Page 47 of On the Fly
His mother turned to him, taking his hand. That couldn’t be good. He tilted back his beer in his other hand, dragging in several long gulps. “You’re going to let me speak, and you’re going to respect my perspective, because I’m your mother. Do you understand?”
“Mother—”
“Ander.” Irritation showed on her face. “That’s your last interruption. Son, you have got to start giving your father a break.” She squeezed his hand when Ander bristled at that pronouncement. “All he’s ever wanted is the best for you and your brothers and sister. He might not have been effective in his message, but his deep love for you was real.”
“Mother, nothing’s going to change my mind. There’s nothing you can say. This airline is in trouble…”
“Ander Jorgensen, not one more interruption.” His mother’s tone again turned hard as she reached for her binder, setting it in her lap. “Your brother shared your father’s note with me.” She opened the notebook, pushing it into Ander’s lap where he saw the page he’d crumpled and thrown into the trash. He didn’t say a word, only because his anger spiked to an all-time high. He shifted his gaze to pin Erik where he sat. His brother would pay dearly for that move. “I know you see this letter as a slap from your father, and I’ll give you, he could have been more gentle, but he only wanted the very best from you because he saw the best of you.”
He rolled his eyes as she turned the first sheet-protector-covered page in the book. “Look at this, Ander. Your father created this memory book of your life. He was always so proud of you.” Slowly, his mother turned the pages. He doubted very seriously his father had taken these memories to the point of immortalizing them in this way. As she turned, he caught a few pictures of him as a baby and young child with his father.
His mother paused as she came to an image where his father stood proudly beside him with a fourth-place ribbon after his first science fair. Ander had chosen a paper airplane wind trajectory project. He’d even held firm when his father had suggested a different project. In the end, he and his father had created a hundred different paper airplanes, carefully picking the best ones to narrow down to the four he needed to fly during the judging. Memories assailed him. The first plane hadn’t made it across the line Ander had set. He’d been crushed. His father came forward, encouraging him to continue, to send the paper airplane flying at a different tilt. He made the adjustment, and it worked. Ander had been so proud that day. He hadn’t thought about that time in ages, and for the first time in days, his heart twisted for something other than the pain he felt after reading his father’s letter.
“Mom.”
She squeezed his hand, otherwise ignoring him, and kept turning the pages. Then she included his brother and sister in this next round of scolding. “He loved you all. Each one of you has a book like this. Ander’s first prom, when your dad helped you learn to knot a tie. Your dad kept your acceptance letter to Duke. He’d been crushed when you’d chosen a different school, but you never knew.”
His mother paused again, staring off as if trying to find her words. “He loved you, Ander, and didn’t want to tie you down tohisdream before you had a chance to experience life and see the world. Your father saw your strengths and your weaknesses. He pushed you—each of you. But he pushed you, Ander, probably the hardest because he saw your potential and wanted you to experience all the best of life.”
She pulled his letter from between the pages, lifting a hand to his mouth when he drew in a breath, just in case he planned to speak. He nodded that he’d remain quiet and she continued, “I understand none of my children have married, but everyone but you, Ander, has loved. You close yourself off. We never understood why.” Her hand slid down the wrinkled page, touching his father’s words. “You were raised with such love and devotion. You were always so serious. This was your father’s last attempt to make you open your heart. He wasn’t condemning your choices, just asking that you make more of them with your heart and not with some analytical reason.”
Skye sniffled, drawing Ander’s gaze her way. The tears she fought slipped down her cheeks. “Ander, when I was going into a test or really anything that gave me anxiety, Daddy would tell me to think like you. To pull my inner Ander up and go kick that test’s ass.”
“He said those things to me too.” Erik chuckled, nodding at the special memory he shared with Skye.
“He loved you,” Skye echoed her mother’s words. “Maybe the most out of all of us really. He always talked about how well you were doing with your business, finding your own way, making your mark how you wanted to. And that you’d be so good at running Rora one day. You were his favorite.” She tried for a joke but fell short with the tears running down her face.
His mother’s hand came to his again, gripping him. “He knew you’d run this company. He also knew you’d take it places he was never able to. Your father wanted you to have a whole life. I want that too. This last weekend you were at Whispering Winds, I saw a softening in you. You let your guard down and enjoyed yourself. It meant everything to me to see you like that. You have it in you to love and to be loved. That’s all we wanted for you.” She looked around the office and squeezed his hand again. “None of this means anything without love. It was built on a foundation of love. He always said the love we shared soared through the sky, and that’s why he wanted the nickname he used for me to be on the side of every plane. A deep unending love is how the company got its name, Ander.” Tears filled her eyes again, but the smile on her face spoke of good memories.
Ander’s chin hit his chest, and he closed his eyes. Like every time he dealt with his family, this was all too much. What did he even say to something like that? You didn’t build a company on love, you built it with hard work, dedication, structure… The pain of what he’d thought of as his father’s rejection slowly unwound. The idea that he’d possibly misread his dad’s intent allowed him to breathe a little easier. So much information to process.
When he felt the book being closed on his lap, he looked over at his mother.
“I’m going to leave this with you.” She held up a finger. “Do not harm one page inside this book. You think about what’s really got you so upset.” Her hands came to his face, her palms caging him in to look only at her. “You go and make amends. You can do it, Ander. Then come back here and turn this company around. I’ll transfer my voting rights to you, son, if only to show my trust in you. You’ll do the right thing.” When his mother stood, Skye and Erik stood too. “Drive me back home?”
Wait, had she tipped the voting rights in his favor? His heart skidded to a stop before taking off at a trot in his chest. He’d known that would be an uphill battle, but he hadn’t expected his mother’s blessing to do what needed to be done.
“This is all you wanted to do?” Erik asked their mother, confused.
“Yes.” She patted Ander on the arm. “It’s enough. He’s smart that way.” She winked at him, then glanced toward Erik. “And have dinner with my favorite son.” It took a split second for her to catch her slip. She looked like she’d gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “And my favorite daughter.”
In an evening of severe mood swings, Ander couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips. He cleared his throat, finding some maniacal humor in her lifelong lie going awry in front of them.
She tossed her hands in the air and shot out, “You’re all my favorites. Don’t tell the others.”
As they walked toward the door, Ander rose, placing the notebook on the coffee table.
“Just in case you’re not that smart, our vote is still to keep the company,” Erik said. Skye nodded, but didn’t turn around to face Ander again as Erik added, “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Want to grab a beer?”
Ander shook his head. He needed time to think and sleep. His couple-hour catnap hadn’t been near enough for him to have a clear head. “Maybe tomorrow night?”
“Sure. Call me if you need me.” Erik left the office, but his mother stopped at the door to glance back at him. She waited until she had his attention.
“You’ll do the right thing. I’m certain.” She blew a kiss his way and left him standing there alone with the notebook and his thoughts.
He ran a hand through his hair and sat back on the couch. He flipped the pages of the book. Had he misread his father’s intentions? His feelings? Was he lashing out now in anger as a defense mechanism?
He hated thinking about how he’d handled Emma. It was too late for them. He’d ruined his chances with her. He’d have to think all this through. What had his misunderstanding cost him?
