Chapter 15
SADIE
The night was unusually restless. My dreams had become haunted by visions of Patrick and the tangled mess of lies and betrayals.
No matter how I tried to escape it, my mind circled back to the same thoughts: the pregnancy test Alyssa had taunted me with, the mysterious work being done on the Tin Goose, and Patrick’s unspoken truths, his constant absences and evasive behavior, all blending together until they morphed into something unrecognizable in the dark recesses of sleep.
I had done all I could to avoid confronting these emotions during the day, immersing myself in the corporate grind, but at night, when the quiet crept in, there was nowhere left to hide.
The exhaustion caught up with me, but it wasn’t physical; it was the heavy weight of the emotional battle I’d been fighting alone that finally took its toll.
The museum had always been a refuge, a place of solace and calm, but lately, even that space felt tainted.
My office had become a prison of restless nights, tossing and turning on the cot until the sheets were twisted, and sleep became an impossible goal.
Each morning, I woke up more drained than the day before, unable to escape the suffocating fog of uncertainty.
On this particular morning, I didn’t even bother getting up at my usual time.
The thought of dragging myself to Holbrook Aviation and facing more whispers or the inevitable confrontation with Patrick made me cringe.
I needed a day off, even if it felt like running away.
So I called in sick, something I hadn’t done in years, and let the guilt slide off me like water.
I told myself I needed more sleep, my body craving rest while my mind fought against it with every racing thought about Patrick and the mess we’d become.
Not that sleep came to me. I just laid there on the cot, its thin cushion offering little comfort as I stared at the ceiling of my office, the shadows playing tricks in the dim morning light filtering through the small window.
The meditation music I’d put on whispered through my phone, soft tones and flowing water sounds meant to calm a troubled mind, but they did little to soothe the turmoil churning inside me, the doubts and uncertainties that had become my constant companions.
I’d hoped for even a few minutes of genuine rest, just enough to quiet the noise in my head long enough to think clearly.
That was, until I heard a sound in the distance, the faint hiss of machinery cutting through the meditation audio like an unwelcome intrusion.
My eyes opened at the familiar hum of machinery, echoing through the restoration hangar, just beyond the walls of my office.
I hadn’t expected Ellen to arrive so early.
She had never been much of a morning person.
While her shift might have officially begun as early as eight, she sometimes rolled in at ten or later.
So this was far too early for her to be running a compressor. I just knew it couldn’t be her.
“The elf,” I said, suddenly realizing what I might be hearing. It was that or I was going crazy. I could just be hearing something that was entirely in my head, all due to my lack of sleep.
I pulled myself from the cot, my legs protesting with every movement.
The temptation to just ignore the noise, to try and salvage what was left of this sleepless morning, was strong, but curiosity got the better of me.
This was getting too strange. Someone was out there, and it was time I figured out who this phantom mechanic really was.
My bare feet touched the cold concrete as I shuffled toward the door, rubbing the remnants of grogginess from my eyes.
When I stepped out of the office and into the restoration bay, the air was cool and damp with the smell of gasoline and oil, a mixture so familiar it almost grounded me for a moment.
But then I saw the back of a man, his sleeves rolled up as he hunched over one of the Trimotor’s engines, wrench in hand, completely focused on his work.
His broad shoulders moved with purpose as he turned a valve and adjusted a line.
The steady whirr of the compressor filled the silence around him, blending into the mechanical symphony that had become the backdrop of my life lately.
Whoever he was, he looked like he belonged here, as if he had done this kind of work all his life, every movement practiced, no hesitation in his gestures as he moved from one task to the next with methodical precision, his boots planted firmly on the ground, a man comfortable in his element.
It wasn’t Ellen, and it sure as hell wasn’t me, though for a second, a wild thought crossed my mind.
The elf—this man who had been sneaking into the hangar every morning—could it be?
I took a step closer, the question forming on my lips as I prepared to confront him, ready for anything except what I saw when he finally turned around.
“Patrick,” I gasped, the word catching in my throat. The recognition hit me like a punch in the gut, all the pieces of this bizarre puzzle finally locking into place, though I wasn’t prepared for the revelation.
He straightened up quickly, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his grease-stained hand. “Sadie,” he said, catching his breath as if he hadn’t expected me to be there either. “I didn’t realize you were still at the museum. I thought you left for work.”
“I took the day off,” I replied, still in shock, my mind scrambling to catch up with the scene in front of me.
“I’ve been hearing someone in here working on the plane, and now I find you...
” My voice trailed off as I looked over him, the man I knew in his executive suits now covered in grease and dirt, looking every bit the part of the mechanic he’d secretly become.
This was my husband, and yet, he looked completely different in this setting, stripped of his usual armor and authority, more approachable somehow but just as intense.
The sight was so out of place it was almost surreal.
“I know I should have said something sooner.” His voice softened, but his eyes stayed steady on mine.
“But I didn’t know how. I’ve been coming in early every morning to work on the plane while you were at Holbrook.
” There was an honesty in his voice that disarmed me, catching me off guard more than anything he could’ve done or said before.
“But why?” I was still trying to wrap my mind around it. Why would Patrick of all people sneak around the restoration hangar, trying to fix my plane? None of it made sense.
“I needed to do something,” he said, setting the wrench down on the workbench next to him, the metal clanging softly.
“I couldn’t fix what was wrong between us, not the way you needed me to.
But I thought if I could fix this...” He gestured to the plane behind him, his expression heavy with the weight of his intentions, his brow furrowed as if even he knew it might not be enough, but it was all he had to offer.
I blinked back tears that I didn’t know I’d been holding onto. “You thought fixing my plane would fix us?”
Patrick hesitated, his hand tightening on the edge of the bench as if searching for the right words, words that always seemed to slip away when he needed them the most. “Not fix us, exactly,” he admitted slowly, his voice tinged with vulnerability.
“I just wanted to show you that I’m willing to work.
That I see how much this project means to you, and I wanted to help. ”
I looked around, the realization of everything sinking in, and I could see now.
The wires I hadn’t replaced, the adjustments made to the landing gear that I had barely noticed all had his fingerprints on them.
I’d been too blinded by the betrayal and my own pride to see that it was him, quietly fixing what he could.
He was there, helping, in the only way he knew how, without expecting thanks or acknowledgment.
My heart twisted, unsure how to process the emotions crashing inside me, the anger, relief, and disbelief. How could I have missed it?
I felt my knees go weak, the emotional fatigue of the past few weeks catching up with me in a single overwhelming moment.
But I didn’t want to fall apart in front of him, not after I’d already let him see me at my worst. My chin lifted slightly, my posture shifting as I squared off in front of him, forcing strength I didn’t feel.
“How long have you been doing this?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
“A few weeks,” he said, taking a step back as if bracing for the impact of my anger. “I just thought I could do something small, without making a fuss.”
“A fuss?” The word hit me wrong, and suddenly the frustration I’d tried to bury flared to the surface again, my hands balling into fists at my sides. “You didn’t want to make a fuss, so you lied? You let me think someone else was meddling in my work?”
“I didn’t want to make it about me!” Patrick shot back, his calm cracking just enough to reveal the tension simmering beneath.
“I wanted you to see progress, not another apology or excuse. I thought if the plane was fixed, you’d see I was trying to change, even if I didn’t know how else to show it.
I figured I could handle it behind the scenes. ”
I laughed bitterly, the sound coming out harsher than I wanted.
“I’ve been going crazy trying to figure out who’s been touching my plane, Patrick.
You have no idea how much of a mind game it’s been, trying to track down clues, feeling like I was losing my mind because I didn’t know who was trying to fix things, or mess with them. And it was you.”