"She and I... we're not in a good place right now."
Faith didn't push. She recognized that voice. The voice of someone who wanted to talk about it, but wasn't ready. She'd used it herself plenty of times.
"All right. You don't have to call her. But, somebody's got to know where you are."
He didn't respond. She gave him small sips of water from her own bottle. She grabbed a menu from just inside the diner door and fanned him with it. Slow, steady strokes. The sun was high and brutal. She used her own body to block the light from his face.
"Gerald, tell me something. What do you do?"
"I run a company, or I used to, depending on who you ask today."
"What kind of company?"
"Transportation."
She nodded. "Like trucks?"
That almost laugh again. "Something like that."
A car door opened. Faith turned. The black Suburban, the one she'd noticed through the window. Its driver stepped out. A man in a dark suit, mid-40s, walking toward them with fast, controlled steps.
"Mr. Whitmore, are you all right? Should I call—"
Gerald lifted his hand. "Not now, Carl."
Carl stopped. He looked at Faith. Looked at her like he was trying to figure out who she was and why she was on the ground holding his boss.
Faith looked right back at him. "He collapsed about 15 minutes ago. I called 911. EMS is on the way."
Carl nodded slowly. He stepped back toward the Suburban, but didn't get in. Just stood there, watching. Faith filed it away. The suit, the "Mr. Whitmore," the way Carl moved like a man who followed orders for a living. But she had more important things to focus on.
"Faith." She turned back. Gerald's eyes were on her. "You had somewhere to be, a flight."
"Don't worry about that."
"Where were you going?"
"Home. Valdosta, Georgia. My mom had surgery. I haven't seen her in 14 months."
Gerald went quiet. Not the polite quiet from the diner. A different quiet. The kind that fills up a space.
"14 months," he said softly.
"Yeah."
"And this flight? Can you book another one?"
"It was non-refundable. $89. That's... that's a lot of shifts for me."
He closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were wet. "I'm sorry, Faith."
"Don't be sorry. Just keep breathing."
At 2:41 p.m., the ambulance arrived. Two paramedics. They assessed Gerald. Blood pressure low, possible angina event. They wanted to transport him.
Gerald shook his head. "I don't need a hospital."
The paramedic looked at Faith. Faith looked at Gerald.
"Gerald, you're going. I did not miss my flight for you to sit in a parking lot and be stubborn."
He stared at her. And then, for the first time, he really smiled. "You remind me of someone."
"Your daughter?"
"My mother."
They loaded him onto the stretcher. As they lifted him into the ambulance, Gerald reached out and grabbed Faith's hand.
"What's your name again? Your full name."
"Faith. Faith Taylor."
He said it back, slowly, carefully, like he was pressing each letter into his memory. "Faith Taylor."
The ambulance doors closed. The siren started. The Suburban followed, and Faith stood alone in the parking lot, her duffel on the ground, the heating pad crumpled, her phone buzzing, three missed calls from her mother. She didn't answer. Not yet. She sat down on the curb, put her face in her hands, and just breathed.
Faith thought that was the end of it. A rough day, a missed flight, a stranger she'd never see again. She was wrong about all three.
She sat on that curb for a long time. The parking lot was empty now. No ambulance, no Suburban, no Gerald. Just her, the duffel bag, and a crumpled heating pad that still smelled like lavender. She picked up her phone. Three missed calls from Denise, one text from Terry: Mom says you're landing at 8:00. I might drive down, we'll see.
She pressed call.
"Baby, are you at the airport? Your flight's in—"
"Mama, I'm not coming tonight."
Silence. "What happened?"
"Somebody needed help. An old man, he collapsed outside the diner. I stayed with him until the ambulance came."
"Is he okay?"
"I think so. I hope so."
Another silence, longer this time. Faith could hear her mother breathing, that slow, careful breathing she did when she was trying not to cry.