Chapter 8 Crew #2
Val snorts. “I’m not new here, Crew. But they have bookings and aren’t willing to bump anyone.”
I sit back in my seat. “But…”
“You’ll be okay,” she says. “Omaha is another couple of hours. “I’ll get you a car.”
I glance toward the back of the RV. Dammit. Not only is it going to be another two hours until I can see Dani, but I have to be the one to tell Nathan that it’s going to be another two hours until he can see Dani.
I need a diversion. Something to take his mind off of how far away from Aspen we are.
Something to distract him from the fact that Dani is there with Michael alone and our good doctor is a really nice guy—easily the nicest of the three of us—but he will absolutely not think twice of taking advantage of having our wife all to himself.
I glance at the clock Rhonda has hanging over the little kitchenette. It’s about eight a.m. Seven for Dani and Michael. She’s definitely naked right now. Whether she’s awake or not depends on how late he kept her up last night. While we were stuck in a ditch, then hanging out with nuns.
“Don’t get us a car,” I tell Val. “But definitely get us that flight out of Omaha.”
“Already booked. But you don’t want a car?”
“I’ll get us a ride.” It will need to be something ridiculous, like nuns or a decked-out-for-Christmas RV, to keep Nathan from angsting about getting to Aspen.
“You sure?”
“Definitely. I’m very pick-uppable.”
She laughs. “You are that.”
“And you’ve got access to lots of money if it takes a dark turn.”
She laughs louder. “You’re assuming I’d pay and not just pocket it and buy a tropical island.”
“Oh, Val, you couldn’t live on a tropical island. They don’t have coffee delivery or pedicures.”
She sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. Fine, I’ll pay the ransom.”
I laugh. “You’re the best, Val.”
“So what’s the plan?” she asks. “You’ll get another ride in Des Moines? Then fly out of Omaha?”
“Yeah. Can you arrange for the pilot to wait on us just whenever we get there?”
“Of course. I’ll text you his number so you can keep him updated on your trip and your ETA.”
“Okay. I appreciate the help.”
“It’s what I’m here for. During reasonable working hours,” she adds with a laugh.
We say goodbye and I realize I need to make another call. Michael needs to know what’s going on and that our optimistic plan to get on a plane in Des Moines isn’t working out.
Now I kind of hope he does have Dani naked. Because our girl is not going to be happy about this.
I end up taking the chicken way out and text Michael.
Another little wrinkle. No flights out of Des Moines. We’re going to Omaha. Should be in Aspen around 12:30 your time. Maybe just tell Dani that.
Way ahead of you. I told her you’d be here around 4, so she’ll be thrilled when you get here earlier.
We never said 4
Exactly. I said 4. That would cover any further glitches and if it’s a straightforward trip, you can surprise her.
Damn, I think you might actually be the smart one after all
See you soon
I’m fine. Don’t rush on my account.
Fifteen minutes later Dave and Rhonda drop us off at a McDonald’s along the interstate.
They really wanted to take us to their daughter’s house and told us we could shower, rest up, and get a ride from there.
I didn’t want to take the time. And I know being along the interstate gives us a much better shot at finding a ride that’s heading west.
I’m right. Ten minutes and an Egg McMuffin later, I’ve secured two seats on a school bus heading to Omaha.
The school bus has five adults—three women and two men—along with twenty little girls.
They are an ice skating club in Des Moines and they’re heading to Omaha for some Christmas show on ice at the events center.
Only one of the men follows hockey or knows who I am, but a few of the girls say they have older brothers who play hockey, so I’m kind of cool to them. I guess.
The five thousand dollar donation I offered to their club made everyone a fan, though.
I think I also won a couple of the moms over, and even if a few of the girls, when I showed them the video of Isabel in her first pair of skates.
Of course my daughter has already been on ice skates. And the video of me holding her arms and skating at the Racekteers arena with her little skates between my skates is fucking adorable.
I go to get Nathan out of the RV. Rhonda and Dave graciously agreed to wait until we had a ride secured.
I brace myself for convincing him this is a great idea.
Truth be told, Nathan is amazing with our children. But he hasn’t really been around kids before and Isabel and Oliver are the only ones he spends any significant time with.
Still, he is a huge teddy bear where they’re concerned.
When I climb into the RV, I find Nathan awake and nursing a cup of coffee at the table with Rhonda and Dave.
“So we have to go on to Omaha.”
He nods. “Rhonda and Dave filled me in a little and then I called Val.”
I grimace. “I was trying to handle this, so Val didn’t have to deal with you.”
He tips his cup back and drains the rest of the contents, then hands it to Rhonda. “Thank you so much for everything.”
“Of course. It was a pleasure to meet you both,” Rhonda says.
I already took the Christmas sweater off, not sure if the hilarity of it would be appreciated by everyone inside the McDonald’s. But Nathan is still in his and Rhonda hands me the sweater folded up.
“Oh, I can’t,” I start. But I really want to keep it.
“Please. We have a ton of these for different ugly sweater events. We’d love for you to have them and remember our little trip.”
I take it, happily. “Thanks Rhonda. You’re the best.”
She gives me a hug, and I peer at Nathan. “How do you feel?”
“Great actually. Headache is gone and I think another cup of coffee and maybe some hashbrowns and I’ll be like a new man.”
I look at him with surprise. He actually seems chipper. For Nathan anyway.
And I never imagined he would willingly agree to eat anything at McDonald’s.
“Coffee and hashbrowns can be done. I got us a ride to Omaha.”
“Yeah, Val said that it was hard to get a car or something,” he says, stretching to his feet. “Whatever is fine. We’ve come this far.”
Huh, so Val backed me up with a little white lie. I probably need to pay for a couple of her pedicures.
“Well, there is something you need to know about this ride,” I say, turning and descending the steps of the RV. He’s right behind me.
The school bus is parked about ten yards away.
He stops, looks at the bus then looks at me. “The school bus?” he guesses.
“Yes. And it’s full of—”
“Hurry!”
“We don’t wanna miss our show!”
“Come on, Crew!”
Little girl voices ring out from the bus windows.
I look at Nathan. He looks at me. “Little girls,” he says.
“Yeah. A bus full.”
“How old are they?”
“Six, seven, and eight.”
He nods. “Okay.” He starts toward the bus.
Okay? I’m not going to poke this bear any further. I jog into the restaurant and get him a large coffee and a large hashbrowns.
When I get on the bus, I find Nathan in a middle seat, little girls all around him. Some turned in their seats to face him, some hanging over the seat from behind, and one sitting right next to him showing him something on her iPad.
I hand over the food and lean to look at the screen.
She’s showing him videos from the skating club, clearly.
He is watching intently. He doesn’t even acknowledge me, but does take a long draw on the coffee.
“So how old were you when you started skating with this club?” he asks the girl.
“Four,” she tells him. “But I was skating with my family before that.”
He nods. “My little girl is skating already. She’s almost three.”
“Can I see a picture?” the girl asks.
Oh Lord, this kid might regret that. Nathan Armstrong can talk about our children for hours.
He asks her to hold his hashbrowns, as he leans to pull his phone from his pocket. He starts swiping through photos. He shows her several of Isabel and Oliver together, then finally gets to the photos of Isabel in her skates.
One of the photos is me holding Isabel in her skates.
The little girl looks over at me where I have taken the seat across the aisle.
“She’s your little girl too?” she asks.
“Yeah, Nathan and I are both her dads.” I glance toward one of the moms. Wow, I hope this isn’t going to be a problem.
The girl nods. “My best friend has two moms,” she says. “Which is a good thing because one of her moms is really bad at French braiding.”
I chuckle. “Well, Isabel’s other dad is really good at French braiding, but I’m learning.”
She looks up at Nathan. “You’re good at French braiding?”
He shakes his head and swipes through a few more photos until he finds a photo of all six of us. “This dad is good at French braiding,” he says pointing at Michael. “Crew is really good at skating.”
“What are you really good at?” the girl asks, seemingly unfazed by the fact that Isabel has three dads and a mom.
“I’m really good at cuddling, and story time,” he says.
I nod. “He seriously is.”
I was as shocked as anyone when I first heard Nathan doing different voices for the characters in the stories at bedtime.
“Her mom is so pretty,” another little girl says, leaning closer to look at the photo.
Nathan glances at me, his face soft with emotion. “She sure is. We’re really lucky that she wanted to be with all of us.”
The girls seem to accept that easily.
“If Isabel wants to be a skater, that’s great. But you can’t make her do it if she doesn’t want to,” one says.
Nathan lifts both brows. “Good advice.”
The same girl looks over at me. “You have to let your kids find what they're into on their own. But give them a chance to try lots of new things.”
I nod. “I’ll remember that.”
Nathan swipes across his phone to his notes section and asks the girl, “What else do you have for me? Tell me all about being a good girl dad.”
I put my new sweater up against the window and rest my head against it with a sigh.
Just a couple of hours and I can truly sleep on the plane, but now that Nathan seems taken care of, I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute.
I’m dead asleep two minutes later.
.