Aloha Texas

Chapter Two

"Welcome to Midland International Airport. We know you have a choice and appreciate your flying..."

International. Wasn't that a laugh? Only regional jets flew in and out of the small airport, but like everything else in Texas, folks thought big. Despite the request for everyone to remain seated, Nick stood and unlatched the overhead bin. By the time the front door of the airplane opened, he and everyone else was anxious to get out and breathe real air.

Turning his wrist, he studied his watch. Two fifteen. He'd been on planes since 10:00 p.m. Kona time the night before. That made more than ten hours of actual flying time in seats unfit for any human adult. Ten hours of thinking, remembering, and convincing himself it didn't still hurt. All of it brought him back to the same place. What the hell was he doing here?

In a single-file line, passengers of all shapes and sizes, some of whom he wondered how they'd squeezed into the minimalist seats, made their way down the aisle, out the door, through the airport, and over to baggage claim. He didn't plan on staying long, so he hadn't needed anything more than a carry-on. Part of him hadn't wanted to bring even that. Simply go to the hospital, hear what Patty Ann had to say, and then turn around to catch the next damn flight home. Make that flights home.

Just ahead he could see a crowd of people holding up a variety of signs with names. Some neatly printed; others hastily scribbled. A quick scan told him his ride hadn't arrived yet. Setting his bag on a nearby chair, Nick pulled out his cell and turned it on. Three texts. First from Billy: ALL SET. COLLIN TAKING YOUR RUN. Good. Second from Billy: YOUR MOM CALLED. Shit. Third from his mother: CALL ME. He hit two and speed dialed the office.

"Big Island Dive."

"What did you tell her?"

"Things are holding up great. Hardly miss you at all. Thanks for asking."

"Never mind the sarcasm. How much did you tell my mother?"

"How many years have I had your six?"

One lousy tour on an aircraft carrier, and the man still uses the pilot speak for back. But he was right. They always had each other's backs. "Long enough."

"Remember that. You know I won't lie, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna run off at the mouth, either." Billy's tone fell somewhere between manly teasing and slightly irked.

"So what does she know?"

"That I'm gonna tell you she called the next time I see you, but you're tied up with an old friend, and I don't expect to be talking to you much."

"Tied up?"

"Those are the words I used. I figured your mother could decide where and what that meant. She didn't ask. I didn't tell. But you'd better talk to her before she does start asking. Cause you know—"

"Yeah, you won't lie." From the corner of his eye, Nick spotted a flash of red rush past him. Turning to get a better look, he watched the woman whip out a sheet of paper and hold it up for the people stepping off the escalator to see. "Listen, I think my ride is here. Let me get back to you."

"Call if you need anything."

"Will do. And thanks." Nick hung up and stepped over to the lady. "Excuse me."

"Are you Mr. Harper?" the pretty brunette asked.

"Yes, ma'am." When the navy sent a driver, it was usually a short, pimply faced seaman with dreams of seeing the world and annoyed to be stationed in Podunk USA. O'Conner and O'Conner had much better taste.

"Kara Lynn O'Conner." She extended her hand. "Sorry to meet under these circumstances."

"Nick Harper." Her hand was soft and delicate with an unexpected strength for a woman of her size. From their one telephone conversation, he'd envisioned Ms. O'Conner to be a bit more...lawyerly. Tall, lanky, with a boyish haircut, and wearing a dark suit. Not a petite figure in a red sundress with long chestnut-colored hair that seemed to fit in more with the tropical backdrop of Kona than the dry ranchlands of Texas cattle and oil country.