Chapter 14 #3
When she nodded back, I leaned my head outside, shouting, “Clear,” then latched my door shut. Holding the key in the ignition, I started the engine. Its hum and vibration filled the cabin as the propeller kicked up speed.
Using the brakes to steer, I taxied to the runway, doing a quick runup of the engine as I monitored the gauges, stealing glances at Vera as I punched buttons and turned knobs.
Her eyes were squeezed shut behind her sunglasses.
“We don’t have to do this.”
This was the most I’d looked forward to a flight in well . . . years. I hadn’t been this excited to fly since before my trip home from Alaska with Alaina. My heart was set on doing this today, but if Vera wanted to turn back, I’d abort this right now.
She’d love it. If I could just get us off the ground, she’d love it. I’d gamble every penny to my name that she’d love to fly.
“I want to go,” she said. “I’m just . . . my stomach is in a knot. And I really don’t want to puke in your plane.”
I grinned. “I’d rather you not puke either. But if you get sick, there’s a bag in the back.”
“Okay.”
“This plane has a parachute.” I pointed to the red handle above our heads. “See that?”
Vera cracked her eyes and glanced up. “Yeah.”
“If something happens to me, use both hands and pull that knob. It will shoot a rocket from a compartment in the back and deploy an airframe parachute. Float us right back to the ground.”
“Are you making that up?”
“Nope. In college, when I told Mom I wanted to become a pilot, she went into Google mode. Told me to do her a favor and fly in a Cirrus so she could sleep at night.”
Vera’s frame relaxed. “I’m still nervous.”
“Be nervous. Close your eyes. I’ll tell you when to open them.”
“Thanks,” she whispered.
I ran through the rest of the briefing, Vera nodding along as I detailed the takeoff plan. And when we were ready, I rolled us to the runway and made the initial radio call.
“Here we go.” I pushed the throttle to full power. One. Two. Three. We sped down the runway, and once we were fast enough to rotate, I lifted us off with a tilt of the yoke.
We soared, rising higher and higher. A grin stretched across my mouth. It never got old. That first lift, when the plane just . . . flew. When it did what it was meant to do.
What I was meant to do.
After calling our departure, I climbed to a cruise altitude and leveled off. When the mountains and meadows sprawled beneath us, I let the autopilot fly us on a straight course so I could focus on Vera.
Her eyes were finally open, her mouth agape in wonder.
“Well?” I asked.
“Worth it.”
Thank fuck. “Where should we go? Pick a spot.”
Vera glanced around, peering out her window, then pointed to a snow-capped peak in the distance.
“Sable Peak?” I asked.
“That’s your favorite, right?”
“It is.” I turned to the new heading, aiming us toward the peak.
“Why is it your favorite?”
“The view. It’s not easy to hike up there, as you know. But you can’t beat that view from the top.” I loved to be in the air, but that view was arguably better than even this.
“There’s a lake tucked away about half a mile past the actual trail,” I continued.
“Discovered it in college. I came home one weekend, went buzzing around and spotted it. The next day, I went hiking to find it. It’s been my favorite spot ever since.
It’s remote. I like to think I’m the only person in the world who’s ever touched its water. ”
Vera hummed, her eyes focused outside.
I flew us around the peak a couple times, giving us enough distance that we didn’t need to climb higher. After a few circles, I followed the curve of the mountain ridgeline.
“Want to try?” I asked, disconnecting the autopilot.
“Try what?”
“Flying.”
“Um . . . yes?”
“Atta girl.” I’d put Vera in the left seat today. As an instructor, I could fly from either seat, but the left side was where students started.
Vera gulped and gripped the yoke. “Now what?”
I held up both hands. “You’ve got the flight controls. Don’t crash us into the mountains.”
“That’s not funny, Mateo.” Her lips flattened into a thin line.
“Sort of funny.” I grinned. “I’ll back you up. Just go for it.”
“Do I just . . .” She tipped the yoke, the wing on her side lifting as mine dipped. And a startled, happy laugh escaped her pretty mouth. “Oh my God, I’m flying an airplane.”
“You’re flying an airplane, Peach.”
Peach? Where the hell had that come from? It had just . . . slipped out. Like I should have been calling her Peach for years. Like the way I’d started calling Alaina Sprout. One day she didn’t have a nickname. The next, she did. And Peach was Vera’s.
She was too caught up in the flying to notice. Her forehead was furrowed in concentration. Her gaze was locked ahead.
The light that streamed through the windows loved her face. It caressed her cheeks and kissed her lips. It teased the strands of pure gold in that copper hair.
Clear and a million.
Today, I was seeing clear and a million.
“Will you teach me to fly?” she asked.
Spend hours and hours with her, alone and above the world? “Absolutely.”