Skid

by Rene Gutteridge

  Just like Danny.

  But this time, he’d done it with a little help from above. And a pig named Chucky.

  Chapter 29

  Bob Worton closed the folder and set it on his desk. “Well.”

  “Sir? Is something wrong?”

  Bob shook his head. “No. Hank, this is a very thorough report.”

  “Yes sir. You told me you wanted it that way.”

  “Yes. I did say that, didn’t I?” Bob leaned back in his chair. It creaked like it was about to pop a spring. “So, you had quite a ride.”

  Hank smiled. “Yes, we did.”

  “You know, news reports are talking about a guy named Hank. A guy who helped a blimp pilot land the plane. A guy who disappeared.”

  “I didn’t disappear! Here I am, sitting right in front of you.”

  “You weren’t in any of the news reports.”

  “I figured I’d let Eddie take care of that.”

  “What was it like?”

  Hank looked thoughtful. “It was amazing that such an enormous machine could virtually land itself. I remember the tower said, Just let go. It will land by itself.’ And for a second, Eddie and I looked at each other. We couldn’t believe it. But it did. It was like a hand carried it all the way to the ground.”

  “I heard there’s going to be a big story about it in People magazine. About the pig, the woman who came back to life, and some lady who says she now believes in God.” Bob chuckled. “I bet she does.”

  “What about the pilots? What’s going to happen to them?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “The captain was going to retire, I heard,” Hank said.

  “Yes. I heard she’s finally going to tell her story about what happened over Bermuda.”

  “And the other two pilots?”

  “The other two pilots will go under review. It’s mandatory. They got two hundred and three souls safely on the ground, though, so I’m sure that will play heavily into any decision that’s made.”

  “Good.”

  “You have some very complimentary things to say about the flight attendants.”

  “They did a wonderful job serving drinks and, later, keeping everyone calm during a stressful situation.”

  Bob sighed, reaching behind his head and clasping his hands together. “Maybe this will shed good light on everything. Help get our name out there.”

  “The report?”

  “The coverage. You know, the fact that it wasn’t engine failure helps. And thank God it didn’t end in a ball of flames.”

  “Yeah. Thank God.”

  “So, Hank, I guess you’re finished with this whole flying business?”

  “Finished? No, in fact, I think I’m going to learn how to be a pilot.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I think that’s what I want to do.”

  “I guess you have a nice résumé started. Most people start in a simulator.”

  Hank laughed. “I guess so.”

  “Well, Hank,” Bob said, rising and offering his hand. “It’s been a pleasure knowing you.”

  “Thank you, sir. Best wishes.”

  “And Merry Christmas. I guess I can say that. It’s not too far off. A couple of weeks. Plans for the holidays?”

  “I always spend it with my family and at church.”

  “Oh. Good for you.”

  “Merry Christmas to you, sir. And may God bless you.”

  Hank walked out the door, and Bob sat back down. He lifted the sleeve of his shirt and rubbed the nicotine patch. It had occurred to him for some strange reason that more important than getting an entire airline out of its rut was getting himself out of his rut. It was something about the way the kid looked at him the first time they met, like Bob was the only thing important at the moment. Bob couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked at him that way. Maybe somebody would again if he could get out of this rut.

  It was going to take more than olives on a salad. Bob smiled. Maybe he’d attend Mass this Christmas Eve. That sounded like a good place to start.

  Hank thought if you happened to peer in the window, which was cold to the touch and frosty around the edges, it might’ve looked like old times. Like when their parents would sit by the hearth, his mother reading about Saint Nick and his father reading from the Bible.

  Things were different now, but not too different. The story being told at the moment, though not related in any way to Christmas, still held the attention of everyone in the room.

  Hank smiled, taking in the scene. They were all there, sitting near a sparkling Christmas tree, its branches heavy with the weight of too many ornaments. Nearby, a fire crackled in the fireplace. Hanging from its mantel were stockings, decorated especially for each person.

  Hank studied the picture in front of him. Mitch and Claire cuddled on the couch, their children next to them with their feet tucked into the cushions. Hayden and Ray sat on pillows on the floor near the Christmas tree, like they were guarding the gifts. Holt and Avery sipped apple cider while sitting on the hearth. And Mack stood at the front window, her hands on her hips, staring out into the white snowscape.

  “Mack, get over here!” Hayden said. “You’re missing all the fun.”

  “I can hear it,” Mack said. “Did anyone mention to Hank we’re having a ham this Christmas?”

  Everyone roared with laughter.

  “Uncle Hank! Tell us about Lucy again!” squealed one of his nieces.

  Hank blushed. “Oh, I think once is enough.”

  “Didn’t anyone ever tell you never to trust a woman in polka dots?” Mitch laughed.

  “Yeah…I think I’ve heard that once before.”

  “I just can’t believe you landed the plane!” Hayden said.

  Hank held up his hands. “Okay, listen, for the tenth time, I didn’t land the plane! It landed itself!”

  “That’s not what the news said!”

  Ray laughed. “Yes, well, sometimes you have to take those reports with a grain of salt.”

  Hayden stood. “Mack, please get over here. You’re missing all the fun.”

  “I just don’t understand where she could be. She was supposed to be home thirty minutes ago.”

  Mitch said, “You know Cassie, Mack. She probably stopped at the drugstore for a makeup sample or something. She’s fine.”

  “It’s just very snowy. I know there’s no ice, but Cassie is not the best driver, especially when she’s emotional.” Mack turned to the family. “Which she’s likely to be if she didn’t get the job.”

  “I don’t understand why anyone would have a job interview on Christmas Eve,” sighed Claire. “That’s seems ridiculous.”

  “Cassie said they’re short staffed. Two girls quit last night. I don’t know,” Mack said. “All I know is that I’m about to go out there and find her—wait! Here she is!”

  Headlights shone through the window and bounced off the walls. Mack closed the curtains as Cassie came bounding through the door.

  “I was worried sick,” Mack said. “You should’ve called.”

  Cassie grinned like it was…well, Christmas. She handed Mack a sack as she passed. “It was incredible!”

  “Did you get the job?” Hayden asked.

  “Yes! Yes!” She danced around the room, throwing sacks into people’s laps.

  “What’s this?” Hank asked.

  “Samples. I get samples!”

  “Of what?” Hank peered into the bag.

  “Don’t worry, Hank, I didn’t get you lip gloss and mascara. They have aftershave and skin cream for men.”

  Hank raised a skeptical eyebrow, but he had to admit it smelled good.

  Mack held up a tube of lipstick. “What, exactly, am I supposed to do with this?”

  Cassie giggled. “Wear it, silly.”

  “It’s called Gothic Grape.”

  “Might come in handy if you ever go undercover again,” Mitch suggested.

  “Or when you’re napping tomorrow on the couch
and I feel like being ornery,” Mack retorted.

  “You wouldn’t,” Mitch said.

  “Oh, I would,” Mack smiled.

  Cassie finished spinning around the room and stopped in front of Hank to give him a big hug. “I’m so glad you’re safe!”

  “I can’t thank you enough for your help on the plane, Sis.”

  “It was my pleasure.” She lowered her voice. “So…?”

  “So what?”

  “Anything happen with Lucy that I should know about?”

  Hank smiled and looked down. “No. She’s a nice lady, though. I wish her the best.”

  “Well, don’t give up.”

  “I’m proud of you.”

  “Me?” Cassie asked. “Why? I didn’t land an airplane.”

  “No,” he smiled. “But you’re doing something you love. You didn’t give up on your dream…even if the rest of the family doesn’t understand it.”

  Cassie grinned. “I can’t even describe it! Standing behind that counter, smelling all those perfumes, getting to see the spring colors before Christmas!” She hopped and clapped her hands. “It’s incredible!”

  Mitch slid up next to them. “Congratulations, Cassie.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s good to know you’ll have a steady job and money to pay the bills.” He patted her on the back. “You want some cider?”

  “Sure.”

  Mitch left, and Cassie’s face dimmed.

  “What’s the matter?” Hank nudged her.

  “Well…it doesn’t exactly pay the bills.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s part-time.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Oh.”

  “I’ll have to find another job to pay the bills.”

  “Well, that’s okay, right? Surely there’s something else out there you’d like to do.”

  Cassie shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  “Then look at it this way: the other part-time job will allow you to do what you really want to do. And who knows? Maybe sometime soon you’ll be manager of the cosmetics department or something!”

  “True.” Cassie grabbed him by the arm, and they headed to the kitchen. “Come on. I have to tell you about a new pore minimizer they’re making in the men’s line!”

  Acknowledgments

  I didn’t know how little I knew about airplanes until I began the journey of writing Skid. If it takes a village to raise a child, it took a good-size town to write Skid! This book wouldn’t have happened had God not brought some really terrific people onboard.

  First I’d like to thank Dave Belton, who tolerated endless questions about his profession as a commercial pilot. Thanks also to his beautiful family, who took me in for a couple of days and let me borrow Dave. Dave, it was truly fun to work with you.

  I’d also like to thank Sam Ward and Bob and Marci Burke for their willingness to share their knowledge and to tolerate my not-so-bright questions! And thank you to Ron Wheatley for great technical advice.

  A special thanks is extended to Doug Troy and Delta Airlines for allowing me the privilege of touring their headquarters and flying their 767 simulator. (Sorry I broke it! Obviously, I have no future as a pilot!)

  I’m also indebted to Pat Pedley, Ginny Oxford, Ellen Warren, Chris Lambert, and Melinda Lysiak for sharing their experiences as flight attendants. I had such a great time listening to their stories, some of which ended up in my book! I’d also like to thank Micki Keiser and Deb Orcutt for their graciousness in responding to additional questions about flight attendants.

  Last but certainly not least is the team at WaterBrook, who continues to support my vision and make every book the best it can be. You are all so talented! Special thanks to Shannon Hill and Laura Wright for their editorial skill, wisdom, and encouragement.

  As always, thanks to my family, who tolerated research trips and some long hours at the computer. I love you! And thank You, Lord, for the blessing of the process and all You teach me through it.

  About the Author

  Rene Gutteridge is the author of fourteen novels, including the Boo series, the Storm series, My Life as a Doormat, and the Occupational Hazards series. She has worked as a church drama director and has published over fifty short comedy sketches as a playwright.

  Rene is married to Sean, a musician, and enjoys raising their two children while writing full time. She also enjoys helping new writers and teaching at writers’ conferences. She and her family make their home in Oklahoma.

  Please visit her Web site at www.renegutteridge.com.

  SKID

  PUBLISHED BY WATERBROOK PRESS

  12265 Oracle Boulevard, Suite 200

  Colorado Springs, Colorado 80921

  A division of Random House Inc.

  The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2008 by Rene Gutteridge Inc.

  Published in association with the literary agency of Janet Kobobel Grant, Books & Such, 52 Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170, Santa Rosa, CA 95409-5370.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Gutteridge, Rene.

  Skid : a novel / Rene Gutteridge. —1st ed.

  p. cm. —(The occupational hazards)

  1. Air pilots—Fiction. 2. Flight crews—Fiction. 3. Travelers—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3557.U887S55 2008

  813’.54—dc22

  2007050280

  eISBN: 978-0-307-49904-2

  v3.0