Christmas Romance Volume 2

by Sharon Kleve

  Her only real problem seemed to be Blake himself. Sometimes when she knocked, then walked in the front door, he greeted her with a smile, but at other times, he frowned and appeared grumpy. She supposed he felt antsy unable to get around much, and watching the television all day must get old. Still, she thought he’d welcome the company and the distraction. One evening, when his mother got home, Brenda felt so fed up with his attitude, she decided she’d leave and planned to say no when his mom asked her to stay for dinner. She stood up when she heard the automatic garage door open and saw the flash of headlights from Mrs. Preston’s car as she pulled into the driveway. “Your mom’s home, Blake. You don’t seem to be up for company tonight, so I think I’ll go home. Maybe you’ll feel better tomorrow.” She reached for her coat and purse.

  “You’ll hurt Mom’s feelings if you don’t stay for dinner,” Blake reminded her.

  Yes, there was that. But how could she stay when he didn’t seem to want her there? Before she could respond, Mrs. Preston walked into the house and back to the family room.

  “Brenda, I made your favorite meal tonight. I sure hope you can stay for dinner,” she said with a huge grin.

  Oh no, she groaned inwardly. How could she turn that down? She couldn’t. “That must be the heavenly smells I’ve noticed since I got here. Of course I’ll stay. You are so kind, Mrs. Preston. How did you know?”

  “I asked Blake,” the other woman replied with a smile.

  Brenda turned and looked at Blake, but he stared intently at something on the TV screen. Brenda sighed. “Well, at least let me set the table,” she said and followed Blake’s mother into the kitchen.

  “Brenda, I’m glad you stayed. I’ve wanted to talk to you—alone,” Blake’s mother said in a soft voice, when the dark wood swinging saloon-style louvered doors closed behind them.

  Oh-oh. Brenda tensed.

  “I think I know the reason you broke up with Blake. It was because of me.”

  What? There it was again. Another member of his family saying that she broke up with him. “Oh, uh, no…” Brenda felt compelled for some reason to reassure Blake’s mother.

  “I interfered and I know now that I made you uncomfortable.”

  “You were just being kind,” Brenda acknowledged. “You’ve always been nothing but kind to me.”

  “Well, I did something wrong. I guess I pushed too hard to make you feel accepted and part of our family.” Mrs. Preston smiled tentatively. “You see, Blake told me that your mother left and that you grew up with just your father and brother, and no one—not even a grandmother or aunt—to mother you.”

  The confession from Blake’s mother was so different from the lecture she’d expected to get, Brenda felt stunned and momentarily at a loss for words.

  “Do you think you can ever forgive me?” the older woman asked her sadly.

  “Forgive you? I was the one who rejected your kindness. I’m the one who needs to ask for forgiveness,” Brenda answered, surprised yet again. She felt tears come to her eyes, and when Mrs. Preston reached out to her with open arms, Brenda felt no qualms about accepting the comfort and forgiveness. She needed to have a talk with Blake.

  After the hug, they just smiled at each other for a few moments through their tears until Blake’s mother stepped back and said, “Now let’s get that dinner served.”

  “Do you like to fly?” Blake asked her one day as she sat with him, idly flipping through the Aviation News magazine on his bed.

  “Sure. Of course.”

  “I mean, in a small plane. Not a jet.”

  “I guess so. I’ve only gone up once, in a seaplane to the San Juan Islands.

  “Great. How about if I pick you up at 8:00 tomorrow morning?”

  “What? You’re kidding, I hope. You’re not in any shape to fly.”

  “Sure I am.”

  “Are you sure?” Brenda frowned at him. She hadn’t gone in with him when she’d given him a ride to his doctor’s appointment for the follow-up after his ER visit. “Did your doctor say it’s okay?”

  “He said it’s up to me.”

  Brenda wondered about the hesitation in his answer, but he should know whether he could fly. “Well, okay,” she agreed hesitantly.”

  The shrill of the phone woke her, and startled, she jumped up to answer it.

  “Just making sure you’re up,” came Blake’s cheery voice over the line.

  “Do you still want to go? Did you hear that storm earlier this morning?” He could sleep through anything, she remembered.

  “Storm? No. Are you sure that you weren’t dreaming? It’s just a little overcast is all. Come on, Brenda, if you don’t want to go, just say so.”

  “I want to, it’s just I thought—oh never mind. If we’re going, I’d better get off this phone and get dressed,” she told him.

  “You’re not dressed? What are you wearing?”

  “Never mind. Goodbye Blake.” She could hear his laughter as she ended the call. Seeing him these past few days and finding out that he wasn’t involved with anyone else gave her hope. The time they’d spent together was like a wonderful dream—one she hoped never to waken from.

  When Blake arrived, he seemed in better spirits than he had all week. “How come you’re so perky this morning?” she asked him. “You weren’t that morning we went riding,” she pointed out, miffed.

  “This is different.”

  “Why?” She thought she knew, but wanted to hear his answer.

  “Because we’re going flying, that’s why,” he answered impatiently as though that should explain everything. And to someone who knew him as well as she did, it made sense.

  “I see. Now that we’re doing something you want to do, you’re happy.

  “Yup.” He grinned.

  Brenda sat on the passenger side of the sleek navy blue and white Cessna 150 and watched Blake walk around outside doing the preflight check. Finally, he released the tie-downs and climbed into the pilot’s seat next to her.

  “This plane reminds me of your old Triumph Alpine sports car,” she told him. “It only has room for two in it.”

  “Yeah, cozy, isn’t it?” He grinned then reached over and patted her knee which almost touched his. There wasn’t enough room to shift away from him—even if she’d wanted to.

  Brenda watched, fascinated, when Blake pushed some buttons on the instrument panel and the engine coughed, whined and roared to life as the single propeller on the nose spun in a fast blur. He pushed the throttle in and taxied the small plane out to the takeoff and landing strip. She watched his feet maneuver the rudder pedals that looked like a car’s gas and brake pedals. He kept the yoke still. The yoke reminded her of half of a sports car’s small steering wheel. There was also a yoke and pedals on her side of the plane.

  “This is just like driver’s training in high school,” she observed aloud, looking at the two sets of controls.

  “These small Cessna 150s and 152s are popular training planes for wannabe pilots,” he replied without turning his head. Brenda didn’t want to interrupt his concentration, and tried to keep her feet away from the pedals, which forced her even closer to Blake. Meanwhile, he turned some knobs on the panel, seemed satisfied when a particular set of numbers showed on two of the dials, and then picked up the microphone while he listened to what she thought sounded like a bunch of static garble. But Blake spoke into the mic, rattling off the airplane’s call number— which she knew was painted on its side—and requested permission from the control tower for takeoff. She thought she could hear their plane’s number repeated back and some other words along with it, through the crackle in Blake’s headphones. But he appeared to understand, for he replied and replaced the mic on its holder. The plane taxied between the yellow lines of a paved pathway, from its parking spot to the runway, then stopped.

/>   “What are we waiting for?” she ventured to ask, afraid to interrupt his concentration.

  “Oh yeah. You need to put your headphones on. They’re over there,” he said and pointed, then picked up the mic again. She heard a deep rumble and loud roar and saw a Boeing jumbo jet pass them. Blake spoke into the mic again, and then it was their turn on the runway. He pushed in the throttle and the small aircraft picked up speed. It moved forward faster and faster, until the plane’s nose rose up and Brenda could no longer see over it. She looked out the window on her side and saw the ground drop out from under them at the same time she felt the plane lift. Her stomach seemed to fall, the way it did on a roller coaster ride.

  Brenda watched the buildings and cars grow smaller and smaller. Soon she felt as though they were on top of the world, with blue sky above and below them. They flew past the populous areas, and then far below, she saw a river. The muddy water looked like a tiny winding ribbon of deep, rich, chocolate milk. The rest of the landscape was a mass of melding shades of greens and browns as they flew over a forest and then fields. Seen from the sky, the whole landscape looked incredible.

  “This is awesome,” she breathed.

  Then they flew over a lake. The water was a deep, deep blue that grew darker as they moved farther away from the shore. Sailboats looked like tiny white blobs.

  Brenda turned to Blake and found him watching her with amusement. “Do you like it?” he asked.

  “It’s wonderful. I love this,” she answered. “You can see everything so much closer and in more detail than on a commercial jet flight.”

  “And you’ve never had your own private pilot, have you?” he asked, then leaned over and kissed her.

  Brenda couldn’t pretend indifference to his kiss. She shifted in her seat, strained against the restrictive seatbelt and kissed him back. Blake didn’t say anything, but turned toward the instrument panel and flipped a switch. “What’s that for?” she asked him.

  “I put the plane on ‘automatic pilot.’ ”

  “Is that safe?” she asked.

  “I’m not worried, but whether you’re ‘safe’ or not, I can’t say.” He laughed and reached for her. “Take your seatbelt off.”

  With fumbling fingers, she attempted to obey. Blake, always the impatient one, reached across and unbuckled it for her. He drew her closer, enveloped her in his arms and held her tight against his chest. Then he kissed her. It started off gently, and then became something...more.He’d wound his arms around her back, pulling her even closer, and ground his lips against hers. Abruptly, he pulled back and just stared at her.

  “I’ve wanted to do that all week,” he muttered.

  “But you seemed so remote and indifferent at times,” she said, still not sure she could trust him.

  “I know,” he said quietly.

  The plane, which had been running along smoothly, suddenly bumped up and down several times.

  “Why is it doing that?” Brenda asked, worried.

  “Just an air pocket. But I’d better take it off auto-pilot.”

  “Where are we going, Blake?”

  “I thought we’d fly down to Ocean Shores for lunch, if that sounds good to you.” When she nodded, he continued, “Would you like to fly the plane?”

  “Fly?” She hesitated, and then shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, come on. I’m right here. It’s just like driver’s training in high school like you said. The instructors never let you wreck the car, did they?”

  “I know, but ...”

  “It’s fun.″

  “Yeah, it looks like it,” she agreed, her indecision wavering. “Well, okay, I’ll try it, ″ she said, giving in. She put her hands tentatively on the yoke. “Now what?”

  “You want to keep the plane flying at a constant speed, straight and level. So, if the nose starts to rise, pull the yoke toward you. See?” He demonstrated. “Now you try it.”

  Brenda clutched the yoke tighter, trembling a bit as she tried to emulate Blake. “Like this?”

  “Just a little bit. It doesn’t take much... that’s it. Good. And if you want to pull the nose back down, just ease it forward a bit.” He demonstrated again, and then showed her how to bank the plane to the left or right by turning the yoke.

  “What if I want to fly faster?”

  “If you want to increase the speed, you just push in the throttle here,” he said, showing her. “It’s like a gas pedal and brake all in one.”

  “What are the pedals for, then? I saw you using them before we took off.”

  “That’s the rudder. It turns the plane on the ground—like a steering wheel.” He turned to her and laughed. “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s so confusing. Then there’s all those gauges and controls and switches on the instrument panel. This is way worse than learning to drive a car with a stick.”

  He laughed and urged her to take the yoke again. “Go ahead.”

  Brenda gripped each side of the yoke tight and turned. The plane slanted right sharply. She looked at Blake, frantic, but he just smiled and refused to touch the wheel in front of him. When Brenda got the plane righted again, he told her to make it fly higher.

  “I don’t think I can.”

  “Yes you can. You’re doing great.”

  “I’ll try.” She did it. She was still scared, but thrilled at the same time—amazed at all that she controlled with her hands. She was flying a plane! She pushed in the throttle, at Blake’s direction, and felt the airplane respond with a thrust of power. If only it wasn’t so complicated—the rest of it—she’d love to learn to fly. She looked at Blake, and knew her eyes must be shining.

  “See? You like it, don’t you?” He grinned at her.

  “Yes, I admit, I really do.”

  “Maybe we’ll turn you into a pilot yet. It only takes 40 hours of flight training. But now, I’d better take over so we can get there and back in time.” He took the yoke and they flew steadily until Brenda could see the ocean. The water was a dazzling green-blue and the long gray-white beaches stretched out below them for miles.

  It seemed to Brenda that Blake purposely followed a pair of seagulls, as they swooped and soared in the wind. The plane sunk lower and lower until it appeared as though they would skim the water. “Blake, what are you doing?” she asked in alarm.

  “Trying to get a better view,” he answered.

  “You’re like a kid with a toy train. Don’t you think we’re close enough to the water? Last time I looked, this wasn’t a seaplane.”

  “We’re going to land on that beach up ahead.”

  “What!” Have you ever done this before?” Maybe that injury did something to his brain—his ability to make good decisions.

  “Sure. Lots of times”

  “Lots of times?”

  “Okay, maybe twice. Trust me.”

  It wasn’t even a bad landing, Brenda thought as she gritted her teeth, and her fingers turned red, then white on red, where she gripped the armrest on her seat. The plane barely bounced and a flash of yellow blurred past. When the plane stopped, she looked back and saw that the yellow blur was a windsock. She usually saw them at airstrips. “Oh, I guess you really can land here,” she said, surprised.

  “I guess I did,” Blake laughed at her, then once again, leaned over and gave her a kiss. This time it was a much gentler kiss. She kissed him back.

  After a time, he pulled away. “I guess we’d better go get lunch.”

  “Yeah, I guess we should.” She sighed.

  The beach was nearly deserted when they headed back to the plane after lunch. Blake took Brenda’s hand, and led her to the water’s edge. They took off their shoes and socks and rolled up their pant legs, then waded into the water. Brenda felt like a carefree child. It was a beauti
ful sunny day on the beach and she was with Blake. With no one else to see her, she delighted in jumping the waves. Accidentally—of course—she splashed water on Blake, which caused him to seek revenge and a splashing war followed, until, “Blake, stop! I’m getting all wet!” she shrieked.

  He made a couple more half-hearted splashes at her then held up his hands in surrender.

  They walked away from the water carrying their shoes, past the plane, and up the beach in the other direction. Their path was sometimes blocked by rocks and boulders, and Blake took hold of her hand, but she found it was easier to scramble over them on her own, so after awhile, she let go of his hand.

  He climbed over another boulder, took her hand again and this time didn’t let go. “Let’s find a place to sit.” He led her a little ways farther, and then pulled her down to sit with him on the sand, their backs resting against a large rock.

  They sat in silence, the background sound of the ocean waves lapping against the sand dulled behind their rock shelter. Seagulls circled lazily overhead. Her spirits buoyed by the good feelings from such a marvelous day—sunny skies, the flight, Blake’s teaching her to fly the plane, lunch at the restaurant on the water, wading and playing in the ocean, strolling on the beach, and holding hands—gave Brenda the nerve to say, “Your sister thinks I left you. So does your mother. Did you tell them that?”

  “No…well, not really,” he answered.

  Brenda frowned. “Then, how did she get that idea?” she asked, and looked at him. It seemed to her that he actually blushed.

  Blake didn’t say anything for a moment as though considering his answer. “The truth is, Amber just assumed it and I…I didn’t enlighten her. She must have told Mom.” He looked away.

  “Why not?” Brenda asked, shocked. No wonder his sister acted so cool toward her.