Chapter 3

I did not wipe the blood away.

I returned to Gate 42 and lifted one side of my coat so Graham would have to look at the stain. It had spread beyond the size of a coin, soaking unevenly into the blue-gray fabric.

“I’m bleeding. You need to take me to the airport medical team now.”

The final boarding announcement sounded before he answered.

Diane pushed the passports into Robert’s hand. On the screen above us, BOARDING changed to FINAL CALL, and the red letters began to blink.

Robert checked the passports one by one. His eyes moved from the stack to the passenger record in my hand, then back to the boarding screen. He did not ask why Sabrina had my seat or why I no longer had a boarding pass.

Graham looked at the stain for half a second.

Then he looked at Sabrina.

She had one hand pressed to her chest, but the other held her suitcase without shaking.

“The airport has medical staff,” he said. “I’ll get everyone on the plane and ask the gate agent to call them.”

“Your wife is bleeding.”

“Audrey, stop treating the worst possibility as if it has already happened.”

He searched for airport medical services on his phone. When he held the screen toward me, it displayed only a number.

He did not call it.

Diane stepped closer. Her palm rested on the leather passport holder I had given her, and the gold Christmas tree stamped on it gleamed beneath her moving thumb.

“Don’t make the whole family miss the flight. Graham will contact you as soon as we land.”

I looked at the people behind her.

No one put down a suitcase.

Emily’s son looked back at the blood on my dress.

“Mom, why is Aunt Audrey hurt?”

Emily turned him toward the jet bridge and zipped his Christmas toy inside his backpack. Robert handed out the passports and joined the boarding line. Neither of them said they had not understood what was happening.

Another contraction pressed through my lower back.

I caught the edge of the counter. The passenger record slipped partly out of my purse, leaving Sabrina’s name exposed at the top.

Graham placed a hand beneath her elbow and guided her toward the scanner. By the time she passed me, her breathing was normal, but she still allowed him to support her.

The scanner chimed.

Seat 7A turned green.

I raised my phone and photographed the passenger record, the final-call screen, and their backs as they entered the jet bridge.

Graham looked over his shoulder before the corridor turned.

For one second, I thought he had finally understood what he was leaving behind.

He only lifted his phone, reminding me to call the number on my screen.

Sabrina tugged his sleeve.

They disappeared around the corner together.

I pressed the call button at the gate desk. When an employee answered, I could no longer draw enough breath to finish a sentence.

My phone slipped from my hand and struck the carpet.

A gate agent ran toward me. Another employee brought a wheelchair, but the pain folded me forward before they could lower me into it.

By the time the paramedics secured me to a stretcher, I was still clutching the passenger record. Sweat had softened its edges until the paper sagged around my fingers.

They rolled me toward the elevator beside the gate.

Behind us, the last passenger disappeared into the jet bridge.

The aircraft door closed before Graham returned.