Part 29
Lisa stared out the window of the plane at the moonlit terrain below, her thoughts on the last few days.
They'd been agonizing.
Her mother had been a mess — well, as much of a mess as she ever got, or let people see. Julia had wept from the moment Lisa arrived until she left. Relatives and friends and acquaintances had expressed their condolences until Lisa had grown tired of hearing the words.
She hadn't cared that the service had been perfect and paid proper respect to her father. She hadn't cared about the food people kept trying to get her to eat. She hadn't been able to sleep even though everyone kept telling her to rest.
All she'd been able to think about was the absence of her father, how there seemed to be a tangible hole in the universe that he used to occupy.
She'd called House twice. Once in the middle of the night. She'd stretched the phone cord until she could sit in the closest private space — a closet of all places. Curled there in the dark, beneath coats that smelled of her father, she talked to the only person she felt comfortable with.
"I'm suffocating, House," she'd told him as soon as he picked up the phone. And she hadn't been talking about the closet. "I have to get out of here."
"Where are you?"
She hadn't known why he asked that question but it'd made her smile, even let out a scoffing sort of laugh at the absurdity of the answer she had to give.
"Would you believe I'm in a closet?"
"Oddly enough, yes," he'd replied, his grave tone flavored with amusement. "I can hear the hangers clanking against the rod."
"No, you can't," she'd protested even as she appreciated the attempt at distraction.
"Be quiet and listen," he'd said.
She'd done as he asked. And she'd heard the hangers clanking.
"How in the hell did you hear that?"
"I'm Vulcan."
Lisa had snorted at that then went still and quiet to see if the sound had stirred anyone in the home.
"Give away your hiding place?" House had asked after a few moments of silence.
"No, all quiet," she'd replied then found herself laughing softly at realizing that in a span of a couple minutes, he'd alleviated a great deal of her distress. "How do you do that? How to you just make me feel better?"
"It's a gift."
It's more than that. Much more, Lisa thought as her gaze drifted up to the clear sky.
The stars were so much brighter up in the air, away from the city lights. She would be landing in Detroit within a half-hour. The flight was a short one, thankfully. Non-stop, no layovers. She would be glad to be there.
House was going to be there. He'd told her he'd gotten the night off so he could drive her "Jurassic heap-o-junk to the Motor City. Where they make new cars."
Lisa smiled at the memory of that conversation. It had also taken place in the closet, during the daytime, which had made him laugh. Even after she'd explained the fact the phone cord wasn't long enough to reach anywhere else private — and it hadn't been all that private with mourners milling about.
He was such a smartass. And an ass. But she loved him.
Lisa's brain stuttered to a halt and her heart seemed to stop in her chest. Her breath fled so quickly she felt dizzy.
I love him.
She let herself think it. She let herself feel it. And everything fell into place.
Lisa shut her eyes and leaned her head back against the seat.
That's why…
"House," she whispered and looked out the window.
She began counting the minutes to touchdown, happy but more frightened than before.
