One Fool At Least Read Online Free PDF

got your nails in it.”
    “Oh, sorry.” I removed my fingers from his palm and stared out the window of our taxi. Why couldn’t we have honeymooned somewhere close, I wondered foggily. Somewhere in driving distance, even walking distance…. As we approached the airport, we saw planes flying over continuously, sometimes near enough that it seemed I could reach up and pat their bellies. “Like a beast, a sky beast,” I mumbled.
    “What?” Jack was laughing at me. “Maddy, are you okay? I thought that was the right dosage, but you look kind of—”
    “Oh, I’m fine as rain. I think that’s right. I imagine so. What are you laughing? At?”
    “Nothing. Come on, we have to get out here.” Jack had his lips sucked all the way into his mouth in order not to look amused. He obviously feared my drug-induced wrath, which might have been worse than my regular wrath.
    * * *
    O’Hare Airport was confusing: lots of hallways and moving sidewalks and running to other places. I let Jack lead me as I viewed it all from my fascinated yet fearful high. By the time we got to the little tunnel that connects to the plane and we’d presented our tickets to a flight attendant with a stern face and hair cut severely short, I was like the doggie that doesn’t want to go to the vet. I struggled against going into the tunnel, clinging to the wall and then to a random airport cart that was being pushed past in the other direction, the direction where people kept their feet on the ground.
    I only vaguely remember the scuffle, which involved Jack, red with embarrassment and clutching my feet in midair, his mother and father, who arrived in time to see me, loopy and hanging off the wall like a monkey, telling the line of people why I’d always been afraid of planes, regaling them with visions of limbs floating on ocean waves and fiery 747s plunging into the sea, and the flight attendant, who kept saying, “Get down, please.”
    Jack’s dad ended the standoff by scooping me off the wall with big hands, draping an arm across my shoulders and steering me on board, talking to me all the while in a soothing voice about Jack’s childhood in Montana, about his three sons and the things they’d done together, about Christmases when the boys were young, anything he could think of to keep me from struggling under his arm, which I suddenly didn’t want to do. He said he was glad to have a new daughter, just as he considered Libby his daughter, and the only way he’d be able to see her sometimes was if she was brave enough to get on a plane and come for a visit. Didn’t I want to come and visit him sometimes? I leaned my head against his shoulder sleepily, nodding when he asked me questions. He smelled of fragrant tobacco, like the pipe he always smoked, and it was both comforting and hypnotic.
    I don’t remember much about actually boarding the plane. I’m told that I obeyed Robert Shea meekly enough, and that after he strapped me in and said something softly in my ear I went almost instantly to sleep. Jack, relieved, took his place at my side, grateful that he didn’t have to endure a scene at take-off, as well.
    When I woke he was there beside me, smiling.
    My head hurt and my throat was dry. I told Jack, and he handed me a bottle of water. After I sipped, I said, “Jack, did I make a fool of myself?”
    “No, no,” Jack lied. “You were great. And guess what? We’re almost there. Another half hour, I think. So you’ve done it, Maddy, you’ve made your maiden flight. Do you want to look out the window?”
    “No,” I said. I looked into my lap, trying to fight the rising wave of panic. I was in the air, where I’d never wanted to be. I glanced around the plane. Jack’s dad and mom were a few rows behind us; they waved encouragingly when they saw that I’d emerged from my coma.
    Molly and Mike were across the aisle; Mike was strapped into a special seat, and his wheelchair had been stowed somewhere. Behind them were their