Chapter 24: Gate Twelve

At six-ten in the morning, Albany International Airport smelled of coffee and floor wax.

Beth had driven eighty-five miles an hour the whole way.

She had not once been pulled over, which she said was proof of God.

They came through the sliding doors at a run.

Clara had her backpack on one shoulder and her graduation gown still on under her coat.

Her hair stood up on one side.

"Departures," Beth panted. "Portugal, Portugal. There."

The board said LISBON, 7:15, ON TIME.

The security line was long and slow, with travelers holding bins and shoes.

A single officer stood at the rope maze at the entrance.

Clara scanned heads.

She saw a baseball cap and a woman in a red coat.

Then she saw a tall man with dark hair, a blue duffel bag and a blazer worn white at the elbows.

He was nine people from the front.

"Miles!"

He did not turn.

It was too loud in the hall. She cupped her hands around her mouth.

"MILES FERRIS!"

Heads turned all along the line. The officer at the rope looked up sharply.

He turned around.

For a moment his face was blank with shock.

Then he smiled, wide and helpless.

She ran toward the rope.

"Ma'am," the officer said. "Ma'am, you need a boarding pass past this point."

"I don't need to go past it," Clara said. "I need him to come back one minute. Please."

"I can't..."

"Please. It's three years old."

The officer looked at her gown, and her hair, and her face.

He looked at the tall man pushing back through the line, saying sorry, excuse me.

The duffel bag banged against the man's knees.