~ * ~
Three days later, Tara met me outside security at JFK. “A wheelchair, huh?”
I shrugged. “It’s a big terminal. Have you ever noticed people never make eye contact with a person sitting in a wheelchair? Useful when you’re trying to disappear.”
“I don’t want you to disappear.” She leaned down, enveloping me in a warm embrace. “We’ll get your life back. When we’re done with that bastard, you could buy this airport if you wanted.”
I laughed but didn’t let go. “I missed you.”
Tara wheeled me to the front of the airport to return the chair, then led me through the maze of parking to her car. As soon as we settled into our seats, she pulled a red scarf out of her purse.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I know you’re taking me to the house, Tara. Where else would we possibly
