Janice hated flying.
She hated everything about the process, from the drive to the airport - which was unusual because she loved driving everywhere for any reason - to the false-sense-of-security screening to the ridiculously high-priced food and magazines to the flight itself. She had flown frequently many years ago, but since being married had only rarely flown. Of course, in her much earlier flights, there hadn't been any security. She had flown primarily from the secluded airstrip in the Texas panhandle.
Why did they call it the "panhandle"? she'd always wondered. Oklahoma has a panhandle. Idaho has a panhandle. Shucks, even Florida has a panhandle. Texas has more like a tree stump...
Strange thoughts occur to you when you're flying alone at night.
It wasn't her choice to fly at night. Her father had been insistent that she join them immediately. He was not a man to be trifled with, and she knew better than to resist. To do anything other than his wishes could bring all kinds of trouble, and now she had something worth protecting, worth living for.
Worth dying for.
Worth killing for.
She had replayed the brief conversation with her father many times in the hours since they'd spoken. His instructions were clear, terse, and unambiguous. Get on the first available flight to Las Vegas. There she'd be met by some from the team, someone she'd know on sight. She was not to leave any kind of note, not bring anything electronic - cell phones, PDA, laptop, nothing. Just bring some changes of clothes and get on the plane.
She knew that the extra clothes were just to avoid arousing suspicion at the airport. Still, she'd packed some of her more comfortable, if not her most stylish, clothes. She had little hope she'd ever actually wear them. She could guess that it would be back to the uniforms soon enough.
Her resentment began with the clothing, but it did not end there.
How could her father still be controlling her, after all these years? she thought, bitter tears welling in her eyes. She'd moved out and moved on. She knew what her father represented, and while she loved him, she did not want to be a part of his life any more. She had found everything she wanted in Michael and her children. Her job gave her great satisfaction as well, as did her participation in the community. She had never even told Michael about her family or the team or any of that part of her life. Michael had been told that she grew up in a fairly normal environment on the high plains near Amarillo. She shared stories of her childhood, but only the selected ones that were normal for most children her age. Michael did not know of the secrets in her past. Some skeletons are better left in the closet.
She did not look out the window as the darkened ground rolled past beneath the wings of the airplane. Her thoughts turned inward to the deception she had been carrying all these years. She wondered what Michael would think when he returned to an empty house. The tears began again as she envisioned the panic and frantic searches that would be made for her. At least Michael would be able to say he'd been out of town - the police would never suspect he'd been guilty of foul-play. She thought of her children, now grown and not babies anymore, but still needing their mother. Would Michael remarry? Once she was presumed dead, would he give up? Would he find forgetfulness and healing in the arms of another woman? Or would he pine for her, missing the perfect love they'd found, even if for such a tragically brief time?
Tragic is the right word, she thought. This whole thing is just tragic. She knew what awaited her when she rejoined her father. She'd seen what had happened to her mother and knew that as her mother's only daughter, she would inherit both the position and the responsibility that her mother had. Growing up, she had only ever known love and affection from one person - her mother. Her mother was the only one on earth who had genuinely cared for her, the only one who loved her freely without any expectation. To lose that suddenly like this, after all the years of estrangement, was the most bitter pill she'd ever had to take. She'd never had a chance to say goodbye, never had a chance to express her gratitude, never held her dear mother in her arms one last time.
Tears flowed freely down her cheeks now. She did not wipe them away, knowing their replacements would soon follow. They tracked down her cheeks and onto her blouse unchecked.
The flight drew on, the night grew deeper. She was moving inexorably to her future. And her past.
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