Believe me, to them, it's probably just a job.”
“Maybe,” she said, not wanting
She sat thinking of it for a long time, staring into the darkness off the porch, forgetting that Bobby was even there, and then suddenly, when she heard him stir, she remembered.
“I guess I should go. You're probably tired from gassing all those planes,” he teased her. But actually, she wanted to be alone, to think of what it had been like to fly the plane. It had been so exquisite for those few minutes. “I'll see you tomorrow, Cass.”
“Good night.” He held her hand briefly and then brushed her cheek with his lips before he walked back to his father's old Model A truck with “Strong's Groceries” written across the side. In the daytime, they used it for deliveries. At night, they let Bobby drive it. “I'll see you tomorrow.”
She smiled and waved at him as he drove away, and then she walked slowly back into the house, thinking of how lucky Nick was to be flying through the night, on his way to San Diego.
3
Nick returned to Good Hope from the West Coast late Sunday night, after dropping off cargo and mail in Detroit and Chicago. He was back at his desk at six o'clock Monday morning, looking rested and energetic. It was a busy day, some new contracts had come in, and there was always more mail and cargo to be moved around. They had plenty of pilots working for them, and enough planes, but Nick still volunteered for the longer-range trips himself, and the more difficult flying. It gave him enormous satisfaction to get in a plane, and fly off into the night, especially in rotten weather. And Pat was the perfect balance for him. He was a genius at running the administrative side of their business. He still loved to fly too, but he had less time for it now, and in some ways less patience. It annoyed the hell out of him when something went wrong with a plane, or they were delayed, or their schedules got loused up. He had no patience at all for pilots' quirks and little tricks, and he made them toe the line and be 100 percent reliable, or they never flew again for O'Malley.
“Ya better watch out, Ace,” Nick teased him now and again, “you're beginning to sound like Rickenbacker,” their old commander.
“I could do a lot worse, Stick. And so could you,” Pat would growl back at him, using Nick's old wartime nickname. His wartime history was every bit as colorful as Pat's. Nick had once fought the famed German flying ace Ernst Udet to a standoff, and brought his plane back safely even though he'd been wounded. But that was all behind them now. The only time Nick thought of the war was when he was fighting weather, or bringing in a limping plane. He had had a few close calls in the seventeen years he'd flown for Pat, but none as dramatic as his wartime adventures.
Nick was reminded of one of them late that afternoon, as they watched a storm brewing in the east, and mentioned it to Pat. There had been a terrible storm he'd gotten caught in during the war, and flew so low to the ground to get under the clouds, he had almost scraped the plane's belly. Pat laughed, remembering it; he'd given Nick hell for flying that low, but he'd managed to save himself and the plane. Two other men had gotten lost in the same storm and never made it.
“Scared the hell out of me,” Nick admitted, two decades later.
“You looked a little green when you got in, as I recall.” Pat needled him a little bit, and they watched the ominous black clouds gather in the distance. Nick was still tired from the long flight from the West Coast the day before, but he wanted to finish his paperwork before he went home to sleep. And when he walked back into the office with Pat, after checking the condition of some planes, he noticed Chris in the distance, chatting with Cassie. They seemed intent in conversation and neither of them noticed him. He couldn't imagine what they were saying. Nor did it worry him. He knew that the weather was looking too ominous for Chris to want to go up with him or practice solo.
Cassie and Chris were still talking after Nick disappeared back into the office, and Cassie was shouting at him over the roar of some nearby engines.
“Don't be stupid! We only have to go up and down for a few minutes. The storm is still hours away. I listened to all the weather reports this morning. Don't be such a damn chicken, Chris.”
“I don't want to go up when the weather looks like this, Cass. We can go tomorrow.”
“I want to go now.” The dark clouds rushing past them overhead only seemed to excite her further, “it would be fun.”
“No, it wouldn't. And if I risk the Jenny, Dad'll really be mad at me.” He knew his father well and so did Cassie.
“Don't be dumb. We're not risking anything. The clouds are still way up there. If we go now, we can be back in half an hour, and be perfectly safe. Trust me.” He watched her eyes unhappily, hating her for being so persuasive. She had always done this to him. After all, she was his big sister. He had always listened to her, and more often than not it had resulted in disaster, mostly when she urged him to trust her. She was the daredevil in the family, and he was always the hesitant, cautious one. But Cassie never listened to reason. Sometimes it was easier just to give in to her than to go on arguing forever. Her blue eyes were pleading with him, and it was obvious she wasn't going to take no for an answer.
“Fifteen minutes and that's it,” he finally conceded unhappily. “And I decide when we come back in. I don't give a damn what you think, if it's too soon, or you haven't had enough. Fifteen minutes and we're back. And that's it, Cass. Or forget it. Deal?”
“Deal. I just want to get the feel of the weather.” She looked like a girl with a new romance as she beamed at him, her eyes dancing.
“I think you're nuts,” he said grumpily. But it seemed easier to get it over with than to stand there yelling at each other till the storm broke.
They went out to where the Jenny was kept, rolled it out, and did the necessary checks on the plane itself, and then they hopped into their respective seats. Cassie sat in front again, and Chris took the instructor's seat behind her. In theory, just as before, she was only a passenger, and since they both had controls, no one could see who handled them, if it was Chris or Cassie.
A few minutes later, Nick heard the hum of the plane overhead, but he didn't pay much attention to it. He figured it was some fool, trying to get home ahead of the weather front right before the storm broke. For once, it wasn't his problem. All his pilots were on the ground, where he had told them to stay, after listening to a news bulletin half an hour before. But as he listened to the sound now, he could have sworn he could hear the Jenny. It seemed impossible, but he wandered over to the window anyway, and then he saw them. He saw Cassie's distinct red hair in the front seat, and Chris right behind her. He was flying the plane, or so Nick thought, and the wind buffeted them terribly and seemed to almost toss them away right after takeoff. They were moving with surprising speed, and then Nick saw them rise dramatically, probably caught in a sudden updraft. He watched them, amazed, unable to believe that Chris had been both brave and foolish enough to take off in a windstorm like this one. And almost as soon as they disappeared into the cloud hanging over him, Nick saw the rain splash down on the ground as though someone in the sky had turned on a faucet.
“Shit!” He muttered to himself as he hurried outside, watching for where the jenny had been, but he couldn't see anything, and the storm front was moving fast now, with terrifying winds and a flash of lightning. Within minutes he was drenched, and there was no sign of Chris or Cassie.
Chris was fighting with the controls as they gained altitude, and Cassie had turned around and was shouting something to him, but between the storm and the engine's noise, he couldn't hear her.
“Let me take it!” she was shouting, and at last he understood, as she signaled him with gestures. He shook his head, but she kept nodding at him, and it was obvious that he was being overpowered rapidly by the forces of nature. The force of the wind and the storm were too much for him, and the plane was being tossed around like a child's toy, in his unskilled hands. And then, without saying a word to him, she turned her attention to the controls, and by sheer force, she overpowered him and took them from him. She began flying the plane with her stronger hands on the controls, and within moments, despite the ferocious winds, the plane had almost steadied. Chris
