Part 7 (2/2)
”No other plans,” Helen said. ”There's something I want to share with you.”
”Okay.” Cory turned in her seat to face Helen.
”How was your trip to Boston?”
”Perfect. The Pops pianist had taken ill and they called me to cover for him. I always have fun with that group. I was also asked to conduct two pieces.” She held her arms in the air and motioned a down beat. ”There's nothing like conducting a group of talented musicians.”
”Mult.i.talented, huh? I have to admit that I don't own any of your recordings.” She pulled into the airport. She hadn't been there in months and it was time to spread her wings. ”Follow me,” she said when they left the car.
A short walk later, an airport official met Helen on the tarmac.
”It's good to see you again, Helen. The wind is a little tricky today, but I don't think it's anything you can't handle.” He took the pre-written flight plan that she handed him and tucked it into his jacket.
She grabbed Cory's hand. There was a hesitation to Cory's step as they followed him to a white Piper Tomahawk. On the side of the fuselage was the word Princess painted in pink. ”She looks great, Bill.”
”The mechanics checked everything and I took her on a trial run. She's purring like a kitten.”
Helen ran her hand along the propeller of the single engine plane. ”Thanks,” she said and turned to Cory. ”Ready to go for a ride?”
”You're a pilot?” she asked.
”Taught to fly by my father and I was licensed at eighteen. Come on. Let's have some fun.”
Bill a.s.sisted Cory onto the wing and buckled her into the copilot seat. Helen visually inspected the outside of the plane. After determining that all was safe, she hoisted herself onto the opposite wing and climbed inside the c.o.c.kpit. She was proud to share this time with Cory, and it felt like a playful ”look what I can do” after seeing Cory's music room. Not that she needed to get even, she only wanted to feel special, something more than a writer for a newspaper.
Helen turned the key, and the single engine coughed and the propeller finally spun on the nose of the plane. She adjusted her headset. Each gauge showed the proper reading and the gas tank registered full. She checked the position of the flaps.
”Good afternoon, control tower. This is KNP twenty-three ninety. Do I have a clear runway?”
”KNP twenty-three ninety, this is Westchester tower. You're clear for runway two. Repeat. You're clear for two.”
”Thanks, Westchester,” she said and maneuvered the plane into position. Cory watched every move she made. ”Why so quiet?”
”I didn't know if I should speak.”
Helen laughed. ”It's okay. It's not like we're heading into the night for a secret bombing mission. Let's get into the air. We'll talk there.” She adjusted her mic again. ”Tower, this is KNP twenty-three ninety and we're ready for takeoff.”
”KNP twenty-three ninety, this is Westchester. You have a nice tailwind for takeoff. The sky is yours. Have a great flight, Ms. Townsend.”
She powered the throttle and the Tomahawk roared as it picked up speed down the runway. Around 800 feet, she pulled back on the control and the Princess climbed into a cloudless blue sky. After she arced the wings toward Connecticut, Helen leveled off at 8,000 feet and set a cruising speed of 100 knots.
”It's a beautiful day,” she said and removed her microphone.
Cory glanced around the panel of switches and lights. ”Don't you have to set vectors or something? Coordinates? How do you know where to go?”
”We'll just cruise the Berks.h.i.+re Mountains. They're kind of like up the block. They're familiar.” The plane was jostled by light turbulence and Cory gripped her seat. ”It's a little windy.” A stronger bounce rocked them and Cory turned ashen. ”It's okay,” she rea.s.sured her. ”I'll take us up a little. The air might be smoother.” She reached for the controls but Cory stopped her.
”No. Not higher.” She grabbed Helen's hand. ”I have a fear of flying. I do it a lot, but I usually take a sedative first.” Frightened eyes stared into Helen's.
”Oh my G.o.d. Why didn't you tell me? I'd have never made you go through this.” She took hold of the controls just as the plane hit an air pocket. The drop lifted Helen against her belt and the plane plummeted several feet. When Bill mentioned the wind, she wished she'd cancelled the flight, but pride had stopped her.
”Oh, Jesus. Helen!”
”We'll be okay. We're going back.” Strong wind pounded the aircraft and Helen looked over at Cory. ”There's a bag to your right, if you need it.” The plane dropped again and Cory grabbed the bag. Helen put on her headset. ”Westchester tower, this is KNP twenty-three ninety. The wind is kicking us around and we're returning for landing.”
The plane continued with fitful rocks and dips during their flight. Once more, the Princess dropped and Helen cursed the turbulence. She hated wind when flying and understood the horrors it could present. She was once a pa.s.senger with her father when they were s.n.a.t.c.hed from the sky and forced to make an emergency landing in a rocky field. She tasted the terror of grazing a grove of trees and not knowing if the landing gear was intact. Her father had handled the plane through to an abrupt stop, but the force had broken Helen's leg and her father's wrist. It could have been much worse.
On her approach to Westchester, the wings tipped left and then right, but she brought the plane in like the professional she was. When the landing gear hit the runway, she sighed with relief.
”We're down,” she said and made the short taxi back to the tarmac.
”I'm sorry I spoiled your day,” Cory said before they exited the plane.
”You spoiled nothing, but you should have told me of your fear and I shouldn't have a.s.sumed you wouldn't mind flying.” She nodded toward the bag. ”Still empty, huh?”
”Fortunately.” She unbuckled her seat belt. ”Can we leave now?”
”Yeah.”
Cory's color came back and she was calm in the car. Helen nearly laughed when she remembered how quickly she'd s.n.a.t.c.hed the barf bag from the door. At the same time, she was thankful she didn't have to break out the cleaning products.
”I guess we threw each other a curve today,” Cory said. ”It's beyond terrific that you're a licensed pilot, but I don't know if I'd ever be able to share it with you.”
”Ah, that's okay. I can't play a piano very well. That kind of evens us.” She took hold of Cory's hand and rested both on the gear s.h.i.+fter. ”Look, don't hold back on me in the future. I can't read your mind.”
”I know.” She turned to Helen. ”Will you come home with me?”
”Yes, but I insist on cleaning our brunch mess while you play something cla.s.sical for me on your piano.” She turned off the parkway and onto Seventy-Ninth Street.
Chapter Nine.
Cory had just completed a short cla.s.sical piece when Helen placed the final dishes into the dishwasher and wiped the counter. She grabbed a chrysanthemum from the vase and joined Cory at the piano. She placed the flower atop the instrument. Cory smiled up at her and continued playing.
”Do you like this?” she asked Helen.
”Yes. It's romantic.”
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