* * *
It was the middle of the next day when her cell phone dinged loudly beside her. Poppy was in her bedroom, sitting at her desk, working and making graphics to upload while plotting a travel itinerary for the city to offer up a ‘getaway package’ for locals. Her blog, Instagram, and website had quite a few ‘hits,’ and she was monetized, actually getting paid about ten bucks a month from clicks… which just shocked her. She had no idea that was a ‘thing,’ and that there was a potential for growth before her. It was just the travel agency portion now that was an income, but now there was so much more.
Picking up her cell phone, she stared at the screen.
Thank you for the coffee mug. That was thoughtful.
Welcome home. Glad you are back.
She wanted to be simple, easy, and unassuming, basing her tone on what wasn’t said aloud by her father. If Michael had the carpet pulled out from under him, everything would feel like a criticism or an attack. The more personal it was, the more he would resent it; which would explain him leaving in the middle of the day, running from her.
Michael wasn’t someone she would label as a ‘coward’ either. He liked to go mountain climbing on vacations, had jumped from an airplane, and the man was always looking for strange things to experience, and that simple thought made her remember a conversation they’d once had. He shoved a magazine at her excitedly and tapped the paper with his finger.
“Look at that… camel races in Oman. Doesn’t that look amazing?”
The picture had several travelers, filthy with sand, exhausted and tanned, but standing in robes before several camels – smiling almost as brightly as Michael had been.
“That looks incredible,” she admitted, his enthusiasm and zest for life catching. “Can you imagine the majesty of the miles of sand around you, seeing the hues on the horizon… I wonder how bright the stars are, or…”
“I knew you would see the same things as I do,” Michael had said softly. “It’s not just the camels or the moment, but so much more that makes an experience come to life.”
“Exactly,” she nodded. “The smell of Bedouin fires at night, the sounds of the wind whistling across the dunes, the feeling of being insignificant under the universe’s tapestry above…”
“I don’t think you could ever be labeled as insignificant, Poppy…”
She remembered that conversation fondly, the look in his eyes, and stared at her phone screen as she saw three dots appear, indicating he was replying to her text. Those dots disappeared and reappeared a few times, but that reply never came. She was not going to push the matter because he needed to come forward of his own accord, reaching for her.
* * *
A month later…
Patience was not her strong suit, Poppy mused, pulling up to Flyboys with a box of donuts and two coffees. Oh yes, she was going to try to see what was going on with Michael, even if it killed her.
As she got out of the car, she saw Harley waving at the large bay window where her office was located with a view of the runway. Looking to her right, in the direction that the planes would be landing, she saw the path was clear. Starting forward, she saw Michael begin to open the front door to Flyboys – and freeze.
He met her eyes and then turned away.
Something in his eyes wasn’t right, and she had never seen him slink back into the shadows of the building before. Usually, he would open the door, wave her forward, holler out a greeting, or something— anything but this. Her eyes slid toward Harley, who was no longer waving in greeting but looking sideways, almost in concern.
Michael was avoiding her.
And they were protecting him from her.
Poppy swallowed painfully, meeting Harley’s gaze once more, and nodded. Instead of going inside the building to confront the man she adored, she returned to her car, giving him space.
CHAPTER 5
* * *
MICHAEL
Peering through the miniblinds at Flyboys, he watched Poppy walk back to her car, leaving. Letting out a sigh of avid relief, he let the blinds that he’d bent open suddenly close with a clatter – only to turn and face his Aunt Harley standing next to Houdini, who was halfway seated on one of the empty desks in the classroom portion of Flyboys.
“You know you have to face her at some point, right?”
“Poppy is curious… and she isn’t shy about it.”
“I know,” Michael began, grateful that his stammer was fading slightly. When he got upset, frightened, or felt cornered, it usually hit him hard. Things were starting to slowly get back to feeling normal, but there was a portion of his innermost soul that felt like something had been stolen from him without his permission.