Chapter 9
By the time our plane landed, I felt more comfortable with Beckett than I’d felt with a man in a very long time. We were taxiing on the runway, headed to the gate, when he asked me, “So, are you staying in the low rise area or the high rise?”
“The Renaissance, actually. It’s in the capital.”
“No way—seriously?”
“Yes way. Why? Where are you staying?”
“Also the Renaissance. My cousin has a timeshare. I bought the week from him.”
“Holy shit! That’s crazy,” I laughed. “Now you’ll be stuck with us for the whole week.”
“I wouldn’t say stuck,” he replied. “I enjoyed our flight, actually. I mean, as much as you can enjoy flirting with death over an ocean at twenty thousand feet.”
“I enjoyed it too.” I grinned. “The flight, not the flirting. With death!” I added. “Not, like, um, flirting…”
He laughed. “I get it.”
Our plane reached the gate and mayhem ensued. People began standing, reaching into overhead bins for carry-on bags, passive-aggressively shoving their way out of the plane, eager to start their vacations. “Wanna share a cab?” Beckett asked me.
“Sure. We need to go to baggage claim first.”
“Me, too,” he said.
I nodded, remembering that he’d checked his bag at the gate.
At the jetway, I motioned for Beckett to go on ahead while I waited for my mom to make her way out of the plane.
I stood to the side with the wheelchairs and strollers (none of which were designated for my mother, thankfully) and finally, after the crowd thinned out from all the rambunctious travelers, there she was.
“Where’s your seat treat?” Mom asked.
“My God!” I exclaimed. “Wow, Mom. Really?”
“It took me the whole flight to come up with that one. I had a few others, but they were less appropriate.”
“Yes, because we’re nothing if not appropriate, right?” I asked. “He’s waiting for us up ahead. We’re going to share a taxi. He’s staying at our hotel.”
“Shut up! Seriously? That’s a hoot!”
“Nope. Nobody says ‘hoot.’” I laughed. “You get it all out right now, please.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t embarrass you. I’m super cool, Pretty Girl,” she replied, as we walked up the jetway together. Upon emerging from the tunnel, Beckett greeted us with a warm smile.
“Hello again,” he said.
“I’m afraid I am extremely frail,” Mom began. “I’ll need you to walk me down to baggage claim.” She held her elbow up to Beckett, and he slipped his arm through the space she created for him, hooking himself to her. I rolled my eyes and suppressed a cackle.
“You don’t look a day over forty, Mrs.…” He paused.
“Miss,” she corrected him with a wink. “Paulson. Birdie Paulson. I never married. I’m very progressive in that way.”
I shook my head.
“I like the name,” he said. “Is it short for something?”
Mom laughed. “In fact it is, yes! Birdie is short for Bridget. But since I was Bridget Paulson for my entire songwriting career, I have my friends call me Birdie.” She smirked at Beckett. “Lovers too.”
“Mom!” I cried. She was laying it on so thick, and he had no idea. “You’re such a ballbuster! She’s fine,” I said to Beckett, who was carefully guiding her through the vibrant-but-thankfully-small island airport. “She can walk on her own. And lovers? Really, Mom?”
“Darling, you have no idea the things I do in my free time.” She waved her hand at me, as if shooing away my foolish interjection. But her grin gave her away, letting Beckett know it was all in good fun.
“Ew,” I added.
“I’m all for healthy sexuality,” she refrained.
“And this will be where we leave you and never speak to you again,” I said to Beckett, approaching the baggage carousel. “If for no other reason than my sheer mortification.”
He laughed. “Please don’t. You two are like a comedy act.” Beckett looked at Mom. She dropped his arm and squeezed his hand before she let go.
“My daughter here has become a bit overly concerned for me in recent months. I just want her to let loose and live a little.”
“I hear one can do that in Aruba,” Beckett replied.
“I plan to,” I said. “I just need a lounge chair, a cold drink, and a book, and I’ll be all set.”
“Bor-ing,” Mom sang. “She needs adventure.”
“Well, lucky for you, Miss Paulson, we’re staying at the same hotel,” Beckett said. “Maybe we can go on an excursion together or something.”
“Please, call me Birdie. And yes. One hundred percent, she should excurt. Excurt? Is that a word?”
“No, Mom. I don’t think so.”
“Brilliant, this one,” my mom pointed at me. “She’s an author. Did you know? Very famous.”
“I am definitely not famous.”
“So modest! Beckett, do you like to read?”
He nodded. “I do. In fact, you won’t believe this,” he said.
Mom’s eyes opened wide. “What is it?”
“I’m writing a novel,” he leaned in and said to her, as if the two of them were sharing a secret.
“You stop that right now! Are you serious?” She all but jumped for joy.
“It’s true,” he admitted, with a grin that could light up a Christmas tree.
My mom clapped her hands. “Well. This certainly is an exciting development. I feel as though the stars have aligned here.” She stopped, and her expression grew serious. “Do you two feel that?” she asked.
“What?” I replied, giving Beckett a sideways glance.
“It’s…magic,” Mom declared.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s maybe dial it down a touch there.”
“You mark my words,” she said. “Something about this”—here, she waved at the space between me and Beckett—“is very special.”
The bags began to circle around on the conveyor belt, which ended the conversation.
I pulled mine off, then Beckett found his, and then I grabbed Mom’s.
I shoved my fleece jacket into the little space that was left in my suitcase, and then we made our way outside the airport into the blazing heat.
The taxi stand awaited us just steps away, and we were ushered into a passenger van quite efficiently.
Our hotel was just minutes from the airport, and on the ride there I took in as much scenery as I could.
I felt the warm, dry air embrace my sun-starved skin.
I heard the rhythm of a distant drum beat mix with the engines of boats speeding around on the endless expanse of teal water to my left, and I saw small groups of locals sitting underneath palm trees in the shade, sharing either a late breakfast or an early lunch.
It was clean, bright, and so beautiful that I was struck by the feeling of hope that blossomed in my chest as we neared the hotel.
It was almost as if, just for a moment, I forgot the reason we were there in the first place.