Page 48 of Colton in the Wild
Of course she’d shoved the feeling aside, because Hetty Amos had had no time for something as silly as high school romance. Or any romance, for that matter. She’d had plans for her future, and even though she’d admired and loved her mother dearly, they hadn’t included getting married and having a bunch of kids.
And she had done it. That reaching for planes in the sky she’d done as a child had become her true passion on a school-sponsored small-plane flight to Anchorage for a ceremony for award-winning students. She’d been beyond fascinated not only with the flight but the plane itself, how it worked, and the intricacy of the controls. She’d been so entranced, even the pilots had noticed and had let her sit in the copilot seat part of the way. That was when she’d been certain of her destiny.
Over her mother’s fears, as soon as she’d finished high school, she put herself through flight school. Her determination never wavered. It was what she’d been born to do, and she would let nothing stop her. One of her flight instructors, Andrew West, a former military pilot who specialized now in teaching the younger students, seemed to recognize a kindred spirit, and had taken a personal interest. He’d not only taught her, he’d pushed, prodded and demanded her absolute best.
Flying in Alaska is unlike anywhere else in the world. It’s not just the mountains, and the fact that dead-end canyons are everywhere, or that you’ll be flying at lower altitudes and so have less time in an emergency, or that magnetic variation can be as much as twenty-five degrees, it’s also that you’re flying over water that’s always frigid. Never forget the 1-10-1 rule.
She’d committed that to memory early on. First minute in the water was pure cold shock. After ten minutes, you had muscle failure. And after one hour, you’d be unconscious from hypothermia, and therefore dead. And even if she hadn’t memorized it, the test training she’d had to go through would have pounded it home. Nothing like being dumped in that icy water and having to get yourself out of the mockup aircraft and to a pier a hundred yards away to sear it into your brain.
You’ve got it, Amos. You’ve got that passion, and you’ve got the knack, you just need to hone the skills. You need to work harder at it than you’ve worked at anything, even that fancy top-of-the-class diploma you got.
Hetty smiled at the memory, sighed aloud and went back to work stretching her leg. That, if she set the pain aside, was perhaps the most unsettling aspect of all of this. She was a goer and a doer, and didn’t normally spend much time lost in thoughts of the past. But she had twenty-four hours a day now where her brain was free to roam, and even when she was working on the injury, they happened. In the beginning, she had let them, as a distraction from the pain, but now the recollections seemed to be happening all the time.
Except when she was fantasizing about the future. A future she had no guarantee would really happen. Not until she and Spence had that talk they had both hinted at.
So get to work in the now. Start planning instead of remembering. You can fly a freaking airplane, you can figure this out.
Self-directed order given, she began to do exactly that. There had to be a way. Maybe the next time he was here, she could claim cabin fever and ask him to take her outside, somewhere, anywhere. Anywhere away from potential interruptions. Anywhere they could have that discussion. Because she couldn’t stand to just loll around here and wonder any longer.
She didn’t want to just reclaim the life she’d had, she wanted to start building that new one, the one she’d never really hoped to have until that night in the cave had let her know it might be possible.
You need to work harder at it than you’ve worked at anything…
Captain West’s words came back to her again and, for the first time, she thought they could apply to more than just learning to fly.
Or perhaps it would be a different kind of flying.
Her resolution settled now, she went back to her stretching. She’d done the hardest part of the routine, now it was a matter of keeping the injured tissue and muscles from tightening up too much, keeping the scar tissue to a minimum. She didn’t know just how much of a scar she was going to have, but she’d resolved early on that she’d consider it a souvenir, a reminder of that night.
She wondered if there would come a time when she would be telling the story of how it—they—began in a dark, hidden cave, one of those nights that never really became night and—
“You’re not pushing too hard, are you, Hetty?”
Abby Colton’s voice as she stepped out onto the deck was light, cheerful, and obviously sincere. It had taken Hetty a bit of effort to see the woman as an individual rather than just as Spence’s mother and the wife of the founder of RTA, but Hetty felt as if she knew her much better now. And liked her. She’d always read her articles in the local paper, mostly—or so she had told herself—because of her connection to her employer.
But now she was at the point where she could admit it was also because she was Spence’s mother.
“I’m through the hard part,” she said.
“Good,” Abby said as she sat down on the chair closest to where Hetty had stretched out on the mat she did her sessions on. She held out a glass, which Hetty recognized as full of that luscious strawberry lemonade she frequently made.
“Oh, I love this stuff.”
Hetty accepted the glass thankfully. She took a long swallow, let out a sigh of satisfaction and appreciation, then licked her lips to be sure she hadn’t missed any.
Abby smiled widely. “Now that’s the best kind of thank-you.”
Hetty took another long drink, then decided what the heck and finished it. Toying with the now-empty glass, she said, “Speaking of thank-yous, I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for this,” she said, gesturing with her free hand at the house, the deck, the view.
“You’re one of the most important components of RTA. It’s the least we can do.” She grinned. “Besides, I’m under strict orders to see to you today, since Spence is off collecting your baby.”
Hetty blinked. All the possible meanings of that phrase shot through her mind and her voice was a little wobbly when she said, “He’s what?”
“I know, your precious plane’s been sitting up there all this time, but this is really the first chance they’ve had, with the schedule so messed up.”
Oh. The plane. She felt a flush rising to her cheeks and looked away. Abby went on.
“And as Chuck said, it was a bear to get all the parts out here, and it wasn’t like anybody could really steal it. But he says he’s finally got it flyable, so Ryan flew Spence and his uncle Will out to get her this morning. Then he’ll shadow them coming back, just in case.”
