Chapter 12 - WHAT RACHEL WANTED FOR SEAT 2A
Rachel’s letter said:
If anyone ever turns Seat 2A into a monument to me, please ruin their plan.
Naomi laughed so loudly a couple walking through the memorial garden turned around.
Ethan looked offended.
“I thought it was meaningful.”
“It is.”
She handed him the letter.
He read the next lines.
I do not want an empty chair, a special rope, or people whispering that nobody else is worthy of sitting where I sat.
Seats are for people.
Use mine.
Give it to someone who needs one good day.
Ethan stopped.
For six years, the foundation had symbolically reserved 2A on the annual memorial flight.
Usually it went to a safety scholarship recipient.
This year they had given it to Naomi.
“She never wanted it permanently reserved,” Naomi said.
“No.”
“Then why did you?”
Ethan sighed.
“Because grief makes adults do strange things.”
“That is becoming obvious.”
He laughed.
The next morning, before their return flight, Naomi went to the gate early.
A family sat nearby.
Mother.
Father.
A boy around eight.
He wore a surgical mask and held a small backpack covered in astronaut patches.
Naomi recognized him from the Carter Children’s Hospital group attending the memorial.
His name was Milo.
He was flying home after completing leukemia treatment.
Coach seat 31B.
Naomi walked to the gate agent.
“I want to switch seats.”
Ethan stared.
“Naomi.”
“It’s what Mom asked.”
The airline approved it after confirming the family was comfortable.
Milo’s mother cried when they explained.
Milo looked suspicious.
“Why would you give me First Class?”
Naomi shrugged.
“Because you had a bad year.”
He considered that.
“Fair.”
Then he looked at Blue.
“Cool rabbit.”
“Thanks.”
Naomi sat in 31B beside Milo’s father while Milo and his mother took 2A and 2B.
For once, nobody told Naomi she belonged in the back.
She chose it.
That difference made her smile.
Before boarding completed, a familiar figure appeared at the gate.
Preston Hale.
No expensive confidence.
No first-class swagger.
He carried one small bag.
Naomi’s father stiffened.
Hale stopped several feet away.
“I’m not on your flight.”
“Good,” Ethan said.
Hale looked at Naomi.
“I came to give you something.”
He held out a folder.
Naomi didn’t take it.
“What?”
“A copy of my sworn testimony.”
“Why do I want that?”
“You probably don’t.”
He swallowed.
“But there is a page about your mother.”
Naomi finally accepted it.
Hale pointed to one paragraph.
Rachel Reynolds was the only engineer in the room who refused to sign the revised risk language.
Hale had written:
I called her difficult.
I called her emotional.
I called her unrealistic.
She was right.
Naomi read it.
Then looked at him.
“Are you apologizing?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to forgive you?”
Hale hesitated.
“No.”
Good answer.
Naomi closed the folder.
“I’m not ready.”
“I understand.”
He nodded and walked away.
Ethan watched him disappear.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Naomi looked toward the jet bridge.
Then Daniel Cross hurried toward them.
His face was pale.
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“The FBI just called.”
Naomi’s stomach tightened.
Had something changed?
Daniel looked at her.
“They found another name in Rachel’s notebook.”
“Whose?”
May you like
Daniel swallowed.
“Mine.”
