Galveston Read Online Free Page B

be a delay; he seemed a well-travelled sort, to judge from the wear and tear on his duffel bag, his deep tan. But there was another possibility, and Beverly studied the man closely to see if there was anything in his appearance that would support it. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and wore a white golf shirt and lightweight grey trousers like a phys. ed. teacher. This man was so recognizably a phys. ed. teacher, in fact, that he seemed to have been ripped from another place, another time, and set down in the strange little bungalow airport in Florida.
    The beautiful black man re-entered the waiting area and came to attention behind his little counter. “I have an update on the flight 764 to Dampier Cay. In light of the warning issued by the—”
    Jimmy Newton cut him off. “An airplane ticket is like a contract,” he pointed out. “A legally binding contract. You people have contracted to supply a service—”
    “But in cases of, what do you call it,
force majeure—
”
    “Please don’t cancel the flight,” said the phys. ed. teacher. “I have to get over to the island. My family’s there.”
    “Your family,” repeated the black man, not as a question. He looked at Caldwell for a moment, and it was clear he understood that families should be together, especially incatastrophe. “I’ll talk to the pilot.” He picked up the walkie-talkie and depressed a button on its side. “Ed?” he said quietly.
    Caldwell took Newton by the elbow and led him away. “So,” asked Caldwell softly, “what have you heard?”
    “She’s just a little mewler, a newborn babe,” said Newton.
    Caldwell nodded, listened to the black man speak into the walkie-talkie, pleading on his behalf. “But the man’s
family
is over there …”
    “But hey,” said Jimmy Newton, “there’s another depression moving right behind her. I think maybe she’s going to suck it up, she’ll be two, maybe three by the time she hits any land. Maybe even …” He pressed his lips together, fearful of invoking some sort of jinx by speaking his hope aloud.
    “Where are you staying?” asked Caldwell.
    “Some place called the Water’s Edge.”
    Caldwell nodded. “Me, too.” Neither seemed particularly happy about it.
    “All right,” announced the man from the airline, stepping out from behind the counter. “Let’s everybody get on the plane,” he said gravely, “before the shit starts to fly.”
    They started across the field toward the airplane, in an order that corresponded with their arrival at the bungalow airport. Beverly was in the lead but deliberately slowed her pace, so that they all walked past her: the immaculate man, the two young women, the elderly couple, Jimmy Newton, and the beautiful black man, pulling an oversized child’s wagon piled high with their collective luggage.
    The phys. ed. teacher drew up beside her, and Beverly gave him a look and a quick smile. “You don’t have any family on the island,” she said.
    “How would you know that?” Caldwell asked.
    “Because I’ve done what you just did.”
     

    T HE AIRPLANE had five rows, with pairs of seats on either side of a narrow aisle. Beverly selected the window of the middle row. She was hoping that the phys. ed. teacher would sit beside her, but before that could happen the immaculate man leapt into the seat, still cradling the cardboard box in his hands.
    The phys. ed. teacher was the last to mount the stairs into the belly of the Beech. He scanned the available spots and claimed the nearest window seat. Jimmy Newton had chosen the row behind, but he threw off his belt and moved to sit beside Caldwell.
    The flight attendant was a dark woman with hair that had been buzzed short and dyed a very improbable blonde. She came to loom over the man beside Beverly; she bent over and tried to take the little box away from him. “I’ll put this in the overhead compartment.”
    “No, ma’am, you won’t.”
    “Perhaps you could put it under your seat. At