Part 22 (1/2)
”I'm still here.”
”The important thing is, is your stomach still here?”
”Definitely. It's been growling for hours. Which I have a feeling is about to become a real advantage.”
”Lets you appreciate the full effects of-”
”Don't tell me. Sam's Special Elixir.”
”Honest, honey, you could use a little of it. But let me know if it gets to be too much. Okay?”
But it wasn't too much. It was wonderful. Easy, slow rolls and great, swooping loops, and heart-stopping dives where the glistening waters of Lake Superior rushed to meet them, drawing closer and closer until she was sure they couldn't pull out of it in time. But they did, in a twisting roll, and suddenly they were climbing again, leaving Superior in their wake.
On and on it went. The little plane playing in the early-morning sky over the ”s.h.i.+ning big sea waters.” And somewhere in the middle of it, she forgot she was tired, forgot the strain of the long night. Forgot everything but the moment- and the man who was sharing it with her.
It was a lark. A pure outburst of joy. It was also a gift. A baring of his soul, as intimate a gesture as any he could have made to her. The sunrise, and now this romp in the quiet solitude of the northern sky: This is who I am. Take it. Take what I want to give you.
And, oh, how she wanted to. But it was only a moment, and what she wanted was a lifetime.
When the plane finally leveled out, the Michigan coast appearing in the canopy ahead, her heart was aching. It ached even more at the ardent, slightly breathless way he said her name.
”Katie?”
”Yes, Sam.”
”Let's go home.”
Home . . . She thought about the way he'd said the word as they flew westward, across the green carpet of wilderness far below.
A light morning mist still hovered over the empty field when they landed.
Kate managed her straps and helmet while Sam brought the plane to a stop by the barn. She wanted to get out on her own, didn't want him to help her, didn't want even to look at him. For the ride, as she was sure he'd known it would, had worked its magic. She was feeling raw and vulnerable, and she knew the first tender word or gesture from him would have her crying hysterically for him not to leave her. Before she could climb out, though, he reached for her hand, and she couldn't avoid giving it to him.
She felt the difference in him the instant he touched her, his hand enclosing hers in his strong grasp. Energy, excitement, and that underlying urgency she was coming to recog-nize-it radiated from him as he helped her climb onto the wing. Their bodies brushed, and his hands went to her waist to steady her. It was completely unnecessary-the wing wasn't that far off the ground-but he kept hold of her hand, stepping down, then turning to wait for her to follow.
He didn't speak, but, in a quick glance, she caught the intense, compelling look in his gray eyes as they searched her features. She was afraid she knew what he was thinking- that, now, they could pick up where they'd left off, with him trying to convince her to let him make it so she could conceive. He wouldn't give up until she let him try, for then he'd be able to leave with a clear conscience, having given her the only pieces of himself he could give her honestly.
Maybe she was being a fool not to take what she could get. Yet if she let him heal her, what would she have when he was gone that she didn't have now?
Nothing. His gift would be wasted on her. For she could never have another man's child without knowing it had been Sam who'd made it possible-and without wis.h.i.+ng the child were his.
As she walked beside him toward the Jeep parked by the back door of the house, thoughts of another confrontation like yesterday's sent s.h.i.+vers of dread racing through her. When the screen door banged, she glanced up, relieved to see Steve and Cressie coming out to meet them. And it flashed through her mind simply to stay and get Steve to take her home later. It didn't surprise her, though, after they'd given Steve and Cressie a bare-bones account of the night's events, to hear Sam say they had to go. Cressie offered to fix them breakfast, and Kate was about to say she'd love some when Sam said, thanks, anyway, but there was something he had to take care of.
Her thoughts-and her insides-were in turmoil as she let him guide her, with a hand on the small of her back, toward the Jeep. She was vaguely aware of Cressie's curious looks and of Sam telling Steve he'd be back later to ”settle up.” It wasn't until they were headed out the long driveway, though, that the strangeness of the men's conversation struck her.
She waited until they were halfway to town-traveling at a speed that made her wonder if Sam thought he was still flying the plane-then she spoke, more to break the unbearable tension than out of any real curiosity.
”I thought Steve was flying to Pittsburgh today.”
Sam's voice was especially rough as he replied. ”He decided not to go.”
”Did the man change his mind about buying the plane?”
”No.” He paused for an instant, then added, ”Steve got a better offer.”
”Really? From whom?”
”Me.”
Kate turned her head slowly to look at him. ”You bought the plane?”
Sam's gaze remained fixed on the road as he nodded. ”Last night, over the phone, when I called to let Cressie know I'd gotten you to Marquette in one piece.”
Her gaze searched his profile, taking in the set line of his jaw, the sharp angle of his cheekbone; they'd never been less revealing. His white knuckles on the steering wheel told her something, though.
”But . . . why?” she asked.
”Why do I want a plane?”
”Why do you want that plane?”
”Because it's just about perfect for what I want to do with it.”
”Which is?”
”Have fun. Mostly. . . . What are you looking at me like that for?”
She glanced away. ”No reason, except . . .”
”You liked all that messing around over the lake, didn't you?”
”Yes, I . . . I liked it. A lot.”
”It was fun.”
”Yes.”
”So. . . ?”
”It just seems, if you were going to buy a plane, you'd want something”-her hand fluttered-”I don't know. Newer? Faster?”
Sam took his eyes off the road to give her a steady look. ”Am I in a hurry?”
She held his gaze as she answered. ”Aren't you?”
”Only to get you out of this Jeep and behind a closed door.”
Kate swallowed hard, panic tightening the knots around her heart. But as he continued, the panic washed away, and her aching heart began to swell with a very different emotion.
Turning back to the road, he told her, ”There might be other times I'm in a hurry, too. Like last night. But a plane wouldn't always do the job-like if there was snow on the ground, or if you needed room for a stretcher. Or, maybe, if I wanted to transport things like packages of medical supplies or people- say, a fis.h.i.+ng or skiing party. Between the swamps and the mountains on the coast and all the trees, there aren't enough places to land to make a plane practical. So the T-34's mostly for fun, and maybe”-his gaze raked over her once, swiftly- ”maybe for teaching a certain friend of mind-a friend who could stand a little fun in her life-to fly, if she's interested. For work, I need a chopper. And a place to keep them both. A big place-like the one we just pa.s.sed with those pink trees and the 'For Sale' sign on the lawn. Katie, who owns that boarded-up farm?”