Such a Rush (39 page)

I took a long breath, meeting his intense gaze. “I love you too.”

“I wanted to tell you on the radio,” he said. “But we don’t do that.”

“Your dad would kick your ass.”

Laughing, he pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’m leaving this here for you. Call Molly if you need anything.”

“O… kay,” I said. Crashing an airplane didn’t fix the fact that Molly had called me a liar. Or that I was one.

“She’s expecting you to call,” Grayson said. “You rest. I’ll be back to check on you.” Watching my eyes, he kissed my hands, and then he was gone. I could trace his path through the trees by the pitch of the pit bull’s bark.

I lay there for a while, but that moment in the airplane played over and over in my head. Thinking that the flight seemed normal, despite the fact that Grayson had told me the left wheel was gone. Setting the aircraft down on one wheel, feeling only by degrees that the other wheel was really missing.

Finally I got up, took a shower, and walked back to the airport. As I passed the office, Mr. Simon was coming out the door in his usual baseball cap and overalls, despite the heat. He waved me over. He hadn’t been around that morning for the crash. Now I suspected that’s why Mark had been willing to take me up: he really hadn’t been allowed, but his uncle hadn’t been there to say no.

I didn’t want Mr. Simon to yell at me, but I figured I owed him the opportunity since I
had
crashed his airplane. I walked into the shade of the porch.

He said, “I want to shake your hand, little lady.”

I didn’t have a lot of experience shaking hands. I probably hadn’t done it since I met Sofie, but I extended my hand to Mr. Simon. His grip was too strong at first, and suddenly so weak that I could hardly feel his hand at all, like he’d remembered he was shaking the hand of a girl.
Little lady,
he’d called me, so disrespectful even as he showed me respect by shaking my hand. Being a pilot had always been like this for me, and it always would.

He let me go and gestured to a rocking chair. I sat down. He eased into the rocking chair on the other side of the door, where Grayson had sat last Sunday when he tried to convince me to work for him in the first place.

“That was some fancy flying you did,” Mr. Simon said. “Saved my nephew.” He turned to gaze at the tree line, a few trunks showing bright scars where the crash had stripped them of bark. “Saved what’s left of my airplane.”

Saved myself,
I thought.

“I’ve got contracts to fill,” he said. “Mark’s grounded. Permanently, as far as I’m concerned. I need a pilot.”

Mr. Simon hadn’t actually asked me to be his pilot. I knew that’s what he wanted. I also knew assuming too much and voicing this first would give him the advantage in the negotiation. I’d learned a lot by listening to men on this porch.

And I didn’t really care anymore, because I had my own agenda. “Mark told me a couple of weeks ago that you were willing to hire me even while he was still flying for you. Was that true?”

Mr. Simon’s eyebrows went up. He shook his head. “No. First I’ve heard of it. He told you that?”

I nodded, stomach twisting.

I didn’t show surprise.

And I waited him out, rocking slowly in my chair like I could sit here in the shade all day.

Finally he said, “I am sorry for it. His mama didn’t teach him right.”

My mama didn’t teach me right, either,
I thought,
and I don’t act that way
. I kept rocking.

“But now I’ve got that opening,” Mr. Simon said. “And I’d like you to fill it. You’d need training, but it’s clear you’ve got the stuff.”

“Would you train me for free?” I asked.

He kept rocking too. “If that’s what it took, yeah.”

Now I should ask about the pay. Otherwise he might lower my salary to make up for the cost of crop-duster lessons. I’d learned a lot from Grayson this week too.

But there was no reason to keep playing this game. “I’ve got a job for the summer,” I said. “I’m going to keep flying for Hall.”

He turned to look at the Hall Aviation hangar. I followed his gaze. The red Piper was parked there, and Grayson walked toward us across the tarmac, carrying boxes.

“You think they’re going to stick around?” Mr. Simon asked me.

“I do,” I said, “at least for the summer. Next year I don’t know what I’ll be doing. Maybe you and I can talk again then.”

“Fair enough.” We both stood. He shook my hand again, this time covering it with his other hand. He looked straight into my eyes with watery blue eyes and said, “I do thank you.” He ambled off the porch and headed for the huge crop-duster hangar at the opposite end of the airport.

Grayson sat down in Mr. Simon’s chair, then set what he was carrying on the floor of the porch beside him: two
eco-friendly recycled paper containers from Molly’s parents’ café, and an eco-friendly drink cup.

I could tell he had something important to say. Just as on the first day we’d talked here on the porch, I could feel the weight of it around us in the hot, humid air.

He stood and held out his hands to me. He tugged me up to standing. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulled me close for a long hug.

Slowly I relaxed. Despite a couple of hours in bed, staring at the ceiling of the trailer, I hadn’t known how tense my muscles still were from the crash until I melted, boneless, into Grayson’s embrace.

He relaxed too, his tight hug fading into a shoulder massage. Finally he held me at arm’s length and looked into my eyes. At least, I thought he did. We were both wearing aviator shades. Despite the fact that I couldn’t see his eyes, this time I knew he was sincerely concerned as he asked, “Are you okay?” His voice broke. He cleared his throat.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Are
you
okay?”

“Now I am. It took me a while. I was getting worried about you, though, and I was just coming to look for you. Sit down.”

I didn’t want him treating me like an invalid when I wasn’t hurt at all. But he’d been through a lot that day, so I didn’t argue with him. I sat down.

He sat beside me. Frowned at me. Reached over, took my chair by both armrests, and dragged it closer to his own chair. “There.” He put his hand on my knee.

We both looked toward the far end of the runway as the orange Piper revved up its engines for takeoff. That must be why my knee was tingling, then—the vibration from the plane. I had thought at first it was Grayson’s touch. But after the plane left Earth and angled into the air, its engines fading into
a tinny buzz, I still felt the vibration up my thigh from Grayson’s hand on my knee. Then he squeezed my knee though he still watched the plane, as if he wanted to make sure I was still there.

“Who’s flying?” I asked. “That’s my plane. I guess you
did
fire me. You replaced me already?”

He groaned. “What was I thinking? Please come back. The Admiral’s only flying for me the rest of the day.”

“The Admiral!” I exclaimed. “Grayson, he’s not going to tow banners for you, is he? You shouldn’t have asked him! I don’t care how good a pilot he is. If he hasn’t been taught how to do it, he’ll kill himself.”

Grayson squeezed my knee again, this time to reassure me. “He volunteered so I could make my contracts and you wouldn’t have to fly. This is how he learned to fly in the first place, back when he was a young damn fool idiot. That’s what he said.”

I laughed. “That sounds like your dad talking.”

“There’s a reason they were friends.” Grayson tapped his finger on my knee. “Don’t tell the Admiral’s wife, though. That was a condition of his employment. He said she would shit a brick.”

“Get him down and send me up. I was just headed over to the hangar to tell you I’m ready to fly.”

“No,” Grayson said. “I was just headed to your trailer to bring you breakfast and lunch.” He gestured to the boxes from the café.

“I’m fine.”

“No.”

“I want to fly.”

He pulled his hand off my knee. “Leah, no. You crash-landed an airplane this morning. I’m not sending you back up
the same day. If you feel okay tomorrow, you can fly tomorrow and Sunday.”

“I need to get back on the horse
now.
” I said this lightly like I was kidding, but I meant it. I wasn’t scared. I knew what had happened that morning hadn’t been my fault. But I didn’t want to
get
scared because I’d waited too long and had too much time to think. “I’m embarrassed.”

“Of what?”

“Screaming.”

His left eyebrow lifted clear of his shades. “You think you should have crashed with more flair?”

“More composure.”

He smiled. “After I crashed the Piper last year, I went into the woods and threw up, as you know. I got over it. You’ll get over this too. You can get over it tomorrow. It would be irresponsible of me as your employer if I let you go back up today. End of discussion.” He sliced his hand across his neck.

I frowned at him and sliced my hand across my own neck. “We use that too much.”

“We need it,” he said. “Neither of us knows when to shut up.” He took both my hands in his. “
You’re
about to tell
me
to shut up. I have something to say to you, and something to ask you.”

“Okay.” I should have been used to Grayson planning things out, but years of knowing him died hard, and it seemed odd that he’d thought ahead to a confession, and a question.

He rubbed my hands with his thumbs, steeling himself.

“Wow!” I exclaimed. “What could be so awful, Grayson?” I took off my shades and set them in my lap, then reached forward and took off his shades.

His eyes surprised me as always, because I seldom saw them: his irises a strange light gray, his lashes blond and long.
Usually when I’d seen his eyes, he’d narrowed them at me. Now they were big and worried, and he bit his lip.

“Tell me,” I said.

“I should have told you earlier, but I was busy blackmailing you. I have to tell you but I don’t want you to break up with me.”

“Tell me.” I didn’t want to know. It was too soon for us to be over. But I couldn’t stand being in the dark.

“My dad left you the Cessna.”

I gasped. “The Cessna?” The white four-seater that Mr. Hall had used to give lessons. The first plane I’d ever flown. “Why didn’t somebody tell me in the last two months?”

“My dad, in his infinite wisdom, made Jake the executor of his will. Since Jake’s gone, the will is tied up in court. But I’m sure you’ll be getting a call in the next few weeks. Or you would, if you had a phone.”

I gaped at him. I couldn’t believe it. Mr. Hall had left me the Cessna.

Grayson shifted uncomfortably. “See, it didn’t make sense to me that he would will an airplane to a flight student, unless you were a lot closer than he’d admitted. That’s why I was… unkind to you at first this week. It wasn’t until that night we ate at Molly’s café, when you talked about flying, that I began to understand. You might never have come out and told my dad how you felt about flying like you told us, but he saw that in you. He knew. And then, as you and I talked and… did more than that… I got it. I felt guilty for suspecting you. It’s just that there was this
airplane
!” He spread his hands, indicating the thirty-six-foot wingspan, twenty-seven feet propeller to tail, and thousands upon thousands of dollars.

I owned a Cessna. I still couldn’t believe it. “Has Alec known about this the whole time?”

“No. I was the one who talked to the lawyers. I just told Alec about it this morning.”

“But he was going to find out,” I said, “and you knew that. How could you go ahead with this plan to get him and me together?”

He held out his hand. “I didn’t care about him finding out,” he said as he touched his thumb. “Or you finding out.” He touched his pointer. “Or him being mad.” He touched his middle finger. “Or you being mad.” He touched his ring finger. “All I cared about was keeping him alive.”

I nodded. I understood that.

I still couldn’t believe I owned a Cessna.

“I can’t accept it,” I said.

“I figured you’d say that. You think you don’t deserve it. But Dad gave it to you because he loved you. Love isn’t something you have to deserve.”

He sounded like he was reading a cue card. I looked at him, puzzled.

He grinned. “I learned that recently.” His grin faded. “At least, I hope it’s true.” He looked toward the Hall Aviation hangar. We couldn’t see the white Cessna inside, but we knew it was there. “I was thinking you could sell the plane and use the money to live on and pay tuition until you graduate from college, if you’re careful. Of course, then you wouldn’t have a plane, and knowing you, you’d rather have a plane to fly than a place to live.”

I laughed, because it was true.

“Some people sell shares of their airplanes,” he went on. “A retired doctor around here would love to buy half an airplane that my dad kept up the maintenance on.” In his voice I heard his pride in his dad. “You could still fly it half the time and pocket the profits for the other half.”