I do not own Big Eden.
I do not own Eric Schweig. *sobs*
There and Back Again
Pike Dexter Finally Gets Off The Plane
"Pike? Pike? You okay?"
He had done well, Pike had.
Surviving the Minneapolis-St Paul International Airport.
The terminal.
"Hey, you okay?"
Caught up staring at all the people scurrying to and fro.
"Ye- Yes. It's just so . . . big. There's so many people."
"I know. It's a lot."
Just wait 'til JFK-
"Listen, we've got to get to our next terminal and we don't have a lot of time. Just follow me and we'll be fine, okay?"
Then at the massive destination boards.
"Can you really go all these places from here?"
"Yeah. Pretty cool, huh?"
"It's . . . amazing."
Managing the walking escalator.
"Just step on, Pike. It's fun. Give your legs a rest."
"Oh, uh, I can just walk beside you while you ride on it."
"Pike-"
Fascinated by the grand North Star Flying Ace and his brave Woodstock sidekick.
"Oh. I remember this."
Painted and glazed.
"Dun nuh nuh nuh du nuh nuh . . . right?"
And proudly pedestaled in the bright, airy Lindbergh Terminal.
"That's right."
Fully three feet high.
"Um, why is it . . . why is it here?"
And positively glorious.
"Oh. Charles Shultz was born here. In Minneapolis."
"Oh."
Henry enjoying the art almost as much as enjoying Pike slowly circling it in childlike wonder.
"Hey, want to get your picture taken with it?"
An innocent offer, Henry already digging enthusiastically into his shoulder bag.
"Oh. Uh, no."
Which instantly breaks the magic.
"No."
Pike shrinking back.
"That's okay."
Ducking his shy head.
"Come on, it'll be fun."
Hiding in his dark, thick hair.
"No. Uh, I'm . . . afraid . . ."
Leaving Henry.
"Well, okay, I mean, Pike, we have plenty of time for that . . ."
To fumble after him.
"Where are our bags?"
And try to explain . . .
"Oh, they transfer them from plane to plane."
. . . the next step the overwhelmed Pike has forgotten.
"We'll pick them up in New York."
"Oh. Right."
Which is another plane.
And another ride.
And another sky-gazing expedition.
And another . . .
"Pike? Pike? You okay?"
. . . departure.
And now they are finally, finally in JFK.
"I can't believe it's been seven hours, ugh . . ."
"Wait, it's only three pm. That clock says five."
"What? Oh. Time zones. New York is two hours ahead of Montana."
"I . . . I just lost two hours of my life? That's . . . I mean . . ."
"Ha, just wait until you fly from New York to Paris. Talk about jet lag."
"We're going to Paris?"
"Well, let's just go pick up our bags up and try out New York first."
And it is completely overwhelming, even to Henry, who has been through it a great many times.
One of the biggest airports in the entire country.
There are entire American towns smaller than the John Fitzgerald Kennedy International Airport.
And it . . .
"Pike?"
"I'm . . ."
. . . shows.
". . . I'm here, here, Henry."
And Henry Hart finds himself grinning.
"You sure?"
Reaching out a hand to the red shirted arm.
The very same red shirt of the Infamous Oot-Kwa-Tah Dancers Dinner.
A hand to that shirt.
Pike's upturned face of stunned awe . . .
"Pike?"
. . . slowly swiveling down to his . . .
"Hmmm?"
. . . and Henry . . .
"You okay?"
. . . smiles into those deep, dark eyes.
"Ye- yeah. Yes. Sure."
It is not the closed, comforting, familiar space of Dexter's General Store.
With its worn couches and simple aisles.
Its cappuccino machine and its book trading shelves.
Its bread and milk and Seven Dwarves and mail pickup.
Not the small town of Big Eden, whose property limits could very well be one of those aforementioned small towns.
Not even the big open sky, sparking blue lake, mountain-chained wilderness of Montana.
This is something entirely different and unto itself.
This is . . . this is . . .
". . . the entire world could fit in here."
"Oh boy, are you in for a surprise."
I'll just admit the truth to everyone when we get home. We spent the entire vacation at JFK Terminal 4.
They traverse the baggage pickup, Pike seeming to almost hug his bag to him when he finally grabs hold of it.
Familiar and comforting and close and safe.
"Come on, Pike. We can just catch the AirTrain before the next round."
"Air . . . Train?"
"Yeah."
And Pike Dexter's handsome chiseled face is suddenly even more stricken.
"Can't we just . . . drive?"
Henry has to catch himself from cackling in derision.
"A car?! In New York?! Not on your life, pal."
Then he turns, finding his bearings.
"Come on, if we hurry, we can be in Times Square in an hour and a half."
"An hour and a half? I thought we were already in New York. You said it was small."
Henry grins winningly.
"Yeah. I know. Just follow me."
Adjusting his grip on his rolling suitcase.
"You'll see."
And takes off.
"See? See what?"
Pike Dexter . . .
"Everything!"
. . . at his heels.
Whelp, they're finally in New York!
Sort of.
Well, technically Queens.
Anyway, thanks to DinahRay and BlueSaffire for so kindly reviewing before.
Sorry I left them on the plane so long. I'll try not to do that again.
Next up, actual New York City! ;)