Chapter 1

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Sadie Sims wanted one thing to go her way. Just one. She needed it. Would beg, borrow or dance on her head if she had to. She'd even donate a vital organ to get the hell out of Dodge.

A poster depicting a Caribbean vacation hung in front of her. Rays of warm sunshine, turquoise water, wave crests caressing white sand. 'Come and live your dreams' scripted in the sparkling blue skies. All of it mocking her.

She longed to put her feet in the warm ocean, to feel the sun on her face. Instead, her sandals remained on the worn blue carpet and her body sat in an uncomfortable bucket chair at Lambert International Airport. Rain beat against a large picture window in front of her. Scratch that. Not rain, hail. The ping of the ice chips reverberated in her ears and the need to escape pressed down on her.

Speakers blared, "Attention passengers, Flight Number 826 St. Louis to St. Thomas has been delayed. We will keep you informed of its status."

"Shit."

"Mommy says that's a bad word. You can't say that," a pixie voice whispered.

Sadie winced and glanced over her shoulder at the tiny face of wisdom and innocence framed in dark ring curls. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Mommy says it a lot when she's driving, but she says it's inproprit. And I'm five so I know what inproprit means."

"You're right, it was inproprit." Sadie's tongue stumbled along the girl's mispronunciation. "You're a smart little girl. I'll be very careful not to say that bad word anymore."

"Okay, good. Bye." The brunette Shirley Temple flashed a grin before jumping off the seat. She bounced across the aisle to a woman flipping pages in a People magazine. As the little girl whispered in her mother's ear, the woman smirked before feigning shock.

Sadie shrugged her shoulders and raised her eyebrows to communicate an "oops, sorry." Turning, she squeezed her eyes so tight her contacts protested. The girl's curls and coloring were a perfect hybrid of her and George. What should have been.

The familiar cold, dark, life-sucking ache started in her chest and she wrapped her arms tight around herself. She had to get out of there. Okay, when my eyes open, let's see a plane. My plane. My ticket to paradise. One. Two. Three.

No plane. She repressed the strong desire to swear again.

The irony did not escape her. She hated airports. Detested flying. The concept of being trapped in a steel bullet miles above the ground, with no means of escape or adequate safety net, scared the living bejesus out of her. What if the pilot fell asleep? What if they ran out of oxygen over the ocean? Or what if they hit a nasty, unexpected storm that shifted them off course and they crash-landed on some remote island with no hope of rescue? The chance something could go wrong...a tiny screw coming undone, a wing falling off, running out of gas...the possibilities of a bad ending were endless. Yet here she sat, yearning to flee in the deathtrap.

Man, she needed something. Valium or a swift kick in the head to knock her out for the next few hours. A drink would do, but it was only eight in the morning. She didn't know if her stomach could handle alcohol this early, but she'd go crazy if she sat staring at the empty gateway any longer. After sending a silent prayer to Mother Nature for a change in the weather, Sadie grabbed her luggage and left the airport gate.

Lethargy, her companion for the last few months, required a Jane Jetson ride on the moving walkways. And even though she doubted any flights could take off in this weather, she made certain to stand to the right to allow the A-type personalities to race past her. She didn't want to be the one to prevent them from getting the seats allowing access to the airport's free charging station.

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