Chapter 25
Hetty had been many things in her life, but pampered was not one of them.
Her father had been loving but brusque, and had left them far too soon.
Which had left her mother too harried with seven children to spend a lot of time coddling each of them.
Yet Mom had always been there for her, for all her siblings, caring and caretaking, and Hetty counted herself lucky for that.
But right now she was thinking she could get used to this.
Oh, not the rigorous rehab she was going through, although she’d had to take a break just now, after an hour of pushing as hard as she could short of doing new damage.
But now, while taking a break out on the back deck, looking up at the mountains whose towering peaks were never clear of snow, making for a beautiful contrast with the summer green of the lower altitudes, she seized on other things to think about so she wasn’t so focused on her body’s soreness.
And life here in the Colton house was quite a change.
It had been three days of both pain and bliss.
The rehabilitation part was tough, but if there was anything she needed, anything she wanted, Spence saw that she had it.
Sometimes even before she realized she wanted it.
To the point where it was making her think about things like mind reading and psychics.
One day, it was the cinnamon roll she’d been thinking about.
The next, it was that book she’d been wanting to read.
And the next, it was the cane she wanted to try as soon as the therapist said she could.
That one he’d leaned against the wall right by the door to the bedroom.
“Keep the goal in sight,” he’d said simply, and with a casual shrug, as if going out of his way to do this was nothing special. But Spence Colton was definitely something special. Even when she’d been the most irritated at him, she’d never doubted that.
She remembered how in high school she used to watch him with the girls, watch how they all flirted with him, looking at him with what her mother laughingly called “sheep eyes.” With his looks, his name and the fact that he’d been the star of both the school’s baseball—weather-short season and all—and hockey teams for bait, they’d circled him like hungry fish.
She supposed that was how he’d learned to deal with the come-ons so well, because he’d been the target of them from such a young age.
She, on the other hand, had not. Not that there hadn’t been interest because as one of the few biracial students on campus she’d been a bit of a novelty, but because she’d had no patience for it and it had showed.
That had been why, when she’d been given the tutoring assignment for him, she’d dreaded it.
Suddenly, vividly, a memory shot through her mind, something she hadn’t thought of in years.
That first day, when Spence had walked into the small study room that was dedicated to the tutoring program.
She’d seen him earlier, out near the gym and the baseball diamond, smiling amid a cluster of girls laughing delightedly at something he’d said.
But the smile he’d worn then was nowhere to be seen now.
And her irritation had broken through the mask of indifference she’d tried to put on.
“Sorry to take you away from your fan club,” she had said sharply as he’d entered and dropped a couple of books on the small table.
His head had snapped up and he’d stared at her. And then, in a voice she’d never forget, he had said, “If they knew I was stupid enough to end up here, they wouldn’t be interested.”
She’d been taken aback, not only by the chill in his tone but the self-disgust, and had truly regretted what she’d said and how she’d said it.
Because she knew he wasn’t stupid, the director of the program had told her about his math and science and engineering scores, that he was borderline genius in all of those areas.
She’d vowed then and there that she would find a way through whatever his problem was, find the method that would work for him.
And she had, she thought now, with no small amount of satisfaction. And it had, as he’d told her with solemn sincerity the day he’d found out he’d passed all his final exams, changed his life. Forever.
She supposed maybe that was the moment. The look in his eyes, the genuineness in his voice when he’d thanked her for saving him, the nothing-less-than-fierce hug he’d given her…
She thought maybe that was when she’d fallen.
Fallen for the real Spence, the one he kept so well-hidden but that she had seen in every session they’d had.
Of course she’d shoved the feeling aside, because Hetty Amos had had no time for something as silly as high school romance.
Or any romance, for that matter. She’d had plans for her future, and even though she’d admired and loved her mother dearly, they hadn’t included getting married and having a bunch of kids.
And she had done it. That reaching for planes in the sky she’d done as a child had become her true passion on a school-sponsored small-plane flight to Anchorage for a ceremony for award-winning students.
She’d been beyond fascinated not only with the flight but the plane itself, how it worked, and the intricacy of the controls.
She’d been so entranced, even the pilots had noticed and had let her sit in the copilot seat part of the way.
That was when she’d been certain of her destiny.
Over her mother’s fears, as soon as she’d finished high school, she put herself through flight school.
Her determination never wavered. It was what she’d been born to do, and she would let nothing stop her.
One of her flight instructors, Andrew West, a former military pilot who specialized now in teaching the younger students, seemed to recognize a kindred spirit, and had taken a personal interest. He’d not only taught her, he’d pushed, prodded and demanded her absolute best.
Flying in Alaska is unlike anywhere else in the world.
It’s not just the mountains, and the fact that dead-end canyons are everywhere, or that you’ll be flying at lower altitudes and so have less time in an emergency, or that magnetic variation can be as much as twenty-five degrees, it’s also that you’re flying over water that’s always frigid. Never forget the 1-10-1 rule.
She’d committed that to memory early on.
First minute in the water was pure cold shock.
After ten minutes, you had muscle failure.
And after one hour, you’d be unconscious from hypothermia, and therefore dead.
And even if she hadn’t memorized it, the test training she’d had to go through would have pounded it home.
Nothing like being dumped in that icy water and having to get yourself out of the mockup aircraft and to a pier a hundred yards away to sear it into your brain.
You’ve got it, Amos. You’ve got that passion, and you’ve got the knack, you just need to hone the skills. You need to work harder at it than you’ve worked at anything, even that fancy top-of-the-class diploma you got.
Hetty smiled at the memory, sighed aloud and went back to work stretching her leg.
That, if she set the pain aside, was perhaps the most unsettling aspect of all of this.
She was a goer and a doer, and didn’t normally spend much time lost in thoughts of the past. But she had twenty-four hours a day now where her brain was free to roam, and even when she was working on the injury, they happened.
In the beginning, she had let them, as a distraction from the pain, but now the recollections seemed to be happening all the time.
Except when she was fantasizing about the future. A future she had no guarantee would really happen. Not until she and Spence had that talk they had both hinted at.
So get to work in the now. Start planning instead of remembering. You can fly a freaking airplane, you can figure this out.
Self-directed order given, she began to do exactly that.
There had to be a way. Maybe the next time he was here, she could claim cabin fever and ask him to take her outside, somewhere, anywhere.
Anywhere away from potential interruptions.
Anywhere they could have that discussion.
Because she couldn’t stand to just loll around here and wonder any longer.
She didn’t want to just reclaim the life she’d had, she wanted to start building that new one, the one she’d never really hoped to have until that night in the cave had let her know it might be possible.
You need to work harder at it than you’ve worked at anything…
Captain West’s words came back to her again and, for the first time, she thought they could apply to more than just learning to fly.
Or perhaps it would be a different kind of flying.
Her resolution settled now, she went back to her stretching.
She’d done the hardest part of the routine, now it was a matter of keeping the injured tissue and muscles from tightening up too much, keeping the scar tissue to a minimum.
She didn’t know just how much of a scar she was going to have, but she’d resolved early on that she’d consider it a souvenir, a reminder of that night.
She wondered if there would come a time when she would be telling the story of how it—they—began in a dark, hidden cave, one of those nights that never really became night and—
“You’re not pushing too hard, are you, Hetty?”
Abby Colton’s voice as she stepped out onto the deck was light, cheerful, and obviously sincere.
It had taken Hetty a bit of effort to see the woman as an individual rather than just as Spence’s mother and the wife of the founder of RTA, but Hetty felt as if she knew her much better now.
And liked her. She’d always read her articles in the local paper, mostly—or so she had told herself—because of her connection to her employer.
But now she was at the point where she could admit it was also because she was Spence’s mother.
“I’m through the hard part,” she said.
“Good,” Abby said as she sat down on the chair closest to where Hetty had stretched out on the mat she did her sessions on. She held out a glass, which Hetty recognized as full of that luscious strawberry lemonade she frequently made.
“Oh, I love this stuff.”
Hetty accepted the glass thankfully. She took a long swallow, let out a sigh of satisfaction and appreciation, then licked her lips to be sure she hadn’t missed any.
Abby smiled widely. “Now that’s the best kind of thank-you.”
Hetty took another long drink, then decided what the heck and finished it. Toying with the now-empty glass, she said, “Speaking of thank-yous, I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for this,” she said, gesturing with her free hand at the house, the deck, the view.
“You’re one of the most important components of RTA. It’s the least we can do.” She grinned. “Besides, I’m under strict orders to see to you today, since Spence is off collecting your baby.”
Hetty blinked. All the possible meanings of that phrase shot through her mind and her voice was a little wobbly when she said, “He’s what?”
“I know, your precious plane’s been sitting up there all this time, but this is really the first chance they’ve had, with the schedule so messed up.”
Oh. The plane. She felt a flush rising to her cheeks and looked away. Abby went on.
“And as Chuck said, it was a bear to get all the parts out here, and it wasn’t like anybody could really steal it. But he says he’s finally got it flyable, so Ryan flew Spence and his uncle Will out to get her this morning. Then he’ll shadow them coming back, just in case.”
Hetty knew Will Colton was a fixed-wing pilot, although he hadn’t done as much for RTA since they had hired her. But that fact didn’t matter to her. What mattered was that it had finally registered exactly where they were going.
“Spence is going back there?” she almost yelped. “To where the shooter was?”
Abby looked puzzled. “To where the plane is. He’s the one who knows.”
“But what if that guy is still around? What if he’s still out there?”
A sudden image of Spence lying on the ground in a pool of blood, dying, shot through her mind and, for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. She felt a shudder go through her, tried to stop it, and failed.
“No,” she finally blurted. And then all the fears tumbled out in a single rush. “No, he can’t go back out there, that guy saw him there that night, too, and he might think Spence saw him, if he’s still there he could see him now, and maybe he won’t miss this time and—”
She stopped when Abby left her chair and came down beside her on the mat, enveloping her in a rather fierce hug.
“Shh,” she soothed. “They’re ready for that, Hetty. Armed and ready, I might add. I promise you they are. Ryan and Will would never, ever, let anything happen to Spence. We’ve been there before, and if there’s a vow we Coltons will never break, it’s that one. Nothing happens to our kids.”
Hetty gulped in a breath and tried to suppress the shakiness that had gripped her the moment she’d thought of Spence being back where the shooter had tried to kill both of them. It took her a moment or two of clenching her jaw, but she finally got her breathing back to normal.
“Now,” Abby said, still in that soothing tone, “would you like to tell me what that was about? Is there something going on between you and Spence I should know about?”
Hetty’s gaze shot to her face. She looked away quickly, but was very much afraid she had betrayed herself. “I can’t…talk about it.”
I can’t talk about it until we talk about it. Talk. Talk, talk, talk. When had that become the watchword?
“All right,” Abby said. “But may I say one thing?”
Hetty looked back at the kind, caring woman who was Spence’s mom. She didn’t trust herself to speak, so only nodded.
“I hope it’s true. That there’s something going on between you. Because you would be the best thing that could happen to him.”
With that, she got to her feet, took Hetty’s empty glass from her, and went back into the house. Leaving Hetty staring after her, her eyes stinging a little at the pure honesty and hope that had been in those words.