Page 59 of Fly with Me

Stella’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. She wasn’t crying, but there was such an outpouring of emotion in her brown eyes. This is what flying meant to her. This beautiful connection between her and the father she clearly loved so deeply. No wonder becoming captain was her entire focus.

“Pull over.” Olive pointed at the shoulder.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Olive touched Stella’s face very lightly, wiping away a single tear with her thumb. “We’ve talked about what it means to say you’re fine when you’re crying.”

“I’m not crying,” Stella said, but despite this, she flipped on her blinker and left the road. After shifting into park, she sniffled but kept holding tight to the steering wheel. “I don’t know when something like this is going to be the catastrophic thing.”

“That’s brutal. What you’re doing by living with him is huge, and I’m sure he appreciates it.”

She blinked over and over again, as if determined that no other tears would join that first one. She spoke more quickly than usual, which was a feat. “My grandmother passed away a few years ago. I think he was ignoring his symptoms while taking care of her. He actually got really mad when I told him I was moving in, but it’s worked out. I made him believe it was so I could afford my plane.”

“But it wasn’t?”

“No. I’m frugal. It would’ve been fine.”

“But you wanted to be there for him?”

“Yeah. Of course. He’s had to make some tough decisions. He retired ten years sooner than he expected and he feels like he’s a burden. But he’s not. When my grandmother got sick a few years back, that was tough, but this is completely different.” She took her hands off the steering wheel long enough to flex her fingers once before grabbing on again as if she thought it might fall off. “I’m getting this all out now so I won’t do it in front of him.”

All out appeared to still be referring to that one, reluctant tear. “Not a big crier?”

“I want to be strong for him.”

“You are.”

After a few minutes, Stella pulled the car back into drive and merged onto the highway again. They didn’t speak for the rest of the ride. Stella parked in front of Olive’s apartment building, and Olive ran up to get her blood pressure cuff and stethoscope. As the car started moving again, nerves tugged at Olive. She could handle going over to assess her friend’s father. That was normal. It happened all the time. People called her with medical questions, asking her to come check out a kid’s rash or asking if whatever thing their baby was doing was normal.

Olive’s knee bounced up and down.

This was different.

She was meeting the father of the woman she had an unrelenting crush on.

And from everything she said, he sounded like an intense man.

Olive took a deep breath. Everything would be fine. She’d be her normal take-charge, nurse self. He wouldn’t know what a mess she was. Today especially she looked the part in her TV-ready shift dress and sensible flats.

Stella pulled into the driveway of a perfectly tasteful brick bungalow. Neat landscaping. Well maintained. A man with a stainless steel cane stood in a doorway.

He was not what Olive expected.

Not one bit.

He wore a flowy multicolored shirt over… were those leggings? A few beaded bracelets jangled on either wrist. He smiled a shaky smile at Olive and Stella as they walked up the sidewalk to the front porch.

His voice shook slightly, a tremulous quality Olive had seen with other patients with Parkinson’s. “So, here’s Olive. It’s good to meet you. I’m Hector.” He extended an arm, which rose and swayed from side to side. Chorea. A side effect from the meds. “Come give your fake girlfriend’s old man a hug.”

Sweet Jesus. Olive’s mouth fell open.

Chapter 21

“Papi, I said no incense unless I was home.” Stella sniffed the air as she helped her father back into the wheelchair by the door.

“Jocelyn lit it during yoga.”

“Who’s Jocelyn?” Olive asked.