"As Fate Would Have It": Chapter 6

I know the way it should be

Out my window a memory … I’m dying inside

= Monday night 06 March 2000 =

Okay, I can relax now, Laurel thought to herself as she settled into her window seat. I don’t have to worry about anything anymore. I can just sit back until I get to New York. I don’t ever have to think about him again. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was all over with. Last night had been torturous. Laurel shivered involuntarily when she remembered the moment they had made eye contact.

"Are you cold, miss?" a stewardess who looked to be in her mid-thirties interrupted Laurel’s thoughts.

"No, I’m fine. Thank you."

"Alright. Just call if you need anything."

"I will. Thanks," Laurel replied as the stewardess left. The woman had for some reason reminded her of her sister. Although Joelle had been gone for three years, it was nice to have something else to think of, pleasant memories to look back on. Joelle had been the one to teach Laurel to play the piano; she would be proud now of Laurel’s acuity and skill.

Before long, they were in the air, headed home. Laurel savored the word in her mind: home. There were still four more days left of spring break; maybe she could spend them at home. Thoughts of spending time at the Jersey shore were so welcome after the past three days. The sand, the sunshine, the salt air in the breeze, watching the sunset and moonrise on the jetty…

A sudden bump jolted Laurel awake. After taking a few seconds to remember where she was, she peered out the window in an attempt to find out what was wrong. Just then, she heard the intercom click on and the stewardess’s voice filled the cabin.

"Attention all passengers. We are experiencing some slight turbulence. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We will notify you when it is safe to move from your seats. Once again, please remain seated and keep your seatbelts fastened. Thank you."

Oh, so that’s what’s going on. Laurel fastened her seatbelt and picked up her backpack from the aisle seat. She began digging through the bag, searching for a clip to pull her hair back. Finding it broken, she grabbed a pencil, wound her hair into a bun, and stuck the pencil diagonally through the bun to secure it. Who in their right mind pays five dollars for a hair stick to keep their hair in a bun? A pencil works just as well, she mused. Laurel examined her reflection in a small mirror she found in her bag. A little messy, she thought as she played with the strands that fell loose around her face, but it’s the best I can do with all this bumping around.

Just then, a small boy about six years old with shaggy blonde hair and velvety brown eyes stumbled into the empty seat beside her. Those eyes look so familiar… Laurel dismissed the thought and turned her attention to the child before her. "What’re you doing here?"

"Please get him into the seat and fasten his seatbelt, miss." the stewardess was more concerned with that than where the child had come from. Laurel obliged.

"My name is Laurel. What’s yours?"

"My name is Joshua, but my brothers and sisters and all my friends call me Mac. You can call me Mac, too."

Laurel grinned. "Does this mean I can be your friend?"

"Sure. You’re nice." The boy extended his hand for her to shake; she took it.

"Well, Mac, back to my original question: What are you doing here?" Laurel asked.

"I was going to the bathroom when the plane started bouncing all over the place. I tried to go back to my seat, but I was all turned around and I didn’t know which way to go. So I came back here, then the lady told me to sit. So I did."

"You’re not traveling by yourself, are you?"

"No, I’m with my mom and dad and sisters and brothers. But my biggest brother is mad and grumpy, and no fun. Are you traveling by yourself?"

"Yes I am. Why is your brother mad? He’s not mad at you, is he?"

"No. He’s moping over some girl he saw last night. He wanted to talk to her, but she wouldn’t even say hi to him." Laurel’s young friend rolled his eyes.

Laurel laughed. "You make it sound like this happens a lot."

"It does. All the time, with lots of girls. He’s always complaining, ‘Why can’t I find a girl who likes me for me, instead of for what I do?’ It makes me crazy."

"What does he do?" Now Laurel’s curiosity was piqued.

"He sings."

"Oh. Do you sing too?"

"Sometimes, but not as much as he does. Do you sing?"

"Yeah. I play the piano, too."

"So do my brothers. I have three brothers and three sisters."

"Wow. Big family. I’d like to have a brother or a sister, but I don’t have any. Not anymore…" Laurel’s tone changed.

"Why are you sad?"

"I used to have a sister who was older than me, about eight years older. But she died in a car accident when I was seventeen."

"I’m sorry about your sister. How old are you now?"

"Twenty."

"My oldest brother is almost your age. He’s nineteen."

"And what about you?"

"I’m six. My birthday was January third."

After a few more minutes, a chime sounded and the seatbelt light flashed off.

"What do you say we go find your family now?" Laurel asked. "I’ll bet they’re getting worried."

"Okay." Mac unbuckled his seatbelt, as Laurel had done with hers.

"Where are they?"

"First class."

No, it couldn’t be. I’m really losing it now. Get a grip, Laurel.

"Laurel? Are you okay? You have a funny look on your face."

"Sorry, buddy. I’m fine. Just confused. First class is all the way in the front of the plane. This is the back. When you get lost, you sure do a good job of it." She grinned.

The boy returned the grin. "Yeah, my dad yells at me for it all the time, and my biggest brother, too." He giggled sleepily.

"You look tired. Do you want a piggy-back ride?"

"Can I please?"

Laurel knelt. "Climb on." Mac did so, and she headed toward the first class cabin. She moved slowly when his grip around her neck grew slack; she didn’t want to wake the sleeping child. But all too soon, she reached her destination: the first class cabin. Cautiously, she entered.

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"Mac! Where have you been?" Keeping his voice low despite his excitement, the young man Laurel assumed to be Mac’s brother rushed forward. "Thank you so much for finding him. He disappeared ten minutes ago, and I’m lucky our parents didn’t wake up and find him gone. It would have meant my head." Then it registered with Laurel who he was. "I’m Isaac Hanson, by the way," he needlessly introduced himself, extending his hands to relieve Laurel of the load she bore on her back. Yet all that time, he never once looked her in the face.

"Laurel Benkowski." She handed over the now sleeping Mackenzie Hanson.

When he looked up, Isaac was rendered speechless. It was the girl from the concert, the one whom he’d mourned over for the past twenty-four hours after she’d blown him off. Laurel, likewise, stood silent. No. This can’t be happening. This is why I left Tulsa, to escape a potential confrontation. According to Hayley, Hanson was supposed to be in Tulsa for the whole week. He shouldn’t be standing here. I should not just have spent five minutes talking to his little brother.

After a seemingly eternal silence, Isaac found his voice. "Thanks so much for keeping an eye on Mac and bringing him back here. He wanders off all the time; I don’t know what to do to keep him from doing it." He kept his eyes to the floor as he spoke, then turned to settle the sleeping boy in a seat beside Taylor, who was snoring softly. Just as he turned back to Laurel, the plane jolted again, more violently than it had been before.

The force of the sudden motion virtually threw Laurel into his arms. She quickly stood, and steadied herself by grasping the back of a seat. Isaac buckled a seatbelt over Mackenzie so he wouldn’t roll out of the seat, and braced himself between the seats on either side of the aisle as the plane continued to shake. The same message from earlier was repeated over the intercom, and he gestured toward two empty seats facing one another to his left.

"Please, sit down at least until we’re through this air pocket."

"I should go back to my own seat." She took a step backward.

Startling Laurel, he gripped her elbow. "Wait, please. Just sit down here for now. When they let you get up, then go back to your seat. It’s not safe to be walking around during strong turbulence like this." Another strong jolt and his arms shot around Laurel’s waist to keep her from falling backward. "Please," he begged her.

"Fine," she said, pushing his hands off of her waist. "But please, don’t grab at me like that. I’m sure you know firsthand how annoying it is," she spat venomously, as they sat in the seats he had indicated.

Isaac retreated, both physically and emotionally. "Sorry," he apologized sheepishly. "I just didn’t want you to fall and hurt yourself. You said your name’s Laurel?"

"Yeah." She fidgeted, not knowing how to handle the situation.

Sensing her hesitation and wanting to keep the conversation going, Isaac continued with questions that made him feel foolish. "You were at the concert last night, weren’t you? You look familiar."

"Yeah, I was there with a friend of mine. My roommate, actually. We’re on spring break this week."

"Where do you go to school?"

"University of the Arts, in The City. I’m a Music major and Hayley, my roommate, is a Theater Arts major. We’re both sophomores." Laurel figured the more questions she answered before they were asked, the shorter this dreaded conversation would be.

"She sings and plays the piano, Ike," Mackenzie piped up from across the aisle.

"Oh yeah?" Isaac asked, completely ignoring his brother, who took notice of it and pouted. "How long have you been playing?" At least he’d heard Mac.

"Since I was five. My older sister taught me, before she…" Laurel hoped he would change the subject. She could act shallow, but the minute he turned the topic of conversation to something that deeply affected her, she would leave. He seemed to sense this, fortunately. Fortunately for him, that is; Laurel thought it to be more unfortunate from her perspective.

"She left home?" he volunteered, offering her an easy way out of discussing something that was obviously painful for her. Laurel nodded. "So, what do you sing? Soprano or alto?"

In an involuntary reflex, Laurel’s voice lowered slightly in both pitch and volume as she replied, "Tenor."

Isaac chuckled. "That’s funny. I’ll have to remember that one. Maybe one of my sisters can use it. Jessica’s about your height."

For that, he received a glare. Laurel stood abruptly, grateful for an excuse to leave. "I did not come up here to be insulted; I came to bring Mackenzie back to you. Now that that’s done, I’ll be going back to my own seat, thank you. It was fun talking to you, Mac," this final statement she addressed, with much less spite than she felt for Isaac, to the young boy. She stalked off, gripping the backs of seats whenever a slight jolt of the plane threatened to trip her. The oldest and youngest of the four Hanson brothers watched her departure in silence.

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Defeated, Ike slumped back into his seat. "I blew it. How big a fool can I be, and twice in a row? I am such an idiot," he moaned, furious with himself.

"Are you mad again now, Ike?" Mackenzie’s small voice reached him.

"No Mac, I’m not. And I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to yell at you."

Mackenzie plopped down into the seat next to his brother and wrapped his arms around Isaac’s neck. "And I’m sorry I ran off. But you scared me."

Isaac returned the hug. "I’m sorry. Now fasten your seatbelt." The younger boy did as he was told.

"Her sister died. Maybe that’s why Laurel got upset, because she was sad," Mac offered the bit of information in hopes of providing an explanation that would lighten his brother’s mood.

"No, it was me. She must hate me. She probably hates Hanson."

"But she told me ‘Weird’ is one of her favorite songs."

"Yeah? What else?" Isaac now looked to the little boy for any and all information he could get about the angel who seemed hell-bent on giving him a permanent cold shoulder.

"Her sister was eight years older than Laurel, but she died in a car accident when Laurel was seventeen, and now she’s twenty. Her birthday is the day before yours. Diane Warren is her favorite songwriter of all time. She’s going back to school, by herself. Hayley lives in Sand Springs, not far from our house. And she lives in New Jersey, at the beach."

"That’s it?" Ike had been hoping Laurel had said something more, something to the affect of what she’d felt last night when he’d caught her eye during the concert. It was obvious, just now, that she had felt something then, but she hadn’t commented.

"That’s all. Why?"

"Because, Mac, ...well, because I really like her. You’re too young to understand."

"It has to do with you making eye contact with her during ‘More Than Anything’ last night, doesn’t it?" Taylor’s somewhat sleepy voice broke into the conversation. Apparently, he wasn’t too sleepy to be capable of blatant sarcasm.

"You’re awake?" Isaac had jumped at the sound of his brother’s voice.

"Mac kicked me when he woke up while she was here. What’s her name again?"

"Laurel," Isaac informed him, the word feeling like honey on his lips. He began to sing softly to himself. "… Your lonely face / Your lonely eyes / But this is something you can’t disguise / It’s not just me, you feel it too / ‘Cause you know I belong with you /Look at where we’re going / Tell me what can I say…"

Taylor noticed the dreamy expression in his older brother’s eyes and rolled his own. Covering his face with his arm, he made a valiant attempt to go back to sleep. Here we go around again… Realizing what he’d said — well, thought — Taylor groaned inwardly. "Madeline". There was no escaping the music.