Mac shocks me when he tells the hostess, “We’re meeting two others for lunch.”
“They’re already here,” the young woman replies with a smile. “I’ll show you to their table.”
“Who are we meeting?” I ask with a frown. I thought today was just for us. But when we arrive at the table, I’m struck dumb. “Oh my gosh.”
“Hello, dear,” my dad says as he stands and leans in to kiss my cheek. “Happy birthday.”
“Happy birthday, sweet girl,” Mom says with a smile as I sit in the booth across from them. Mac joins me and pats my thigh under the table.
“How did you do this?” I ask him.
“I asked Mia for your parents’ number and called them,” he replies, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“It’s good to see you, Katrina,” Mom says, and reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “How are you?”
“I’m great.”
“Business is good?” Dad asks as he reads over the menu.
“It’s great.”
Dad glances up at me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m shocked. I don’t remember the last time I saw you guys on my birthday. Oh, and I need to introduce you to Mac.”
“We spoke on the phone,” Mac says with a smile, and nods at each of my parents. “It’s nice to meet you in person.”
“Likewise,” Dad says. “So tell us what’s been going on with you. Did you know that the Egyptian exhibit of King Tut is coming through Portland next month, Kat? I know that ancient Egypt is a favorite subject of yours.”
“No, I hadn’t heard,” I reply. “I’ll have to make sure I see it when it’s here. How long have you been in town?”
“We flew in this morning,” Mom replies with a smile. “We’re just here for the weekend.”
“Really? What else are you doing while you’re here?”
“Nothing,” Dad says. “We came to Portland because it’s our daughter’s birthday.”
I’m dumbfounded. My parents have never made a special trip up for my birthday. Then again, I’ve never asked them to.
“So what is it that you do, Mac?” Mom asks after we’ve placed our orders and our drinks are delivered.
“I own a wine-touring company,” Mac replies. “My brother and I started it about a year ago, after we’d sold another business.”
“How many siblings do you have?” Mom asks.
“Just Chase.”
“I’m one of eight,” Dad says with a smile. “And Sue is one of seven. We both knew early on that we wanted to concentrate all of our efforts on just one child. And Kat was always a joy, but there are moments when I wish we’d given her a sibling.”
“Really?” I ask with a frown. “I didn’t know that.”
“Well, it wasn’t often,” Mom says. “You were rather efficient at keeping yourself occupied.”
“I wasn’t bored,” I reply with a nod.
We spend the rest of our lunch talking about politics, current affairs, and what my parents have been absorbed in for the past three years in the lab in L.A.
“I’m so happy you came,” I say, meaning every word of it. “I forget how much I miss you until I get to see you.”
“You should come to L.A., Kat,” Mom says. “You’re always welcome to come for a visit. I know we’re in and out of the lab at crazy hours, but I think you’d get a kick out of coming by. Some of the same staff from when you were a child are still there.”
“That would be fun,” I reply softly. “Thank you for the invitation. I just don’t plan to ever get back on a plane.”
“I don’t understand where this phobia came from,” Dad says with a frown.
“Kat told me that you drove on all of your trips when she was growing up,” Mac says.
“We did,” Dad replies. “It’s a great way to see the country.”
“And it was less expensive,” Mom says with a smile. “I enjoyed those road trips.”
“But it wasn’t because either of you has a phobia about flying?” Mac asks.
“Not at all,” Dad says.
“There was a plane wreck,” I say quietly.
“When?” Mac asks.
“We were driving from Portland up to Alaska for the northern lights stuff,” I reply, and twist my napkin in my hands. “It was a really long drive, but it was pretty.”
“I think we decided after that trip that we wouldn’t drive that far again. It was too long,” Mom says, shaking her head.
“And we joined a group of people one night to go out on this lake in a boat so we had a better view of the lights.”
“I remember,” Dad says softly.
“There was a plane that was flying overhead, and I think it was supposed to land on the lake.”
“It was a seaplane,” Dad confirms.
“It missed the water and ended up crashing into the mountain,” Mom adds. “Is that why you’ve been so afraid to fly all of these years?”
“Well, yeah,” I reply as Mac rubs circles over my back. “A plane crashed right in front of me. Of course that would make me scared.”
“I’m sorry, darling,” Dad says. “The probability of a plane crashing is minute.”