Tuesday Tales: From the Word MEET

Happy Thanksgiving to all who’ll celebrate on Thursday. Turkey, football, and a parade. Something for everyone. This week the Tuesday Tales authors are writing to the prompt MEET. I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones, my contemporary paranormal romance. Marina is stranded at the airport in Stornoway, on the Isle of Lewis.

Marina inhaled deeply to keep her panic at bay. Getting upset wouldn’t help, and she needed to stay calm. From the sound of Fiona’s voice, that woman was only seconds away from crying.

“It isn’t a big deal,” she lied. “Is there anyone who can come and get me?”

“Of course. I’ll send Wee James to meet you right away. He can take you out to Fraser Hall.”

“Perfect. Wee James, it is. I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well the last couple of nights … nerves I expect. I want to get settled and have an early night. How will I recognize the man you’re sending?”

“Since there isn’t another plane due in today, I should think there won’t be many others arriving at the airport, but he’ll be wearing a mac and plaid scarf.”

“Okay. How long will he be?” Marina didn’t want to stay in what was now a deserted airport any longer than she needed to.

“He’s at a clients’ twelve kilometers away. He should be there within half an hour. He knows where the emergency key is, having been there just yesterday to deliver the groceries you requested.”

Hopefully, someone had put the meat and other perishables away. Marina shuddered as the rain slammed against the windows, running down the panes in rivulets.

“He’ll be there in two shakes of a lamb’s tale”.” Fiona added. “I’ll let Mr. MacDonald know you’ve arrived. I expect he’ll be out to the Hall to see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you. I look forward to meeting him in person.”

Putting away her cell phone, Marina paced the room. The place felt colder and damper now. Where was that janitor? Was he hiding in an office somewhere watching her on closed-circuit television? Did he get his kicks out of watching stranded passengers try not to panic?

Returning to her seat under an emergency lamp, she settled down to wait. The terminal creaked and groaned, and the wind howled and moaned like a banshee, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

That’s it. Come back next week for more. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.