Dark Storm

by Karen Harper

Claire gasped, gripping Nick’s hand so hard he winced. Jace had to be piloting that plane. It would be terrible enough to have to comfort Darcy, tell her who her father really was and that he was probably gone forever.

  But to have to tell Brit her new husband was gone? To have to tell Lexi her daddy was gone after all she’d been through?

  34

  Claire was amazed by how fast Ken had driven them to the airport. They had explained to him that the pilot of the hurricane plane could well be her ex-husband and their friend, Jace Britten.

  “Out of the frying pan and into—well, didn’t mean that,” Ken had said. “If I hadn’t been ordered to the airport, I’d take you home.”

  Claire kept wiping at her tears, trying to keep her stomach cramps from making her throw up. They were both in their seat belts; Nick held her hand tight. They were safe now, but she feared for Jace, Mitch and their crew.

  When would this nightmare sequence of events finally end? They had Darcy back, and Lexi had shown strength over that horrid doll, but if she lost her father...poor Brit, and Mitch was set to be married to Kris soon. Once a pilot’s wife herself—this pilot—Claire knew if either he or Mitch survived but lost any of their crew, they would never forgive themselves.

  As they turned onto the access road to the runways, Ken, bending close to the windshield to see through the deluge and wild wind, told them, “I’m going to pull up near the emergency vehicles in case the crew needs help exiting the plane when it lands. You two get out, go into the terminal and wait. If you can’t get someone to come for you, we’ll get you home ASAP.”

  “Understood,” Nick said, and motioned for her not to say more.

  Did Nick know, Claire wondered, that she would never obey that order? But then maybe he would not, either. They were going to stay back, of course, but not go inside, not as long as they could stand in this wind.

  Ken jerked the car to a halt in the line of four Collier County sheriff cars and three waiting emergency vehicles. “Head inside!” he ordered, and got out. His door slammed so hard it must have been the wind.

  Nick and Claire got out and staggered toward the end of the terminal, then huddled against it to escape the worst of the brutal gusts of wind and biting rain.

  “I hear a plane!” she cried.

  “The wind’s roaring!” Nick shouted back.

  They clung together. “No—listen!” she insisted. She pulled away and ran out a little ways and, shielding her eyes from the stinging raindrops, looked up.

  * * *

  Although Jace had the controls, both he and Mitch listened intently as the Naples Municipal Airport controller tried to talk them in. At least the flicker of flame around the dead engine had been doused by the rain. Swirling, heavy wind banged the big turboprop plane as if it were a toy. Jace’s legs were shaking from trying to control the rudders.

  Mitch continually scanned and read their position aloud as Jace held hard to the steering yoke. The airport controller’s voice was breaking up. Dear God, Jace prayed, don’t let this plane break up, too, when we hit the ground, with wheels down and, hopefully, some control in this gusting wind.

  “Runway north/south at 6600 feet long,” the man’s voice said. “Radar readings affirmative, but hold your altitude and trajectory until you see the lights. They are all on for you. Since you know the airport, you realize the central business and hotel district is only two nautical miles before touchdown.”

  “Roger that. Trying to control nose lift. Wind speed on the ground?”

  “Gusting between eighty and ninety, but going up steadily. Sporadic and circling, southwest feed.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Have you jettisoned fuel?”

  “Most over the gulf. I know we’re only getting one shot at this.”

  Jace could feel his heartbeat. He’d been through worse in the Middle East, he tried to tell himself, but in a jet with no crew. He felt he had so much more to live for now. A new wife, peace with the old one, though Claire would never be old to him. Always young, strong, the mother of his beloved Lexi.

  Extend glide, extend glide, he told himself. Ready to raise flaps.

  Mitch said, “I’m looking for the damn city lights. Hell, are we gonna be on top of the roofs before we see them?”

  “Altimeter says not yet. With all their noise ordinances here, think the city council will fine us—or NOAA will fire us—for roaring in so low?”

  “They’ll just think it’s the hurricane instead of the hurricane hunters. I’m with you, man. You can do this.”

  “Tell the crew to brace.”

  Mitch hit the all-call and said, “We’ll be on the ground at Naples Airport soon. They’re ready for us. Be prepared to deplane. Brace. Brace positions.”

  Good man, copilot and friend, Jace thought. Mitch’s voice had been steady, however nervous he was, too. Training. Courage. This had to work.

  “There!” Mitch cried. “Lights, blurry, but lights! Not the runway lights, but I saw them.”

  “Then those can’t be far.”

  “We have you on visual descent,” the calm voice came over the radio. “You are cleared for landing.”

  “No kidding,” Mitch muttered. “They’ve already cleared everybody else out and shut down the place.”

  Jace gripped the steering yoke. All he’d ever learned flying, all he’d ever done, loved and lost, was riding with him, in his hands and on his head if he made a mistake.

  The big plane yawed again. He yanked it back, tried to steady it so the left side would not hit the runway first and turn them, spin them, flip them.

  Yes, he saw runway lights below, also blinking and strobes from emergency vehicles, maybe police cars along the runway. That helped, at least some.

  Drift down slow, he told himself. Keep control. Feather the dead engine more to reduce drag. Cannot go around, just one try. Just one chance not to crash and burn.

  * * *

  One golden light, only one, was coming out of the black, shifting sky. Did they only have one headlight? Only one engine? Claire wished she didn’t remember the overheard, half-knowledge of being a pilot’s wife, all the worry. She prayed silently that Jace would land the plane safely, for Lexi and for Brit—for Mitch and Kris, too.

  “Land safe!” she shouted as if those in the plane could hear.

  Coming up behind her, Nick put his arms around her and held her tight again. Strange then, but as the big plane roared lower, tilting a bit, one wing down but still nose up, she thought about butterflies in a storm. This big plane fighting the elements, wounded, no delicate wings but so endangered.

  She heard shrieking brakes, then the single engine. The plane went past them, silent now as that engine shut down. The flaps were deployed, trying to stop the huge weight and momentum. The big plane twisted, tilted, skidded sideways. Was there any runway left?

  Expecting a crash or fire, she could not look. She turned and buried her face against Nick’s sopping wet shoulder.

  But no crash. No explosion or fire they could see as she dared to look again. They heard only the sounds of sirens.

  “They’re down!” Nick shouted. “It stopped rolling. No flames! Just off the end of the runway, I think, tilted, maybe turned. All the ERs are heading out there.”

  They held hands and ran, not onto the tarmac but just inside the fence, closer, where they could see. Amazingly, the long line of runway lights blinked, flickered, then went out before popping back on. Nick looked out to Airport Road. “Power just went out, I think, except what’s on generators. We may have to hunker down here but let’s make sure the passengers...our pilots...are okay.”

  Our pilots. Yes, they were ours, Claire thought as they held hands and tore even farther along the tall wire fence heading toward the dark plane now illumined by headlights and flashing emergency vehicles.

  Even though the plane was tipped and partly off the end of the runway, the door popped open. No stairs, but a slide deployed. Close together, person after person slid down
and started toward the lights pinpointing them.

  In the sweep of rain, Claire could not see clearly. The pilots—if they were all right—would surely get off last, the captain last of all. She laced her hands through the wire fencing, trying to count people because she remembered Jace had said there was a crew of ten besides the two pilots.

  “Ten,” she told Nick, squinting through the rain. “I count ten. But with the plane slanted sideways, what if the flight deck caved in?”

  But then she saw two tall forms slide down after the crew had been pulled away from the fuselage. Yes, surely Mitch, then Jace.

  “Thank goodness Lexi still has her daddy!” Claire cried.

  “Those men are heroes, both. You think we can take them home with us?”

  “After that, probably not,” Claire said, her voice still shaking. “Debriefing and I’m sure they’ll stay with that valuable plane even in this mess, unless someone’s really injured, and it doesn’t look like it. I wish we could offer shelter to them and the entire crew, but no way. Jace and Mitch will have to wait to be reunited with their loved ones. For Jace, duty always calls.”

  Somehow, Ken had seen them and came striding over. She figured they were in for another dressing down for not following his orders again, but what else was new?

  Ken called to them in the wind, “All in one piece, and insisting they stay near the plane. The airport’s up to code, though they’ll have to bunk on the floor inside. I won’t even bother to mention you two ignored my orders again. The Collier County jail is up to code, too, and I ought to drop you both off there—but I give up. I just give up. Let me get you home ASAP, so I can get back here or wherever they send me next. Hell, wish they’d send me home.”

  He hurried back toward the plane in a vast darkness lit now only by the runway lights, which must be working on emergency generators. Claire and Nick were about to head for Ken’s car, but she heard a voice she knew.

  “Nick, I hear Jace,” she cried.

  She turned back, though the storm beat against them all. It didn’t matter, she told herself. They had Darcy back, and somehow Claire could help her handle the shocking news about Will Warren. Kris could still marry Mitch. Jace was safe, and Claire had managed to get through a perilous night. She and Nick had come through again, and surely things must be better now, brutal storm to face or not.

  Jace approached on the other side of the security fence. He put one hand through it, gripping the wires, clutching her fingers. Claire saw he had a big bump on his forehead that was turning gray or blue. He had tears in his eyes.

  “Jace!” she cried. “Jace, you did it!”

  With his other hand, he gripped Nick’s fingers through the fencing, too. “I can’t believe you two are here—and yet, I can. Tell Lexi and Brit I’ll see them soon. Brit said she’s going to ride out this storm with you.”

  “Yes,” Nick said. “We’ll take care of her...both of them...for you.”

  “Hey,” Jace said, a bit of his pilot swagger and bravado back already as he loosed their hands and gave a mock salute, “this storm’s nothing if you’ve ever had to deal with Claire. Know what I mean, Nick?”

  “You don’t know the half of it—why we’re out in this mess tonight,” Nick told him.

  Tears also flooded Claire’s eyes to see Jace teasing and in one piece. Yes, she knew exactly how Nick felt when she got herself into dangerous, deadly dilemmas, but he should talk. At least, thank heavens, hurricane or not, surely nothing else could go wrong now.

  35

  They must look like drowned rats, Nick thought as Ken drove them into their driveway at about two in the morning. It had been a harrowing trip home from the airport with trees down and debris skidding across the roads as well as traffic lights out. At least the streets were greatly deserted. Headlights and the pulsating strobe bar at the top of Ken’s cruiser had been the only lights in most places. Their neighborhood was a ghost town, one being battered by the elements. The houses were all dark with the electricity out here, too.

  “The latest order is that not even emergency vehicles are allowed on the roads,” Ken told them. “I know there was a huge traffic jam of people fleeing north earlier. I just hope everyone else is hunkered down somewhere safe. The storm is a low to mid-Cat 4. As for me, I hope I never have to rescue you two again, but let’s hoist a few cold ones once we get through this. I’ll bring my wife. Now get in safe and stay put. Get some sleep if you can.”

  When they got out, despite the rain, Ken rolled his window down and put his hand out. Holding on to Claire and the car to keep from going off his feet, Nick grabbed Ken’s hand and shook it. Claire leaned in to give him an awkward half hug.

  “We both owe you,” she told him, raising her voice over the shriek of the wind.

  He shouted back, “Never know when I might just turn to crime and need a lawyer. And that job offer always stands, Claire. Man, I can tell the barometric pressure’s dropping bad because I’m having a toothache from some dental work. It’s supposed to give some people a headache, too, but I already have that dealing with you two. Take care!”

  He rolled up his window, and they ran to the front door, knowing the garage door probably wouldn’t work. Nick fumbled to get his key in the lock in the darkness. Surely someone would be up waiting for them, Bronco at least.

  Ken’s headlights slashed across them as he pulled out and headed slowly away. The wind’s howl had turned to a shriek. They’d been pretty sure they saw Brit’s car parked down the street away from trees, so Kris must be here now, too. They’d planned to come in the morning, but this storm was worsening fast.

  Before Nick could get his key in the lock, Brit pulled the door open. Shaking water off like wet dogs, they went in while she held the door for them against the force of the wind, but he had to help her close it.

  “I thought I saw headlights, then peeked out,” she told them. “I’d like to hug you, but I won’t.”

  Nick saw Will’s painting had been moved farther down the hall, no doubt in case the rain and wind swept in like this.

  “Glad you’re here,” Claire said. “Yes, we won’t hug you, or you might drown. Is Kris here, too?”

  “Uh—yes. She’s with Nita and Bronco,” Brit said, wringing her hands.

  Nick wondered if she could know what Jace had just gone through, what he’d done so heroically, but he guessed not. They’d have to sit her down and tell her. The storm appeared to be making her nervous. No doubt she was worried about the zoo animals as well as everyone here and fretting over Jace, who she thought was in Tampa with his plane and crew.

  But maybe he wasn’t going to tell her all that right now, since she looked so jumpy. He was suddenly proud of Claire again. She, too, must have realized this was not the time to tell Brit about Jace’s near catastrophe. What a surprise they had for her when she calmed down.

  “I’m sure you’ve been through a lot,” Brit went on, gripping Claire by her upper arms. “But—but I guess it happens sometimes when a pregnant woman is due to deliver soon, and the barometric pressure drops. We’ve seen that with the big cats at the zoo.”

  “What?” Claire asked. “What are you talking about? Is Nita all right?”

  “Okay, okay. I hope you’ve had your narco meds because her water broke about two hours ago, and I’m pretty sure she’s gone into labor already, though I’m only familiar with pregnant felines.”

  Brit’s voice broke. Nick could see she was shaking; Claire looked wide-eyed and speechless. How much more could she take tonight?

  “Before the power went out,” Brit rushed on, “they said on TV that no one is to be out on the streets, not even emergency vehicles, so we can’t call an ambulance. But yes, we have an emergency right here in this house. Claire, you’re the only one here who’s had a baby, so please take over, and I’ll help you. She says the baby’s named for you, so I hope you know how to deliver little Clarita!”

  * * *

  Bronco was going berserk, but Claire didn’t feel
much better. Nita was definitely in labor. And her contractions were only ten minutes apart already. At least she said she had no desire to push yet.

  Bronco kept insisting he could still drive her to the hospital. Claire finally told him no and got Nick to back her up. “What if a tree crashes down in front of your car or on your car?” she told the big, nervous guy. “And palm trees don’t have a good root system. Even if your car wasn’t damaged, do you want to have to deliver your baby, exposed to the elements, in the middle of a hurricane?”

  He backed down a bit and quit raving after that. Claire later heard Nick speaking to him in the hall outside the guest bedroom they were using as a delivery room. “Listen to me, Bronco. The very best you can do for Nita and the baby is to keep calm, hold her hand and remain steady while Claire, Brit and Kris help her deliver this baby. Everything will be fine.”

  As exhausted as she was after spending some time comforting a frightened Nita, Claire washed up, ate and drank something to sustain herself and tried to bring some sanity to the birthing scene. She told Brit where to get some extra plastic pads she used for Trey’s crib, and they put three of them on the double bed under Nita with an extra shower curtain under all that.

  Trying to think all this through—remembering her so-different hospital deliveries of Lexi and Trey—she gathered dry towels, sanitary pads and sterilized scissors. Trey’s waterproof pants and clothes would be too big for a newborn, but she gathered some anyway. She grabbed her cell phone to use the timer on it, then assigned Brit to time Nita’s contractions—now about eight minutes apart. This was going fast, so fast, though she knew some women went through labor quickly. But a first birth? She prayed it wouldn’t turn into an emergency C-section like she’d needed with Trey.

  She helped Nita take a cool shower, sitting on a lawn chair she had Bronco bring into the bathroom from those they’d brought in from the backyard. After they got Nita back in bed, Claire finally took a quick shower herself.