by Donna Ball
She couldn't even finish the thought before they were airborne. She could feel the lessening of drag, the smooth glide of air rather than snow beneath the skis, and when she opened her eyes nothing but wisps of fog skated past her window.
Red drawled, "Take your fingernails out of my leg, darlin'. You're drawing blood."
Meg looked down and saw that her hand was, indeed, clutching his jean-clad thigh. With an effort she loosened her grip. She swallowed hard and tried to keep her voice steady as she inquired, "What... was that?"
"I think we tipped a snowbank. You want to look out your window there and see if that wing's still in one piece?"
She actually turned to do it and then she caught his grin. "Very funny, Sky King."
She watched as he made a slow ninety-degree turn away from the head wind, nudging the altitude up a little in the process. But when Meg looked out the window she could still see the roofs of buildings between patches of snowy fog, and trees that looked much too close.
"Aren't we flying a little low?"
He guided the control wheel back to center. "You're starting to remind me why I don't like women in the cockpit. Back seat drivers."
Meg tried to relax, removing her gloves and loosening her coat in the plane's warm interior. "Yeah, well, I guess it does give you some kind of power thrill to think you can do something better than I can."
"I can do a lot of things better than you can. Of course, you can do a few things better than me, so I guess it evens out."
He leaned forward and tapped a gauge, and Meg's eyes snapped to the movement in alarm.
"What?" she demanded. "What's wrong?"
He straightened easily without glancing at her. "You know something, Meg? You've changed since you've been here."
Meg looked again at the gauge, but she could see nothing wrong. She focused instead on his statement, thinking back over the changes that had taken place in her within merely the past twenty-four hours. She agreed softly, "Yes, I think I have. I hope I have."
"I mean," he went on easily, "if those suits in Washington thought you were hardcase before, they're not going to believe you now. You're going to end up in Siberia next time, if not worse."
Meg scowled sharply, deflated. "How can you see in all this fog?" she demanded. "Do you know where you're going?"
"It's not fog, darlin', it's snow. And there's nothing to see for another thirty minutes."
The plane suddenly lurched upward and then sank dramatically, and Meg thought it was his way of getting back at her for criticizing him. But when she saw how quickly he moved to level out the craft she knew that his sense of humor, at least on this occasion, was not responsible for the state of her nerves.
"Just a little turbulence, ladies and gentlemen," he murmured, watching his gauge again. "Nothing to be concerned about."
Meg leaned back in her seat and took a deep breath, and Red glanced at her. "Don't look so worried, slugger. It hurts my feelings, and the last thing you want is a depressed pilot, believe me."
She said tightly, "We should have waited. At least until you had better weather information. God, Red, why didn't you stop me?"
He smiled and patted her knee. "I couldn't, remember?"
She smiled at him hesitantly. "I'm not really worried," she said. She'd meant her words to come out lightly, but the moment she spoke she knew she was telling no more than the truth. "I know I'm with the best pilot in the business. It's just, you know, I have a little trouble letting go."
"Now that you mention it, I have noticed that."
They shared a smile that was simple and good, and for Meg it was one of the best moments she could remember. And then she dropped her gaze. "Can I tell you something?"
"As long as it's not how to drive."
"You were always my hero, Red," she said, looking up at him again. "And I don't mean all that daring bush-pilot lore that you like to surround yourself with. I mean.. .just you. The way you always know the right thing to do and say and you never let anything get by you. Just you. I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you that."
He was silent for a few moments, his face in profile to her as he looked straight ahead at the blur of sky beyond. And then he said quietly, "Funny. I always wanted to tell you the same thing."
A heartbeat passed, perhaps two, and the only sound was the steady hum of the engine, the rush of air over the wings.
And then Red said matter-of-factly, "There's something kind of strange about the people who come here. Maybe you've noticed. They're all stubborn cusses, independent, meaner than grizzlies when they have to be... Maybe it takes that kind of person to get on out here. Maybe way out here in the wilderness is the only place they can get on. I'm that kind of person, Meg. And so are you."
He looked at her. "You'd be miserable in Washington, babe," he said simply. "You don't belong there anymore, if you ever did."
Her heartbeat slowed down, suspended in the moment as she looked into his eyes. She saw the question there, but she wanted to hear him say it; even though she didn't, up until that very moment, know what her answer was going to be, she needed to hear him say it.
The plane suddenly lurched again and it seemed to Meg there was a slight stutter in the engine. Red turned his attention back to the controls and the plane settled back into a slightly rocky, though basically steady altitude before Meg's heartbeat had even caught up with the crisis. Belatedly, her heart started pounding in her chest.
"So," Red said abruptly, his eyes busy on the gauges and dials, "here's the deal. I've got a buddy who’s been trying to talk me into opening up a flight school with him. That doesn't mean I'll be giving up my route—not right away and not ever completely, so you'll still get a chance to bitch about me leaving you alone every once in a while—but most nights I'll be home by dinner and it'll give me something to fall back on in my old age. You know you're not finished with your work up here and you won't be able to get nearly as much done back home—you told me so yourself. So we take a two-week honeymoon in Hawaii, and then give your boss an early Christmas present and tell him you're staying."
Meg's head was swimming. Possibilities leapt at her and dodged her grasping fingers. There was so much to consider and so many details to be worked out, but... "Stay here?" she repeated incredulously. "But I hate it here!"
"You don't know what you hate," he replied impatiently. "That's your trouble. You thought you hated me for six whole months—longer than that, if we get right down to it. But I've got that worked out, too. We both make damn good money, and there's no reason we have to spend every winter ice-locked if we don't want to. Pick a place, any place. I'll build you a cabin."
She felt a little breathless. "But...but I don't know if they'd go along with it back at Carstone. I'd have to talk to them. But I've been thinking for years that what they really need is an expanded testing program, and if I could head it up... And if they say no, who cares? I'm good enough to work for anybody I want.I'm good enough to go independent and sell to the highest bidder...."
"Make up your mind, babe. This is only a thirty-minute flight." And then he muttered, "Maybe shorter than that."
Almost before those words had registered, he had taken hold of her arm and was pulling her out of her seat. "Here, do me a favor for a minute."
And before she knew it he was out of his seat; before she could draw another breath he had pushed her into the pilot's seat and placed her hands on the control wheel. "Here," he said. "Keep your hands on this. Watch the little airplane. Keep it level."
"Red, is this some kind of joke?" she cried, but she knew it wasn't even before she twisted around to look at his face. And then she jerked her head around again, scanning the panel. "What little airplane? Red, what's wrong?"
"Either that bump we took on the ground knocked a hell of a hole in our fuel tank, or I've got a dead gauge. If it's a gauge, I can fix it from here.''
She could hear him scrambling around behind the seat for tools. Desperately she searched the panel again and
finally found the artificial horizon with its little airplane, marking the position of the real plane in relation to the ground. Panic filled her throat. "Red, I don't know how—"
"There's never been a machine invented you couldn't operate." His breath was warm on the back of her neck and his voice soothing as he rested his hand briefly on her shoulder. "Pull the wheel toward you to raise the nose, away to lower it. Just keep adjusting to keep it level and go easy. Get her too high and she's gonna stall, and we don't want that, do we?"
Meg swallowed hard and shook her head, her eyes fixed on the artificial horizon. Red dropped to the floor beneath the instrument panel.
"What..." The plane bumped over an air pocket, and the artificial horizon tilted abruptly up; she gasped and pulled up on the wheel, overcompensated and quickly pushed down again. Gradually the horizon leveled out.''What would you have done without me?"
Red's voice sounded muffled beneath her. "Ever hear the expression 'a wing and a prayer'?"
Sweat was beginning to form on her upper lip. "I think you're doing this to punish me."
"Any little chance I get."
The horizon began to tilt again, but this time she was ready. She eased back slowly on the wheel, every muscle in her body straining.
"At least," she managed, when she could get her breath again, "if we go down, we do it together."
"That was always my plan, darlin'."
Meg pressed her lips together and determinedly tried to make her insides as calm as Red sounded. She said, "But...flight school. You always hated that idea. Red—" she dared to take her eyes off the controls just for an instant as she looked down at him "—don't do this for me, it doesn't matter."
"It matters to me." She could see the shadow of his face, part of his torso and his arm as he plied a screwdriver to the underside of the panel. "I only hated the idea because it was yours. Because it made me feel old. Well, let's face it, slugger, I am getting old. We both are, and we've got to think about the future. Kids, maybe. I'd like to spend some time with them, and have a little time to myself where I don't have to prove anything. Maybe that's one of the advantages of getting old—or growing up. You don't have to prove anything anymore."
Meg swallowed back a hot lump in her throat. "Any kid of ours would be a menace to society."
She could hear the grin in his voice. "That's why it would take both of us to keep him under control."
The horizon line tilted alarmingly and she cried, "Red! What's happening?"
"Keep it steady." His voice was low and soothing, but she could hear the undertone of tension there, a kind of breathlessness he fought to disguise.
"What's wrong? What do you see? For God's sake tell me!"
"I can't tell you anything if you don't keep this damn airplane from rolling all over the sky!"
"It's not rolling!" She fought to bring the horizon line steady again, dragging in several deep breaths. "Okay, okay, I've got it. Red, what's happening? Is it the fuel tank?"
He took a moment to reply. "Have we got a deal or not?"
"A deal?" she repeated blankly. Panic was fluttering up inside her and it was all she could do to fight it back. "What are you talking about, a deal? Red, for God's sake-"
"Will you stay?"
It's the fuel tank, she thought. He would have told her if it wasn't, and they were going to die up here, both of them....
She took one long, cabling breath, then another. She flexed her fingers on the control wheel, trying to work out the tension. She said, "A month in Hawaii. A month, and you've got a deal."
"Done."
He sat up, grinning, holding a snippet of blue-and-yellow wire between his fingers. "Loose connection," he said.
Her mouth fell open and her muscles went limp and she didn't know whether to laugh or scream at him. Then he stood up, grabbed her shoulders and solved the dilemma by kissing her hard on the mouth.
"Welcome to my world, babe," he said softly, pushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. Then he grinned. "And get out of my chair."
Red stood off to the side of the hangar area of the Bixby airfield, his hands stuffed into his pockets against the cold, watching Meg supervise the unloading of her generator.
"Watch it, you ape!" she shouted to one of the two men who were maneuvering the machine out of the cargo hold. "This is not a toy! Are you blind? Do I have to paint little arrows on your butts saying This Side Up? Get out of my way!"
She shoved forward, pushing one of the men aside to do the job herself. Red thought he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life than Meg in a temper. Meg giving orders, Meg pushing in where she didn't belong. And the best part was he had the rest of his life to enjoy it.
"Watch it, for God's sake! Up, I said. Up!" She got the machine safely to the ground and relinquished her hold on it to another assistant. "Is there anybody in this sorry outfit who can turn a wrench?" she demanded, following them across the tarmac toward the hangar. "And where is that doctor who's going back with us? Tell him to get his gear together and be ready to move out in two hours!''
A man stood beside Red, gazing at Meg uneasily. "Who is that woman?"
Red glanced at him. "My wife." Then he grinned. "Bossy, isn't she?"
He walked over to Meg and draped his arm around her shoulders. Together, they walked into the hangar.
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed your ride with Meg and Red through the stormy skies of Alaska. If you liked THE STORMRIDERS, here are some other titles from the land of romance and happy endings you might enjoy:
MATCHMAKER, MATCHMAKER
He was a cowboy looking for a wife. She was a lady specializing in brides. They were made for each other... They just didn't know it yet.
A MAN AROUND THE HOUSE
He made the beds, did the dishes, repaired the roof and managed her finances. He was the answer to a busy working woman's dreams. But was he too good to be true?
FOR KEEPS
He's an animal trainer who lives by one rule: never get attached. She's a social worker who knows all too well the price of getting involved. It may take an entire menagerie to bring them together, but eventually they both must learn that sometimes it's for keeps.
STEALING SAVANNAH
He was a reformed jewel thief now turned security expert and her job depended on his expertise. But could he be trusted not to steal the most valuable jewel of all-- her heart?
CAST ADRIFT
She was a marine biologist on short deadline to find a very important dolphin, with no time to waste on romance. He was a sailor who knew there could only be one captain on his ship-- himself. But two weeks at sea together could change everything...
UNDER COVER
He was one of the most notorious racketeers on the East Coast, and she was a cop determined to do her job. But just how far was she willing to go to get her man?
If you enjoy these books, let me know at www.donnaball.net. Meantime, happy reading!
Donna Ball
Also by Donna Ball, in print and e-book editions:
A Year on Ladybug Farm
At Home on Ladybug Farm
Love Letters from Ladybug Farm (October 2010)
***** pre-order now!*****
for every woman who ever had a friend... or a dream
and
The Raine Stockton Dog Mystery Series
Smoky Mountain Tracks
Rapid Fire
Gun Shy