Remember Me (8 page)

If that was the case, then it might be possible for them to form a lasting relationship. Lucy swallowed. If they became a couple, she would have to be honest with him. She’d have to reveal how she made her living. It would make a lot of people think twice. Strippers had a reputation. Sure, there were girls who pulled in plenty of money on the side, but Roberto frowned on it, and if he caught a dancer doing more than what the law allowed, she was history. Over the years, Lucy had watched them come and go. It always seemed like the girls willing to sell their bodies for extra cash were doing it for all the wrong reasons…often to get drugs.

Feeding an addiction had never been a motivation for Lucy. She avoided drugs and any more than the occasional alcoholic beverage. Dancing was a career, a way for her to make enough cash to be able to retire and pursue her pottery, making it more than a hobby. She knew what the limits were, and she never went beyond the boundaries.

“What has you so pensive?” Brandon murmured as they finished their meal.

Lucy blinked and shook her head. She wasn’t ready to talk about this yet. Certainly not ready to explain her job at Flamingo Road. But when Brandon captured her hands and she gazed into his eyes, she realized time was running out. His look was no longer the look of someone just wanting a little vacation diversion.

“I enjoyed sleeping with you last night,” he said. “And I do mean sleeping. While the lovemaking was astounding, waking and finding you in my arms was it for me. That’s a repeat. And I’d like to do it more than this week.” She must have looked panicked, for he added, “Just think about it. Let yourself absorb the idea and we can talk about it later.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted more with him. She did. But this would give her some room to figure out how to tell him about herself. She didn’t consider Brandon to be a prude, but if he worked for a respected family company, then how could he take on a wife with a past…and a present…like hers? That was so not happening. This wasn’t some fairytale with an instant happy ending, and to Lucy’s knowledge, she had no fairy godmother.

“Brandon…”

“No. Don’t say anything now. Let’s go tour the museum.” He settled the bill at the cash register before sliding an arm around her waist and escorting her out the door. She shouldn’t have let it go, but she did. It was less complicated. This day was so wonderful, she didn’t want the complexities of their everyday lives to intrude.

The museum was around the corner, just off the main street. From the moment she walked in, Lucy was enthralled. It was a testament to more than the cultural heritage of the area; the owners had also reserved one room to display the wares of current artisans. She studied the techniques in how the pots were constructed and adorned. From vibrant glazes to intricate carving, and even playful additions, such as lizards or jars designed to resemble the budding of a flower.

“This is amazing. The attention to detail is incredible.” She ran her fingers over the glossy smoothness of a polished pot with intricate carving covering it. “It’s obvious the care and craftsmanship have been handed down through generations.”

Brandon peered at the pot, his face close to hers. “You have the same history, don’t forget. Didn’t your grandmother teach you?”

Lucy started. She had never thought about it in such a way. “Yes. Yes, she did–all she could until her health declined.”

When they finished looking at everything, Lucy excused herself to use the restroom. They didn’t have much time remaining before Tom Hanson would be there to pick them up. She walked into the front of the gallery and saw Brandon in deep conversation with the owner, then he smiled and shook hands.

As she approached, he smiled at her. “Ready, baby? We’re about out of time.”

“Yes.” She shook hands with the owner. “This was wonderful. I can’t tell you what an inspiration it was for me.”

Brandon took her hand when they left. “Was it worth the trip?”

She sighed. “Yes! It would have been worth the trip for the scenery flying here. The museum was incredible beyond words. I can’t thank you enough.”

He stopped in the middle of the street and stroked her cheek. “No thanks are needed. Being able to spend the day with you was enough.”

* * * *

As they prepared to board the Cessna for the flight home, Hanson looked at them with a critical eye. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to put you up front with me, Mr. Barrett, and have Ms. Cameron ride behind. The parts I’m taking are heavier than I anticipated and I need to distribute the weight so it’s even.”

Brandon looked at her. “You mind, Lucy?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m getting a little sleepy anyway, so it’s a good excuse to take a nap.” After Brandon helped her board, she buckled her seatbelt then watched Brandon and Hanson settle in, adjusting and buckling their shoulder harnesses and belts. Brandon turned and winked at her as they taxied onto the runway.

“Don’t get too comfy, it’s not that long a flight.”

“Well, if it’s like the flight here was, I’ll be able to sleep the whole way.”

He grinned. “You need to get more rest at night.”

Lucy stuck her tongue out at him as Hanson throttled up and sent the little plane racing down the runway. Brandon laughed. They reached their designated altitude before Lucy wiggled deeper into her seat and closed her eyes. A short nap might pep her up. While she was used to a lot of physical activity, she wasn’t accustomed to being awake half the night making love. Of course, she wasn’t complaining. Brandon was a beautiful and generous lover. He was just as passionate when receiving attention from her.

Oh, Lord. She longed to find a way to make things work between them once this vacation ended. Her thoughts slowed with the steady drone of the engine lulling her to sleep.

Lucy wasn’t sure how much later she awakened, or even what first made her jerk to instant alertness. There were so many things assaulting her senses all at once: the altered tenor of the engine, the clipped tenseness of Hanson’s voice and Brandon’s deeper tones as he flipped through several radio frequencies with a mayday. Lucy sat straighter, her gut clenching. She didn’t need to ask any questions to know something was seriously wrong.

“We’re too far to turn back,” Hanson stated, “and there’s no way in hell we’re going to make it to Falcon’s Head. The oil pressure is plummeting.”

“Mayday. This is November niner-niner-seven-two-three enroute from Coyote Creek to Falcon’s Head. We are losing oil pressure…”

Lucy gripped the armrest, desperate to know what was going on but afraid to distract either Hanson or Brandon.

“We’re going to lose engine power,” Hanson said. “Keep trying to raise someone on the emergency frequency. We won’t be making it to any airport. Keep your fingers crossed we’ve got enough glide to make it to Haven Lake. I’ll have to try to put down there.”

“Any other alternatives?” From her spot behind Hanson on the rear bench seat, she saw Brandon’s tight expression.

Hanson glanced at him. “No.”

The two men stared at each other for another second then Brandon pushed the button on the radio mic. “Mayday. This is November niner-niner-seven-two-three enroute from Coyote Creek to Falcon’s Head. Will be attempting an emergency landing at Haven Lake.”

The engine sputtered. Lucy watched the prop come to a near standstill. Instead of attempting to start it, Hanson steadied the aircraft and began looking ahead for Haven Lake. The silence filled her head. Where once the drone of the engine surrounded them, now only the noise of the wind rushing past interrupted the quiet, and that had to be the eeriest sound she had ever heard.

“Miss Cameron,” Tom Hanson addressed her in a calm, level voice. “This is going to be a rough landing. No two ways about it. When we get closer to the lake, I want you to lean over. Put your face between your knees and grab your ankles. Don’t turn your head sideways.”

“All right.”

Brandon set the mic aside for a moment and turned to grab her hand. She saw his Adams’s apple bob a couple times before he said, “I’m sorry, baby. I–I love you, Lucy.”

She squeezed his hand, nodded and choked out, “Me too. You can tell me after we’re on the ground. Okay?”

He smiled. “Okay. You’re one hell of a lady.” He turned around and returned to broadcasting his mayday on the emergency frequency.

Lucy looked out the windows, the wild beauty she’d so appreciated on the way out now taking on a much more sinister aspect. Instead of majestic crags and the lush green of pine forests, she spotted boulders and solid trunks that could rip the small plane to shreds.

“Our glide ratio is short,” Hanson growled.

Lucy had no idea what he meant.

“How close are we?” Brandon demanded.

“A few hundred yards. Start looking for any open space you can see. The snow will cushion some of the impact. And keep broadcasting.”

While Brandon went back to his mayday, he also scanned the terrain in front of them. Lucy looked too. Another set of eyes couldn’t hurt. Her mouth had gone dry, and a trickle of cold sweat slipped down her spine. In some ways, though, she was almost thankful for her ignorance. She glanced at Hanson and Brandon. They knew what was coming and their grim expressions told her more than she wanted to know.

“There.” Brandon pointed. It wasn’t much, a thin strip of bare ground that seemed impossibly short to Lucy, but then, perhaps their altitude made it seem so.

“I’ll try it.”

Brandon turned, his fingers stroking Lucy’s cheek. She had seen his hazel eyes alight with laughter and sparkling with adventure. Now they held her gaze with tenderness. “It’s time, Lucy. Brace for impact like Hanson explained.”

“What about you?”

He tried to smile, but it was just a lifting of the corner of his mouth. “We’ll fly her as far as we can. Hanson will do his damnedest to get her on the ground in one piece.”

Lucy didn’t want to let go. She swallowed, looked at Brandon one last time and put her head between her knees. While she grabbed her ankles, the thought occurred to her if nothing else in this life remained, she had at least known the love of a man she could admire.

Chapter 6

All hell broke loose. Brandon continued to broadcast their mayday. She heard him swear and Hanson yell, “Hang on!” She thought the plane’s nose lifted slightly, then a piercing whine that confused her filled the cabin. Pointing up instead of down had to be a good thing. Right?

Seconds became minutes that became a lifetime of screeching metal, glass breaking and feeling as though everything and everyone was being tossed around like papers caught in a whirlwind. Lucy held onto her ankles for dear life, grunting when something struck her shoulder. At last there was one final, long metallic ripping noise and the small craft shuddered to a halt, hanging at an odd angle.

Silence. The only thing she could hear was her own breathing. And that frightened her more than the pain in her shoulder. She lifted her head, relieved to find she had room to move. Snow had flooded the cabin and the branch of a tree protruded through the window to her left.

“Brandon? Mr. Hanson?” She heard nothing. Not even a groan. The pounding of her heart, so hard it rocked her, finally spurred her to action. Her fingers fumbled with the harness, making it difficult to get the latches unbuckled. Free at last, she inched forward. Her shoulder felt stiff and painful, but she ignored it, her heart slamming ever harder in her chest at the continued silence from the two front seats. From the amount of snow jamming the cockpit around them, it was almost impossible to see anything.

“Brandon?” A note of hysteria crept into her voice, so she stopped and took a deep breath. She couldn’t help if she fell to pieces. Okay, the first thing she needed to do was make sure they weren’t dangling over the edge of a precipice or jammed in a tree. When she scooted to the right side, she could see what remained of the fuselage rested amidst a tangle of broken trees, but it did appear to be on the ground. She moved, relieved to find nothing shifted.

Lucy blew a puff of air out. She needed to get out, but trees blocked the left side of the plane. On Brandon’s side, snow and no doubt his bulk blocked her access to the door. She searched, her gaze landing on the rear passenger window. It was broken, but not all the glass was gone. The way the window narrowed toward the back would make squeezing through hard, but it was her only option. Taking her wool scarf from around her neck, Lucy wrapped her hand and arm and began punching out the glass. Already weakened, the remaining shards broke beneath the pressure. Once the opening was clear, she brushed away the pieces. Much as she hated it, she was going to have to go through headfirst so she could get leverage to pull herself out.

Breath puffing out in little clouds, Lucy wiggled through the window. Once her hips were through, she put her arms down to catch herself and kicked free. Her shoulder protested when she tucked and rolled. Several branches scratched her face and hands, but at last she sat in the snow a few feet away, able to take stock of herself and her surroundings. Other than some scratches and a shoulder she suspected was severely bruised, she was okay.

Her gaze lifted to the plane. Brandon. She scrambled to the side and, balancing on the trunk of a tree, tried the door. It was jammed. She braced one foot against the fuselage and tried again, using the strength in her leg to add to her effort. With a lurch and a grinding of metal, the door cracked open about six inches.