19. Storm of the Century
Storm of the Century
Claire snapped her seat belt in place, settling into her aisle seat and watching the remaining passengers load onto the plane. The jet for their two-hour flight across the Northern Sea to Oslo was smaller, with her and Noah seated together across the aisle from a single seat.
As the plane took off, she glanced at her traveling companion.
Once again, Noah had disappeared behind his mask of indifference, his earbuds firmly in place and his eyes closed.
After the successful testing of their site solution this week, you'd think he'd be friendlier.
Whatever. She was tired of guessing at his moods and focused on the upcoming week.
Claire looked forward to catching up with the rest of the team and hearing about their sight-seeing adventures.
You couldn't see the northern lights in Texas and she could hardly wait to see their photos from this weekend.
When she realized Noah wasn't going to talk to her at all, she pulled her book from her backpack and picked up the story from where she left off. At least the fae hero in her story wasn't broody.
Three chapters later, the captain announced they were diverting from their normal route to avoid some rough weather. He reassured them the detour was a normal precaution, and they should make up the time once they were clear of the storm.
Claire bit her lip and looked at Noah, who'd removed his earbuds at the announcement.
He caught her look and shrugged. "As long as we arrive before supper, we'll be fine.
It's not like we'll have to run through the airport to catch a connecting flight.
" The slight lift to the side of his mouth made her relax.
She teased him back. "At least we both have the itinerary and no one will be stranded alone."
Thirty minutes later, Claire regretted her cavalier attitude as the captain asked everyone to remain seated with their seat belts on as they navigated through a rough patch. The ominous darkness outside Noah's window had Claire clutching her armrests.
The plane dropped like it had hit an air pocket. Screams sounded around them as several overhead bins opened and bags fell out.
"Oh, my goodness!" she cried, as a flash of lightning outside lit up the entire cabin.
Noah grabbed her hand and clasped it in his as the plane continued to roll and buck. The motion reminded her of the time she rode a mechanical bull at a friend's birthday party. She held on to Noah and pinched her eyes shut, calming her breathing and trying to find her Zen place.
"Claire." She registered the concern in his voice, but continued trying to maintain her breathing. "Claire, are you with me? Do I need to do anything for you?"
She peeked at him. "I'm okay. I'm doing breathing exercises to manage my stress. Holding my hand helps."
He opened his mouth to say more, but was interrupted by the captain's latest announcement. Claire didn't hear everything he said, but the vibe in the cabin had changed. "I didn't catch everything. Did he say we're landing?" she asked Noah.
"Apparently, we've sustained some kind of damage and need to land. There's a small, retired Air Force base that can handle a plane this size and we're landing there."
While the flight remained bumpy, they experienced no more big, scary drops, and they landed safely.
The crew handled the passengers with minimum fuss, keeping everyone calm and organized while they figured out how to get people off the plane without the use of a modern jetway.
In the end, someone at the retired base found a rickety rolling stairway stable enough to handle deboarding the passengers.
"What are you doing?" Noah asked as Claire dug through her carry-on bag.
"I brought an umbrella!" She nodded her head toward the window where sheets of rain covered it, making visibility nil.
"Well, that's fortuitous."
Noah stood in the makeshift lobby of the ex-government facility watching the airline employees and local officials huddled down the hall away from the passengers.
Despite Claire's best efforts with the umbrella earlier, they'd both gotten soaked.
The facility employees had rounded up paper towels and blankets to make everyone more comfortable.
Claire had surprised him by pulling out a microfiber towel from her backpack, which they'd used to dry their electronics, then their hair.
Well, mostly hers. His was short enough to dry in minutes.
Hers, on the other hand—it was the never-ending story of curls.
She stood nearby, wringing out the ends of her locks with the towel, her shoulders hunched against the chill. Something about the sight tugged at him. Perhaps it was the way her hair clung to her neck, or that she kept fussing with it like getting it dry would chase away the cold.
"Here," he said, stepping closer. "Let me help."
"Thanks," she said, handing him the towel. "Where are we, anyway?"
He gently wrapped the towel around her long, unruly strands, squeezing out the water with slow, careful pressure until it no longer dripped all over the floor.
"That's probably as good as it's going to get," he murmured. Your towel's soaked." He handed it back to her. "And we're in Scotland."
"Thanks. Scotland? Nice."
Claire wrung it out at the nearby drinking fountain while he checked his phone. Only two bars.
"Are you okay to watch our things while I make some phone calls?" he asked when she came back.
"Sure. Doesn't look like we're going anywhere soon."
He nodded, then wandered around searching for a spot with a better signal. He found it near the southwest window and dialed his dad's number. No one better than a retired military mechanic to talk to about a downed plane. It didn't take long for his father to answer.
"Oliver here."
"Hey, Pops."
"Noah! What's wrong?" Noah smiled. His dad always could hear trouble across the line. He supposed calling him outside their weekly catch up call was a major clue.
Noah explained their situation and where they were. As he spoke, he watched three members of the huddled group peel off and head toward the plane. When they opened the luggage compartments, he knew they were in trouble. "Looks like they're unloading our luggage."
His dad whistled. "Sounds bad."
"Yeah."
They sat in silence while each thought about the predicament he was in.
Noah stared absently at the puddle forming at his feet.
He wasn't thrown by much, but it was nice to know he could call his dad when things seemed beyond his control.
Even if neither of them said much, just knowing he was there was comforting.
"I tell ya what," his dad said. "I've got a buddy who still lives in the area. Let me reach out to him and see what we can do for you."
"Thanks, Pops."
"Listen, son, this storm is a bugger. It's already causing serious problems everywhere. You take care of yourself, okay?"
"Yes, sir. Will do." Noah spotted the group of officials walking toward the crowd. "Looks like they've got an update. I better go."
"Yep. I'll reach out to Devon now."
His dad hung up without further conversation. The man didn't like phone calls or goodbyes, and never bothered with extraneous words. The call ended when it ended. The normality of his dad's actions grounded Noah.
"Folks, if I can have your attention, please?
" The crowd turned as one to the pilot standing next to an official looking local man.
"We're dealing with a couple of issues here.
First, we can't take off until we get a replacement part.
Second, the storm has strengthened and is causing havoc around the country, meaning we're not getting that part anytime soon.
" A collective groan rose through the crowd and the airplane captain made a calming motion with his hands to quiet everyone.
"This is Mayor Balfour of Leesburgh, the nearest town. Mr. Balfour?"
Noah walked back over to stand by Claire as the men spoke. She threw a worried glance in his direction before looking back at the speakers, where the smaller man stepped up to address the crowd.
"Hello. I'm sorry you've arrived at our fair village under such circumstances. We're working to find accommodations for everyone here in town and will provide transportation to one of our lovely hotels while we get everything sorted."
The crowd started asking questions as Noah's phone vibrated in his hand with a text from his father.
Got you two booked at a local B&B. Devon is on his way to the airport now to fetch you and your workmate.
Noah half-listened to the update. Neither the pilot nor the town official offered any solid answers to the crowd.
They couldn't say how long it would take to get the needed part, nor how long the repair would take once they received the part.
Additionally, the storm was getting bigger, which complicated everything.
One passenger suggested getting a ride to Inverness and trying to catch another flight from the bigger airport, but that seemed dubious.
While the crowd was still shouting their questions to the poor chaps in charge of this mess, Noah gathered their things. Claire noticed and followed his lead. He guided them toward the main doors and found an open spot by the window where they could watch for his dad's friend.
"I see my bag." Claire's statement brought his attention to the side door across the hall.
"I'll watch our things if you want to grab it," he volunteered.
She peered at him, taking his measure. "What have you cooked up?"
"It's always food with you, isn't it?" He grinned. "I got us a ride separate from this group. Who knows how long we'll be here—wet and miserable—if we wait on them to finish arguing. Fetch your bag and wheel it back here so we can jet when he gets here."