![]() ![]() They said to tell you their plane took off on time, ninety minutes after yours. We’d started our trip at La Guardia airport in New York, checking in at 5 A.M. Here in Seattle, it was only nine-thirty in the morning. During the flight I’d turned it back three hours. I looked from Cody to this stranger-uncle and back, feeling so not okay about the next nine weeks. “He isn’t shy,” I said, “he just hates shaking hands.” ![]() Neal tried to shake with Cody, but my little brother shrank back. Only Cody could get away with calling me Shannie these days. “I go by Shannon now,” I muttered as he gave me a hug. I could see my mother in the lines around his steel gray eyes, the shape of his lips, and the dimple on his chin. My mother had never said anything about her brother having a tattoo.Īll the same, it had to be him. Plus he had a tattoo-the word Sage on his left arm. This version was almost skinny and had no muscle definition. The uncle I was expecting had the strong, chiseled arms and legs of a climber. This Neal had a thin face and was clean-shaven from skull to chin. I was expecting him to look like his snapshot on our refrigerator back home, with curly black hair, a full face, and a neatly trimmed beard. I recognized his voice, but otherwise I was drawing a blank. ![]() “Shannie, over here,” he called as he came closer. Just some confused guy with a shaved head, that’s what I thought at first, but then he called my name. I didn’t even recognize him when he headed toward us at the crowded baggage carousel. ![]()
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