Flying Home

by Mary Anne Wilson

  “Good, I’ll look forward to you giving it to me,” he said, reaching for a crocheted throw that lay across the foot of the bed. He spread it out over her. “But right now, all I want you to do is relax.”

  She closed her eyes, laced her fingers behind her head. “Yes, boss.”

  “Very funny,” he said, then turned away. “I need to get down to the gates,” he told her. “Then I want to call Moses to find out about John, if he can do anything for Mallory.”

  “Good luck,” Merry said, but suddenly she thought of an idea and sat up straight in bed. Gage was ready to open the door as she exclaimed, “I’ve got it! Why didn’t I think of this right away?”

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed, sleep forgotten. “My kids! It’s okay.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  GAGE WAS STARTLED by her voice, then turned and she was scrambling off the bed. He had no idea what was happening, but he could see the huge smile on her face, the way her green eyes shone. She grabbed his arm with both hands. “The kids, the kids, I can phone them!” She waited, looking up at him as if she’d told him she could walk on the moon.

  “Of course you can,” he said, pointing out what he considered the truly obvious, but wondering why he hadn’t suggested it to her after they’d arrived at the ranch.

  “But I didn’t phone them,” she murmured, her smile starting to slip. “I didn’t.”

  “Then do it and call them,” he urged as he took her hands in his again. “Use the house phone.”

  She stared at him, then slowly shook her head and held tightly to him with a grasp that was starting to tremble. “I should have,” she said, her face pulling into a pained frown.

  He had an uneasy feeling and wished Moses was still there. Delayed shock? Total fatigue? He didn’t know, but he sure could feel the pull on his arm as she began to slip toward the floor.

  He caught her, managing to keep her on her feet by holding her against him. Wishing he could just lift her into his arms to get her to the bed, but he knew his ribs would never tolerate that. Awkwardly, he walked her backward to the bed.

  “I’m horrible,” she was muttering against his chest. “I forgot. I forgot. Those poor kids, I forgot them all.” And with those last words she became a dead weight in his arms.

  Thankfully they were at the bed and, favoring his ribs, he managed to get her up onto it and resting against the pillows. He stood back, watching her, making sure she’d just fainted and hadn’t truly passed out. Her breathing was easy, her face free of the misery that had been there seconds ago. He pulled his cell out of his pocket and punched in Moses’ number.

  With it to his ear, his eyes never left Merry. After two rings, Moses answered with, “I just got here. They followed me, too, so I am not going to the hospital right now. I’m at Jack’s office and Maureen is going to get me out of here, one way or the other.”

  That all came in a rush of words, and when it ended, Gage said without preamble, “Merry passed out.”

  Moses shifted gears without a blink. “What happened?”

  Gage explained it to the doctor as he sat down on the side of the bed by Merry. Automatically, he brushed at loose tendrils of hair that rested on her forehead. She felt cool, and the trembling was gone. When he finished explaining what had gone on, Moses said, “Probably pure exhaustion, both physically and emotionally.”

  “She’s out like a light,” Gage said, gently stroking her cheek.

  “Any fever?”

  “No.”

  “Breathing?”

  He watched her chest rise and fall, then with a sigh, Merry turned onto her side and resettled. “Yes.”

  “I mean, is it fast, slow, shallow?”

  “No, yes, no. Even and steady.” He took in her dark lashes fanning out against her skin. “Fine.”

  Gage heard a long sigh over the phone. “She’s okay. She probably used whatever she had in her game book to cope with the whole survival situation. Now she’s paying for burying all that anxiety and fear.”

  “Bubbles,” Gage said softly, struck by how very vulnerable the woman on the bed looked to him at that moment.

  “What?” came the reply in his ear.

  “Nothing. Just...is it okay? Is she okay?”

  “I’m sure she will be. I’ll do a full work up when I get there, if or when I get there.”

  “What about John? Can he help you out?”

  “I don’t think so. Mallory still has her ‘stalkers’ at the inn. John got the guys to move down the street a bit, but they’re still out there, watching.”

  “Is Mallory there alone?”

  “No, she said Willie G. came in for a bit, and he’s there with her.”

  “Good. I’m finally going to go down to talk to whoever is left at the gates.” Then he had a thought. “Hey, if Willie G. is at Mallory’s, chances are he came in on that big bike of his.”

  “Yes, he would have.”

  “If he did, call the guy and ask him if he’ll help. He could get to Jack’s office in the back, and if you’re ready, he’d have you on that bike so quickly no one would know what’s going on.”

  “That’s a good idea. He might like some excitement.”

  “You bet.” Willie G. had come down from the Rez to the lowlands when the town was formed forty years ago. He had little if any patience for people who didn’t respect others and the fine community the locals had created here.

  “Moses, get him. Go and do what you need to do, then try to get back here as soon as you can to check Merry over. Just let me know what’s going on in town, good or bad.”

  “Will do,” Moses said before he broke the connection.

  Gage slipped his phone in his pocket, then stood for a very long moment, just looking at Merry. With the power of a punch to the middle, he realized that if any woman he’d ever met could have changed the man he was, it might have been Merry. Sadly, he was sure that was as close as any woman would get, and a feeling of regret settled deep inside him.

  Leaning over her, he inhaled her lovely, sweet scent, then touched his lips to her silky smooth cheek. “Rest well,” he whispered, determined to get her to her kids as soon as he could, no matter what he had to do to make that happen.

  Minutes later, Gage approached the heavy metal gates on foot, hit the security pad and input the code. The barriers started to slowly part. The sun was almost hidden behind heavy clouds, and the air had a real bite of cold in it. But he didn’t notice too much more than the fact that the broadcast vans were clustered across the road in a dirt packed field, and about a dozen reporters were running toward the gates as they opened.

  He stepped through as voices erupted with questions, and bright lights snapped on, all but blinding him. He ignored the yelling, standing just two paces from the open gates, and held up his hands. When the voices died down enough for him to be heard, he raised his own voice. “Hello, everyone, I am Gage Carson and this is my parents’ home, so I expect that to be respected.”

  He barely got out the words before the reporters started up again. Coming closer, they thrust microphones into his face and threw a barrage of questions at him. Again, Gage waited, then when he got a chance to cut in, he said, “I will answer all your questions, on one condition.”

  That brought instant silence and all eyes on him. “I was the one that flew the plane, the one that made an emergency landing in it, and the one who was stranded on the mountain in it. I am the one who survived because the plane was one of the best in the world, and because another storm didn’t come.” He’d noticed the gathering clouds rolling down from the mountains even as he spoke. “I’m the one who was rescued and got back here.”

  The reporters looked expectantly, waiting for his punch line. “It’s me. All me. My friends and family and people in the town, don’t know anything I haven’t tol
d them or will tell them. If you want me to answer your questions, my condition for that is, you leave the rest of the people around here alone.”

  He stopped, waited, then a gray haired reporter spoke. “We just want the story,” he pointed out.

  “Do you want the real story, or a story about what people thought, or guessed, or felt?”

  “Both,” the man said without hesitation.

  Gage pulled a huge bluff, and he turned to go back through the gates. “Drive safely,” he tossed over his shoulder, with a dismissive wave behind him.

  Before he could take more than two steps, the voices were pummeling him again. He turned, hesitated, then went back.

  “Listen, I understand your job, what you have to do, but you have limits, too. I’ll be leaving here in a few days, and probably won’t be back for months. I’m the one you want the story from, and I’m willing to give it to you all, but not if you involve everyone around here in your hunt for whatever truth you think you’re going to find.”

  The gray haired man spoke again. “I, for one, find that agreeable. This isn’t about corruption or anything criminal going on. It’s a good story of survival. I’ll abide by your conditions.”

  There was a murmur from the others, some back and forth, then they all agreed with Gage. His relief was immense, but he tried not to show it. Instead, he motioned around. “Go ahead, what do you all want to know...?”

  It took over an hour before the questions and follow up inquiries were asked, then Gage held up his hand. “I think that’s about it.” A woman he hadn’t really noticed came closer, She was slight and dark, in a jacket with the insignia of another local TV station on the lapel of a navy blazer.

  “One last question?” she asked him.

  He nodded.

  “Did you ever think that you’d die up there, alone?”

  Something in the question struck him, making his chest tighten. Then, unbidden, images of Merry flooded through him. Images of her lying next to him, talking through the darkness, holding his hand when he was miserable, responding so sweetly to his kiss.

  “No,” he said honestly. “Never had one thought like that,” and he swallowed before finishing with, “I’m back. I’m fine, and I’m getting on with my life in a few days.”

  A shattering roar came up behind the group of reporters, who parted to reveal a huge motorcycle, emblazoned with Eagles and the American flag. It glided forward, the engine throbbing and cut right through them and up to Gage.

  The rider flipped up the front of his bright red, white and blue helmet, and Gage suddenly came face to face with Willie G. The epitome of the Native, his long gray hair was flowing around his shoulders, his hawkish features frozen with disapproval. The shirt he was wearing, a splashy tie-dye in brilliant colors, hung on his wiry frame. At sixty-plus, the man was, and always had been, a force to be reckoned with.

  As the throbbing engine died, Willie G. raised his voice. “Your project you came to see about, is it still a go?”

  Gage was really confused now. “As far as I know they are still wanting bids on it and my company is still in the running.”

  “And you, brother, can live with that? Ruining your people’s land, their peace and their heritage?” he demanded.

  Gage flinched at the words. “Willie, I’m not here to—”

  Still straddling his huge motorcycle, the old man stopped him with a raised hand. “I come to talk to you, boy,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

  Gage didn’t know what was going on, but he had a gut instinct to go with the flow. “Good, come on in and talk, then,” he said and motioned up to the house.

  A reporter shoved a microphone in front of Willie G. and got a snort for his effort. “Just your name, sir?” the reporter asked, drawing the microphone back to his chest.

  “I am Willie G. and this is my town,” he said, and gestured for Gage to get on the bike behind him.

  Gage didn’t hesitate. He climbed on the back, held to the seat, then Willie started up the machine. He went slowly through the gates, let Gage hit the “close” code, then with a twist of the accelerator, the engine roared.

  The ride to the house took less than a minute, and Willie pulled up in front of the formal entry area. He put down the kickstand, took off his helmet and hung it on the handle before he climbed off. Gage was already standing, looking at the older man. “So tell me, what’s up?”

  Willie spoke as he pulled his long gray hair back and secured it with a leather tie. “Merely asked you some questions, boy.” His dark eyes met Gage’s. “Truth. Truth.”

  Gage patted Willie on the shoulder. “Let’s go inside and get out of the cold.”

  The two men went through the entry and into the main room, centered around a massive stone fireplace. Lark Carson was there talking to Alma, the housekeeper, and both women looked up at Willie and Gage as they came toward them.

  Lark beamed, holding out both hands to Willie. “Oh, Willie, so good to see you.”

  “It sure is,” Moses said from the hallway that led to the east side of the house. He stepped out into the large room, his hair ruffled, and he was wearing a heavy leather jacket. “This old man is crazy,” he said, pointing a finger at Willie.

  Gage looked from the doctor to Willie, then back to Moses. Things finally fit. “He brought you out here on that bike?”

  Moses exhaled roughly. “Shoot, he sure did. Almost killed us both more than once driving like a maniac at over a hundred miles an hour.”

  The older man chuckled. “You boys are so soft. Talk about speed, when I was your age, I—”

  “You could outrun a train and be at the next stop in time to serve the passengers high tea,” Lark put in with a soft burst of laughter.

  Willie gave her a mock bow. “You remember.”

  “I remember a young Willie riding his bicycle straight down the Pontu Pass road with brakes that didn’t work.”

  Willie smiled warmly. “Good memory, Lark.”

  “One remembers abject fear when one was on the back of that bike,” Lark said with a grin.

  “You didn’t really go down Pontu Pass like that, did you?” Gage asked before she turned to leave with Alma in tow.

  She showed a coy smile. “In another life, son, in another life.” She glanced at Willie. “And you’re staying for dinner, right?”

  “Oh, yes, lady, I am.” He crossed to her and the housekeeper. “And I am going to do the cooking of the steaks.”

  Lark didn’t fight that offer. “Then come on,” she said.

  The three left the main room and Gage turned to Moses. “Still can’t believe you rode with that lunatic, but I sure am glad you made it back in one piece. Merry really needs you to look in on her.”

  “I already did that,” Moses said, taking a seat on the sofa. “Went right up as soon as I got here.”

  “And?”

  “She’s okay, just exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Everything else checked out, and she rolled over and went back to sleep.”

  Gage felt some relief. “That’s good. She wants to call the kids, can’t believe we hadn’t thought of that one sooner.”

  “How’d it go with the press?”

  “I thought it went well until Willie roared up and confronted me about the bid I’m here to make.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, scared the heck out of me when he talked about my company basically desecrating the land.” He shook his head. “Is he for real on that?”

  “I’d guess he might be, but he was trying to draw attention down there and away from me. He told me so, when he dropped me off by the stable.” Moses chuckled. “If he wasn’t Mallory’s uncle, I’d say he’s a bit, uh...reckless?”

  “He always has been if he took my mother on the back of his bike down—” He stop
ped, unable to say the words out loud. “Unbelievable,” he said instead, then started for the stairs. “I’m going to check on Merry.”

  Moses waved at him to leave. “I’m going to sit here and forget about the ride I just took.”

  * * *

  MERRY FELT WONDERFUL. Warm and protected and so comfortable. Then she woke with a start, not understanding where she was or what was going on. Shadows were everywhere, but she could hear movement near the foot of the bed. Then a light clicked on.

  Gage. And she understood everything—the bedroom, the warmth, and the ease that she had felt for that single moment before she remembered...everything.

  “Oh, hey,” she said a bit thickly, still sleepy. Yawning, she pushed up on her elbows.

  Gage came closer, into the halo of light that fought the shadows all around. He was still in the same clothes, but he looked tired, his hair spiked a bit as if he’d been running his fingers through it.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  “I...I fainted?”

  “I didn’t know at first,” he said as he sat on the bed, studying her. “Scared me, actually.”

  She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, no,” he said, his hand finding hers by her side and closing over it. “Don’t be sorry. You went through a terrible ordeal. There had to be a time when it all took a toll on you, and you’ve had it. It’s over.”

  She sighed heavily, giving in to a need to hold on to him by turning her hand over in his and lacing their fingers together. She remembered the phone, her not thinking about calling her kids, because she’d been worried more about Gage and his medical ailments. The kids had been pushed aside and she felt suffocating guilt from it. As if he read her mind, he murmured, “It was pretty normal to worry about what was right in front of us, and not fret so much about things at a distance, things we couldn’t change.” His grip on her hand tightened for a moment, then moved out of her hold and found its way to her cheek. He stroked her with the back of his fingers, an achingly gentle touch. “You did remarkably well, believe me.”