A Wing And A Prayer: Truly Yours Digital Edition (Truly Yours Digital Editions)

by Tracie Peterson

“Daddy did that, too,” CJ argued softly.

  Brad smiled and pulled her into his arms. “Yes, he did. But God called him home, and when He calls us, it will be no different. We’ll be ready to go and walk jubilantly into the arms of our Savior. Is there any fear in that?”

  CJ trembled in his arms, and a single tear slid down her cheek. “But what if it only takes one of us? What then?”

  Brad kissed the wet spot on her face. “Either God is God, or He isn’t. We trust, and we go on. We live life and expect the best in His will for us. There are no guarantees, CJ, except that through Christ, we de-feat death.”

  CJ felt a bit of peace in his words. She knew Brad was right. She had to let God be in control. She had to let go of the past, her fears, and her worries. But how very hard it was to trust!

  That night CJ dreamed she was falling. The ground raced up to meet her, but she never came to a stop. She just kept falling and falling. Pain in her left leg woke her up once. She shifted positions and fell back asleep, thinking of how the old dream never seemed to fade from her mind.

  Around five-thirty in the morning, her phone rang. “Sorry to wake you, CJ, but the front’s picked up speed and there’s another behind it. I’d suggest we wait it out, but from the looks of it, we could be here a while.”

  “So what other choice do we have?” CJ asked in a sleepy voice.

  “We leave right now,” Brad replied. “The weather’s good, and by the time we get up and running, it’ll be light. Can you be ready to go in five minutes?”

  CJ came awake instantly. “Sure. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  “No, I’ll come get you. I don’t want you wandering around the hotel by yourself at this hour.” Brad’s protectiveness made CJ feel good. “Just stay put. I’ll be over shortly.”

  CJ scurried around the room, grateful that she’d thought to pack everything the night before. She pulled on her blue jeans and tucked in a dark green T-shirt before pulling a heavy wool sweater over her head. Grimacing, she didn’t even take time to put on makeup and was just doing up the laces on her hiking boots when Brad knocked on the doorway.

  “I’m ready,” she said, thrusting her bag through the door into Brad’s waiting arms.

  “What? No good morning kiss?” Brad teased.

  CJ leaned across the bag and placed a light kiss on Brad’s lips. “Good morning,” she said. She pushed her hair back only to realize that she’d forgotten to brush it. “Oh, no!” she exclaimed. “My hair must look frightful. Well, this is the best you get with a five-minute warning. No makeup and no combed-out hair.” She shrugged good-naturedly and stared up into Brad’s twinkling eyes.

  “You look fine,” Brad said with a wink. “I kind of like it all tossed around like that.”

  CJ rolled her eyes. “Just let me borrow your cap, okay?”

  Brad laughed out loud, forgetting the hour. He quieted down when CJ put a finger to her lips. Shifting the bag, he pulled the baseball cap from his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

  “Are you ready now, or is there something else you want before we go?” he asked with a sardonic grin.

  “Breakfast would have been nice,” she countered.

  “I’ve already arranged for the kitchen to have something waiting for us to take along. We can pick it up on our way out.”

  CJ shook her head and reached out to open the unzipped front of Brad’s coat.

  “What are you doing?” His confusion was apparent.

  “Just looking.”

  “For what?” Brad questioned in earnest.

  “Your cape,” CJ replied.

  “My cape?”

  “Your hero cape. You know…Superhero Brad! Defender of the weak! Nourisher of the hungry! Pilot for the cowardly!”

  It was Brad’s turn to roll his eyes, and with a low chuckle he asked, “Are you finished?”

  CJ adjusted the cap, pushing her long red hair inside. “Yes, Super Brad,” she replied. “Lead on.”

  Brad made an engine run-up and double checked to make certain the radio was on the 123.0 frequency for Jackson Hole.

  “Jackson Hole traffic,” he announced on the common frequency, “this is Cessna Four-Kilo-Mike departing runway one-niner.”

  CJ tensed in the seat as Brad moved the craft down the runway. They lifted gracefully into the air, and once again CJ felt relieved to see they were up and on their way. It was more the anticipation of the thing that bothered her.

  Brad turned the plane to the right and radioed once again. “Jackson Hole traffic, Cessna Four-Kilo-Mike departing to the east.” He replaced the mike and turned to CJ. “Look, we’re greeting the morning.” He pointed to the rush of color that lit up the eastern horizon.

  CJ watched as he maneuvered the plane and climbed to 9,500 feet. Leveling off, Brad seemed relaxed and content, almost like an extension of the Cessna. He loves it, CJ thought. He was just like her father. Sitting back, CJ finally gave in to her fatigue and dozed.

  The first turbulence hit them about the same time Brad was contemplating the breakfast they’d brought along. He contacted the nearest flight service station and updated the altimeter setting before making a climb to calmer air space. CJ instantly awoke at the disturbance, but Brad assured her all was well.

  “We just passed the cabins at Fremont Lake,” he announced. “We’re up to 13,500 and things seem a little calmer here. Hungry?”

  She shook her head. The nerves in her stomach were suddenly tight. “No, I think I’ll wait.”

  “There’s a thermos of coffee back there. Maybe that would help settle your stomach.”

  She looked at him wonderingly and again shook her head. “I’m fine. You want me to get you something?”

  “Yeah, I think they packed some donuts and I don’t know what else,” he replied. He started humming while CJ frowned ever so slightly.

  “What’s that song?” she asked, unbuckling herself.

  “‘Have a Little Talk With Jesus,’” Brad sang out just as the plane lurched.

  “Looks like you’d better have more than a little talk,” CJ suggested.

  Brad laughed while CJ reached around behind his seat to where the small box of food had been placed. The plane bumped up and down, causing CJ to lose her grip on the plastic thermos. It rolled back behind her and wedged out of reach. She watched the skies with a sense of dread. To the east was the Wind River Mountain range, with its twelve- and thirteen-thousand-foot peaks. It seemed most intimidating to CJ. Even worse was the fading visibility to the south.

  “On second thought,” Brad said, trying not to appear overly concerned, “I think I’ll wait on that donut.”

  CJ nodded, buckled herself back in, and resumed her vigil of the skies. Things weren’t good, and there was no way Brad could keep it from her. She was, after all, Douglas O’Sullivan’s daughter. She’d grown up in planes and probably had logged more air miles than most pilots.

  They covered another one hundred miles or so before Brad radioed for another updated setting. It was critical for a pilot to keep track of the local pressure in order to reset the altimeter. Otherwise, he might actually believe he was at one altitude when, in fact, he could be much lower. Flying over mountain terrain made this little inconvenience even more important.

  CJ sat in silence while Brad and flight service discussed the changing weather. It seemed the easterly front, which had been expected to move through by this time, had stalled out over Denver and built back.

  Brad weighed his options. Very few existed. Visual Flight Rules, or VFR, required a three-mile visibility, and Jackson Hole was now socked in with the low-pressure system pushing forward and picking up speed. Turning back was out of the question.

  Finally, a course was plotted that would take them over some rough mountain terrain, but even then Brad wasn’t worried. He’d flown the area many times before and anticipated the dangers in advance—at least as much in advance as mountain flying allowed for. They’d simply fly high and take no chances.

  Things
seemed to settle down for a time, and although problems existed, CJ tried to remind herself that Brad was a capable and experienced flyer. With a wing and a prayer, they’d surely get through; wasn’t that what her father had always said?

  They passed the miles in silence, but eventually Brad seemed to sense her tension worsening, and he reached across with a quick pat on her arm.

  “A walk in the park,” he teased, knowing that CJ knew full well how bad things could get.

  “Right,” she replied and sarcastically added, “you could probably do it with your eyes closed.”

  “Not and fly VFR,” Brad laughed. The plane jumped a bit and settled back down. CJ’s knuckles were white from gripping the edge of the seat.

  “Relax,” Brad tried to encourage. “Remember what Luke 4:10 says, ‘He will command his angels concerning you to guard you carefully.’ Maybe He could stake one or two under the wings.”

  “I wonder if angels have to worry about turbulence and downdrafts,” CJ quipped.

  Brad laughed. “Just keep your sense of humor, honey. We’ll be fine.”

  The word “fine” was barely out his mouth when the plane ran into another bouncing bout with the elements. It reminded CJ of a roller coaster ride, and she worried for a brief moment that she’d get sick.

  Brad had worries of his own when Mt. Zirkel came into view after they crossed into Colorado airspace. He checked the altimeter. At 13,500 feet, he should be well above the landmark, but for some reason the mountain looked much higher than usual. Maybe CJ’s paranoia was getting to him. He glanced over and gave her a smile.

  Heading toward the Medicine Bow Mountain range, Brad tried to make radio contact, but received only static. He was quickly reaching the point where he’d have to make serious decisions on his own.

  “We’re going to go higher,” he told CJ. She only nodded and cowered into her corner. Brad felt badly that he couldn’t cajole or comfort her in the midst of the frightening situation, but he had his hands full, and his mind was more than a little bit preoccupied.

  The plane fought to pick up altitude, while the wind campaigned in equal earnest to push it back down. To CJ, the plane seemed too frail to endure much more. She alternated between pleading with God and raging against Him at the injustice of it all.

  All of a sudden, a tremendous blow came against them, and CJ knew they were falling from the sky. The plane kept plummeting with Brad working at the controls to somehow achieve the lift they needed. Nothing worked.

  “You’d better get down,” Brad said with an authoritative sternness that left CJ no hope that he’d recover the descent.

  CJ shook her head. This just couldn’t be happening. How could God be so cruel as to make her go through it again?

  “I love you, Brad!” she exclaimed, knowing that if she didn’t say it now, she might never get a chance.

  Brad laughed. “Now you tell me.”

  The mountain peaks rushed up to meet them, then something miraculous happened and Brad managed to pull them up just a bit. It was too late to keep them from crashing, but they had more control, and he banked them ever so diligently toward an open valley.

  “Get down!” Brad ordered, and CJ quickly complied.

  “Dear God,” she whispered, “forgive me my sins and deliver us from death.” Her mind drifted into the memory of another crash. “He’s done us in, Jan,” she suddenly remembered her father saying just before the noise of the crash tore through the plane. Oh God, she thought, I don’t want to die. It was her last conscious thought.

  sixteen

  The landing gear broke up and scattered across the mountain. Brad fought for some kind of control and quickly realized there was little to be had. When they finally skidded to a stop, the plane had flipped several times and finally landed upside down.

  Brad, though dazed, never lost consciousness. He was aware of a burning pain in his side and the fact that he was half lying, half hanging against the cockpit door. The haze gradually lifted from his mind, and the cold of the snow-spotted valley brought him fully awake.

  “CJ!” he cried her name and fought the harness that bound him to the cockpit seat.

  The wreckage left Brad frustrated as he struggled to free himself. CJ was unconscious. A trickle of blood marred her otherwise peacefullooking face. Sometime during the crash, she’d lost his baseball cap, and now copper hair spilled out everywhere in tangled disarray.

  “CJ!” Brad said her name over and over, trying to evoke some re-sponse as he managed to free himself.

  He knew without checking that she was alive. CJ’s rhythmic breathing confirmed his assumptions. Remembering the bit of control he’d had over the plane right before the crash, Brad felt certain that God had brought them both through for a purpose. But what could it possibly be?

  Working CJ’s jammed seat belt, Brad freed her and pulled her from the wreckage. Tenderly, he put her on the ground several feet from the fuselage and looked around to survey the damage.

  The plane looked like a turtle, stranded on its back. The landing gear had been ripped away and the wing on one side was lying at an angle. It was a miracle that they were alive.

  Still a bit stunned, Brad managed to locate one of the blankets he’d kept in the plane. He spread it out on the ground next to CJ, and then gently rolled her onto it. He gave her a cursory going-over to see if she was injured. There were no stains of crimson to give him reason for concern, and Brad sat down hard, sighing with relief. The bump on her head had already begun to turn purple, but the bleeding was barely noticeable.

  Twisting around to get his bearings, Brad cried out in pain. His hand went to his side, where something had punctured him during the crash. He unzipped his coveralls and reached in his hand, bringing it out bloody. Struggling to his feet, he went to search the fuselage for their bags and the first-aid kit.

  The winds picked up, and heavy clouds began to lower over the valley while Brad worked to find their things in the jumbled mess. He tried the radio to no avail and glanced again to the sky. Hopefully the ELT, Emergency Locator Transmitter, would already be sending out signals that someone flying overhead could pick up. Brad silently thanked God he’d taken the time to file a flight plan and that the flight service knew their whereabouts after their last altimeter update. It would greatly reduce the time in locating them.

  Pulling together what he could, Brad managed to dress his wound and stop the bleeding. His next concern was CJ. When he knelt beside her, she was already coming to.

  In her mind, CJ was sixteen again. She felt the pain and the fear. The smell of fuel assailed her nose and, for the first time since the accident, she could see the twisted, bleeding bodies of her parents.

  “No!” she screamed. “Daddy, no!” She struggled to fight the wreckage and flailed her arms against its hold.

  “CJ, calm down. It’s okay. We’re okay!” Brad said, holding her down.

  CJ was unable to shake the image. “They’re dead! They’re dead! Somebody help me!”

  “Shhh,” Brad soothed and pulled her close. “It’s all over, CJ. Wake up, honey.”

  CJ opened her eyes. The wreckage of her parents’ plane was gone. Brad’s concerned face replaced the horrors of contorted death. “What’s happened?” she questioned in a whisper. Her mind refused to accept the accident they’d just endured.

  “Rough landing,” Brad quipped. CJ struggled to sit up, but Brad held her fast. “How’s your head?”

  “My head?” CJ questioned. “My head is fine. Why is it so cold?”

  “Perhaps because we’re on top of a mountain with a storm about to hit,” Brad replied sarcastically, letting her sit up.

  CJ stared around in disbelief. Then it all started to come back. The downdrafts…the plane going down. It was suddenly very clear.

  “Oh, Brad!” she exclaimed and clung to him as though she were about to drown. She moaned his name over and over, while he held her tightly and stroked her hair.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “We m
ade it. God protected us through the crash. Are you hurt anywhere?”

  CJ refused to answer his questions. She refused to let go. It was too much. How could God do this to her twice in one lifetime? I trusted You, Lord, she thought. I trusted You.

  The wind picked up, a sure sign that the storm was nearly upon them. Brad knew if the weather continued to build, search and rescue would be unable to locate them, much less pick them up. He needed to make a shelter of some kind. Prying himself away from CJ’s grip, he glanced around.

  “CJ, we have to get to work. I have a feeling we’re about to be pelted with rain or snow, and we’ve got to get out of the elements. I want you to try to stand and see if you’re hurt.”

  “No, don’t leave me. I can’t bear it!” She reached out and grabbed him again.

  “Honey, I’m not going anywhere. I just want to see if you’re hurt, and if not, you can help me fix up a shelter.” CJ was still unconvinced. She refused to loosen her hold on Brad.

  He wanted to go on holding her—anything to take the fear from her eyes. Brad remembered Roger’s words about love marring objectivity. Feeling cruel, he forced CJ away from him.

  “We have to get to work. I’m serious, now.” He hated himself for the words. “Stand up,” he ordered, getting to his own feet. He refused to wince even though the pain in his side was more than he wanted to admit.

  CJ stared up at him, from the ground. “No,” she said, refusing to budge. “I won’t. I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can,” Brad insisted and pulled her to her feet. “Now, walk around and see if anything hurts.”

  CJ glared at him for a moment, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and walked. Brad saw the rage in her face and felt the anger that was barely contained.

  “Move your arms around,” Brad said, watching her carefully.

  CJ flapped them like a bird, with a scowl on her face. “If I were dying I wouldn’t tell you. You’re acting like a real…” She paused as if trying to think of something bad enough to call him. When nothing came, she simply retorted, “I’m fine!”