by Aimee Norin
"That approach is a gas," Lourdes said, chuckling to herself. "I think I was a zombie, and they talked me through it just fine."
"You can get fatigued on the flight here, especially if it's a long way."
"I've been a very long time getting here."
Jim let it lie.
"You're really from a small town?" she asked.
"Yes. But it's not a normal small town, I suppose. There is something special about the people there. You've already met three of them: Mike more or less, Millie, and me. I think the town is an artistic lot, as if they are a community of artists waiting to happen. They're cute like out of the most charming Don Knots movie you ever saw, but with the values of some cool place like Santa Barbara."
"You've been to Santa Barabara?"
"Yes. Lovely place. I enjoyed it a lot."
"When?"
"On a vacation, about three years ago, I guess. I rented a Harley in L.A. and went from Hollywood to San Francisco-I wanted to cross the Golden Gate Bridge on the bike-and then down to Las Vegas. It was a nice outing."
"And you like all that but you choose to live in a small town in Missouri?"
He looked at her and gave her a half smile in humor. "You're thinking old-style small towns? Well, not necessarily old style. There are still small towns that have simple, narrow values, where outsiders aren't welcome. But any more, I'm finding those kinds are growing less numerous."
"That one's a 7A, I think. See that?" Lourdes commented, looking at an RV on short final. "Looking at the angle on the top of the fin. I don't know if there really is a difference, but it looks like it to me."
"Yes, it looks like it could be. I hate to put money on those distinctions, half the time."
"And taxying by, over there, looks like a 4?" she asked. Cheeks, tandem 2-seater.
"Yes," he said, "So Nowadays, more smaller towns are like genteel farms. You know: those little 'farms' that look like farms but they're really just so you have room to keep some horses? You have the peace to be yourself, the freedom to walk down the street without a lot of crime, and you're still connected to the world. Narrow little old values have been slipping away with the internet, airlines, and cell phones. Everyone everywhere is connected, if they want to be-and more often even if they don't want to be-and you can have packages shipped in a day, no matter where you are."
"I don't think I'd do well in small towns, myself," Lourdes told him. "I've lived in L.A. all my life, so I may not really know, but I've traveled, and whether small groups or small towns, my experience is that people get into my business, and then gossip starts. And I seem to naturally attract gossip, with some people specifically misrepresenting me and what I'm about. If I lived in a small town, they'd do that, and then I'd be stuck with them, facing them everyday."
"What you need is to be around people who can see your heart."
It sounded simple to Lourdes, when he said it that way.
"And all these little towns are different," he said. "Like men: Most men may not be right for you, but," he grinned, "hopefully one is."
Lourdes looked away. "That's an Albatross, there," she said looking up. "Look at that." She pointed to final for Runway Two Seven where a large flying boat with two radial engines was approaching, gear down.
"Beautiful," Jim said. "Doesn't Jimmy Buffet have one of those?"
"I think so, or he did. I don't know. There was one here, one year in Show Central that I thought was his."
The Albatross made a perfect touch-down on its wheels and exited onto a taxiway to go south on Poppa.
Deep droning radial engines sounded overhead. "Oh my God," Lourdes exclaimed looking up. "That's a B-29, like the Enola Gay-And that's a B-17 following it! Where are they going?"
"I don't know."
A fellow two seats over chimed in. "I heard they were giving rides out of Appleton, a little north of here."
"Oh, no! Oh, never mind," Lourdes said. "Probably too expensive."
"But they're beautiful to see," Jim agreed. "Here comes a Mooney on final."
"Followed by- A Lancair?" Lourdes guessed.
"Yup. Looks like it. And a Swift after that. Is that a Swift?" He asked.
"Low wing, retractable gear- Yes, I think it is. This is like smorgasbord for airplanes around here," Lourdes said. She lay back on the grass to close her eyes, and so did he.
"Oh, this is nice," he said.
She rested.
"It must be hard, living in Los Angeles," he said, "Everyone is so busy, the place is so crowded."
Lourdes thought about it. "It is."
"It could be hard to get to know people in a city that big. I think it's easy for people to not really know you."
Lourdes thought about that, too. "True. But that can also be its greatest benefit, for me."
"You really a doctor?"
"No. Nurse."
"An R.N.?"
"Yes."
"What kind of place you work in?"
Lourdes didn't answer.
"How did you choose to fly here for vacation?"
Lourdes still didn't answer.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to pry. Me? I inherited the farm from my uncle. He always said the place was a goldmine, and I realized he was talking about the town. It's the people. They really are special."
"Do you have crops and a tractor and all that?"
"Yup. Corn and soybeans, one tractor, two plows, an actual red barn-not as big as the Barn Store on this site-an airplane hangar that's an add-on to the barn."
"I think that one's an RV-3, right?" Lourdes asked. "Cheeks. Single seat."
"Yes. I agree."
"And that one's likely another 8? Tandem two-seater, but with no Cheeks."
"You're getting good at this," he said. "You go to college to get your R.N?"
"Yes," she said. "U.C.L.A."
"Was it hard?" he asked.
"It took work."
"Me? I've had a lot of courses as I went along, both in Wichita and Kansas City. But I never got a degree. However, if I did, I'd have gone for physics."
Lourdes laughed. "That doesn't seem at all like you. You seem more like a humanistic sort of person, interested in people."
"I am, and that's why I like physics. Didn't you ever wonder what's going on in the universe? I know we're star dust, but look how amazing it is that we collected together in just this right spot where we can build planes like those," he indicated any number of them taxying by or landing, "fly them, and-even more amazing-sit here and contemplate it. You-" he touched her arm.
Sparks flew up her arm like a tesla coil. She froze, surprised by it.
"You and I, sitting here?" he said. "When I touch you? What's that about? I think the answer lies more in physics than any other science. You like physics?"
"Sure, but when I was in school, I avoided math whenever possible."
"You had math in nursing, surely," he said.
"Yes, but not like physics. But the funny thing is, I had the ability all along and didn't know it."
He smiled at her.
"I used to hear people in high school or college- I'd hear them say how those kinds of courses were hard, so I never took them. Believing what they said."
"And then you learned later you could have all along?" he asked.
"Yes. Because it turned out the reason those guys were saying those courses were so hard was because they weren't so smart."
"And you never thought you were that smart?"
"No," she answered, agreeing, looking at the grass, she turned to redirect the conversation back to flying.
"That one looks like a Grumman Yankee, a Lynx, I think," Lourdes said. "Flying an RV is like driving a sports car? Sporty? Quick to handle like a Yankee?"
"I've never flown a Yankee, but I think you're right. It's quick on the stick. You have to fly it."
"Takes a little skill?"
"You get used to it pretty quickly and have a lot of fun. Any Jedi could do it," he said, smiling at her again.
"I know what you mean. And I've had a lot of lonely nights, myself, since Connie passed away four years ago."
"That was her name?"
"Yeah. Connie. She was a special person. I don't love easily, but when I do, I think I really do."
Lourdes started to speak, but Jim caught her drift.
"I mean," he corrected, "I love, really, everyone. But I don't love like that, easily. But sometimes it clicks with a person." He looked at her. "And then you know. And that's all there is."
"You're chasing me!" she said, almost offended.
"No! You're not running."
"You're hoping you can come on to me."
Jim smiled at the grass in front of him. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to offend you. It's just that I've been kinda happy today, ever since you got here."
"You're a farmer in the mid-west. In a small town, which makes it worse, but you also seem like an urbanite who goes to Kansas City, who likes Santa Barbara, who builds and flies planes, and who also plays Star Wars?" Lourdes seemed confused. "What are you?"
"I think I'm someone who loves the world and the people in it, with a curious mind that reaches out, but who happened by chance inheritance to discover the greatest little group of people there could possibly be who share the same interests as I do. And I don't know you that well, Hon, but I'm thinking you are one of those kinds of folks, too. I think you're just shell-shocked from too many years battling real life Sith out there in L.A."
"On Star Wars," Lourdes said, "wouldn't it be great if there were a place you go to inside the game that wasn't related to going on missions for the Jedi Counsel or something? You know, like just a county fair that you could enjoy spending time in to relax?"
"We have a town Harvest Festival every fall in Greenhills, after the crops come in. Usually in September or October. We have a small parade, that people from other towns come over to see. And it's almost Halloween, so we turn the school gym into a haunted house for a weekend. There is more pumpkin and apple pie than you can eat-which I personally think is best with real whipped cream on top.
"And we have some Wiccans in town who double the Harvest Festival as a Mabon Festival-the Autumnal Equinox, harvest and all that. I've been known to let them use the farm for rituals. And they have a Samhain circle they do on Halloween that is super cool. Really: the best way to spend Halloween. I've been. You ought to come."
"Now that's a plus," Lourdes said. "A small town with Wiccans in it." It was a sign of liberality and tolerance, to her.
"Oh? We also have athiests and Christians, Jews and Buddhists, and two Muslims-"
"Any gays?" she asked.
"A few."
"Republicans?"
"Yup," he said. "But we know who they are."
She giggled.
"Aliens from outer space?" she asked.
"Yes!" he said. "The mayor. We always knew there was something wrong with him."
Lourdes giggled at him again. "This place sounds a little too good to be true, and you know what they say about that."
"Yeah, but counter-inductively, sometimes what's outside your experience is different than you think. Actually, and to be fair, I think most small towns might come a little closer to your expectations. It's just that this one is, by happenstance, really cool. Of course, Uncle Tim was gay."
"Your uncle who owned the farm was gay? Gay guys can't own a farm in the Midwest," she teased.
"I know! It almost ripped the universe apart! There were some earthquakes- But he was and he did. And so was Rock Hudson, so if you can imagine him on a tractor-"
Lourdes melted a little at his attempt to make her laugh again.
"-wearing bib overalls, hollerin' in t' his lover that they's a fence down 'at needs fix'd."
"You are so fake! This town does not exist."
"Then I guess we don't have to pay taxes any more, and we should cancel the Festival. Come on," he said, "We've talked about this long enough. I'm here on vacation."
They got up and dusted off some of the grass. Jim spied a ripe stalk of grass, plucked it and put it in his mouth.
She angled south, toward an area of larger warbirds they hadn't seen yet.
"You have grass in your mouth," she said.
"This is the only way I do grass, yes. I wouldn't even smoke it if it was legal."
"Why not then?"
"Because it is supposed to be full of tar, and that's bad for your lungs-where a glass of wine is supposed to be good for you."
"You think drugs should be legal?" she asked.
"Some how, yes," he said. "Treated like alcohol is today I guess. Individual choice-" He turned to her. "They could tax it and balance the budget-
"And pay for universal health are," she said
"-instead of paying money to fight it," he said.
"I hate drugs, though," she said.
"Right. Me, too. But the way it is right now, kids can buy it on street corners from black market dudes who don't ask for I.D., and there is no quality control. People frying their brains thinking they're having fun!"
His disgust was apparent.
"It's a joke," she agreed.
Lourdes commented on the warbird in front of them as they walked. "Here's an A-36, like out of the movie 'Always'? I really liked that movie. Must cost a fortune to put fuel in it, though."
"Yeah. What? Maybe fifty gallons an hour in taxi," he guessed, "maybe two or three times that in cruise. I'm not really sure, but it's a lot. Your plane would easily beat it by that standard."
"Why are you chewing on that grass?" she asked.
"It's sweet. Ever tried it?"
"No."
"Well, lets see." He bent over to look at the grass as they walked. "The tricks to this trade? Find one that doesn't look like it's been walked on, or peed on, and pick a fresh, looking green one. They're the sweetest."
He found one, plucked it, then stripped the leaves off the lower end to reveal a round, fresh, green stalk.
"Stick that in your mouth," he said.
She did and gently chewed on it a bit. "My goodness," she thought. "It's just like candy. But I really can't chew this unless I'm wearing boots."
Jim was wearing Merrell trekking shoes.
He reached over to touch her hand.
"I'm not on the market," she said, withdrawing her hand. "Especially to Matt Damon movie-star-lookin' smooth-talkers who chew grass that hopefully hasn't been peed on."
He chewed his stalk and smiled, seemed to know better.
"Over there, there's a B-25," Lourdes noted. "And a Grumman F-7 or something? The twin Navy fighter?"
"You know your planes. And I think I see a Seafury, a TBM, I think it is? Like President Bush flew. The first one."
"And another C-47, two Beach 18s," Lourdes said, "and-" she caught on that one. "No, wait. That one's not a Beach, is it? Isn't that a Lockheed Electra? Are you kidding me?"
"I don't know," he said.
"I'm not sure, but I have heard about these and never seen one in person." They walked over to it on the lawn and looked closer. "It looks very similar," she narrated. "But I think- The windshield is different. Look. Fewer of those bars in the windshield."
"Yes, I see that," he said.
"Excuse me," Lourdes asked some people sitting nearby. "What kind of plane is this?"
"Lockheed Model 10. Electra," they said.
"Oh my God," Lourdes exclaimed. "This is like the one Amelia Earhart flew around the world, when she was lost. I really liked her. I can guess how hard it must have been for her, to be a trail blazer that way."
"And she was from Atchison, Kansas, not far from Kansas City."
"This stalk is about all chewed out." He spit it out.
"You chew tobacco?" She asked, an accusing look in her eye.
"No.
And actually, I don't know anyone who does. Nasty stuff. I don't smoke, either. Now, I do go out and bay at the moon when it's full, and I keep some bib overalls in the closet so's when we get callers."
Lourdes laughed. "I had to ask."
"I don't blame you. And you being from l.A.- You probably eat wheat germ and work in the movie industry?"
"Alright, I give up," she said. "I've been stereotyping you right and left for hours, haven't I? I'll have to call it quits for now."
There were a group of T-28s up ahead. They moseyed through on their way back south toward her camp sight.
"And if it's okay, I'll just peel off from here," she said.
"Oh, no. I was going to walk you back and ask you to join us all for supper. Nothing much to eat on the field, yet, so we drive into town and eat with a group of volunteers: Mike, Millie, and half a dozen others. You have to eat supper."
"I'll do just fine. And I do enjoy your company, but I'd like some alone time, for now. I just need to be alone."
"Alright. Millie will be heart-broken. She really seemed to like you. But I'll try to let her down gently. I'll tell her you got a ride in that A-36 and haven't come back yet. Or married Matt Damon. Or Harrison Ford- He's a flier, too, you know. Pretty good one. I've seen him here before.
She smiled and walked away from him for the second time that day, angling for the quiet, sentimental, Brown Arch.
CHAPTER 8
Crrack! A bolt of lightning seared the night sky in a jagged path from cloud to cloud, its thunder shaking everything for miles.
"Aiieeeeeee," Lourdes yelled on reflex. She sat straight up in her tent, rubbing her head on the rip-stop top flattened half way down by the building wind. Then the rain started pounding the tarp rainfly like a firehose, heavy with the Force. Her tent buckled to the south against its stakes and shook in an effort to cope.
Her first thought was to pray her plane didn't blow away. She ran some numbers through her mind: stalling speed, clean, speed of the wind, gusts, angle of attack, sitting on the grass, staked-
She lay back down to get her head away from the top. She'd heard that in a real rain storm, you shouldn't touch the tent, because it could conduct moisture in, causing drip then a flood. She lay still in her sleeping bag- Get everything away from the sides! She began pulling things-bags of clothes, her inflatable pillow, the foot of her sleeping bag-away from the sides. Then huddled in her sleeping bag to ride it out.