Allison O'Brian on Her Own, Volume 2

by Melody Carlson

  “George and Muriel haven’t heard anything, either.”

  “Larry,” Allison said, “is there a place you can call to find out if there’s been any weather conditions between here and San Francisco?”

  “Sure, I could do that,” Larry said as if the idea had never occurred to him before. He looked up a number, then dialed. After several “uh-huhs” and “you don’t says” he hung up the phone and turned to them.

  “Oddest thing,” he said, shaking his head. “They’ve had an unexpected snowstorm in the Siskiyou Mountains. Started up just before noon.”

  Grace’s eyes grew wide, and Allison’s heart began to pound. “What does that mean?” asked Grace.

  “Well, I’m not sure exactly.” Larry scratched his head.

  “Can you find out?” Allison said in a voice that sounded overly shrill. All too quickly she understood Grace’s fears about flying. Dozens of questions began bouncing through her brain.

  Larry blinked at her. “I guess I could call down to San Francisco and see exactly when they left.” Again he was on the phone. This time he turned away from them while he talked, but Allison could pick out a few words.

  “Yep, that’s their number. Ten this morning? Uh-huh . . . nope . . . nope. You think so... ? How will we know? Well, yes . . . Thanks. I’ll do that.” He hung up the phone but didn’t turn around to face them.

  “What did you find out?” Allison demanded.

  He slowly turned around. His face seemed to hang, and he shook his head. “I don’t know how to tell you this. . . .”

  “Just tell us!” cried Grace.

  “It sounds like their plane went down somewhere near Eureka, California. That’s not too far from the Oregon border, but that was the last radio contact. The storm was just coming on then. The pilot said that their carburetor was freezing up, then they were lost to all contact—”

  “No!” cried Grace. “No, it can’t be!”

  “What does that mean, Larry? What happens when a carburetor freezes up?”

  Larry cleared his throat. “Well, it’s just about the worst. I’ve heard of planes that just drop like a stone from the sky—”

  “That’s enough!” Grace shouted with clenched fists.

  Allison felt tears streaming down her cheeks, but she couldn’t form any words. This wasn’t happening! It couldn’t be. She had already lost Grandpa. She couldn’t lose Dad, too. She ran out into the night and into the nearest hangar. She leaned against the wall and sobbed.

  “Please, God,” she prayed. “Please let them be all right. Please let them be okay. Please . . . please . . .” She squatted down and pulled her knees tightly to her chest as she continued to beg God not to take her father away from her. Not to take Andrew, not to take Mac. She prayed and prayed until her voice was hoarse and her throat hurt.

  And then she thought of Grace. Could it be that all along Grace had been right? Was flying too dangerous? Oh, if only they had listened to her. Why in the world had Allison ever encouraged her dad in this venture? A load of guilt like she had never known began to pile upon her until it felt like she could hardly breathe. Was this all her fault? She could hear Grace calling to her, and suddenly Allison’s hopes soared. Perhaps everything was okay, perhaps they had landed someplace else. Allison leaped up and ran into the office.

  “Grace,” she called. “Are they okay? Did they call?”

  Grace shook her head. “No. Nothing.”

  Fresh tears streamed down Allison’s cheeks. “Where’s Larry?”

  “He stepped out after the last phone call and hasn’t come back. I called George and Muriel. I told them not to tell Heather and Winston anything yet. I don’t know what else to do.”

  “I’ve been praying.”

  “So have I,” said Grace quietly.

  As the hours dragged on, Grace looked up numbers to call in Mac’s books that were scattered throughout the office. After several minutes on the phone, she turned to Allison.

  “No news. Except they said that they had tried to call and radio numerous times this afternoon. No one was answering, so they just gave up.”

  “That explains why Larry didn’t know anything. I doubt he’ll ever show his face around here again. I’m sure he must feel this is partly his fault.”

  Allison grew so tired she felt herself slide into a place somewhere between awake and asleep, but then she would jolt awake and remember with chilling clarity that the plane was still missing—that perhaps she would never see her father and Andrew and Mac again.

  Just before the sun came up, the phone jangled loudly. Allison felt like she had jumped out of her skin, but she answered it quickly, hoping against hope to hear her dad’s voice on the other end.

  Instead, it was someone from the FAA calling to notify them that the snowstorm had abated, and an aerial search party would begin to look for the wreckage at the first break of day. Wreckage. The word stuck in her brain. Somehow she numbly answered their questions, giving addresses and phone numbers of the next of kin.

  In the early morning dawn she and Grace prayed again. This time they prayed even more fervently than before that everyone aboard would be okay and that they would all be reunited as soon as possible.

  As much as Allison wanted to believe that God would answer all their prayers, she was afraid that her faith might not be big enough. And what if it wasn’t?

  To Kathy Gilbert,

  A sweet sister in Christ.

  With love,

  M.C.

  “At least the fog is lifting some,” said Allison weakly. She stood and peered through the dingy window at the airport office. The dark asphalt of the airstrip was now discernible in the gray predawn morning light. Many long hours had passed since she and Grace first heard the news that the plane carrying James, Andrew, and Mac went down when an unexpected blizzard struck the northern California mountains.

  “Yes, perhaps it will clear up and the rescue team will be able to land—” Grace’s voice broke slightly as she spoke.

  Allison swallowed hard. Worn down from lack of sleep, she didn’t know how much longer she could maintain a strong front. “It’s been so long, Grace!” She looked at the clock hanging on Mac’s cluttered wall, wedged between posters of planes and bits of flying memorabilia, and groaned. “Shouldn’t we have heard something by now? How long can it take to spot a downed plane?”

  Grace shook her head. “I have no idea. Maybe I should call George and have him drive over and pick you up, Allison. You’re exhausted. You need rest—”

  “I couldn’t possibly sleep, Grace. I’m not leaving until we hear from them.”

  “All right,” agreed Grace. “But I’ll call and have George bring us some food. I’m not hungry, but you must be starving.”

  “I couldn’t eat a thing,” muttered Allison, but Grace was already on the phone. Allison counted the seconds as Grace spoke to Muriel. Every moment blocking the phone lines was precious. Fortunately, Grace quickly hung up.

  With elbows on her knees, Allison leaned over, buried her face in her hands, and allowed the tears to trickle soundlessly down her cheeks. She had no more words to pray, and guilt ebbed into her heart like a high tide edging its way up the beach. If only she hadn’t encouraged Dad with his flying . . . Why hadn’t she just stayed out of it? Now, if he was dead, it would feel like her fault—she would always blame herself.

  “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” said Grace as she wrapped her arms around Allison.

  For a long moment Allison allowed Grace to comfort her. She wanted to believe it was going to be okay, but her faith felt weaker than ever. Finally she looked up at Grace through watery eyes.

  “It’s all my fault,” she sobbed. “If Dad, Andrew, and Mac are dead, it’s all my fault—”

  Grace shook her head. “Allison, we’ve been through that. It is not your fault. It’s no one’s fault.” Grace hugged her again, her voice growing stronger as she continued. “No matter what happens, we must believe that God is in control. That’
s the only thing we can hang on to now. God is in control, Allison.”

  Allison took a shaky breath. “Okay, I’ll try to remember that.” She quietly repeated Grace’s words. “God is in control. . . . God is in control. . . .”

  Just then the shrill jangling of the telephone interrupted her. Grace picked up the receiver with wide eyes. Allison listened intently, her trembling hand resting on Grace’s shoulder.

  “Yes?” said Grace. “You have? Are they—are there any survivors?” She listened silently, her face blank, for what seemed like an eternity.

  Allison waited, barely daring to breathe. In those moments it seemed that Allison’s world had screeched to a complete halt. Yesterday was gone and tomorrow might never come. And then Grace broke into loud sobs, and suddenly Allison felt her last hope perish. She collapsed into a chair as her heart tumbled and plummeted down.

  But in the next instant Grace looked up at Allison with surprise, then cried, “They’re all right!”

  “They’re all right?” echoed Allison in a weak voice.

  Grace nodded, still listening to the receiver, a huge smile spreading across her face. “You are saying that all three of them are just fine!” she nearly shouted, nodding emphatically to Allison.

  Allison leaped into the air and whooped for joy, but Grace motioned to her to be quiet so she could continue to hear the other end. “So you think they’ll be flying in tomorrow?” asked Grace in an even voice. “I see. . . . Yes, I’m sure they’ll call as soon as you help them get safely out. Yes . . . I understand completely. Oh, thank you very much! Thank you!” Grace hung up, then turned to Allison. The two hugged for a long time, tears of relief flowing freely.

  “Now, tell me everything, Grace!” cried Allison as they both wiped their noses.

  “The search crew spotted a signal fire early this morning. They radioed them from the air and learned that the weather forced them to land on a snowfield. It seems their plane is in good condition, but they were nearly buried in the snow. Other than being cold and hungry, it sounds as if they’re just fine. Some nearby farmers are coming over to dig out the plane, and then they’ll snowplow a runway so they can take off. They’ll fly to the nearest airstrip—”

  “Our prayers were really answered!” cried Allison as she grabbed Grace’s hands in her own and began dancing around the little office.

  The two of them spun around the room, whooping so loudly they didn’t even notice the front door of the office open and close.

  “What’s going on?” called out George. “Have you heard something?”

  Allison ran over and nearly knocked him down with a big, exuberant hug. “They’re safe, George. They’ve been found!”

  “Call Muriel and tell her the good news,” said George. “She’s been up half the night just sick with worry.” He held up the picnic basket and grinned. “And you know how Muriel gets to baking when she’s worried.”

  As George unloaded freshly baked cinnamon rolls and blueberry muffins, Allison called Muriel and told her the good news. “It’s too bad we couldn’t send this basket to them,” she added as she hungrily sniffed the tasty baked goods.

  While they ate their breakfast, Grace told George about the rescue. “The FAA man said that the farmers expect to have them out by noon. He said it sounded like everyone was just fine. Cold and hungry, but no injuries. Just the same, they’ll be checked into the local hospital to make sure everyone is A-OK. But there’s probably no reason why they can’t fly home tomorrow—weather permitting. Apparently, the snowstorm just dumped and blew on over the mountains.”

  “I hope they come home tomorrow,” said Allison as she took a sip of cold milk.

  Grace nodded. “And I’m sure James will want to come home as soon as possible, too.”

  “You two girls need to get some rest,” said George. “It’s been a long night.”

  “I don’t want to leave,” said Grace. “Mac’s assistant, Larry, doesn’t seem very responsible. I don’t even know where he went off to.”

  “How about if I stick around here and keep an eye on things,” suggested George. “I’ve been wanting to spend some time down here anyway. Then you can take Allison home, and you both can get some sleep. If James calls up here, I can always have him call you at home, too.”

  Grace looked at Allison. “I suppose that makes sense. I am tired. Thanks a lot, George.”

  Allison couldn’t remember the drive home or Muriel tucking her into her bed. But before Allison drifted off, she remembered to thank God. Over and over.

  When she woke up, Heather was sitting at the end of her bed. Allison sat up and yawned, then looked at her alarm clock. “Goodness,” she exclaimed. “It’s almost two o’clock! I’ve been asleep for more than five hours.”

  Heather laughed. “You could probably use five more. And Muriel told me not to wake you up before two. But I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “Not at all,” said Allison, climbing out of bed. “I guess you and Winston didn’t go to school today, either.”

  Heather shook her head. “Muriel told us everything early this morning, and neither of us felt like we could concentrate very well at school.”

  Allison squeezed Heather’s hand. “Well, everything worked out okay—” Allison paused, then wondered if the news of the rescue had only been a hopeful dream. “Everything is okay, isn’t it, Heather?”

  “Yes, everything is swell. Your dad called around noon. They’re all fit as fiddles. He wanted to come home today but decided to rest up and fly in tomorrow. He left the number of the hotel if you want to call him.”

  “You bet I do!” Allison exclaimed as she jerked a sweater over her head. “I can’t wait to hear his voice.”

  At Muriel’s suggestion, Allison waited until four o’clock to call her dad so he could have time to rest, too. But then she listened in wonder as he replayed all the details of their near disaster.

  “Other than some customary fog and a slight breeze, everything looked just fine when we flew out of San Francisco. But as we headed north, it seemed a system was brewing. Mac felt pretty certain we could beat it, and we were all anxious to get home, but the next thing we knew, we were smack in the middle of a blizzard. Visibility was poor, and the winds were strong—buffeting the plane up and down. I’d been flying but was glad to let Mac take the stick. The carburetor began to have some trouble, and Mac was worried about it freezing up on us. We knew we were in danger, and I’ll tell you that I was praying hard, Allison.”

  “Oh my,” breathed Allison. “It must’ve been scary.”

  “It was. Then, suddenly, the visibility improved just enough for me to spot what looked like a nice big span of land below, but it was quickly getting covered with snow. I pointed it out to Mac, and he didn’t waste a second getting down and in position to land.”

  “How exciting!”

  Dad sighed deeply. “A little too exciting, I think. Because suddenly, as Mac was going for it, I wondered if it really was such a good spot. I mean, I couldn’t see that well with all the snow. What if it was rocky, or what if it was a lake?”

  “Oh no,” gasped Allison. “You must have felt dreadful.”

  “But Mac said it was our only chance. So I just prayed and held on for dear life while he put her down. And the next thing I knew, we were rolling across the smoothest field you can imagine. I told the farmer later that he did a fine job making that field perfect for our landing, not a rock or a bump on it. But after we landed, the blizzard continued to get worse until it seemed we’d be buried alive in snow.

  “We suspected we had landed on a cultivated field, but there wasn’t a sign of civilization in sight. And thanks to the blizzard and the nearby mountains, our radio was almost useless. We decided to save our battery for when the storm abated. We were nearly buried in drifted snow, but I think it helped to insulate the plane and keep us warm. Just the same, it got pretty cold. It was Andrew’s idea to use my packing crates to light a signal fire. If not for that—” He whistled dram
atically. “Who knows . . .”

  “What an amazing story!” exclaimed Allison. Then she thought for a moment. “Dad, you know how I’m working for the school paper now?”

  “You mean the Pirate Chest?”

  “Yes. Well, do you think it would be okay if I wrote up this story for the school paper? I can just see the headline—‘Port View Star Quarterback Survives Plane Wreck.’ ”

  “Well, it wasn’t exactly a wreck,” James chuckled. “More like an emergency landing. But just the same, I think it would make an interesting story, Allison.”

  “I’m going to hop right to it. I might be able to get it into this week’s edition.”

  “Good for you!”

  Allison smiled. “And by the way, Dad, did I tell you how great it is to hear your voice, and how much I love you?”

  “Only a dozen times, sweetheart. But I never get tired of it. Say, give Grace a hug for me, and tell her that I’ll call her again this evening.”

  “Dad,” Allison said hesitantly. “Please fly home very carefully.”

  James laughed. “Don’t you worry. I’m always careful.”

  Allison hung up the phone and dashed upstairs. She immediately began to write out her news story. She finished it just before dinnertime and was certain it was the best thing she’d ever written. She couldn’t wait to turn it in to the editor tomorrow. Wouldn’t Howie be surprised. It seemed like such a long time since she’d been at school; counting the Thanksgiving holiday it had been only five days, but this last day had felt like a year.

  Muriel had invited Grace and the kids to join them for dinner, and Allison hurried downstairs to see if she needed any help. But Grace and Heather were already in the kitchen, and everything seemed to be running like clockwork.

  “Here, Allison,” said Grace as she handed her a basket of rolls to put on the table. “Just in time.”

  “Maybe we should stay home from school tomorrow, too,” suggested Winston with a sly look as they all sat down around the big dining table.

  Grace laughed. “Nice try, but I don’t think so, Winston.”