Above Us Only Sky (Paul McCartney/Beatles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 17 - Thanksgiving Surprise

"Early Wednesday morning a mustached Paul McCartney was spotted squiring a pretty young blonde through London's Heathrow Airport while pushing a pram. Is the last single Beatle secretly married? Or is he hiding a Secret Beatles Love Child? Watch this space for exclusive details!" — Daily Sketch

In hindsight, it might not have been the best decision for Paul to accompany his baby and his baby's mama through Heathrow Airport on one of the busiest travel days of the year.

In line at the Pan Am first class check-in counter, Paul was asked for his autograph almost immediately. The orderly queue of coach passengers, largely comprised of what seemed to be American students flying home for Thanksgiving, left their places and crowded around Paul, snapping photos and shouting at him, an excited buzz.

"I should go," Paul whispered in Marisol's ear. "This is getting dicey. Will you be all right?"

No, she wanted to yell, Don't leave me! I need you! Don't leave me trapped in a silver tube with this toddler for the next twelve hours! She wanted to sob and cling to him. She wanted to wail and beat her breast.

Paul would be mortified. Nobody cried in public in England. That was for Italians and people like that.

"Of course." She smiled thinly. "I've got this. Piece of cake."

He gave her a quick perfunctory kiss that would have passed the ratings board in any Disney movie. "Bye, lovely," he whispered. "Call me when you arrive." And he was gone. As if he didn't want to be seen with her and their baby in a crowd.

That was ridiculous, Marisol chided herself. Paul was the one pushing for a Christmas wedding, while she nearly cringed at the thought. They were getting married in a month and she hadn't done a single thing to prepare. It was almost as if she was in denial.

Melody fretted in her stroller, wanting out. Marisol reached in her bag and handed the baby her stuffed fuchsia elephant. "No! No! Dada!" Melody squealed, swatting the elephant away. It bounced off the legs of the businessman in front of them. He retrieved the toy and handed it to Marisol, frowning slightly. Praying they wouldn't be on his flight, Marisol suspected.

"Sorry. So sorry," Marisol said, feeling her face flush. She felt like every eye was on her. Whispers reached her ears. She imagined every passenger in line openly discussing her possible connection with the magnificent black-haired Beatle who'd appeared suddenly in their midst and then disappeared.

Melody arched her back and tilted her face up to where her parents should be. Seeing only Marisol, she leaned out of her stroller and looked around at the frightening sea of legs surrounding her in the queue. None of them belonged to her daddy. She opened her mouth and wailed.

"Ssh! Ssssshhhh!" Letting her purse slide off her arm onto the ground, Marisol unbuckled her squirming, crying daughter and lifted her to her shoulder.

"I KNOW you want Daddy. I KNOW you want Daddy. I KNOW you want Daddy," she said quietly but forcefully.

That was a trick her mother had taught her. "She's screaming because she wants to tell you something, and she has no other way to communicate. All you need to do is validate the child. Repeat what it is she wants three times." Marisol thought it was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard until she tried it a few times and it worked with her screaming daughter. It made Melody stop screaming and listen to her.

Melody blinked at her, tears streaming down her face. "Dadddyyy," she wailed.

"I want him too," Marisol said, feeling like crying herself. "But we'll see him very soon, and guess what? We're going to see Mimi! And Sophie and Lucy! And the horses!"