Page 51 of Chocolate Cherry Cabin

“Just when I literally put my life in their hands.”

“Trust me.”

“Never.”

“But we’re on a date. That implies some level of trust, doesn’t it?”

Hannah shook her head. Not a date. The gossip would be insane, and she so wasn’t ready for that.

As she took in the sights below, she began to think about the divorcée memoir that Athena had given her. The author was learning to not care so much about how others perceived her and was daring to believe something new about herself post-divorce. Just because her marriage hadn’t worked out didn’t mean she’d failed and that there was something wrong with her. It was hard to accept that, to believe it for herself, but Hannah wanted to try.

And currently, it seemed as though everyone was trying to nudge her out of her sheltered shell, and to take some risks. But could she really let go? Could she move past the safety of the life she was currently living?

Hannah leaned back against the seat, eyes closed, concentrating.

Obviously, she felt there was room for personal growth, as she’d applied for school. But beyond that her mind went blank, refusing to answer anything further about her future.

She slowly opened her eyes to discover they were already near the windfarm one county over. Rows of white windmills waved lazily as they passed overhead.

Louis was watching her with concern, probably regretting taking her out, and worried she was either going to barf or was in the midst of a quiet meltdown. Maybe shewasin a meltdown. She was melting down her old self-image.

They rose above a low bank of clouds and were suddenly blinded by sunshine. It was breathtaking.

“Wow.”

“There’s a little lake over here. I pass it on my way to work. There’s a waterfall and sometimes I see deer drinking from the pond.” He banked the plane to head in the direction he’d tipped his head, causing Hannah to squeal. It didn’t feel dangerous, just different. It shook things loose in her box of internal worries.

They flew for several more minutes, Louis lowering the plane to show her his waterfall, before pointing out various hills, towns and landmarks like a guide.

She wondered if he’d decided to live in Sweetheart Creek so flying could be a part of his commute, giving him daily perspective. If he had, she understood why, because as he turned to head back home, the weight of her life was already pressing back in. All her so-called problems would still be waiting for her, just as Louis had promised.

“Lou, can we stay up here a bit longer?”

* * *

Lou. Hannah had shortened his name and had released her hands from their death grip on the seat.

“Hungry?”

“You did promise me lunch,” she replied.

“I think you demanded it.”

“It was part of the bargain to get me up here.”

“I have an idea.” There was a small town nearby, an hour from Sweetheart Creek by car, but it had an airstrip. He checked his watch for the time and date. Not too close to Christmas, so the food truck would probably be there today for the local flying club’s taco brunch and meeting.

And the best part was that they’d be far enough away from town that they wouldn’t set tongues awagging by showing up together. Because he wasn’t dumb. He knew from the way Hannah had lied to Mrs. Fisher the other day about his muffin request being for “charity,” that she’d have a negative knee-jerk reaction if anyone remarked on them eating out together. The woman still needed time to accept her change of heart where he was concerned.

The storm Louis had been watching was rolling closer, thunderclouds growing. They’d miss it, but in order to catch his commercial flight to tonight’s away game, he’d have to scoot back into the air as soon as he dropped Hannah off in town if they made this stop.

He had time. No suit with him to wear to the game, but he could call his assistant coach and ask him to swing by the arena to grab the extra one he kept in his office at the rink, as well as his clipboard and game plan. At the San Antonio airport he could do a wardrobe change and he’d be right back on schedule.

Louis circled the small town, and as he’d hoped, spied a food truck in the little airstrip’s gravel parking lot. He checked the wind, radioed with other pilots as there was no tower, and prepared for landing. Within moments they were touching down. It was a smooth landing, one of his best, with little turbulence to disturb the small plane despite the storm brewing within a hundred miles.

He began braking, then motored toward a spot near the hangars where they could leave the plane.

“Where are we?” Hannah asked.

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