More Than Words

Saying goodbye to Mary was difficult.  We had only known each other a few short days and yet I felt so connected to her.  She was the closest thing I had to a mother and I wanted more time.  Standing at the curb watching her drive away made me feel abandoned.

I shook it off and headed into the terminal.  There I came face to face with a ghost from my past.  Scott Taylor… flyboy extraordinair.  The punk college student who stole my heart and crushed it, the day couldn’t have gotten worse?  As if the pain of losing my grandfather and leaving Mary weren’t bad enough, I was faced with reliving the pain of losing my first love.

“Hi Tess, I’m sorry to hear about your grandfather.  I know it must be difficult for you.”  Lowering his eyes to express his sincerity.

“Thank you Scott, I appreciate that.”  For some reason I extended my hand “What brings you to Tucson?  I thought you were a bush pilot in Australia.”

Beaming confidently, “I’m piloting tours around Arizona, New Mexico, California and up the West Coast,” with a sideways glance he continued, “but today…I’ll be your personal taxi.  I have strict instructions not to tell you where we’re going – so don’t even try to weasel it out of me.”

He grabbed my bag and led me to the tarmac.   Looking around at all the wonderful jets at the gates I wondered which one we’d be taking.  I panicked when he led me to the plane farthest from the gate.  I felt the blood drain from my face when I realized we’d be flying in a beat up single engine plane from hell.

The Cessna 172 was the first type of plane Scott had learned to fly.  In college, we used to spend hours at the airport practicing touch and goes, trying to teach me take offs and landings safely in case of an emergency.  He loved to fly; yet I think he was terrified of getting into an accident.  Whatever his fear or obsession, he was one of the best pilots that graduated from his class.

He still had his good looks, wavy blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, and a strong but not overly muscular body.  You could see the Swedish heritage in his perfect features.  Looking as though he stepped right out of the 40’s in his beat up leather flight jacket, new haircut and a close shave.  Handsome was too weak of a word to describe him.

“Still know how to pre-flight?” He tossed me a checklist as if I was gonna do it for him.

“You can’t be serious,” I said, folding my arms across my chest.

“I’m not asking you to fly the damn plane Tess, just to be a second pair of eyes.  You know I’m gonna do it again anyway.”

“Always the safety boy!”  I shouted after him as he headed back to the terminal to file his flight plan.

I looked down at the checklist and smiled.  Doing the preflight always made me feel important.  One slip up or small thing over looked could mean lives.  To be trusted with such a huge responsibility used to be an honor.  I looked at the laminated list not remembering a damn thing he taught me.

Always the professional pilot, he performed his preflight and instructed me on emergency procedures.  I had heard him go over the same procedures hundreds of time and fought the urge to recite along with him.  I knew it would’ve pissed him off, so I bit my tongue.  Handing me a headset, he checked to make sure I was strapped in correctly.  He leaned out the window and yelled “Clear Prop”.

Flying with Scott was a full-blown production, but I knew we were in a safe craft that he trusted.   It still didn’t make my day any better, small planes are noisy and not the most comfortable rides in the sky.

I noticed we were heading northwest when I commented, “Don’t you think I’m gonna figure out where we’re going?”

“Hell Tess, I’m not an idiot.  I know you’ll figure it out.  Just promise me you won’t bolt when you do.”

“Bolt?  Makes me sound like a horse”, I crossed my arms and sat back.

We didn’t talk much during the flight.  The drone of the engine made it difficult to carry on a conversation.  From time to time, he would point out places that would help me determine our location.  We had flown past Prescott and still headed northwest.  I knew we’d have to land somewhere around the Arizona boarder to refuel.