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The plane plummeted for several gut-wrenching seconds, before righting itself and climbing back to its previous position. Her stomach didn’t follow suit, though. It was still dangling somewhere beneath the aircraft.
A mass of multihued gray bands seemed to scrape along her window as the plane plowed through the middle of the clouds. She flinched at each new bump and shimmy, expecting to be sent tumbling headlong into the sea at any moment. The fact that they were even high enough to be swallowed by clouds surprised her. For some reason she’d thought they’d be cruising well below them. “Don’t worry. I’ve flown through worse.” The tight words swirled around the cabin as if they too were caught up in the boiling turbulence outside.
Her hand went to her stomach and pressed hard. He’d flown through worse? An alarm had sounded, for heaven’s sake. How much worse could it get?
A gust of wind shoved the plane to the right before releasing its grip. She couldn’t hold back the question any longer. “How much farther?”
“We’re about a half hour out. We can’t land until the weather clears a little.”
“Can’t we climb above the storm?”
Another blast of air kept Blake from answering her for a minute or so. “Cessnas can’t fly as high as commercial jets.”
“Oh.” Molly decided it was in her own best interests to let him concentrate on flying rather than having to field a constant stream of questions. Besides, there was always the not so off chance that her voice could transform into a high-pitched scream that would end up killing them both.
Better to maintain silence.
Between stutters and bumps, she studied him, finding that concentrating on something other than the conditions outside the plane helped keep the nausea and fear at bay. At least, partially.
Blake’s hands were strong, his long tanned fingers gripping the controls. He’d shoved the sleeves of his black sweater halfway up his forearms, exposing lean muscles that bunched and released as he worked to steady the aircraft. Her eyes followed his arm up, curving over substantial biceps before she reached his shoulder. Broad. Taking up his space and some of hers in the tiny cockpit.
Reliable. Competent.
She couldn’t see his eyes at the moment, but knew they were deep blue. She’d watched them go from warm and balmy to icy cold in a matter of seconds. Much like the weather outside had done.
Unfortunately, just as she was about to move her attention to that thick head of dark hair, he turned, catching her in mid-stare. “You okay?”
“Oh, uh…yeah.” She scrambled for an excuse. “Just seeing if the view from the side is as horrible as it is from the front.”
Ack! That hadn’t come out right. “I meant the view outside the plane. I wasn’t talking about you.”
Maybe trying to explain herself wasn’t the way to go.
She caught the flash of white teeth as he turned to face the weather again. “Well, that’s a relief.”
Forcing her attention back to the front windshield, she noted that the wind was calming a bit, along with her stomach.
Thank God. Maybe it was almost…
Suddenly, like a bullet exiting the barrel of a gun, they shot through the clouds and came out on the other side. The fierce turbulence vanished as quickly as it had started.
The contrast between dark and light was so startling, she was forced to squint as the sun peeked in at her and glinted off the nose of the plane. Once she regained her equilibrium, she sat up and drew a slow, careful breath, making sure she was still in one piece. Still alive.
She exhaled just as slowly. The second breath she took, however, was in reaction to the beauty surrounding her.
“It’s gorgeous,” she whispered. “I’ve never seen skies so crisp and blue.”
“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Blake’s voice had gone soft as well.
She glanced to the side and caught him looking at her. Her stomach tightened. Why had she ever thought his eyes were cold? Right now they were warm and alive, and looking at her like…
She shook herself. He was glad they’d broken through the clouds. Just like she was.
That shivery look he’d thrown her meant nothing more than that.
She leaned forward as several land masses came into view. Some of them stretched toward the sky like the volcanoes she knew them to be. “The Aleutians.”
“Yes.” The reverence behind the single word made her take a closer look below. Her father had loved the islands, despite the treacherous conditions she constantly heard about in the news reports. She’d never understood why someone would willingly live in a place where fog, wind and icy conditions were almost constant companions.
Until now.
One of the distant island peaks wore a thick covering of clouds like a top hat. It brought a smile to her face.
“My father loved it here.”
“I know.” Blake’s hands loosened on the wheel. “He told me.”
Molly’s mother had often complained he loved the islands more than his own family. Why else would he take a job most pilots chose to avoid? He could have had a nice cushy job as an airline pilot, and been better paid for his trouble. He’d turned a deaf ear to his wife’s protests and as the years had gone by, her clinginess and grumbling had taken a toll on their relationship. If he hadn’t been killed, Molly doubted their marriage would have survived another year.
It was one of the reasons she’d wanted to take the job, to try to see the islands through eyes that weren’t tainted by bitterness.
The turbulence of the last half hour had made her rethink that decision. But the second they exited that storm, well, she’d been blown away.
The experience had been breathtaking. Magical.
She’d never seen anything like it in her life.
The plane banked slightly, heading toward the islands. She listened as Blake called in their position and requested permission to land.
As they descended, she craned her neck but couldn’t see anything that looked like a landing strip. The mountains seemed to take up every inch of surface space. “Where’s the airport? Is it on the other side of the island?”
“Nope, we’re heading right for it.”
All she saw was a short road bisecting a narrow pinch of land. The pavement went nowhere, both ends dumping into the…
Ocean.
“You’re kidding me. That?” She wedged herself into her seat as Blake pushed the yoke farther in, increasing their rate of descent. Oh, Lord. “You’ve landed this before, right?”
“Many times. Relax.”
Easy for him to say. If they set down too early or too late, they’d be swimming instead of flying.
Or worse.
As the plane continued to descend, the turbulence picked up again. Molly tried to remain calm, but ended up back in her original takeoff position, both hands gripping her seat, fervently praying she’d live to see another day.
Down, down, down they went. Just when she was sure the wheels were going to trail through the whitecaps below, the landing strip reached for them, grabbing them to safety.
Or so she thought.
Nothing could have prepared her for the bone-jarring conditions of the asphalt as they hurtled down the strip and toward what looked like the end of the world.
Her fingers tightened with each yard they gained, the brakes of the plane throwing her against her shoulder harness. She pressed down with both feet, hoping the plane would intuitively figure out that she wanted it to S-T-O-P. Now!
What seemed to take forever was, in all probability, over in a matter of seconds. They slowed to taxi speed, with several yards of runway to spare. Okay, so it was more than that, but when you were landing on something the size of a small driveway, any extra room between you and disaster was a welcome sight.
“Are you all right over there?” Blake turned the controls, and they powered toward a building that stood at right angles to the landing strip.
“Yeah. Fine.” She hoped he didn’t notice the way her voice cracked from one word to the next.
“See? We made it all in one piece.” He squeezed her wrist and, as if he’d pressed a switch, her hands released their hold of the seat. “You did great, by the way. The first time is always the hardest. But, believe me, once you get used to it, you’ll find yourself wanting to do it every chance you get.”
CHAPTER THREE
HAD he really just said that?
Blake jerked his hand from hers. Any hope that she’d missed his unfortunate choice of words flew out the window when color flared along her cheekbones.
Serve him right if she took off to find a new pilot, especially after the way he’d acted on the flight. He’d been angry when he’d realized how afraid she was of flying. Leave it to him to be attracted to women who were the worst possible match for someone like him. First Sharon and then Molly.
He’d always thought Sharon would come around, but she hadn’t.
And now he’d unintentionally compared flying to sex with the next girl who came within range of his radar. Two for two. Yeah, he was in rare form.
Shutting off his internal critic, he went about his after-flight check. Molly unhooked her restraint harness and turned toward him.
“Thanks for getting us down in one piece. I know I probably haven’t been your easiest passenger.” She paused as if expecting him to heartily agree. “But I appreciate you not turning around and hauling my butt back to Anchorage.”
“Would that have been before we entered the storm, or after we came out?”
She tried on a smile. “Just so you know I didn’t set out to deceive you. I never claimed to be a seasoned traveler.”
“I know. Your reaction on takeoff just took me by surprise. Sorry for being rude.” He stood to unlock the door, then followed her down the steps as they exited the plane. Once they hit the tarmac, the ground crew met them, asking about their bags. He squared everything away then crossed to where she stood.
“I don’t blame you for not wanting to fly with me again, but…” She paused as if gathering her thoughts. “I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a lift home tomorrow. I promise you won’t have to sweet-talk me onto the plane.”
Despite the sun shining down on them, super-chilled air quickly found its way into the collar and sleeves of his leather jacket. He could do without the constant wind on the islands. Or the reminder of how his marriage had crashed and burned. Against his better judgment, he asked, “You sure?”
“Sure you won’t have to sweet-talk me?”
He shifted his weight, trying not to think about how he might like to do just that. “No, I meant are you sure you want me to fly you home? I was serious about hooking you up with an experienced pilot.”
Glancing at his face, she bumped him with her shoulder and wrinkled her nose. “You’ve seen how I handle rough weather. Do you really want to foist that on some other unsuspecting soul?”
So she could laugh at herself. His shoulders lost some of their tension.
Actually, now that they were on the ground, she was charming and funny. “Well, since you put it that way, maybe it would be better for everyone if we stuck to our original arrangement. For this trip, anyway.”
“My thoughts exactly.” She wrapped the flapping ends of her jacket around herself and zipped it tight. The stiff breeze played with her hair, lifting the short strands up and away from her face, before allowing them to fall in delightful disarray. “Now, if you could point me in the direction of the nearest diner, I have two urgent needs.”
“Food?”
“That’s second on my list. The first is to find a heater that actually works. No offense, but my toes are still frozen from the flight.” She pursed her lips. “But I could go for a nice hot meal, now that my stomach’s starting to settle down. The cold is good for something, anyway.”
“I know where they make a mean crab cake. I could show you around the island afterward.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather coat, trying to keep the cold from encroaching any further. It was evidently disrupting his thought processes. “You’ve seriously never been here before?”
“Nope. First time, remember?”
Just like that flight out. Hard to believe she’d lived in Alaska all her life and had never visited the islands.
Sharon had called Unalaska “quaint” on her first visit. Until she’d realized there was no mall. No fashion boutiques. Just simple, hard-working folks. She’d quickly felt trapped—had run back home before six months had been up. He’d do well to keep that in mind before he went and did something stupid.
Like offer to eat lunch with Molly and show her the sights? Who knew how long she’d even stick around?
She was terrified of flying. Her mother was afraid of flying. If she had a dog, a cat, or a chipmunk, it would probably be petrified as well. It didn’t bode well for someone who’d be medevacing patients on a regular basis. Even as he told himself distance was his friend in a situation like this, he’d already committed himself as tour guide for a day.
Damn. No backing out now. But after lunch and a quick trip around the island, he’d put his pro-distance plan into motion.
Over a basket of crab cakes and fries, Molly grilled him about the islands. She already knew the obvious stuff, like the reality show dealing with the perils of deep-sea fishing that was filmed here, and that the island chain separated the Bering Sea from the Northern Pacific. But she seemed fascinated by some of the quirkier details. Dutch Harbor and Unalaska were essentially the same community separated by a short bridge, but the arguments about which name was correct continued unabated. Both names had stuck. Dutch Harbor was used for the port and business sections, while Unalaska was where everyone lived when the workday was through.
“So, if Aleutians comes from a native word for island, doesn’t that make it redundant to call them the Aleutian Islands?”
He took a sip of his soda, then leaned back in his seat. “I guess it does.”
“How long have you been flying this route?”
“Seven years, but I grew up here.”
“And you said my father helped train you?”
Setting his drink back on the table, he nodded. “Yes. I already had my pilot’s license, but decided I wanted something with a little more oomph.”
“Like Evel Knievel. I remember.” Her brows went up. “My mom never understood why my dad wanted to leave a relatively safe job as a commercial pilot in order to be a bush pilot.”
He tensed, hoping she wasn’t going to ask him if Wayne had talked about his family. Because, while Wayne had loved his wife and daughter, he’d given serious thought to ending his marriage and moving away. His mentor’s misgivings had echoed his own. It had taken Blake two years from the time of Wayne’s death to realize Sharon’s attitude wasn’t going to change. After forcing him to leave one job, she’d ended up hating its replacement just as much, more so once they’d moved to his old house on the islands.
The home where he’d been born and raised—given to him when his parents had retired and moved to Florida—had gone from a place of happy memories to a battle zone where no one had ever won. The happiness his parents had found with each other seemed to elude him. When Sharon had finally filed for divorce, he’d been secretly relieved.
“The weather’s not always as bad as it was today.” No. Not always. Sometimes it was much worse.
He motioned at her empty plate, ready to be done with this particular conversation. “If you’re finished, I can show you where the clinics—the two that are currently functioning, anyway—and the hotel are. Are you staying at the Grand Aleutian?”
“No, I’m at the UniSea.”
He’d expected her to spring for the pricier accommodations, although he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because it was what Sharon would have done. “I have a house here, but I can drop you off at the hotel.”
“If I take the job, I may end up renting something.”
