True believer - Nicholas Sparks [129]
Before Doris had even hailed a cab outside his building, he was reaching for the phone and calling the airline.
He was put on hold for what seemed like forever, growing more irate with every passing moment, until he finally got an agent to assist him.
The last flight to Raleigh was leaving in ninety minutes. Even in good weather, the cab ride could take half that long, but it was either make the flight or wait until tomorrow.
He had to move quickly. Grabbing a duffel bag from the closet, he tossed in two pairs of jeans, a couple of shirts, socks, and underwear. He threw on his jacket and stuffed his cell phone in his pocket. Took the charger from the top of the desk. Laptop? No, he wouldn’t need it. What else?
Oh, yeah. He rushed to the bathroom and checked the contents of his dop kit. Remembered his razor and toothbrush and shoved them in. He turned out the lights, put his computer to sleep, and grabbed his wallet. Flipping through it, he saw that he had enough cash to get him to the airport—good enough for now. From the corner of his eye, he spied Owen Gherkin’s diary half buried beneath a stack of papers. He tossed the diary and his dop kit into the duffel bag, tried to think if he needed anything else, then gave up. No time for that. He picked up the keys from the end table near the door, took one last look around, then locked the door before charging down the stairs.
He hailed a cab, told the driver he was in a hurry, and sat back with a sigh, hoping for the best. Doris had been right: due to the snow, traffic was bad, and as they came to a stop on the bridge crossing the East River, he cursed under his breath. To cut time at security, he removed his belt and threw it in the duffel bag, along with his keys. The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror. His expression was one of boredom, and although he drove fast, it was without any sense of urgency. Jeremy bit his tongue, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to irritate him.
Minutes passed. The flurries, which had temporarily stopped, started up again, reducing visibility even further. Forty-five minutes until his flight.
The traffic slowed again, and Jeremy sighed aloud as he looked at his watch once more. Thirty-five minutes before the flight. Ten minutes later, they reached the exit for the airport and headed toward the terminal.
Finally.
The moment the cab came to a stop, he opened the door and tossed two twenties to the driver. Inside the terminal, he hesitated for only an instant before the electronic departure board to figure out which gate he needed. He stood on a mercifully short line to get his electronic ticket, then headed toward security. He felt his heart sink when he saw how long the lines were, but caught a break as a new line suddenly opened. People who’d been waiting began drifting that way; Jeremy, on a run, cut three of them off.
The flight would close its doors in less than ten minutes, and once through security, Jeremy started to jog, then run. Weaving through the crowds, he reached for his driver’s license, counting the gates.
He was breathing hard by the time he reached the gate and could feel himself beginning to perspire.
“Did I make it?” he panted.
“Only because of a brief delay,” the woman at the counter said, typing into the computer. The attendant near the door glared at him.
After taking his ticket, the attendant closed the door after Jeremy had started down the ramp. He was still trying to catch his breath when he reached the plane.
“We’ll be backing off the gate shortly. You’re the last one, so you can take a seat anywhere,” the flight attendant said as she made room for him to pass.
“Thanks.”
He moved down the aisle, amazed that he’d made it, and spotted an open window seat halfway down. He was storing his duffel bag in the overhead bin when he caught sight of Doris, three rows behind him.