The one person missing from her new life was Nick. He would be up with the sun and wouldn’t return until late at night. He was keeping his distance.
Lindsey met Jenna’s gaze. “It’s a beautiful house.”
“Here.” Jenna handed her a key fob hanging from a chain. “This will open almost every door inside the facility. You’ll be teaching in one of the counseling rooms. I thought that would be the most comfortable place to gather.”
“Sounds perfect,” Lindsey said, holding the key fob. The women’s shelter near Houston utilized the same security protocols.
Jenna buzzed the front door and spoke to a security guard through the intercom. They entered the shelter and were met with a wall of teddy bears.
Jenna touched one of the bear’s legs. “They’re for the children. Most women and kids come here with barely the clothes on their backs. There’s often no time to grab toys or even shoes. Rose Brooks does its best to have everything mothers and children need from baby formula to toys. Was your shelter in Texas like this?”
“Yeah,” Lindsey said, noting a children’s room that looked like a preschool classroom, a large area filled with blankets and clothing, and a large, spacious kitchen with double stoves and two long tables. “Rose Brooks feels more like a home, though.”
“It does,” Jenna agreed, nodding to staff members passing by in the hall. “Everyone here is meant to feel like family. There’s childcare, counseling, play therapy, and a legal advocate on site. We’re hoping to raise money to start doing more prevention work. We’d like to help educate the community by raising awareness to help prevent domestic violence.”
Jenna led her into a cozy room where people were milling around, filling up coffee cups and chatting. Em, Rosemary, Zoe, and Kathy smiled and waved.
“I didn’t know you all would be taking part in the photography project!” Lindsey said, delighted to see her friends.
Kathy pulled her in for a hug. “Rose Brooks is a wonderful organization. We wouldn’t miss helping out for the world.”
“And Jenna said there’d be snacks,” Em added, popping an almond and a pretzel stick into her mouth.
Zoe set a notebook on the arm of a couch. “I’m here to cover the event for Kansas Public Radio. Is that okay with you? It’s just a quick piece to highlight the upcoming fundraiser.”
“You won’t need any pictures of me, will you?” Lindsey asked.
Zoe gave her a sly wink. “Nope, that’s the beauty of radio.”
“And my name?”
Zoe’s expression softened. “I understand the sensitivity of the situation—not just for you, but for all the women taking part. No one will have their name used in the piece unless they give consent. A few of the counselors here said they would be willing to provide their names. That’s as much as I need for this story.”
“Okay, thanks, Zoe.”
Rosemary squeezed her hand. “Are you doing all right? This must bring up some strong emotions for you, dear.”
Lindsey let out a breath. “I’m okay. It feels good to be here in a capacity to help. I know it’s not much in the grand scheme of things, but it feels like something.”
“What you’re doing is huge, for you and for all the women and children who rely on this place. I know your mother would be very proud. I certainly am.”
Tears welled in Lindsey’s eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. But before she could say another word, Jenna addressed the group.
“Welcome, everyone. I’m grateful to all of you for taking part in our Rose Brooks photography project. I’d like to introduce Lindsey Davies. She’s a photographer who’s traveled the world. She’s hung out of helicopters and photographed major cities, and she’s also photographed indigenous people in places like South America and New Zealand.”
All eyes shifted from Jenna. Lindsey looked around the room and made quick eye contact with each participant. There were ten other individuals in addition to her friends. Three men and three women wore shelter employee badges while four women wore the same visitor’s key fob necklace as she was wearing. Lindsey paid particular attention to these women. Their connection went deeper than just working here or wanting to support a good cause. Lindsey sensed a visceral connection as strong as steel between women who have endured abuse.
She let out a breath. The tension in her shoulders and neck melted away. “I’m honored to be here, thank you, Jenna. I do have one thing I can promise you about our time together.” She paused. “Nobody is going to be required to hang out of a helicopter. We’ll save that for our second lesson.”
The participants chuckled, and the atmosphere softened as nervous smiles changed to genuine expressions of interest.
“We could start with all the basics of Photography 101, but this project isn’t about shutter speed, aperture, and ISO. The cameras donated for the project are DSLR and mirrorless. They’re excellent at capturing shots automatically. We’re not going to get into all the technical aspects of photography.”
The group gave a collective sigh of relief.
“When you boil it down to its most essential element, photography is about telling a story. A picture doesn’t have to be worth just a thousand words. It can be worth ten thousand words, a hundred thousand words. Or, it could be just one single powerful word.”
She held up a print of an indigenous woman’s face as she gazed down at her newborn baby. “I took this shot almost ten years ago in New Zealand. To me, this is a story about love. To me, this is a story about devotion.”
She pulled another photograph from her bag of an aerial shot of the Las Vegas strip. It was taken with the doors of the chopper framing the shot. “When you’re telling a story, think of framing. Think of what you could include in your shot to make it unique. If you want to capture the feel of the shelter’s children’s room, instead of taking a wide shot, focus on a few toys or a child’s hands dressing a doll. Think of the picture you want to take and then ask yourself, what little tweak can I give it to add my voice and my touch to this image.”
The group nodded. Lindsey smiled as their gazes shifted to different spots in the room. They were already thinking like photographers. Their heads tilted as they imagined new ways to capture the simple, everyday things that surround us.
“Let’s talk a little bit about lighting,” she continued. “Your cameras are going to do a beautiful job of automatically adjusting to a range of light and dark situations. But there are two times of day I’d like you to pay special attention to. They’re called the golden hour and the blue hour.”
“I think I’ve heard of the golden hour,” one of the women offered. “It’s shortly after sunrise or before sunset.”
“That’s right,” Lindsey said, sharing a smile with the women. “The light is warmer, and it has more of a red tone to it. The other time of day is called the blue hour. This is the time right before sunrise or just after sunset.” She held up two photos of sailboats lined up in a marina. “These were taken twenty minutes apart in Greece on the island of Crete. You can see the cool blue diffused hue of the photo taken before sunrise. In this one,” she pointed to the golden version of the same boats, “you can see the warmer tones come alive.”
The room stilled as the group stared at her photographs.
“Think of the light like a dance partner. Observe it carefully. Move with it. Follow it. Let it guide the shot.”
She looked around the room and caught Rosemary out of the corner of her eye. Her godmother was smiling as she brushed away a tear and gave her a knowing nod.
Lindsey blinked back her own tears. “Before I let you loose with the cameras, I wanted to share something personal. Not long ago, I was in an abusive relationship.”
The four women she had felt a kinship with gazed at her with wide eyes.
“I was frightened for my life, and I lived in a place much like this shelter in another state. Everyone here has a connection to Rose Brooks. All your voices are important. No matter how you got here, you have a story
to tell.”
She brought her focus back to the four women who were now holding hands. “Don’t move,” she said, reaching for her camera bag. “This—your hands.” Her mind was moving fast. She saw the shot in her head—four pairs of hands holding tight to each other. “May I photograph your hands? No faces. I promise.”
The women nodded, and Lindsey went to work. The light from the late day sun danced and twinkled through the window’s lace curtains as specks of dust moved in slow motion like tiny celestial bodies through the stream of sunshine. The glow cast the women’s hands in a haunting hue of warmth. Lindsey saw the scars etched into their skin, but she also saw resiliency and strength and courage. The click of the shutter and the sound of her breath disappeared. She framed the shot from above, from below, and at hip level. Then, the light softened like Mother Nature herself had summoned the alteration.
“This, right here,” she said and focused on the women’s hands. “The clouds must have come in. You can tell by the way the light is diffused. Can you all see the shadows? Can you see the rich layers that just a slight change made?”
Lindsey took one last shot and looked up. “Thank you for indulging me. As you can see, when an image speaks to you, a back-and-forth exchange begins. You’ll feel it. The story is there, it’s whispering to you. Take your time. Listen. Feel. I can’t wait to see how Rose Brooks’ story unfolds through your eyes.”
She stood up, but doubled back over, releasing a tight gasp.
Rosemary was at her side. “Lindsey, are you in pain?”
Kathy joined them as Jenna, Zoe, and Em came around to her other side.
“Where’s the pain?” Kathy asked, rubbing Lindsey’s shoulder blades,
“It’s low,” Lindsey said in a tight breath. “This can’t be labor. I’m barely twenty weeks.”
She looked up as Rosemary and Kathy exchanged an anxious glance.
Em bent down and took her hand. “Just breathe, Lindsey. Just breathe. Zoe’s calling for an ambulance.”
She met Em’s gaze and squeezed her friend’s hand. Tight spasms of pain worked their way through her abdomen.
“I can’t lose this baby.”
“Hey, boss! I’m glad I caught you.”
Nick looked up to see Silas Wright, one of his most trusted members of the airport’s ground crew. It wasn’t much of a stretch that Silas had caught him. He had been spending almost every waking hour at the airport. Part of it was because he was new on the job. But that wasn’t all of it. Lindsey crept into every part of his day. The blue of her eyes, her chestnut hair. Every fucking color of the rainbow made him think of her. He’d managed to avoid her for two long weeks, but her touch, her kiss, the feel of his hands gripping her ass— he hadn’t found a way to stop the barrage of memories. He couldn’t even escape her in his sleep. With sunflowers tucked in her hair, she haunted his dreams.
“What can I do for you, Silas?”
“Artie just called.”
“Oh, yeah! How’s retirement going? Is he enjoying the vegetable stand?”
“I think he misses us, boss. He’s thinking of buying a Cessna 177 off a buddy of his. The guy keeps the plane in one of our hangars. Artie wanted to know if you had time to take it up, put her through the paces, and see what you thought of her.”
“What year?” Nick asked.
“Seventy-eight. Last year they made the one seventy-seven.”
“Of course, I can take her up. Is she ready to go?”
Silas gave him a sheepish grin. “She is. She’s gassed up and ready for takeoff. I figured you’d say yes. Artie’s on his way, but he’s stuck in traffic. He said you should go up without him.”
Nick nodded and followed Silas out to the tarmac just as a helicopter landed. The helo pilot waved, and Nick waited as the copter’s blades came to rest. The pilot exited the chopper and headed his way.
“I don’t know how you guys have any fun in those fixed-wing contraptions,” the helicopter pilot said, gesturing to the Cessna 177 with a teasing grin.
Nick clapped the pilot on his shoulder. “Joaquin, planes can fly further, faster, and higher than that mechanical sack of metal can any day.”
“I guess we have to agree to disagree,” Joaquin said with a chuckle.
“Are you going to be around for a little bit?” Nick asked. “I wanted to go over some new helicopter flight protocols that just came in.”
“Absolutely, I’ll be in Hangar 12’s pilots’ lounge. Come find me when you get back.”
Nick climbed into the Cessna, went through all the checks, and taxied onto the runway. The tower gave the okay for takeoff, and Nick piloted the 177 smoothly into the sky. It was late afternoon and, as the clouds rolled in, the light shifted, softening the glint of light coming off the Kansas City skyline.
He followed the curve of the Kansas River then veered off and headed south toward Langley Park. Everything looks peaceful from three thousand feet. Tiny houses dotted with shrubbery and cars that looked like toys gave the world a surreal quality. So many people, living so many lives. This usually cleared his head, but as he stared into the blue-green horizon, all he saw was Lindsey.
Nick rounded past Lake Boley and headed back toward the airport. He flew north over Kansas City’s Country Club Plaza and was about to radio the airport’s tower and request permission to land when the plane lurched. He checked his instruments. He’d lost all power.
“Shit,” he hissed, but there wasn’t time to panic.
He had to maintain the airplane’s best glide speed to maximize his range. He was in the heart of Kansas City. There were no empty stretches for miles. He had to make it back to the airport. The alternative was…
He shook his head. There was no fucking way he was dying today.
He attempted to restart the plane.
Nothing.
Nick steadied himself. “Mayday, mayday, mayday. Kansas City Approach, Cessna one-one-seven-four Bravo is declaring an emergency and requests an emergency landing. I repeat one-one-seven-four Bravo requests emergency landing.”
His heart was pounding, but his training took over. He could see the airport. The runways were clear. They were ready for him.
“Visualize the path,” he said under his breath.
Christ, it was going to be close. He dropped the flaps and secured the engine by cutting the fuel valve. He didn’t need the damn plane catching on fire. He held his breath as the Cessna touched down and skidded across the runway.
The plane came to a stop, and Nick released a ragged breath. He looked at his hands, felt his chest and his head. He’d made it. All those hours practicing emergency landings in the flight simulator and all those tedious checkrides where the FAA pilot examiners grilled him had paid off.
Flashing lights and sirens broke his train of thought. He pulled off the headset, opened the door, and started jogging toward the oncoming emergency vehicles.
The door on one of the airport’s security vehicles flung open, and Artie and Joaquin came running towards him.
“Nick, are you okay?” Joaquin asked.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Artie put a hand on his shoulder. “What happened up there?”
“I lost power. The engine cut out.”
Artie shook his head. “I’m sorry, Nick. I asked if the plane had been properly maintained. My friend gave me his word it had, but that couldn’t have been the case. Is this your first emergency landing?”
He nodded.
“Puts everything into perspective, doesn’t it?” Artie said, squeezing his shoulder.
Nick nodded again. All he could think about was Lindsey. He had to get to her. His father. Her pregnancy. Her past. None of it mattered. Life was too short. He had missed out on the last sixteen years. He wasn’t about to miss out on another sixteen seconds.
“Nick!” Silas ran up to them. “A Michael MacCarron’s been trying to get ahold of you.”
“Michael? How could he already know about this?”
Silas shook h
is head. “No, it’s about someone named Lindsey. An ambulance took her to Midwest Medical. He said you would want to know.”
Everything stopped. The flashing lights. The sound of raised voices. It all disappeared. All he could see was Lindsey.
“Did Michael say what happened? Is Lindsey all right?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. He left a bunch of messages. He couldn’t reach you on your cell.”
Nick patted his pockets for his phone. Shit. He must have left it in his office. He didn’t have time to fuck around with finding his phone and fighting traffic. He looked at Joaquin. “Does Midwest Medical Center have a helipad?”
Joaquin narrowed his gaze. “They do, why?”
“Is your helicopter ready to go?” Nick asked. Another hit of adrenaline surged through him. He had to get to Lindsey.
“Nick, are you asking what I think you’re asking?”
Nick held the man’s gaze.
“What about all this?” Joaquin motioned toward the plane banked in the grass near the runway and the emergency crews securing the site.
“I’ll take care of this,” Artie said. “You have somewhere you need to be, don’t you?”
19
“I hope you have a guardian angel or somebody who owes you a big favor at the FAA,” Joaquin said over the roar of the helicopter’s blades, “because you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do, my friend.”
The chopper’s lights illuminated the large white cross with a red H in the center, while green lights bordered the periphery of the Midwest Medical Center’s Helipad.
“I have to get to her, Joaquin. The other shit, I’ll figure out. But this, with Lindsey, I need to be with her. I have to make sure she’s okay. I…”
“You’re a man in love,” Joaquin said with a smile as he lowered the chopper onto the helipad. “Nobody can fault you that.”
The Complete Langley Park Series (Books 1-5) Page 69