Holt
My heart hurts at the void Saige has left in her absence. Every rational part of me is screaming at me to give her time, but love isn’t rational and I can’t lose her. So I pick up my office phone and call the hangar.
She’s been gone four days. Four days that I haven’t eaten and barely slept. After a moment, the phone rings, finally connecting. “I need you to prepare my plane and file a flight plan for Grand Forks, North Dakota,” I instruct and rub my temple. “Approximate departure in three hours.” I disconnect the call and power down my laptop. Pressing the intercom on my phone, I ask Joyce to join me in my office.
She enters and takes a seat across from my desk as she’s accustomed to. The lack of coffee, smiles, and greetings have not gone unnoticed since she returned to work after the cocktail party. Apparently, everyone is Team Saige, and I don’t blame them.
“I need you to clear my calendar for the next three days. Actually, just clear it for the week and reschedule any conference calls for next week.”
She purses her lips at me but jots notes into her small notebook.
“Please be sure to send the thank you cards to our guests and have them out this week.”
She nods and continues to scribble in her notebook.
I turn and look out my office window, the Chicago skyline hidden in low-lying clouds. The skies are gray and cool, fall weather beginning to settle in.
“Will that be all?” Joyce asks, clearing her throat.
“Hold all my calls too, unless . . .” I pause.
“Unless,” she prods.
“Unless it’s important.” I turn around and look at her. She knows the meaning of important. Important is Saige. Important is only Saige.
“Yes, sir.” She stands and walks out of my office. I follow behind her, and she offers me a sympathetic yet stiff smile, and I nod at her in return as I leave.
At the elevator, I pull my phone from my suit pocket, hoping, praying for any word from Saige. I don’t know why I’m disappointed when I see nothing. She’s gone. I confirmed her flight back to North Dakota on Sunday, but I hoped she’d break and reach out to me. She’s stronger than that, though. I know her. She won’t break.
“Mr. Hamilton.” Rowan’s voice surprises me. He’s standing next to me, waiting for the elevator. Everyone has reverted to extreme formalities with me since Saige left. Just one more sharply painful reminder of how she brought life to this office—to me.
“Rowan,” I acknowledge him less formally, and we wait together, quietly, until I finally turn to him. “Would you mind closing Mr. Perez’s account tomorrow? Wire him a refund and add five percent.”
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and nods. “I will.” He clears his throat. “Taking the rest of the week off?”
“Something like that,” I mumble.
Rowan and I ride silently down until we reach the ground floor. When the doors slide open, Rowan steps forward but pauses. “Go bring our girl home,” he says softly before stepping out of the elevator and walking away.
“I plan to,” I mumble to myself. I plan to do whatever it takes to get her back.
Saige
After five days at home, I finally walk down to the creek like I did every day when we first moved back to the farm. It seemed so much further away than it does now. Murphy, slow and arthritic, hobbles along carefully behind me. The beautiful creek runs along the edge of our property. The water is crystal-clear and you can make out every rock that lines the bottom of the water. Cattails shoot up along the banks, except in the area Brent and I cleared out years ago. We lined that area with large river rocks to keep the area clear of grass and cattails, making for easy entrance into my favorite swimming spot.
I used to spend hours down here during the summer, wading in the creek to cool off from the warm, humid North Dakota summers. I’d ride the horses down and let them drink the cool water while I’d swim and lie out on the grassy banks for hours. I could get lost in the blue sky, tall grass, and clear waters.
There is a giant boulder that sits just up from the creek bank, and I climb up on top of it like I used to so many years ago. Murphy’s legs give out just at the edge of the water. He falls and pants heavily before stretching out into the grass, my poor old boy. But he makes the effort to army crawl to the water’s edge and lap at some of the cool water before finally resting his head on his paws. I stare at the giant oak tree across the creek, admiring how much it’s grown. Its branches are more dense and full of brightly colored autumn leaves. It amazes me how some things become so much stronger over time, yet others become more frail, weak like me.