Ruby Red 3 - A Romance for All Time (Complete)

Chapter 21

His father's private jet circled in the air, spiralling towards the ground at a snail's pace. It was all Sam could do to not unbuckle his seatbelt and demand the Captain land in a field.

Anything to get on the ground. Get to Ali.

The call had come while he was in the shower after an early morning workout with Leif. When he saw a voicemail from her number his stomach had dropped. There was no good reason for Ali to be calling at 4 am California time. Listening to her message, his fears were confirmed.

Daniel Stinson had suffered another stroke. He hadn't survived.

Ali sounded hollow in the message, like a court clerk reciting the facts of a case. When he got her on the phone, things didn't get better. Sam could hear her mother wailing in the background. Ali's words held no warmth, no feeling.

When he called his parents to share the news, his own father insisted Sam take the Harrington jet, promising to have it ready to leave as soon as he got to the airport.

That was seven hours ago.

Seven hours of Ali being alone.

And now the pilot would not land the plane, the tarmac at the private airport overcrowded.

Sam couldn't bear the thought of Ali standing on the hard, concrete ground waiting for him. He was desperate to get to her. Wrap her up in his arms. Somehow make it better. Or at least comfort her.

A groaning sound emanated from beneath his feet and Sam gripped the arms of his seat. The wheels were descending. They were landing at last.

Ten minutes later, they were taxiing down the runway. Sam peered out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the woman he loved. The wing swung around and there she was. A lone figure standing beside a black limousine. Her dark hair blowing in the wind, wild and free but not in a good way.

The last time she met him at the airport, she wore a flirty bright red sundress, setting his heart and body on fire. Today's outfit was jeans, a white t-shirt and sneakers. Her arms were folded across her chest as if holding herself together.

Seatbelt slung aside, Sam stood at the door pleading with it to open. The flight attendant had given up trying to get Sam to settle down. Toe tapping against the blue industrial carpet, Sam attempted to steady his breathing. He had to be calm for Ali.

At last, with a hiss, the hatch popped and hot air swarmed into the cool compartment. Sam sped down the stairs, flying towards Ali. Her porcelain face crumpled as he scooped her up, wrapping her in his arms and his love.

Pushing past the lump in his throat, he croaked, "My love, I'm here."

She remained silent. Her body melted from its rigid state as she collapsed into his embrace. If he could have tucked her into his heart and protected her, he would have. When his luggage was loaded into the trunk, Sam asked. "Can we get out of here?"

Ali pushed out of Sam's arms and turned towards the car. Sam couldn't understand it but he didn't like the way Ali was acting. He knew she must be upset, yet from the looks of her, an outside observer wouldn't know it.

It reminded Sam of when he first met Ali. The perfect façade she projected to the world around her when all the while on the inside she was crashing and breaking apart. He had hated seeing her that way then and it scared him to see her the same way now.

Was it this place? Did being back in California cause Ali to revert to a shell of herself? He wanted to shake her, help the real Ali, the loving caring Ali break free of this disguise.

Once inside the cool, dim interior of the limo, George, the driver asked where they wanted to go.

Ali looked at Sam. "We should probably go to my... my mother's place."

"Where ever you want to go, Ali."

Ali searched his face as if the answer to the world's mysteries lay there. "George, let's go back to the resort first. Sam and I need to ... freshen up."

George nodded and then offering them privacy, drew up the black screen separating driver and passengers. As the car moved, Sam slid across the seat to return to where he should be – holding his fiancée.

They sat like that, entwined in each other's arms for a long time. Neither said anything, Sam's heart bled as he racked his brain to find something comforting to say, some words to help Ali.

After another moment, Ali broke the silence with a question Sam never expected.

"Sam," Her voice was muffled against his chest. "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing... Nothing's wrong with you."

Her head rocked back and forth over his heart. "No. It's not right."

"What my love? What's not right?"

Pulling back, glassy pools of blue regarded him. "I can't cry." She gripped his shirt with a balled fist. "My father is dead and I ..."

Sam kissed her forehead. "Ali, you're in shock. It's perfectly normal." Dotting each cheek with a chaste peck, he continued. "You'll cry if and when it's right."

"My mother is a mess. The nurses had to give her something to calm her down. I can't..." she swallowed, "can't even manage a single tear."

A slim stream of liquid leaked from the corner of her eye and began trickling down Ali's pale face. Sam's heart ached at the sight, wishing he could spare her this process. Yet he knew from experience crying was cathartic, a necessary step on the road to acceptance.

Reaching up, he rubbed his thumb across her cheekbone. "My love, there isn't a manual for mourning."

Ali's skin was starting to glisten from the small torrent of tears she didn't seem to realize she was producing. "But..." The word escaped as part of a sob.

Sam pulled her closer again. "No buts. Ali, you are loved and you can feel whatever you need to however you need to. Let go on your terms. Just know I'm right here."

Shoulders shaking, Ali quietly sobbed in his arms.

"I've got you, my love. Always."