Six days later, I was wishing for a do-over of the entire week.

Maybe even longer.

I was supposed to have had two weeks to get things in order, plus have a little bit of time to spend with my family, but on Wednesday, my new employer had called me out of the blue and asked if I’d be available to start on Monday.

Now, instead of doing some shopping with friends or maybe going to one more show on Broadway with Aunt Millie, I was in an airplane hurtling toward Denver.

The clouds were thick.

We’d left behind blue skies and sunlight in New York, but about halfway through the flight, the clouds had started to appear, first white and puffy, then thicker and darker, ominously so.

The pilot had mentioned some rough weather ahead, but this was a little more than I’d expected.

A sudden jolt, followed by a cry, jerked me from my perusal of the clouds, and I looked back into the main cabin where the noise had come from. I saw nothing but the curtain. A few seconds later, the curtain was hurriedly pushed back as one of the flight attendants came through. The plane shuddered and bucked, and I gasped, grabbing for the armrests and holding on, like that would do any good.

“Somebody back there got hurt…bleeding…” someone said.

That had me jerking my head up, and I saw the man in the seat across from mine looking back. He sighed and lifted a hand to flag the airline attendant down, but she had her back to him, so he just undid his seatbelt. He caught my eye, and I said, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I’m a doctor. Supposed to be heading to my son’s wedding then out to Hawaii for some R&R.” He shrugged deprecatingly. “I’ll be careful, but I want to check on that injured passenger.”

I’ll be careful, I thought. Famous last words.

My grim thoughts might have been a harbinger. I kept glancing behind me, macabrely fascinated by the hustle going on in the main cabin. The flight attendant had hung up the phone and hurried back into the main cabin not even a minute after the good doctor had headed back there and I’d watched, wishing I could hear.

A woman rose to get something from an overhead compartment, blocking my view of what was going on, and another attendant approached her, gestured toward the seat, and I heard enough to know that the pilot wanted everybody buckled up. There was no way I was leaving my seat. The plane bucked again, and I had some miserable image of the damn thing bucking and kicking like a rodeo horse or something equally fierce.

The pilot came on the overhead speaker, and over the pounding in my ears, I heard his low, garbled voice. His words were cut off halfway through by another shuddering jolt that rocked the cabin of the plane – then there was a crashing noise behind us.

A few more voices rose, followed by swears and a woman sobbing.

Slowly, I looked back and saw the door to the overhead bin was open – and everything in it had come tumbling out.

A man in a seat right below it sat with his head in his hands, a thin trickle of blood running from his temple.

The good doctor, I believed, was going to be busy.

* * *

I was in Cheyenne.

My head was killing me, and I didn’t think all of it was from stress, although the flight from hell definitely hadn’t helped.

Granted, my headache wasn’t anything compared to the guy who’d gotten whacked with a wooden cane earlier. While the airline attendants wouldn’t say what actually happened, the passengers were speculating quite a bit. One of the women I’d spoken with while emergency medical personnel boarded to get the two injured passengers off first said she imagined the passenger who’d gotten into the overhead bin hadn’t closed it well.

It will be the airline’s fault, of course. She rolled her eyes.

One of the attendants had checked the bin after the woman closed it – at least I thought that was what she was doing, but maybe she’d been scolding the woman about getting out of her seat. I didn’t know.

I was too busy being torn between being glad I was out of the air – that flight had been rough – and getting more and more frustrated that I wasn’t in Denver.

And I wasn’t going to make it to Denver anytime soon.

“The plane has to be cleaned, I’m afraid,” the attendant told the man in front of me. “A passenger was injured, and our policy dictates–”

“I don’t care about the policy!” He thumped his fist on the desk. “I was supposed to be landing in Denver now. Why did we divert to Cheyenne?”

A couple of people behind me murmured in agreement, while others stirred restlessly.

I flicked my eyes to the digital screen overhead and watched with dismay as our flight went from delayed to canceled.

Others noticed, and the cacophony around me grew until I stepped out of line. They weren’t going to be getting us to Denver anytime today. I knew that much. I could tell by the strained look in the woman’s eyes as she tried to appease one unhappy passenger after another.

My headache increased, the pounding so severe I thought it might make me sick. Slowing down by one of the vendors, I bought a soft drink and some over the counter painkillers, chasing the pills with the liquid caffeine. Maybe that would help.

The fact that I was in Cheyenne instead of Denver definitely wasn’t helping. The flight had been diverted here although we hadn’t been given a clear explanation why. The two cities were less than two hours apart. I wouldn’t think that the weather would be that different…would it?

As I stood in line waiting to rent a car, I googled the Denver airport on my phone. A groan escaped me the second I saw the headlines. A small fire on a plane had temporarily closed one of the runways, and several flights had been diverted, the article informed me. It had nothing to do with the weather after all.

Hell.

No wonder the harried woman in the airline uniform behind the counter had looked like she was in need of a spa day – or ten.

I didn’t need to be flown anywhere though. With Denver being less than two hours away, I realized I could just drive the distance instead.

Less than ten minutes later, I found out just how wrong I was. I could have driven if I’d had the foresight to book a car, but since this day hadn’t gone as planned, I had no idea I’d need one.

“All the cars?” I asked, echoing the words the counter agent had just told me.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” She gave me a sympathetic smile. “I’d tell you to try one of the other agencies, but with such a large flight being diverted because of that fire…” She shrugged.

Groaning, I covered my eyes while the couple behind me started to murmur about finding a hotel room before all of those were gone.

“Maybe we should go back to the airline counter,” the woman said.

“The airline will cover a night’s hotel,” the car rental agent offered, clearly having overheard.

I groaned. “I need to be in Denver today.”

I’d already tried calling Aaron to let him know what was going on, but he wasn’t answering. I’d sent a text, but so far, I hadn’t heard back. I didn’t want him to get to the airport and me not be there. I should be landing and ready to greet him. I should be happy about starting this new phase in my life. I should be a lot of things…not standing here.

“What’s this?” I picked up a brochure that showed an aerial view of the Rockies and the nose of a small plane.

“Oh, that’s the sightseeing flight company my boyfriend owns.” She beamed at me, looking like a proud mama. Then she waggled her eyesbrows. “Actually… he’s going to Denver in an hour or so.”

I waggled my eyebrows back at her. Perfect.

* * *

It’s a very different thing flying in a commercial jet compared to the small plane in which I currently sat.

Hank Jackson’s little outfit boasted several small engine planes, and this one here, he’d told me, was his baby. His first craft and his personal favorite was “as sound as could possibly be.”

It better be, because I was paying him double his normal rate to allow me to ride with him. He’d initially said no, said he was thinking about not going, but I think he’d done that just to make more money.

Got some rough weather coming through. Going to get rougher in the next couple of days too. Best just to get yourself a hotel room and wait it out, honey.

I’d persisted, and after offering double, plus a hefty tip, he’d agreed, but I had a very limited amount of time to get my keister to his place because he wanted to leave before the weather got bad again.

In truth, I didn’t know why I was so desperate to get to Denver, but something was pushing me, driving me, to get there as soon as possible, by whatever means I could manage.

If I could have gotten a hold of Aaron, I might have waited out the next storm, but so far, he hadn’t answered any of my texts or returned any of my calls – so yes, I was that determined.

“You ever been up in a small plane before?” Hank asked, his voice friendly. He’d told me he would have pointed out some of the sights – if I liked – but I told him it wasn’t necessary. I wasn’t there to check out the mountains. I’d be living here. I had all the time in the world to do that.

A heavy jolt shook the plane, and I couldn’t help but feel like somebody had thrown me into a large tin can and was rattling it. It hadn’t been like this on the jet.

“Ma’am?”

Belatedly, I realized he’d asked me a question, and I glanced over. “Pardon?”

He had his eyes focused on the plane’s controls and was looking outside. “I was asking if you’d ever been on a small plane before?”

“No, Mr. Jackson. I can’t say that I have.” I managed a weak laugh. “I’m assuming it’s not always this entertaining.”

“Oh, we’re doing well enough, all things considered. Bouncing a bit, but that’s the wind. Everything going right as rain.” He laughed a little. “What’s right as rain mean anyway?”

“I couldn’t tell you.”

Maybe if I closed my eyes, it would be better, I thought. So I tried – for all of two seconds. The heavy bump and rolling sensation of the plane only seemed to intensify when I couldn’t see. Definitely not trying that again.

“It won’t be much longer, sweetie. Good thing I’d already planned on tucking into Denver for a day or two,” he mused. “Won’t be a good idea to try and fly back home with the way things are getting worse.”

My hands tightened on the armrests. “Are they getting worse?”

“Oh, just a bit.” He sounded unconcerned, his round face still set in a smile. “Don’t you worry, honey. I’ve been flying planes since I was sixteen years old.”

He sounded so calm, so self-assured, and I tried to take comfort in that. It might have even worked. But barely a second after he said those words, there was another tremendous shudder of the plane, followed almost immediately by the sound of something ripping.

I shot Hank a look.

That was the last clear thought before panic took over as the plane dropped from the sky like a stone from a giant’s hand.