Dreams Take Flight (12 page)

Recognizing that Lucas was only a few years older than she, Heather became very aware that he seemed to be much more financially secure than she, and she began to feel envious.

Lucas returned with a margarita in one hand and a glass of merlot in the other.

“Heather, would you take a couple of those coasters and set them out on the table? I’m going to let the sauce simmer another twenty minutes, then we’ll be ready to eat. Hungry? Like spaghetti?” Lucas put the drinks on the coasters and joined Heather on the couch.

“Yes and yes. I love spaghetti.”

“Well, relax; it’ll be ready shortly.”

“So, Lucas, I’d like you to finish telling me about your exciting flights—the stories you started at my place—but I also want to know more about Mike. He seems a little crusty on the outside, but seems to have a good heart.”

“Mike is a trip. He is one interesting person. I’m not sure where to start. You’re right on target when you say he’s a little crusty. Mike drives people away. I’m not sure he has any real friends. I’m probably as close a friend as he has. We go drinking every once in a while, when we have a night off. It’s not uncommon for both of us to get stumbling drunk. I’m surprised we haven’t killed ourselves in the process. But Mike doesn’t need to go out drinking to get drunk. In fact, I think he stays drunk.”

“Has he ever tried to get help?”

“I don’t think so. He was in the service, and I get the impression that’s when he started drinking and just became a boozer ever since. He flew a gunship in Iraq, toward the end of that conflict. I don’t know if it was the war that drove him to the bottle or something else.”

“How old is he?”

“Fifty-seven, but he looks and acts like he’s older.”

“Don’t you guys have to get a physical to fly?”

“Every six months.”

With a puzzled look, she asked, “Why hasn’t his drinking problem come out in a physical?”

“Can’t answer that one; have no idea.” Lucas paused and then said, “You’re also right when you say that he has a heart. Under that crusty exterior is a nice guy. He really cares about his flying partner, despite his grumpy appearance. When not under the influence, he’s one hell of a pilot.”

“And when he’s drunk?”

“He falls asleep and I end up flying the plane myself. As for his personal life, he’s been married three times, but never had kids of his own. His second wife had a son, but I don’t think he ever sees him or even stays in touch. He lives by himself in an apartment in Kirkwood. It’s a nice place, but is definitely lacking any kind of a theme, mostly just random furniture—nothing fancy. I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think he has had a girlfriend since I’ve known him.”

“Do you think that’s why he is so grumpy? That is, do you think he needs a girlfriend?”

“Not sure. If he had someone, she probably wouldn’t stick around more than a week or two.”

“That’s too bad,” responded Heather, sadly. “Now tell me about your flying experiences—something exciting.”

“Heather, exciting is in the eye of the beholder.”

“OK, something not routine. You know what I mean.”

“If you recall, I’ve had many memorable flights; some just seem to stay with me longer than others. I guess I’ll never forget one trip to Mansfield, Ohio. We were landing in a blizzard. During our approach, my partner flew the plane and I watched for the runway. The only thing I could see were snowflakes flying past the windshield. It was like seeing a million horizontal white streaks against a solid white backdrop. Without the instruments, we wouldn’t have had any idea if we were at a thousand feet or ten thousand feet.

“Anyway, the altimeter was putting us within about three hundred feet of the runway when I saw the sequence flashers. Those are the bright lights that flash much like the flash on cameras; they lead you straight to the runway. The lights are so bright, they’ll shine through the thickest fog. I can still remember the image of the runway. It was almost like someone had taken a brush and painted an obscure picture of a runway threshold. Beyond the touchdown area, blowing snow prevented the runway from being completely clear. At any given point on the runway, I could only see about forty percent of the surface. To make the landing even more difficult, the visibility was very poor, which prevented the runway boundary from being well defined. It was like it had been swallowed by the surrounding white. From my first sighting to touchdown was only a matter of seconds. The runway’s centerline was partly covered with blowing snow, but we made it. The interesting part of the trip was when we returned to Spirit that same day. It had continued snowing and remained cold all day. The takeoff was normal except for the blowing snow and poor visibility.”

Heather occasionally closed her eyes in an attempt to visualize what Lucas was describing, but without ever witnessing what she was hearing, it was hard for her imagination to take over and fill in the gaps.

“We climbed through the snowstorm,” Lucas continued, “and once on top we had a beautiful day, with bright sun and a dark blue sky. The transformation was incredible—one second we were in heavy snow, the next we were reaching for our sunglasses. I remember it was bitter cold. I’m guessing maybe fifty below zero at twenty-six thousand. St. Louis was in the teens. Everything during the landing was normal until we touched down. We blew all four tires on the main gear at touchdown. I guess that we’d packed the wheels and brakes with snow during takeoff. Since we were in freezing weather, nothing melted or blew away. That King Air almost took us for a ride in the cornfield, but we got it stopped before we ran off the runway. We had to leave the plane on the runway, and a car was sent out to pick us up.”

“Wow! Were you scared?”

“Nope. Didn’t have time to think about possible consequences, just react to what was happening. Now let’s go get a bite to eat. Incidentally, you are looking radiant tonight. I love your outfit.”

“Thanks! You know fashion is my passion.”

“You convinced me.”

“Will you tell me more about your flying experiences? How and when did you get started?”

“Sure. Don’t know that it’s the sort of thing people talk about over dinner, but I would be happy to tell you more. You know, one of the things I like about flying is the range of experiences, the sights that are unique at any given moment. That’s probably true for most pilots, and that’s also why most pilots never hesitate to tell their stories. I sometimes try to share my experiences, but I’m not sure I’m very successful. I’m not always sure I have the words to share what I see and feel up there. Sometimes I wonder if anyone is even listening. If they are, they’re probably wishing this joker would shut up.”

“Well, don’t shut up! I would love to hear everything you have to say. I want to know all about you.”

“Well, for as long as I can remember I’ve loved airplanes. When I was a kid, I would spend my money on model airplanes, build them, and have them sitting all around my bedroom. When I turned sixteen, I got a job at St. Charles Airport pumping gas into small planes. While working there I took flying lessons. When I turned seventeen, I got my private pilot license. From there I got my commercial certificate, multi-engine, and instrument ratings. Then I picked up my ground instructor, flight instructor and instrument instructor ratings. For a while, I spent a lot of time teaching flying and doing charter work. You really learn how to fly when you teach someone else how to do it. Anyway, enough about me. What about you?”

“No, me later. Tell me more.”

“What else do you want to know?”

“What was your first flight like?”

After a short period of reflection, Lucas said, “‘Liberating’ is the best word I can think of to describe the flight. I can remember it like it was yesterday. That seat next to me was really empty. I was by myself. While thrilled to be the only one in the plane, I had no idea how lonely I could feel. It was liberating because it gave me a level of confidence that I probably wouldn’t have today had that flight not happened. My success or failure that day was up to me and me alone. I have since discovered that is true of most things in life.”

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Wow. While most people are learning how to drive, you were learning how to fly. Were you ever scared?”

“Once. I thought I was going to die. Ready for dessert?”

“My compliments to the chef! The spaghetti was fantastic—perfect.”

“Glad you enjoyed it.”

“Dessert sounds great, but I want to hear about the time you were scared. Can I help get something?”

“Nope, I already have it put together. Be right back with goodies and a story.”

“I’ll be waiting,” responds Heather.

“Hope you like crème brûlée—made it a little while ago!” Lucas yells from the kitchen.

“I love it. Did you know that, or is this just my lucky night?”

“Heather, for now let’s just say this is your lucky night,” said Lucas as he placed the dessert on the empty place mat. If not yours, I’m thinking this is going to be
my
lucky night, Lucas thinks to himself. Lucas returned to his chair and they both indulged in Lucas’s creation.

“Here we go,” Lucas said. “This will be the last story for the night. I was taking four other pilots down to Vero Beach in Florida. We were moving right along on a pretty, moonlit night, but could see lightning in the distance. Funny thing about lightning at night is without radar you never know how far away it is—it could be ten miles or a hundred. Anyway, we were talking to Center, the radar folks, and they didn’t have anything for us. We were enjoying a nice, smooth flight when we started picking up light rain on the windshield. Within seconds, we were in the cell of a thunderstorm. I think I could actually hear the wind as the air currents changed around the plane. It may be my imagination, but I have this image of the rain streaming
down
the side window instead of running horizontally as it should. The plane was almost uncontrollable. My instincts said to turn, and about as fast as we entered the storm, we flew out the side. The rain stopped instantly, and we once again had a moonlit night and smooth air. And most importantly, five pilots lived to fly again. Now that’s the end of all my stories.”

“I’m envious.”

“Because you haven’t flown into a thunderstorm?”

“No I’m envious because at the age of twenty-nine you have had experiences few people ever will. I wonder if I will ever do anything that someone else would find interesting.”

Lucas turned his head slightly to the right. “Speaking of thunderstorms,” he said, “hear the thunder? Sounds like a big one. Did you put your windows up in the car?”

“Sure did. I always close and lock my car when I leave it.”

“That rascal’s close.” As the rumbling thunder caused the frames on the wall to rattle, Lucas got up to make sure none were about to fall. None left their anchor on the wall, so Lucas returned to the couch.

Ominous clouds, lightning, and thunder that shook the ground had moved into the Chesterfield area. Storm warning sirens began to sound. At this point, Heather began to wonder whether nature was going to interfere with her pans for a romantic evening, and was reminded of her first flight when weather put a damper on what started out as a romantic flight. At about that time, the lights in the apartment went out.

Watching through the sliding patio door, Lucas and Heather could see that the entire complex had lost power. The frequent lightning sent a chill through Heather. If it weren’t for those flashes of lightning, they wouldn’t have been able to see anything. As it was, about all they could see was the heavy downpour. To comfort Heather, Lucas placed his right arm around her waist. Lucas’s closeness, and his warmth and manly scent did what Lucas intended: it helped Heather relax and took her mind off the storm.

“Heather,” he said. “It looks like this storm is going to be around for a while. I’ll light the fire and get you another drink; let’s enjoy the light show.”

“Sounds like a wonderful idea. I’m going to use the restroom first. Is it around the corner to the right?” she asked.

“Yes it is, but let me light a candle for you.” As Lucas retreated from the now-lit bathroom, he allowed his mind to wander.
Heather is looking like a million bucks. I wonder what it is in me that she sees. There are dozens, no, make that hundreds of men that Heather could have, yet for some reason I am her chosen, at least for now. I will probably never understand, but I can enjoy the ride until our journey ends. Guess that’s something we have in common; neither of us really knows the other person or where this is headed.

Heather made her way to the candlelit bathroom. Door closed and temporarily in her own world, Heather considered looking in Lucas’s medicine cabinet. She wouldn’t look for anything in particular, but it seemed like a part of Lucas she had yet to discover. At the moment, Heather was hungry for more information about Lucas, but finally decided that she was content to make small discoveries over time. Bathroom duties completed, she made her way back to the couch and arrived just seconds before Lucas returned.

“I’m going to take my shoes off, Heather,” he said. “Why don’t you do the same? Let’s get comfortable.”

Heather’s mind was a fireworks display on the fourth of July. She heard “get comfortable” and suddenly had visions of the two naked and cuddled up on the couch.
Back to reality,
she said to herself.

“Good idea!” She tossed her shoes to the side of the couch.

Bright lightning and thunder so loud it rattled the entire building continued relentlessly. The sky throbbed with nature’s gigantic light show. The lightning was all but continuous. Heavy rain was being blown against the patio window with enough force to shake the door.

“Heather, it seems like this thunderstorm is stuck right above us. I know this makes you uncomfortable; come over next to me.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

Heather scooted over right next to Lucas. She rested her head on his chest and folded her right arm between them. Her left hand rested on Lucas’s belt buckle. Her legs were bent at the knees, allowing her to put her feet on the couch. Lucas’s legs were crossed and extending slightly to the left, with his body partially leaning against the right arm of the couch. His left arm was draped behind Heather’s left shoulder, and his hand was on Heather’s left hip.