Tender Deception: A Novel of Romance (21 page)

Again Kirk had the upper hand. The episode ended with Lilly agreeing reluctantly to the six months’ test of their marriage.

When she was released from the hospital, Kirk announced that he had a surprise for her.

Kirk drove her to the airport with an air of mystery. He watched her face as he led her into a hangar. There sat a beautiful little Beechcraft Sierra. The monoplane was like a silver eagle, impatient to be airborne. A giant red bow had been tied around the tail section. “Remember, I promised you an airplane of your own?” he said.

She realized he had chosen this time to present the gift as an effort to patch things up between them. He couldn’t have chosen a better gift.

Lilly was beside herself with excitement. Kirk was obviously happy that the gift pleased her so.

It turned out to be one of the better days of their stormy marriage. Kirk offered to take her up in the plane for her first lesson, an offer she eagerly accepted. The event signaled a temporary truce between them.

Attendants wheeled the plane out to the runway. Its fuel tanks were full and it was checked out and ready to fly. Lilly sat in the left seat. Her gaze trailed over the array of instruments on the panel. Would she ever be able to figure out what they all meant?

Kirk took his place in the pilot’s seat beside her. As usual, he brought with him an air of strength and confidence. His strong, suntanned hands tested the controls with practiced skill. He was a man who knew what he was doing.

“Don’t worry about all the dials,” Kirk said. He pointed to one of the instruments. “For the time being, just concentrate on that one—the altimeter. It tells you how far above sea level you’re flying.” It had white numbers and a needle pointing to zero.

“First, let’s familiarize you with the controls,” Kirk went on. “This yoke that looks like a bent steering wheel is called the ‘stick.’ In the early days of flying, this control actually was shaped like a stick. Turn the wheel from side to side as you do a steering wheel in a car and you move the ailerons. Those are the hinged flaps on the outer trailing edge of the wings. If you look out there, you can see them move as we turn the wheel. They help you keep the plane level in straight flight or tilt the plane when you bank. Go ahead, try it.”

Lilly obeyed, delighted with the feel of the control in her hands.

“Okay,” Kirk said. “Next move the stick in and out. That controls the elevators, the horizontal flaps on the tail. They direct the plane up or down.”

The plane had dual controls. Lilly kept her hands lightly on her set of controls, feeling the movements Kirk demonstrated.

“Now place your feet on those pedals on the floor,” Kirk went on. “When your heels are on the floor, you push the pedals in and out with the balls of your feet. That moves the rudder. That is the vertical flap in the tail section. It controls the direction in which the plane is heading.”

“When you move your feet up to the top of those floor pedals you have control of the brakes on the wheels,” he said. “You operate those brake pedals back and forth the entire time the plane is rolling on the ground to control the direction you’re going in, like steering a car on the ground. But you have to use the brakes gingerly. If you stop too suddenly, you’ll toss the plane over on its nose.”

Finally, he said, “There’s one other control that’s perhaps the most important of all. I’ve always said a good pilot can fly with nothing but the throttle. That’s a slight exaggeration, but very close to being true. And here it is.” Kirk reached for Lilly’s hand and placed it on a round knob on the end of a shaft. A peculiar tingling sensation ran up her arm like an electric current, reminding her that despite the bitterness between them, the touch of his strong hand on hers could still awaken a physical response. She gave an involuntary shiver. All of her senses were alive today, her nerve ends keyed up by the excitement of the moment, her desire vulnerable to Kirk’s undeniable masculinity.

She pushed the disturbing thoughts and emotions aside, forcing herself to concentrate on Kirk’s voice.

“The throttle controls the airplane’s power,” he was saying. “Push it in for more power, pull it back for less. But do it gently. In fact, everything you do in an airplane, you do carefully, gently. There’s no need, except maybe in case of an emergency, for sudden maneuvers.”

“All of this probably sounds complicated,” he went on, “but it will become an easy routine once you are familiar with it. We’ll take one at a time. Today, you’ll just concentrate on flying straight and level.”

Kirk opened his side window, called “Clear!” in a loud voice, then started the engine. The roar was almost deafening.

“Keep your hands on your set of controls, your feet on the pedals on the floor and just follow through.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means let me do the flying. You can feel through your controls what I’m doing over here. They are dual controls, so whatever I move on my side moves on your side, too. That will give you a feeling for the movements I’m going through.”

Kirk picked up a microphone from the dash, turned some dials, and spoke into the radio transmitter, asking for permission to taxi. The radio loudspeaker crackled and a voice from the control tower cleared the Beechcraft to go ahead.

The ride was slightly more bumpy than being in a car. Lilly tightened her seat belt as the plane moved to the taxi way. The craft seemed very light and flimsy. The metal covering the frame was thin. The doors were not heavy like car doors.

Kirk stayed to the left of a stripe on the pavement. He steered the plane down several hundred yards of a ribbon-like stretch of blacktop and stopped short of a wide expanse of concrete than ran perpendicular to them.

Lilly kept her hands on the stick, trying to relax her muscles so she could follow through on Kirk’s movements without interfering.

His feet moved to the top of the floor pedals, mashing against them hard to set the brakes. He pushed in the throttle and kept his eye on the needle of one of the instruments.

The engine roared. The propeller became a shining circle. The plane vibrated. It seemed suddenly tense and alive, as if eager to be on its way.

“Why are you doing that?” Lilly wanted to know.

“It’s a customary check to be sure we have enough power to get us off the ground.”

Kirk pulled back on the throttle. The roar of the engine died down. He spoke over the microphone again, asking for permission to take off.

When his request was granted, he eased in the throttle. The plane rumbled merrily onto the runway.

Kirk pushed in the right brake, and the plane swung around and headed down the long strip of pavement.

He shot her a challenging look. “Ready?”

She nodded, every nerve in her body suddenly alive with anticipation.

“Here we go!” He pushed in the throttle, worked the foot pedals back and forth to keep the plane going straight down the runway and called over the sound of the engine, “You’ll feel when she’s ready to take off. When she lets us know she’s ready to leap into the air, I’ll pull back gently on the stick. I want you to try and sense that moment, Lilly. Flying is done mostly by feel. The best pilots rely more on themselves than on instruments.”

The engine whined, the plane vibrated harder. Lilly felt sure the forward thrust exceeded the pull of gravity. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she could feel the little plane just begging to leap from the ground.

“Now!” she cried.

Kirk pulled back on the stick. Lilly felt the control on her side draw closer to her belly. When the plane jumped into the air, Lilly felt a jolt of exhilaration. Suddenly, they were free of the constraints of the earth. The runway dropped away below them. The landscape around the airport began to appear minuscule. It didn’t seem to her that they were pulling away from the earth, but rather that the earth was falling away from them. Gravity clutched at them, mashing them into their seats.

“Pull back on the stick to climb,” Kirk said, “but also give it more throttle. Power is the key, remember.”

As the plane circled higher and higher, Lilly’s spirits soared with it. She adored this little machine. It already had a personality. The engine was singing with joy as the craft flew happily through the sky. She was so entranced by the excitement of the moment and the beauty of the landscape below, that she forgot to keep her hands on the controls.

“Plane heading right at us!” Kirk shouted.

Lilly tore her gaze from the earth, looking frantically ahead of them, cold fright tearing through her. But she saw nothing. “Where?” she gasped.

“Nowhere,” Kirk said calmly, “...this time. But next time you might not be so lucky. Keep your eyes on the skies ahead of you,” he warned. “Flying is not exactly like driving a car. If you have a wreck here, it’s a long way to fall. A collision is a disaster. Look in front of you, above, and below you, especially near the airfield. Never rely solely on the air traffic controllers. If you start daydreaming or sightseeing, it could be fatal. A mistake in the air can cost your life, so always depend first on yourself. Understand?”

Lilly nodded.

“Now are you ready to take over the controls for a little straight and level flying?”

“I think so,” she replied, with a fresh wave of anticipation.

“Okay. Watch the altimeter. Remember, that’s the instrument I said shows your altitude above sea level. We want to stay about 3,000 feet above the ground. Now it’s all yours!” He took his hands and feet off the controls, placed Lilly’s right hand on the throttle and leaned back in his seat.

Lilly awkwardly fiddled with the stick and the rudder pedals. The needle in the altimeter moved back and forth. First she climbed, then she descended. Try as she might, she could not maintain a consistent altitude.

“Remember, the throttle is the key,” Kirk advised. “More power means more altitude. Less power and you lose altitude. Control your flight with a little bit of elevation, but mostly with power. In a car, the more you push in the accelerator, the faster you go. But in an airplane, the faster you go, the more altitude you’ll gain, unless you compensate with the controls.”

Lilly gently pushed the throttle in a bit and the altimeter began to climb. She pulled back and they descended. She spent several minutes adjusting the throttle before she was able to maintain her altitude for more than a few seconds.

“You’re doing fine,” Kirk encouraged.

When they were back on the ground, Lilly turned to Kirk. Her eyes were sparkling, her face flushed. “Kirk, how can I thank you for this wonderful gift? I just love this little plane!”

He smiled. “The joy is your eyes is all the thanks I need, Lilly. I’m glad the airplane pleases you.”

“It must have cost a lot. You—you have been very generous with me.”

He looked at her thoughtfully, appearing pleased by her approval.

* * * * * * *

True to his promise, Kirk began energetically promoting her musical career. He arranged a booking for her at a prominent Las Vegas hotel where she was an immediate success. One of his companies funded a half hour musical show for public television. The show was built around Lilly. She recorded a song that hit the top charts around the country and was on her way to becoming a star in the entertainment world.

It was an exciting period in her life.

Kirk hired a good instructor to complete her flying lessons. She had a natural feel for flying as she did for music. By the end of the first week she had progressed enough at the controls to solo. Then there were ground school classes to attend, navigation to study, and more flying hours to be logged. Somehow she worked it all into her busy schedule and at the end of two months she had her license. Then she could fly to Las Vegas when she was performing there or simply spend hours in the clouds by herself, escaping the tensions and cares of the world.

Lilly sometimes puzzled over Kirk’s interest in her career. Why was he so eager to see her talent recognized? One day she made a discovery that she thought gave her an answer and at the same time a fresh insight into the complex man she had married.

She was spending a week in their San Francisco home between musical engagements when she took some of her things to a storage room in the house where a large cardboard box caught her eyes. Curiosity prompted her to open it. In the box were a number of oil paintings. She took one out, wondering why they had not been hung in the mansion. It was a coastal scene of waves breaking on great rocks. Although she was no expert in such matters, she thought it looked as if it had been painted by an amateur. Then her gaze fell on the signature in a lower corner—”Kirk Remington.”

She stared at the name, her eyes widening with shock. Kirk had never mentioned having an interest in painting. She tried to envision Kirk as an artist, but failed. It was more natural to picture him controlling a board of directors’ meeting.

She looked over the other paintings in the box. The subject matter was varied, including landscapes, still lifes and portraits.

Then, at the bottom of the stack of paintings, she saw one that drove a stabbing jolt through her heart. It was a figure study, a woman gracefully posed in a garden setting. It was probably the best he had done. Like the others, it had an amateurish quality. But despite the flaws it had obviously been painted with a loving hand. Lilly recognized at once the beautiful woman in the painting. It was Marie Algretto. She was nude.