Thought maybe you could use a little fuel this morning. See you at 8.
Brian
I opened the bag where a huge apple-cinnamon muffin sat inside. I pulled out the muffin and studied it for a long moment. I thought about pancakes with blueberry syrup in Dale’s cozy kitchen and looked, through watery eyes, around at my room. It had seemed cozy upon my arrival, but my definition of cozy had been revised since I had met Dale.
Breaking off a piece of the muffin, I popped it into my mouth and choked it down. Tasty, but because I was fighting off yet another round of gut-busting sobs, digestion was difficult. This crying thing was getting on my nerves too. I had been raised to take the bad with the good. To, as my father used to say, “Build a bridge and get over it.” I wasn’t a wallower. I never pitied myself.
But this. The anger had burned off to be replaced with a soul deep sadness. One that threatened to swallow me whole. I had shut myself off from loving someone this completely. And here I was now, feeling like shit, because I hadn’t stuck to my own rules. Rules that had gotten me this far in life. I’d picked career over love.
Why didn’t that feel right anymore?
In the Moose Point lobby, Brian sat in one of the comfortable recliners, facing the fireplace and writing something in his notebook. A small TV in the corner was the only noise in the room.
“Hey,” I said from behind him.
The notebook popped off his lap, and he fumbled around to retrieve it.
I laughed—a strange sound to my ears when I realized it was coming from my own throat. “Did I scare you?”
“Uhh…yeah.” Brian smoothed out the creased pages of his notebook and searched around in the cushions of the chair for his pen.
“Sorry. I usually approach with more noise than that.”
“You came upon me like a Ninja.” Brian held up his found pen in triumph.
The tightness in my chest loosened a little, and I was finally able to take in a full breath. Okay, maybe more like a fourth of a breath, but even that was an improvement.
“Maybe I am a Ninja.” I karate-chopped the air in front of me.
Brian laughed as he stashed his notebook and pen in the bag between his feet. “You seem to be feeling a little better.”
“Oh, no. I want to bury myself alive, but it’s amazing what symptoms an apple-cinnamon muffin can mask.” I poked him in the bicep. “Thanks.”
Brian shrugged one shoulder. “No problem.” He reached to the coffee table and picked up the TV remote as Jake’s face appeared on the screen.
“Hold on a minute,” I said.
“Can you confirm the discovery of another body by the Chena River?”
a reporter asked Jake.
“Yes, another body was found early this morning,”
Jake replied.
“Same condition as the others?”
“Yes.”
“Wolf tattoo on the forearm?”
“Yes.”
“Has the victim been identified?”
“I can’t release the name at this time. Her family needs to be notified first.”
Jake’s jaw tightened as he spoke. The concern on his face and the wariness in his voice unsettled me.
“I will say this, though,”
he continued. His brown eyes darkened as he looked directly into the camera.
“The Fairbanks PD is committing extra manpower to this situation. We will apprehend the individual responsible for taking innocent lives.”
The newscast was tossed back over to the desk anchors who moved on to the weather report. Brian looked at me, and I nodded. He flicked off the TV and stood beside me.
“Terrible what people are capable of, isn’t it?” he said.
“Yeah. I can’t imagine what it feels like to lose someone to murder like that.” A shudder rippled through me as I tightened my grip on my backpack and fingered the multi-tool in my pocket.
Brian nodded and shouldered his own bag. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you today.”
“I like to think I can take care of myself,” I said. Protecting my heart, however, was a different matter.
“Okay,” Brian said. “You ready to go?”
“Always. I can drive. Might as well let
Gaia
pay for the gas.”
“Okay,” Brian agreed, following me past the front desk.
Bear was in his usual spot, newspaper strew across his lap. I gave him an extra long look. Did he look like a killer? Yeah, sort of. Was he strong enough to overpower young, healthy women? Most definitely. I just had never seen him anywhere but behind the Moose Point Resort front desk. He never moved from his post. All his movements were slow and lazy as if time didn’t really mean anything to him. Killing took a measure of quickness that Bear just didn’t possess. Unless the laid-back country persona was just a cover.
“Going for that plane ride?” Bear said.
“Uh-huh,” Brian replied. “See you later, Bear.” Brian edged me toward the front door.
“You folks have a nice time now.” Bear flipped the page of his newspaper.
Brian waved a hand as we continued out the door. Once outside, he let out a breath. “Nice guy, but he goes on if he gets his hooks in you.”
Maybe Bear simply didn’t like chatting with me. Was it because I was a woman? Maybe his conversations with women only involved them pleading for their lives. I shook off the shiver working its way through me.
Brian marched over to my Explorer and went over to the passenger side. Had I told him what I was driving? I didn’t think so, but then again, my attention had been mostly on Dale. I remembered every second spent with him.
After unlocking the doors, I climbed into the driver’s seat. Brian hopped in as well, tossed his bag in the back seat, and did the same to mine. He reached into the pocket of his blue ski jacket and unfolded a piece of paper.
“Here are the directions to my friend’s airfield. Want me to copilot this leg of the journey?”
“Sure. Just don’t expect me to copilot the aerial leg of the journey. I’m going to be taking pictures and trying to keep the drool off the cockpit windows.”
“Any way I could get some of those photos for
Expedition Earth
? I can’t fly and snap pictures.”
“Not that talented, huh?”
“Not quite. I’ll give you credit in my article of course.”
“Sounds like a great deal to me.” My own pictures in an
Expedition Earth
spread. A dream come true. Concentrating on my career and standing firm in my decision to return to New York when the week was done was clearly the right choice.
Brian’s offer had to be a sign I was supposed to go back to New York. Any logical person could see that. One door closes, another one opens. Wasn’t that what they say?
Apparently,
they
hadn’t ever been in love with Dale. Hard to close the door in his perfect face.
“Alanna?” Brian’s voice was far away. “Alanna? You needed to go the other way back there.”
“What?” I shook my head and focused on the paper Brian was pointing to.
“I said left, but you went right.”
“Oh…sorry.” I’m an idiot. A complete fool.
I pulled into a gas station and turned around. Heading back the way we came to fix my mistake, I cleared my head of Dale’s face, of his last words to me, and focused. Thinking of not being with Dale and driving didn’t mix. Thinking of not being with Dale and breathing wasn’t a stellar combo either.
Within twenty minutes we were at the airfield and climbing out of the Explorer, toting our bags. Brian met his contact, and soon we stood in front of a white and red Piper PA-18 Super Cub. If passenger jets could reproduce, this little plane would be its offspring. The two-seat, single-engine plane was no bigger than a pickup truck with wings, and I wasn’t so sure about going up in her any more. I took a few steps back.
“It’s perfectly safe,” Brian whispered in my ear.
“Right. Of course.” I shifted my backpack and waited for Brian to walk toward the plane. When he didn’t—stood uncomfortably close to me instead—I craned my head to look up at him. He blinked rapidly and stepped back, a slight flush coloring his cheeks.
“C’mon. Let’s go.” He approached the plane’s passenger side and opened the door. “Your chariot, miss.” He bowed gallantly and held out a hand to help me into the plane.
I took his hand. It was the only way I could get into the Super Cub somewhat gracefully. His hand felt massive under his glove, and as soon as I was in the copilot seat I released it. Brian walked around the front of the small plane and tossed his bag into the cockpit first. I pulled it out of the way, and he climbed into the pilot’s seat.
Just as Dale had looked right on his sled, Brian was at home in the plane’s cockpit.
“How long have you been flying?” My eyes swept over the complicated instrumentation stretching out before us. I hadn’t a clue about what any of it did.
“No doubt a question you should have asked before agreeing to come with me, huh?” Brian teased. “I’ve been flying for fifteen years. When I was twenty, my older brother, Rob, dragged me to an air show. I hadn’t wanted to go, but he begged, so I caved. I fell in love with the planes and decided to take lessons. Been flying ever since.”
His fingers expertly skimmed over the various buttons and levers in the cockpit. I eased back into my seat a bit. Brian knew what he was doing. No need to worry. I could focus on the view through my eyes and camera lens.
“Here.” Brian handed me a set of earphones with a microphone attachment. “It gets loud.”
I took the headset and plopped it on, adjusting the microphone in front of my mouth. Brian did the same.
“Check. Can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, sir,” I replied. “Can we get a little Metallica on these?” I tapped the earphones.
Brian shook his head.
“Aerosmith? Zeppelin?”
“No and no.”
“Party pooper.”
Brian elbowed me, and I fiddled with the earphones until their bulk was comfortable on my head.
Brian launched into a mini-lecture on the safety features of the Piper Super Cub, which caused me to envision any number of things that could go horribly wrong while we were flying. He assured me everything he had said was purely precautionary, and I had no need to worry. Logically, I knew he was right, but worry is so rarely governed by logic, so I still worried.
“Ready for lift off?”
I gave Brian a thumbs up, and the plane’s single engine roared to life, rumbling like a summer thunderstorm in New York.
All of my insides vibrated as the Super Cub rolled down the narrow runway. Patches of snow littered the land to either side of the strip, but the runway itself had been plowed to bare pavement. We gained speed, and with a loud growl the small plane ascended into the brightening morning sky. Soon, I looked upon a miniature version of Fairbanks, still lit by streetlights.
“We’ll fly at a higher altitude until we get closer to Denali,” Brian’s voice cut into my headset. “Then we’ll swoop on down for a more personal look.”
I nodded, admiring Brian’s confidence in the pilot’s seat. I was enjoying the ride as well, but I was nowhere near as excited—or as aroused—as when mushing with Dale.
Jeez, Cormac! Give it a rest.
I heaved in a strained breath, mad at myself for feeling like crying again, and peered out the window. The Chena River wriggled through the land, and a light breeze rippled the treetops below us. Everything looked so trouble free from the air. Too bad I knew it wasn’t. Women’s strangled bodies had been dumped by that river. The stain of death flowed with its current.
Shuddering, I fished around in my bag for my camera and snapped a few photos as we climbed higher. Everywhere I turned my head, nature’s perfection filled my vision. It was in the pine boughs reaching heavenward. In the eagles soaring with outstretched wings. In the white-tipped mountains kissing the clouds.
“Good thing I’ve got extended memory on this thing.” I waved my camera.
“Lots to capture,” Brian replied, glancing at me.
I zoomed in on areas of interest and soon didn’t have to zoom in so much. My picture taking had consumed me, and I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Placing my camera in my lap, I dipped my head to look below us. The plane descended gradually toward Mount McKinley a little south of us.
“Wow.” The word dribbled from my opened mouth as Brian angled the plane closer to the highest summit.
“I have to agree. I mean, I knew it was going to be something to see, but this…this is outstanding.” Brian leveled out the plane as we skimmed over the snow-cloaked crests of McKinley. The sun, waking up now, poured golden rays over the mountains causing the snow to sparkle.
“Looks like a place gods would hang out on, doesn’t it?” I picked up my camera again.
“Olympus for sure.” Brian nodded. “I’m sure they’d let a goddess like yourself stay with them.”
“Goddess. Yeah, right.” I shifted in my seat. It was kind of Brian to cheer me up. Though I was cracking jokes and genuinely awed by the view, Brian had to know my mind was elsewhere, and my heart wasn’t completely into our adventure.
“Thanks again for letting me come with you, Brian.” Figured a little gratitude might help me not seem so rude.
“No problem. Too bad this ride isn’t getting your mind off of Iditarod guy, though.”
I hung my head, and Brian laughed beside me.
“I’m see-through, aren’t I?”
“Completely transparent.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ve been through enough rough break-ups to know it absolutely sucks. You feel all confused, and you’re asking yourself a million questions about what went wrong, how can you fix it, should you fix it. Everything inside of you hurts. Everything outside of you hurts. That’s the all-encompassing power of a heartache. It beats the shit out of you.”
Brian settled his hand back on the yoke, his grip extra tight. His jaw was pretty well clenched by this point too, and I found myself reaching a hand over to his arm. As soon as my fingers connected with him, he turned to look at me, his blue eyes frosty.
“Now you’re all riled up thinking about someone who did you wrong,” I said. “Don’t bring yourself down to my level. You were in a good mood. I don’t want to spoil it.” I squeezed his forearm and then let go.