NUMB, Judy Colella [i am malala young readers edition .TXT] 📗

Why would Chara want her to leave later if she’s so concerned about her getting there as soon as possible?”

“No idea, my love. Maybe the charter flight is quicker?”

“I don’t see how. And I – I don’t like this. I’m getting an uncomfortable feeling about it.”

“Oh, come on, Celia. I trust private flights more than commercial ones any day. The pilot is always extra careful about pre-flight preparations, and there’s certainly no risk of a terrorist taking over.”

She sighed. “I suppose. When does she leave?”

“Well, since she doesn’t have to deal with early check-in, and since the airfield is only about thirty minutes from here – ”

“Assuming that’s the one she’s using.”

“Yes, assuming that – she’ll probably leave around eight-fifteen or so.”

With a nod and a shrug, Celia gave him a quick smile and went back to what she’d been doing. Bryson left her to it, hoping the woman hadn’t been exercising any of that “women’s intuition” stuff, that her uncomfortable feeling was no more than maternal concern for the girl who had become as much a daughter as Jett and his brother were her sons.

When he got back into the house, he found two suitcases sitting near the front door, but neither Jett nor Atarah were anywhere in sight. He had to assume they were busy doing that “something else” to which his wife had alluded, and smiled in spite of the unhappy circumstances.

As much as he adored Celia and she him, Bryson didn’t think they – or anyone else he’d ever known – was capable of loving that deeply, with that much intensity. It occurred to him that while it was very romantic and all that, so much devotion to another human being carried with it an incredible level of risk. He only hoped that they wouldn’t burn out too soon, that their love would continue long into their twilight years.

 

*******

 

“You say your daughter is on her way tonight?”

Chara dabbed at her eyes and pulled her emotions out of the whirlwind in her head. “Yes, Doctor. I sent a private plane for her. Who knows what kind of delays might happen on a regular flight?”

Looking satisfied, the doctor clasped his hands behind his back. “I will begin the operation right away.”

“What? Can’t you wait until she gets here to see her father before you do that?”

“No. My latest examination showed some new problems that need care of taking now. Please arrange for airlift to the hospital in Athens, Mrs. Johanan. Now, if you can.”

She was upset about this newest development, but thought that perhaps Seth would be in recovery by the time ‘Tarah got there – assuming all went well. As she spoke with the hospital’s emergency airlift service, she tapped her fingers on the table, nervous, distraught, hoping with everything in her that ‘Tarah would have a chance to see her father again. But it seemed too many things were working against that happening – her hand became a fist, and as she hung up, everything settled, she banged the table in frustration and burst into tears once more.

“How bloody unfair!” she wailed, not caring who heard. “It isn’t right…”

 

*******

 

No other flights were taking off that night, the small two-passenger plane looking almost forlorn as it sped down the runway. By the time it lifted off the ground, it had taken on the appearance of a gigantic firefly, the distance making it seem too small to carry anyone.

Celia put her arm around her son’s waist and gave him a squeeze. “She’ll be all right, hon. And we’ll all miss her, but she’ll be back soon enough. Let’s hope things go well for her dad, and that she can come home happy.”

Jett nodded, staring hard at the plane as it vanished into the night sky. “Yeah. Let’s hope.” He sighed, returned his mother’s squeeze, and released her. “Meet you both back at the car.”

“Where – ”

Bryson interrupted her with a fierce shake of his head. “Okay, son. See you in a few.” He waited until the young man was gone and took his wife’s hand. “Sorry, love. I don’t think he wants to be answering questions right now. Let him be.”

“You’re right. I keep forgetting I don’t need to know every single thing he’s doing or every place he’s going.”

“Yeah – it’s that ‘mom thing,’ right?”

“You know it. Coffee? I don’t feel like rushing home just yet.”

He nodded, giving her a hug with one arm, and they left, heading for the kitschy coffee shop at the other end of the private terminal.

*5*

 

 

Seven o’clock in the morning was late for Celia, who normally wouldn’t stay in bed past six-thirty. This day was no exception. She stood by the counter in the kitchen near their house phone, her cell beside it, waiting to hear from her daughter-in-law. The ten-hour flight to Athens should have brought her in at about seven, but when the promised phone call didn’t come, Celia figured the girl was probably overwhelmed with a number of things upon landing. Luggage, her mother, the ride to her parents’ house – she’d probably call as soon as she settled in.

On the other hand, Atarah had mentioned something about the operation on her father possibly taking place before she could get there, and wasn’t happy about it. Celia only hoped it hadn’t happened yet, and possibly gone wrong. Sighing, she poured herself another cup of coffee and went to the table.

The sound of footsteps out in the hall alerted her to someone about to enter the kitchen, and she turned. Jett greeted her with a smile, dressed but looking exhausted.

“Didn’t you sleep last night?”

“Not very well.” He went to the cabinet and took out a cup. “Did ‘Tarah call you?”

“No. But I expect she’ll be busy for a while. I do hope Seth is okay.”

He nodded, helping himself to the coffee. “She did mention she might not be able to talk to me as soon as she got in.”

“Is that all you’re having?”

“I’m not hungry.” He drained the cup, brought it to the sink, and filled it with water. “Got to go – don’t want to be late for class.”

“All right. Drive safe, sweetie.”

He gave her a narrow stare. “Heck. And here I was planning to try and break the land-speed record.”

“Brat. Go.” She grinned and watched him leave.

A few moments later, Bryson came into the kitchen, yawning, unshaven, looking like he wished he hadn’t tumbled out of bed.

“And what’s your excuse for being so tired, young man?”

“None. I slept like a cured insomniac.”

“You…right.” She gave her head a quick shake and set a cup of coffee in front of him as he sat at the table. “So what are you planning for today?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Thought I’d shoot spitballs at the reporters outside, then maybe switch to water balloons.”

“Do you think they know our daughter-in-law has left the country?”

“Who cares? I gotta say – you’d think they’d appreciate the fact that Jett is always so nice to them, even when I can tell he’d like to throttle every last one. Must have inherited all that patience from you.”

Celia smirked. “I doubt it. But – ”

Her cell phone went off, and since she had it on both Vibrate and Ring, she had to dash to the counter to catch it before it buzzed itself over the edge. Without looking to see who was calling, she pressed the connect button. At first she didn’t recognize the voice, but then realized two things at once: it was Chara Johanan, and she was crying hysterically.

“…can’t believe it! Oh, God!”

“Chara, what is it? Is Seth all right?”

“He – he – he’s fine. The operation was a success. No, the…oh, my God, oh God!” She burst into throat-tearing sobs.

“What’s wrong?” Bryson got to his feet and came to his wife’s side.

Celia shrugged, frowning. “Chara, please – tell me what happened!”

“It – it – the flight – I – no, no, no! Oh my God!!!”

Celia stood straighter, suddenly going cold as the blood drained from her face, feeling like it was being flushed out through the bottom of her feet. “Chara. What. Happened.”

After gulping down more sobs, the woman on the other end gathered enough air to speak, and told her.

 

*******

 

Wait until his class is ended, Bryson told himself, pacing up and down in the hallway outside his son’s classroom. After a lot of discussion, he’d volunteered to be the one to speak with Jett, and hopefully before anyone official could get to him.

Only fifteen more minutes, but it felt like five times as long. And then the bell went off, making the man jump. A second later, the door to all the classrooms in the corridor opened, flooding the space with noise and movement, turning it into a pedestrian freeway.

“Dad? What are you – what is it?”

“Um, are you finished for the day?”

“Yes. Why? You don’t look…what’s wrong?”

Bryson put a hand on his son’s arm. “Let’s go out to the car.”

Jett began to walk with him but stopped when they were almost at the side door leading to the parking lot. “Tell me. Is it Seth?”

Keeping the pity out of his expression was hard but possible. Keeping the sorrow out was not. “No, Jett. He’s fine. Apparently, he had his operation and it was successful.”

“So what’s wrong?”

“It’s…” He swallowed hard and tried again. “It’s Atarah.” Before Jett could ask, he rushed into the next sentence, the sentence that would, he knew, change his son’s life forever. “Her plane went down about fifty miles from the Greek coast. From what they could tell, there were no survivors. No bodies, either – the waters there are full of sharks, apparently. Both she and the pilot are gone, son.” He bowed his head, reigning in a desire to weep.

Jett put his head to one side, a slight frown appearing between his eyebrows. “From what they could tell? What does that mean?”

“Like I said, they didn’t recover either of the bodies. But they’re pretty sure, based on the fact that the aircraft is no more than splinters that neither of them survived hitting the water at 500 miles an hour.” He gulped. “What remained would have disappeared into the water and eventually, um, eaten by the sh-sharks.” He stopped, biting his lip.

“I see. I’ll go home with you now. Can you send someone to pick up my car later? I won’t be needing it.”

“Jett? What are you going to do?”

“Nothing. What can I do? I need to go home.”

His son’s behavior was terrifying – Bryson had seen people deal with sudden loss and grief in a vast number of ways over the years, but never like this. As he watched, he felt as if he could see Jett disappearing into himself somehow. No more was said on the way home, and when they pulled into the driveway, Jett walked up to the reporter who lunged at him and smiled.

“Hey, Jett. Since they won’t let us on campus, I have to talk to you here, okay?” He extended his microphone.

“Not really. In fact, I need to go inside right now.” His smile grew, but it wasn’t pleasant.

“What’s wrong with you, kid?”

Bryson reached out and grabbed the man by the collar. “I suggest you leave him alone. You’re trespassing, and I