Oceans Apart by Karen Kingsbury Page A

wants to see you at nine tomorrow for your checkup.”
    “On a Saturday?”
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    “It’s new. The guy puts in four hours every Saturday.”
    “Wow. Okay . . . got that. What else?”
    A flock of seagulls swooped low over the water just beyond them and their cries competed with the sound of the waves. Michele ran her thumb along the side of his hand. “The guy from the bank wants to set up a meeting, something about rates and refinancing.
    And the lawn mower part you ordered is in.” Connor nodded. “Very serious messages.” He turned and kissed her cheek, then locked his eyes on the girls once more. They were moving closer, working their way up the beach, their hands full of sand dollars and clamshells. This close to the water, he liked keeping them in his view. His tone was a teasing one when he continued. “Yes, those are major messages, all right. I can see where the world might’ve stopped if I didn’t hear about those.”
    “Now . . . the dentist was pretty important, you have to admit.” He glanced at Michele again and remembered something.
    “Didn’t you say I had four of them?”
    She nodded. “Wasn’t that four?”
    “Three. The dentist, the bank, and the hardware store.” Michele thought for a moment, and then her face lit up. “I remember.” Her smile faded some. “It was a strange one. I have no idea what they want or why they called.”
    “Who was it?” Connor’s eyes were still on the girls. The sun was setting behind them, spraying pink and blue across the eastern sky.
    “An attorney.” She hesitated. “Marv somebody. Said he was from Honolulu.”
    Connor felt his body go stiff. He pulled away from Michele so she wouldn’t notice. Calm, Connor . . . be calm. He couldn’t draw a deep breath. “Honolulu?”
    “Strange, huh?” Michele slipped her legs beneath her and doodled a series of circles in the sand. “Probably one of the lawsuits you have to testify for.”
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    “Yes. Probably.” Connor took a long breath and held it. That had to be it. What other explanation was there? He had no connection to anyone in Honolulu, not now. Not since the plane crash.
    But attorneys . . . they held offices all around the country, didn’t they? Of course they’d be stationed in Honolulu. Why not?
    “What do you think it’s about?” Michele looked at him and he caught the innocence in her eyes. She had no doubts, no suspicions.
    Only a passing interest at why an attorney from Hawaii would call him at home.
    Like lightning, Connor’s mind began to flash with possibilities.
    It wasn’t uncommon for pilots to be called into court. And over the years he’d been used by the airline as a professional witness, someone who would articulate the company’s policies and standards if a passenger sued for one reason or another. Too much turbulence, too rough a landing, too much pepper in the onboard meal. It could have been a hundred reasons.
    He swallowed hard and uttered a dry laugh. “Who knows. These days people sue over anything.”
    “And you’re the expert because you’ve testified a dozen times on these cases.”
    “I guess.” His voice no longer sounded like his own. With everything in him, he wanted to believe that the reason for the call had something to do with a lawsuit. But the timing was too strange, too close, to the recent crash. He stopped himself from saying anything more.
    Michele gave a soft huff. “Why you, Connor? Couldn’t they use someone current, someone who flies into Hawaii now? You haven’t been there in years.”
    “Right.” Connor massaged his throat and managed a smile. “But once you’re on the list of expert witnesses for the company, they keep using you.”
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    It was true. Attorneys working for the airline called Connor three or four times a year looking for him to testify on its behalf.
    But never had they called from Hawaii. In fact, other than once when a Chicago attorney