Tennessee Touch, Sisters of Spirit #6 (15 page)

He flew into and out of her life with no seeming background, no way to check on anything. No friends or family or job or any other reference point which would help enable her to round out his character. It was as if he only existed when they were together.

Yet she knew a very real and dangerous background was there, lurking in the shadows. He had to receive those injuries to his person somewhere, doing something he was ashamed of. 

"I will...someday. And when I do, you'll also know why I couldn't tell you sooner."

That still sounded ominous and didn't help her any right now. Perhaps—if he told her—the danger would transfer to her. Or had she seen too many murder movies? Ridiculous to worry, yet she couldn't help it. If only she had some knowledge to remove the doubts and fears. She couldn't help worrying and told him so.

"I'm sorry. Maybe soon."

She smiled as she told him, "Chantal calls you my ‘Mystery Man.’"

It didn't disconcert him at all. "That has a nice ring to it. Tell me about Chantal."

"She's taller than I am, my best friend...a super person really, loving and generous. I think the world of her."

"Is she married?" The all-important question.

She responded with a soft smile. "No. She's extremely shy around men, probably because she doesn’t get the chance to get to know many very well."

"A man-hater?"

"Oh, no...the opposite in fact. Chantal has a wonderful personality but she doesn't try to meet strangers—and she tends to avoid men—so she rarely has a date. She jokes about it, but I know it bothers her. She buries herself in her art projects. She's very talented. She does window designs."

"One of these days I could bring along a friend of mine to meet her," he offered. "Would you like that?"

"Only if he is sensitive to her feelings. And if he doesn't mind that she's shy to the point of being rude sometimes."

"I've plenty of friends. I'll bring one along for Chantal who doesn't mind a shy date...then they'll both be comfortable."

"I'll tell her." It would also reveal more of Logan's background. Maybe he would tell them what Logan did for a living. If for no other reason she would talk Chantal into this date.

"It won't be for awhile. Maybe several weeks," he warned her.

She needed to give him a warning, too. "She usually refuses to go out on blind dates."

"It would be in the daytime. Would that make a difference?"

"Maybe. We'll see. You'll need to warn him that she closes down entirely when she's with a fellow. It's like she's a completely different person."

"What's she like normally?"

"She's my opposite in lots of ways. I tend to be reserved...and cautious. Chantal is impulsive. And while I usually think of what I would like to say after the moment's passed, she's quick witted...except when she's around a man. Then she doesn't say anything at all. Or if she does, it comes out all wrong and her compliments turn into complaints."

He looked thoughtful. "That narrows my list, but...."

"You don't have to." She was quick to excuse him. “I don’t want you to bring just anybody. Chantal never will date again if she gets stuck with another lemon like last time.”

"No. You've made my choice easier."

"Oh." That was different. "Okay." That subject effectively taken care of, she looked at him questioningly. "Where are we going today?" It was best for him to choose, since he knew how much time he had. Still his answer surprised her.

"I thought we'd go see the sunset on Mt. Rainier and maybe Mt. St. Helens."

She looked up at the low overhanging clouds and stated the obvious. "It's overcast today. We can't even see the sun." And Mt. St. Helens was too far away to see from Seattle anyway, but then he might not know that. Lots of visitors thought it was closer than it was. Especially visitors from back east, where the states tended to be a lot smaller.

"Not if we go high enough." He pointed at the sky. "We can see them—my way. The clouds are low and all the mountains are clear. Have you ever flown around them?"

It sounded like marvelous fun; something she had always wanted to do. "I've flown by, but only on the commercial airlines—not real close. I didn't think the charters were still going."

"I don't know if they are." He shrugged as if it didn't matter anyway. "I don't need a charter. You game?"

"I guess so." She had never flown in a small plane before.

"Not afraid I'll kidnap you?"

The old caution came racing back. "No...you won't...you aren't...?"

"We'll come right back," he promised quickly, his entire face a picture of earnest assurance. "I was just teasing."

She tended to take all statements serious, without questioning them, which made her an easy target. "Are you a pilot?" That would explain why he was always moving around, she thought, and then had to forget that idea at his next statement.

"Yes. Small planes only. None of this jetliner stuff. But I often fly instrument, so you needn't worry about the lack of visibility."

It was a short drive to Boeing Field and they were soon airborne in an executive jet, a beautiful little blue and white plane of the type popular with business men. In a few minutes they were clear of the low clouds and into a sky of sunshine and mountain tops, each snow-covered volcano sticking up out of the swirling clouds like a chain of far flung islands.

The maneuverability of the small plane, like a nighthawk compared to the soaring eagle-like movements of a large passenger jet, unsettled Alison for the first few minutes. Gradually, however, her unease subsided as she saw how competently he handled the small craft.

Mount Rainier was quickly reached, its twenty-six glaciers covered with fresh snowfall, reflecting the sun's rays in a dazzling display of color. Taking care to keep an eye out for other planes circling the mountain, Logan swung closer so that Alison could look directly into the crater as they passed over.

There was not much snow at the summit as high winds blew off most of it. From afar the mountain appeared smooth with level terrain, but close up the enormous cracks in the glacial ice were clearly seen, their presence marked by a deep translucent blue.

They flew straight on to Mt. St. Helens and around its volcanic wasteland, over the cinder cone with its smattering of early snow. It had been the most perfect composite cone in the Pacific Northwest before it blew up in 1980.

The eruption had collapsed the north flank and blasted the top off the mountain, although it had not blown off the entire top as had the blast that created Crater Lake in Oregon. Like a moon landscape—desolate—it was a mountain that had destroyed itself and the plants that grew on it.

As she looked down into the crater, Alison was swept with awe at the magnitude of it all. The force of the air blast and the huge mudflows had devastated miles, the trees falling like matchsticks, lined up in one direction. The logging companies had worked hard to salvage what they could, but the slopes still contained flattened trees. The evidence of the intensity of the blast remained, but vegetation had taken over, covering the ash. New little trees were growing, a new forest covering the slopes like short hair on a dog.

Up to this time neither had said a word, caught up in the beauty and display of power inherent in the mountains. As Logan turned the little plane with ease, making it dance through the air, Alison exclaimed, "What a view. I've seen pictures of these craters; but to fly over them, like this...there's no way to describe it. Thanks for bringing me up."

"I'd have brought you up sooner if you'd have come."

"Can you blame me for being cautious?" she defended herself.

"No. I even took heart when you used Mace and not bullets." That brought a smile to both of them, his reflective, hers one of mischief.

"Oh, I didn't want to hurt you. I only wanted to scare you away."

"Then, thank you very much. It would've done the trick if I hadn’t been interested in you."

The plane left the moonscape behind, the windows catching the rays of the setting sun and flashing them off again.

It was a good thing she hadn't bought a gun instead of the can of Mace
. She might have used that on him. But a gun never occurred to her. She had been seeking protection, not destruction.

"I've seen metal wall hangings of Mt. Rainier, with ducks and clouds and pine trees," she said, "similar in difficulty to that beautiful clock you gave me. Have you ever tried doing any like that?"

"Yes. One. I rarely do the same subject more than once. I don't have any favorites; I look at the metal and scraps I happen to have on hand and a picture forms in my mind. Or I will see something and then "see" what it would look like turned into metal sculpture."

"Which did you do with the mill?"

"I saw a photo of an old mill still being used...and the idea developed from that. I like motion, real or implied...the swirl of a cape, the fullness of a sail, the movement of a cloud—" His eyes sought hers, a gleam of teasing humor lying within.

—and the movement of a woman’s fingers talking sign. It was what he said had attracted him to her. Were they both thinking it? She supplied another ending. "—and the turning of the mill wheel as the clock moves. That was clever. You should try making mobiles."

"I do." He settled back in his seat, carefully checking the sky all around them before asking, "Do you want to fly it for a few minutes?"

"What? The plane?" she squeaked in sudden fear. "Of course not."

"Why not?" He sounded puzzled.

"I could never—" Even the thought of touching the controls was frightening. What if she caused them to go into a dive?

It didn't seem to bother him. "Sure you can."

"Oh, no, I wouldn't dare. Logan, I've never even been in a plane like this before."

"I wasn't suggesting you do anything dangerous, just try a turn or take it higher."

"No. Thanks, but I'd better not."

Being Logan, he didn't take no for an answer. "Of course you can. I wouldn't let anything happen," he said, confidently.

"Really?" She scrutinized the formidable array of instruments in front of him.

"Really. Look, I'll show you what to do. Just make all your movements slow. Don’t jerk."

She watched intently, afraid of missing something as he showed her how to maneuver the aircraft. He had to insist once more before she tried the controls, amazed at how readily the plane responded. "It's fun," she exclaimed, her fears slowly subsiding. Now that she had tried it and found out it wasn't so frightening after all, she was eager to keep on flying. He let her continue until they got close to Mt. Rainier, with its powerful up and down drafts.

"Landing's the hard part," he stated when he finally took over again. "Once the wheels hit the runway, it's much harder to control."

This time they flew near the west face of Mt. Rainier. The sun was dropping below the horizon and its long rays turned the clouds into deep pink swirls, the mountain turning pink with deep blue shadows.

It was breathtaking, a sight of such magnificence, such brilliant color—it seemed unreal. Alison felt diminished in importance, yet uplifted in spirit. Logan flew around the volcano, circling nearer and then further away until the color left, leaving a shining white sentinel towering above its darker surroundings.

"I've been all over the U.S.," he commented, "and Rainier has a majesty that just isn't found in any other mountains, except in Alaska. Up there, there are so many huge mountains the numbers are overwhelming."