epidural.
"I don't think so."
"Phew." The woman amazed Calleigh. "Better her than me, I guess."
Eric laughed outright at this. "No "natural birth" for you, Cal?"
"No birth at all!" She protested. "And it's still natural with the drugs. As long as you aren't giving birth to an elephant, it's natural. Drugs or not." She quickly added, so as to not offend him, "I admire her, though. She's tough. I couldn't do it."
Eric let her "no birth at all" comment slide for the time being. "Yeah. She's a tough one." They lapsed into companionable silence, chatting only occasionally about mundane things, the price of gas, Wolfe's antics, and the like. Calleigh had barely noticed her surroundings when Eric pulled the car up past the sign. Everglades National Park. She gasped.
"I've never been here." She said softly, smiling at Eric.
"Yeah?"
"Not for recreation, anyway." She corrected. "I've always wanted to come."
He relaxed considerably at her last statement. He hadn't been certain of what her reaction would be. Calleigh was tough, but he didn't know if she liked traipsing through trees and mud. He'd gambled and won today. Blackjack!
Eric watched Calleigh as he drove through the park, knowing exactly where he was going. She stared out the window, taking the scenery in with wide eyes. If the smile on her face was any indication, he'd done well. Very well.
They'd driven for the better part of twenty minutes when he pulled the car up to a stop. "This is it." He announced, taking the key out of the ignition. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. He offered none, rather climbed out of the car and opened the door to the back seat. She hadn't noticed the cooler in the back. He dragged it out and sat it on the ground.
"Here." He handed her a bag. "You're going to want these."
She peeked inside. Her jeans, old running shoes, hair ties.
"Did I get the right ones?" He asked sheepishly, remembering his amazement that one woman could have so many clothes. He'd felt almost criminal walking into her bedroom, even though she'd given him permission. He paused reverently at the doorway, surveying the contents before entering. Orderly. Fashionable. Perfectly Calleigh. It even smelled like her. Her closet was organized by color and item. He'd laughed out loud when he'd noticed. The truth was, although he never planned on admitting it to her, that he'd spent far longer than necessary picking up her things. Part of him lingered at her home just be feel close to her, and the more devious part, lingered so he could observe her house without her in it. He fingered her garments, smiling at memories of her in them, memorized her CD collection, her taste in books and movies. He'd read tags to learn her exact sizes (which served only to confuse him more. Women's clothing had FAR too many different sizing schema as far as he was concerned. He was going to have to talk to Cristina again about that.), discovered her shoe size, her preference in lotion, perfume. He'd spent an evening just learning about Calleigh. All the little things he'd never noticed before, the personal things about her. She liked skim milk. And Italian shoes. And Biolage hair products. And French perfume. He smiled as her scent wafted past his nose. He'd worried that it was creepy rather than endearing, him snooping like that around her home. But, he reasoned, if only to justify it to himself, it really just meant he knew her a little better now. Was more able to…appreciate how she operated, as if knowing what brand of tuna she bought really gave him insight into her brain. He sighed. She was going to kill him if she found out.
"Earth to Eric. Come in, Eric." She poked him in the ribs, bringing him back to reality.
"Where can I change?" She looked around, not seeing even an outhouse.
Crap. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap. He scratched his head nervously, glancing around them. There really was only one option. "The windows are tinted" He nodded toward the car. "I'll turn around. I'm sorry. I should have stopped at a gas station or something." He prayed she wasn't too angry.
"You," she pointed at him. "Walk that way. And turn around."
She didn't seem angry at all. Eric breathed a sigh of relief, lugging the cooler up and walking toward the picnic table. She hopped in the back seat, figuring the windshield was less tinted than the side windows, and hurriedly pulled on her clothes. She glanced out the window. True to his word, his back was still to her. He was busy setting up what had to be lunch. She laced up her shoes, and smoothed her hair into a ponytail. He'd thought of everything. She peered over the back seat into the trunk. There was a backpack thrown back there, full of something. She glanced back toward the table again. Eric was still turned around. Her hand was halfway to the zipper when she paused. Why spoil it? She wandered, and pulled her hand back.
She climbed out and shut the door softly, watching him as he busied himself. She leaned against the car and watched for a moment. He felt her eyes on him, though, and spun slowly. Their eyes met, and he grinned. She blushed.
"Enjoying the view?" He ribbed.
"The cypress trees are beautiful." She covered. She hadn't been watching the trees, and he knew it, but he let her get away with it. For now.
"Hungry?" He pointed to an impressive spread.
"Famished."
"Let's eat."
She walked over and took a seat across from him at the picnic table. He had everything. Fried chicken, baked beans, macaroni and cheese. She grinned at him. "Comfort food."
"Uh, huh." He replied, mouth full of chicken. "I thought you might need some."
God, he could be so damn thoughtful.
She dished out some mac and cheese. "Is this homemade?" It did not resemble the consistency of Kraft.
"Yeah." He shrugged, like it was nothing.
"You did this?" She pointed to the open containers. "You made all this."
"No." He pointed at the chicken. "I make terrible fried chicken. My mom did that."
She sat silently in amazement, staring at him. "You did all this…for me?" She added the last part quietly, whispering and truly touched at his thoughtfulness.
He just shrugged again. "Yeah."
She started at him a bit longer, then picked up her fork to try to food. His macaroni was delicious. Amazing, really. They ate in silence until Calleigh could stand it no longer.
"Why?" She challenged him to explain himself, his actions.
He knew immediately what she'd meant. "I thought' you'd like it."
"I do." She assured him. "You're really good to me."
His response was that nonchalant shrug again. "I try." He didn't meet her eyes. She'd see the joy in them, and he was trying too hard to play it cool.
Calleigh was thrown off balance by his responses to her. He acted like all this trouble, the hours he'd spent cooking, convincing his mother to cook for him, was nothing. She looked down at her plate and tried to identify the feelings swirling inside of her. She wasn't used to men pampering her like this. Not when they didn't seem to expect anything…paid in return. Not that her boyfriends in the past had bartered for sex, but there was always some unspoken agreement. I'll give you a five minute backrub, and then we'll have sex. I'll listen to you talk about your day for five minutes and pretend to be interested, and then we'll have sex. I'll go shopping with you, complain the entire time, make you leave early, and then we'll have sex. Eric was different. They weren't anything resembling a couple, and he'd spent multiple HOURS planning and executing this elaborate excursion for her, with nothing planned or expected in return. She relished the knowledge that he wasn't expecting her to return favors. He didn't place conditions on his friendship with her. Her head shot up, eyes wide with revelation. She knew this feeling. She'd experienced something akin to it recently. Love. Unconditional, unreserved, and unqualified. He loved her.
She finished her lunch and looked up, finding him watching her. "That's a little Bridget Jones, isn't it?" She jested, her tone belying the anxious feeling in her stomach.
"I don't have desert." He blurted out. "I wasn't sure how much you'd eat." She hadn't eaten much the last time he'd seen her, but she didn't appear too much thinner now. He hoped she'd been fed well in Louisianna.
"No problem." She grinned, remembering Abuela's words. "Find someone to share it with, then." "I've got it covered." She walked back to the car, and extricated a container of freshly made empanadas.
"Here." She offered. "They're amazing."
He took one, and bit into it, eyes glazing over in agreement. "Wow."
"Yeah." She bit into hers. "I know."
"Where did you get these?" He was so curious. He hadn't expected food this…ethnic. Not that Calleigh wasn't allowed to have ethnic food, but let's face it, he reasoned. Calleigh is as blonde as they come.
"My…" She paused, deciding how truthful to be with him. "My Abuela." She decided on the whole truth. No omissions. He frowned at her, questioning.
"Abuela as in "you just decided to talk to me in Spanish because I'm Cuban and I speak it Abuela," or as in…" He trailed off.
"No." She glanced back to the car. She'd really like to escape right about now. Explaining the dynamics of her screwed up family wasn't really high on her list of things to do right now…or ever. "No. My Abuela as in she's from Mexico."
"You're not…" He was getting into the habit of not finishing sentences.
"No." She shook her head. "No actual relation. We just sort of – adopted each other. And her husband."
"Abuelo." He nodded.
"No, Opa." She corrected him. "He's German. It's a long story."
"So they…"
"Are the closest thing to that real, Norman Rockwell, Saturday Evening Post family that I ever had." She finished. "We weren't exactly Leave it to Beaver in my house." She mumbled the last part, almost embarrassed.
"And they filled in the gaps?" He supplied softly, starting to understand.
"Yeah."
"Good." He wanted to pry, but figured he should let her do this on her own time. He'd just gotten more out of her in two minutes than he had in two years. Be thankful for small miracles, Delko. "I'm glad you had them." She looked at his eyes, and realized he really meant it.
"Me, too."
"That's how you're fluent in Spanish, then?" He'd always wondered. You just don't obtain that level of fluency from high school Spanish. Or college, for that matter. A piece of the Calleigh puzzle just fell into place.
Calleigh only nodded. "She taught me. Started young, practically the day we met."
"Wow. I never knew."
She merely shrugged, and offered him more deserts.
"No, thanks." He patted his stomach. "I'm stuffed already. You done?"
She nodded, and together they cleared up the mess, packing it back into the car.
"Ever done much hiking?" He nudged her with his shoulder as they leaned into the trunk to replace the cooler.
"A bit, when I was younger."
"Wanna?" He nudged her again.
"Yeah." That explains the backpack, she thought as he slung it over his shoulders.
He grabbed a baseball cap, and settled in on her head, lopsided. "You'll need this." He grinned, hand lingering on her head. "Don't want a sunburn."
"Thanks." She reached up to adjust the had, pulling her hair through the notch in the back.
"Ready?"
"Let's do it!"
A/N: Sorry this chapter is so long. I don't want to break it into pieces, and I have a tendency to get verbose. More….probably Monday night. Do your thing!