Sawyer and Clara looked down at their phones. A message had come through saying:

I am so glad you are going after all these years. Give my hello to the old country house in the Cotswolds, in Gloucestershire by the golf course.

Sawyer and Clara looked at each other. It could only have been from one person.

They had just touched down at London Heathrow. Soon Sawyer and Clara would crouch under the bulkhead for eighteen long minutes waiting for the first passenger to embark.

The flight had been fine. Nothing remarkable other than the anticipation of arriving which was both exciting and daunting.

The two of them, about to be thrust into the customs line. Sawyer, having never travelled outside the country, with his astute daughter never had traveled at all together.

They were nervous for different reasons.

Sawyer, with his disheveled brown hair speckled with gray sticking straight up from static, was having a feeling of shame he could not shake from his down and out days.

The feeling often had held Sawyer back from wanting to see his daughter Clara, now thirty six years old. He felt sometimes that she could see all his flaws and it was unnerving to him.

The passengers had begun to switch their devices out of airplane mode, setting off a succession of dings as the plane lugged it’s way, it seemed, to the farthest gate.

Clara was wondering if Sawyer had anything in his luggage that should not be carried through customs. Perhaps something he did not know he had, that might hold them up from being released out of the airport.

An old knife with a sheath that he used to cut climbing rope with?

She was worrying again.

Restless passengers glanced around, relieved to be landing after the flight from Las Vegas. Rain drops oozed down the airplane windows as they taxied on the runway. Stale jet fuel could be smelled as the hum of the engine came to a final stop.

What if someone had put something in Sawyer’s bag without him knowing while he had walked over to the airport window?

She had gone to buy some snacks for the plane once they were at the gate waiting for the boarding, and had asked Sawyer if he wanted to come. He said he wanted to stay and would watch the bags.

When she returned he was not there, only the bags all alone. She looked around and could see he had wandered way down by the panel window with the bright light. He said that he wanted to watch the planes land.

And then the boarding had begun. As it turned out, it had been fine - this time.

Maybe she wouldn’t be so lucky next time. One could never know.

Somehow they found their way to where Norman, their driver, was waiting for them. He was wearing a beige Irish tweed flat cap, a light blue oxford, and vintage sunglasses. The wait to get through customs was agonizing, but it had gone smoothy.

Norman greeted them with a bottle of water, and swung their bags up with a sweeping motion into the Mercedes van. They breezed through airport parking. It was an overcast day with low fog.