Flying Home. Mary Wilson Anne

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      She caught up to him again at the door to a flat roofed hangar set up against a ten-foot chain-link security fence. “There’s a storm off to the east, and we need to be well out of its path before it gathers strength, but that’ll only happen if we load up and get out of here quickly.”

      A storm? It did look like one might be coming, with the sun pretty much blocked from sight by a scattering of clouds. She nodded, yet not even thoughts of a distant storm could ruin her euphoria. She had never truly believed in miracles, but as she met Gage Carson’s probing gaze, she actually felt she was in the middle of one right then.

      In a few minutes, she’d be in the air and in less than two hours, she’d finally be home.

      * * *

      GAGE CARSON DIDN’T have a clue why he’d agreed to take this woman with him, except for her connection to Moses, and that arguing with her would have taken up precious time before he could get in the air. Moses and Gage had been childhood friends, spending boundless days on the Rez or on the Carson Ranch with Jack and Adam—Gage’s brothers—and John Longbow, now the town sheriff. Gage would do anything for Moses, and since it had been clear that Merry Brenner wasn’t going to give up easily, it had been most expedient to agree.

      He crossed directly to his plane, a new aircraft with very few hours on it. It was a huge relief that the reason he had to put down in Pueblo, a slight hesitation at cruising speed, had been a simple fix.

      He opened the door to the onboard storage area between the back passenger windows and the tail of the plane and tossed in the luggage. He turned to get Merry’s other bag, expecting her to be behind him, but she was still over by the open double doors, staring nervously up at the plane. He crossed to take her other bag from her and said, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

      It was then that she started babbling, just as she had when she’d been going on about needing the ride and Moses and custom jobs.

      “I had no idea a corporate plane would be so small,” she’d started out with, and hurried onto, “It looks too little to fly, and only two really small engines, they don’t look as if they could actually get any plane up in the air. I mean, the weight has to be a lot, even if it is so...so compact.” At least she’d come up with a new word for small, he thought, and let her prattle on as he tossed her second bag in the compartment.

      “If an engine goes out, can it keep going on the other one?”

      “If it needs to,” he said over his shoulder.

      “But what if both go out?” she prodded. “Does it glide then?” She was slowly approaching the wing by him. “Well, can it?” she asked.

      “Glide?” he queried as he closed the compartment hatch and secured it.

      “Like one of those planes you make when you’re a kid, all out of balsa wood and it floats in the air?”

      “I never made one, but this plane can kind of glide for a short period, depending on the air speed, turbulence and other factors.” He moved closer to her, and the minute he inhaled a floral fragrance that barely permeated the air around him, his first sight of her in the souvenir shop came back to him. The image of a tall and slender woman whom he could face and not have to bend down to make eye contact with, donned in skinny jeans, a suede jacket, chunky boots, and a dab of delicate perfume that had filled his senses.

      He was studying her face now, her dark hair streaked with auburn, tugged back into a high ponytail, emphasizing a heart-shaped face dominated by striking green eyes. And there were freckles, dusting her clear skin over a flush to her cheeks that came either from the cold or from her being uneasy about flying. He didn’t want a case of nerves on this flight, not with the weather starting to shift and change.

      “You’ve never flown in a small plane before, have you?”

      She blinked at him. “Of course I have. Actually, lots of times. Miles and miles and miles. How about you?”

      “Obviously I’ve flown,” he countered with his version of her answer to him. He saw her grimace. “I’ve been flying since I was twenty, and soloed before my twenty-first birthday,” he added quickly. “Since then, it’s one thrilling air ride for me after another.”

      “I bet,” she muttered as she compulsively twisted the strap of her purse around her forefinger.

      He didn’t have the time to talk her into sitting back and relaxing so she could enjoy a “top of the world” flight that would be like no other in her life. The next couple of hours could be fun, but he didn’t say any of that. He had a gut feeling that if he did, she’d start one of her bursts of nervous chatter.

      So instead he stared right in those green eyes that had flares of gold at the pupils, and said as evenly as he could, “Let’s get you home.”

      Her eyes widened slightly, and he had a momentary fear that she was not only a babbler when she got scared or excited, but she was a crier. Thankfully that didn’t happen. She managed a weak smile and said softly, “Yes, home,” and went toward the side of the plane.

      He came up behind her and cupped her elbow to help her up onto the wing. “Grab the door by the bottom, then ease back as you lift it.” She did as he directed and the wing door went up. He was merely helping a client into the plane. No rules, even if they were his own rules, had been broken. He almost laughed at that, remembering how she’d thought fast enough to con him into this flight with a bogus retainer.

      He got onto the wing himself, let her get seated, and then warned. “Don’t touch any controls. And be careful about the foot levers, just keep your feet off of them.”

      She nodded and shut the door. It only took him a minute to get behind the controls. He was aware of Merry buckling in as he contacted the tower, got his take off position and instructions for taxiing, then he started the plane. He motioned to the same set of controls in front of her. “If we have time, I’ll give you a flying lesson,” he offered to try and ease the tension.

      She gasped at him with what sounded like horror, and he smiled. “Just kidding,” he said.

      Within minutes, they were on the runway, positioned for takeoff. Once they got clearance, it was flaps up and trim set for takeoff. He released the brakes and with the throttle fully open, the journey began. As the motor revved higher and higher, they gathered speed. At about sixty-five miles per hour, that moment came when the tires left the ground and there was nothing but air around the plane as the earth fell away.

      He loved that transition—an addiction he freely admitted to—he loved flying, having this plane at his beck and call. It was the best fringe benefit of his success. But one glance at his passenger and Gage knew she wasn’t sharing any of his excitement at all.

      She sat still, her hands gripping her knees, her eyes tightly shut, and he could see her taking deep breaths. Then her lips started to move silently. Praying? Oh, boy, he thought. “You okay?” he asked as they reached cruising altitude.

      “Fine,” she replied, barely breaking the rhythm of her breathing and quiet chanting. If she wasn’t careful she was going to hyperventilate.

      He eyed her. “I guess no one’s pointed out to you during all those flights you had, that flying is safer than driving?”

      She kept her eyes closed. “Sure, that’s what they say, but no one adds that if you’re in СКАЧАТЬ