“He poked a gun in my side,” Willa said, following close behind. “He said don’t move or he’d shoot.”
“What kind of gun?” Derek asked over his shoulder.
“What kind of gun?” she echoed. “How would I know what kind? It was poking into my ribcage! I couldn’t see it.”
Derek sent a sharp glance back at her, but he didn’t comment.
They arrived at the exit door and Derek thanked the stewardess. Willa hadn’t known they should do that; she hurriedly thanked her too. Then they stepped out onto the staircase. It was warm here, and sunny, with a soft breeze brushing their faces. Below them she saw their seatmate—a slouched stick figure loping toward the terminal building, pulling open the glass door before anybody else, vanishing inside without a backward glance.
Derek made no attempt to talk as they descended the stairs, but once they reached the tarmac he said, “I don’t understand. He aimed a gun at you but you couldn’t see it?”
“He had it hidden under the armrest,” she said. They were walking side by side now; she had to take an extra little skip from time to time to keep up with him. “He poked it into my ribs and he said, ‘Move and I shoot.’ And I couldn’t think of any way to tell you! How did you guess that something was wrong, finally?”
“How did I…?”
“What made you say we ought to change places?”
“Well, I was reading and you weren’t,” Derek said. “You were just spacing out, there. I thought it would make more sense for you to take the window seat.”
“You didn’t notice anything odd?”
“Let me get this straight,” Derek said. He stopped walking and turned to look at her. “The guy who was sitting next to us pointed a gun at you.”
“Right.”
“A real, actual gun.”
“I think so.”
“Well…Willa? What was he planning to do? Make you take the controls and fly us to Cuba?”
“I don’t know, Derek!”
“I mean, it doesn’t add up, sweetie. I don’t see how this would have worked. Don’t you think it was maybe a joke?”
“A joke!”
“Okay, so not a very funny one, but—”
“He scared me to death, Derek! I was shaking. I felt it was just him and me alone in this, and I didn’t know how to tell you about it, so I was really glad when you caught on of your own accord. Or I thought you caught on.”
“Oh, well, all’s well that ends well,” Derek said. He was looking around now. The air smelled like flowers, and the afternoon sun was almost hot, and people were trickling out of the terminal to greet the arriving passengers. “Cute little place,” he said. “Do you see your folks anywhere?”
“They’ll be out front,” she said shortly. They would be idling the car at the curb so they wouldn’t have to pay for parking, but she didn’t want to tell Derek that.
She felt a lot less grateful to Derek now than she had when they were on the plane.
They entered the terminal, which did seem very small, and waited beneath the Baggage sign till a worker wheeled in a trolley loaded with suitcases. Other passengers were waiting too, but not their seatmate. Maybe he was hiding until they left the building. Or he’d been traveling with no luggage; that seemed even more likely.
Derek reclaimed his duffel bag and Willa’s blue vinyl suitcase, and then they headed for the exit. Willa spotted her parents’ car almost as soon as they stepped outside—a Chevy her father had bought a few years ago from one of his students. You couldn’t mistake its distinctive finish, which was a hand-painted, nonshiny purple. She said, “There they are,” and deliberately did not look over to see Derek’s reaction.
Both her parents got out of the car when she and Derek approached. “Willa girl!” her father said. He was in his work clothes, but her mother had dressed up a bit. She wore a flowered shirtwaist that Willa hadn’t seen before and her hair was tied back with a floppy bow. Willa said, “Mom and Pop, I’d like you to meet Derek,” and Derek said, “How do you do, Mrs. Drake. Mr. Drake,” and set down Willa’s suitcase to shake hands. They didn’t suggest he use their first names, but they were both smiling and putting in some effort, Willa could tell. This made her feel a little sad for them, in a way that had been happening more and more often since she had started college. While her father loaded their luggage into the trunk her mother hugged her and said, “Welcome home, darling.” Then her father hugged her too, in his usual shy, held-back way, and asked, “Flight go okay?”
“It went fine,” she said.
She and Derek were settled in the rear seat and the car was pulling away from the curb before she added, “But a passenger pointed a gun at me.”
“What!” her mother said, twisting around to stare at her. “A gun?”
“He was sitting right next to me, and I felt something poke into me and he said, ‘Don’t move or I shoot.’ ”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious.”
“Well, my lord,” her father said, while her mother twisted even farther around so that she could see Derek. She said, “What did you do, Derek?”
“Oh, I didn’t even know about it,” Derek said cheerfully.
“Did you call for help?” her mother asked Willa.
“I couldn’t! I didn’t dare open my mouth. Finally Derek said to change seats with him, and that seemed to be the end of it.”
“Merciful heavens,” her mother said. “I hope you reported it afterward.”
“Who to, though?” Willa asked. “I mean, it was the weirdest thing. The whole situation just seemed to get…swept under the rug, finally.”
Derek cleared his throat. “Also,” he said, “it might not have been exactly what it looked like.”
Willa’s mother swiveled toward him again.
“I’m guessing the guy was just some kind of joker,” he said. And then, to Willa, “After all, sweetie, you had only his word for it that there even was a gun. Guy was probably just sitting there bored out of his skull, and he thinks to himself, ‘I know what: I’ll have myself some fun with this snippy little college girl.’ ”
Willa’s mother looked expectantly at Willa.
“Well, maybe,” Willa said after a moment. She wasn’t sure why she felt offended. Finally, changing the subject, she asked her parents, “Where’s Elaine? I was thinking she might come with you.”