Tennessee Touch, Sisters of Spirit #6 (20 page)

It was as if, during his travels, something reminded him of her and he bought it and sent it from there; although a lot of mail came from Milwaukee. Like a kid having a prolonged birthday, she could hardly wait to check her mailbox.

Logan had to laugh. Jake couldn’t wait to get to Seattle. He had packed a grip the night before and had the car out and running, while Logan was still locking up. Logan would have taken his time, just to see what Jake would do, but he was as anxious as his friend to make the trip. “Looks like it’s good flying weather,” Jake said as Logan joined him.

“I hate it when I can’t fly myself. We have to go through the security lines...”

“And someone wants to know why you’re in Seattle.”

“Right. Happens too often. People would think we have some reason for going there.”

Jake laughed. “I wonder what will happen when someone figures it out.”

Logan turned on the sporting news and they listened to an account of an NFL player who had been mugged while walking his dog.

“It’s getting worse.”

“I agree. We need to be aware of what’s going on around us all the time.”

They discussed changes they might need to make and soon arrived at the small airport where Logan kept his plane.

It was the second Tuesday in November and this time a snowstorm forced them to turn back. Chantal and Alison were waiting in the lounge area at Boeing Field when Logan had them called to the counter.

“We’re not going to make it. We’ll try next week, or fly commercial.”

“Thanks for letting us know.”

“Once we were overdue, we had to notify the airport there, and you. I’m sorry we didn’t make it.”

“You’re safe. That’s what matters.”

The next Tuesday the four met successfully at the airport and drove over to the nearby Museum of Flight. It was pouring down rain outside as they wandered through the huge museum with its collection of antique and modern airplanes, following the history of flight from the Wright brothers onward. Alison hadn't yet seen the new addition, a six-story steel and glass gallery large enough to display airplanes seemingly "in flight," so they looked at it first, then wandered back into the older part of the building, separating into two groups as they did so.

"I worry when you fly in this weather," Alison told Logan, finally admitting her fear. "Can't you take a commercial jet when it's so bad?"

He frowned at the thought, but acknowledged the possibility. "I may have to. The problem is not the rain here, it's the heavy snowstorms that form frequently over the Rockies and on the plains. But taking a commercial jet is like catching a bus as opposed to driving your own car—the car is more convenient. I hate waiting in airports and trying to fit my time schedule around theirs. And if there's much fog, the big planes are helpless."

"And you aren't?"

"I don't need the length of runway. I can land in places where the big jets can't."

Alison hadn't been thinking; she knew the smaller airlines landed at Paine Field in Everett during foggy weather and bussed their passengers south to the large Seattle-Tacoma airport. Sometimes they were the only flights in or out of the area. "Of course. What kind of welding do you do, that puts such a load on your time?" Again that question and again no definite answer about his work.

"My job doesn't require so very many hours, but there are a lot of other people involved so I have to work around them. To come see you, I need to have a big enough block of time to get away and get back. That's what causes me so much grief."

"Am I worth it?"

"You know you are."

“But you spend so much time flying back and forth.”

“It’s not all wasted. Now that Ken comes with me, I’m teaching him sign language.”

He held up his right hand, fingers spread, with the index and middle fingers crossed, the ring finger bent: a sign meaning, "I love you a lot."

“Now that’s a common sign. I bet Ken already knew it.”

"He did. But you missed the important thing," he complained.

She thought back over their conversation. She hadn't missed anything. Had she? "What?"

"I'll try again." Again his fingers formed the sign, "I love you." He wiggled them slowly in front of her eyes.

"Oh!" She tapped the knuckles of her right hand against her forehead as it hit her. "Dumb me." A pause. "Uh...I though you were just signing...I didn't realize—" She stopped, scratched her head, biting her lip in consternation.
What did she say now?

"Shall we start over?" he offered, as again his fingers formed the initialized sign. "Or do I have to spell things out for you?"

He was telling her he loved her and she didn't know what to say. Did she love him? She didn't know if she should admit to her feelings or not. Her fingers flashed an answer, "I don't know." Then said, "I enjoy being with you, but—"

"But?" He was anxious, like a student awaiting the results of a test. Her answer meant a lot to him, yet she couldn't give him anything definite.

"Give me time."

He took her hands between his and cradled them gently, eyes focused intently on her features. "As long as you need; but promise me—"

"What?" He had stopped as though to phrase his words carefully.

"When you know, you'll tell me."
Not if, but when.
Logan was as overly self-confident in this as he was in other things.

"That's an easy promise; of course I will."

"Thanks." He kissed her fingertips one by one as he spoke, his eyes never leaving hers.

"But I'll have to be sure first," she warned him, feeling the surge of emotion aroused by the contact run up her fingers and through her body; the sensation heightened by the intimacy of the moment.

"That's fine," he stated, assuring her of his willingness to wait. "But when you're absolutely sure, my cautious Princess, you let me know."

"You don't mind, do you? I have to be certain." Slow and steady; that way she wouldn't risk a broken heart.

"No. Actually, thinking about it, I’m glad you don't give your love lightly. When you finally say you love me, I'll know it's true."

He did not release her; she didn't want him to. Hand in hand they turned to catch up with their friends, and Alison reflected on what he'd just said. It was true, she didn't give her friendship or her love lightly. She was not the kind to open up and let just anyone in.

Fast fingers and slow heart...that was her. She had to be sure. Falling in love with a stranger who remained a man of mystery had its dangers.

Ken and Chantal were standing in front of an early plane with its wooden frame and fabric cover. "Now can you imagine going up in that?" Chantal asked Logan as they joined them.

"No. But most of these early pilots learned to fly, then made their own planes and flew them. Compared to them, we're all cowards."

"I don't know," Alison said. "You could land these in a field or on a road; you wouldn't need a runway. And you could glide if your engine cut out. So they had their advantages."

Chantal touched the wooden frame. "And their disadvantages. Imagine flying cross-country in one of these."

"They were flown long distances, even when they weren't really ready for it. Remember the roads—or lack of them. Ground transportation was poor and still people traveled huge distances," Logan said.

"Yes. No wonder they flew. But making their own. It seems fantastic." For all of Chantal's words, Alison knew her friend would probably have been as game to try it as anyone back in those days. The comfort might not have been there, but the challenge was.

"There's a lot of people still making their own ultralights and flying them," Logan said. "And that experimental plane that flew around the world was home-built in a sense."

"Me, I'd take my chance in one of these old planes any day compared to traffic in Boston or New York," Ken added. "Also, back then, there weren't so many planes in the skies. That's the potential danger now."

"It looks like you're out-voted, Chantal," Alison kidded. "Are you ready to build your own?"

"Not yet. And look at that plane. Did it really fly?" Curious, they moved on to the next exhibit.

They shared moments together, then somehow the couples became separated again. Alison looked around to see Ken and Chantal disappearing into the projection room and started to follow.

"Leave them," Logan said, pulling her back to his side.

At her curious look, he added, "Ken wants to see her alone as much as I want some quiet time with you."

"Are you sure...about Ken?"

"You're not the only one who can read sign. Besides, I told him on the flight out, if he wanted to come with me, he was going to have to learn to vanish." He moved them through a door into a smaller room with pictures of early pilots. It was empty of visitors and apparently what Logan had been seeking, for he stopped, satisfied, and began to kiss her, his arms completely enveloping her so that she was enclosed in his being, wrapped tightly in his love. Yet as much as she wanted to meet him emotionally, mentally she held back.

"Logan, what if someone comes in?" she protested, when he released her.

"We'll take care of that...if it happens."

But the possibility of interruption made her nervous, and she was unable to respond wholeheartedly to him.

"Why must you be so tense?" he complained, as she wiggled away from his embrace again.

"I can't help it. I keep thinking someone's going to come through one of those doors and see us."

"Let them"

"But—"

"If I'd had to wait any longer to kiss you, I'd have gone crackers. I'm glad we made it through today; I won't be able to come next week."

She looked nervously over her shoulder as he pulled her closer and this time a man and young boy did enter the room and start reading the inscriptions under the photos.

Logan made an exasperated sound as she pulled away. "This wasn't a good idea. Let's go somewhere else. I want to make love to you—no, not that!" he added as she jerked away from him.

“Then what?”

"A poor choice of words," he said and went on to explain, "I just want to kiss you but this is so public and you freeze up in public. Where can we go?"

"I don't know. Chantal's apartment?"

"How far away is it?"

"It's in Ballard, about a half-hour's drive from here...depending upon traffic."

"Too far. I know, the plane. Come on." At first Alison thought he meant one of the exhibits, but quickly realized he meant his own airplane as he strode over to the next room and called Ken and Chantal out. "We're going back to the plane...too many interruptions here."

"Okay with me," said Ken, and at Chantal's assenting nod, "with both of us. You can have the plane, though. We'll stay in the car."

They were outside, running through the heavy downpour, into Chantal's roomy old car and headed for the airfield before Alison had time to consider how fast Ken had caught on and offered to stay in the car. Taking a quick glance into the back seat where Ken and Chantal had snuggled together unmindful of the two in front, Alison decided they probably preferred the arrangement also.