by Karey White
Instead of seats, the plane was equipped with a long bench that led up to the door. Blake sat in front of Buster. Ahead of him were Liam and Lydia. Blake would have felt awkward wedged tightly between the two instructors, except that his mind was too occupied with what was coming.
The engine roared to life, and it was hard to hear anything else. They taxied down the runway and soon they were flying higher and higher above the green, North Carolina countryside. Liam was yelling last-minute instructions to Lydia, who nodded, put her goggles in place, and grasped her shoulder straps.
When they reached eleven thousand feet, a green light above the door lit up. “Ready?” Liam shouted, and Lydia gave a barely perceptible nod. A man they hadn’t met opened the door of the plane. A whoosh of air whipped through the cabin. The man grasped a bar outside the door and stood half in and half out of the plane. Liam and Lydia scooted up the bench to the door of the plane, and the man with the job Blake didn’t envy helped them to a standing position. Lydia held the straps at her chest while Liam held the bar above the door. Blake and Buster moved up behind them.
“Just hold onto the straps and keep your head back,” Buster yelled. “We’ll be going right after them.”
Blake nodded and watched Lydia. The wind pulled strands of her strawberry blonde hair loose, and they danced around her face. She turned to Blake and smiled, though it looked more like a grimace. “It was great meeting you,” she yelled.
Blake grinned. “I hope we meet again,” he yelled back.
Lydia leaned her head back into Liam’s shoulder, and they were gone. Almost as soon as they’d jumped, the man standing on the precipice grasped Blake’s hand, sports-team style and helped them up. The ground was more than two miles below. A few wispy clouds floated below them. Blake thought he might throw up, but the thought of losing his breakfast into the wind that was pelting his face made him steel his stomach. A second later, the light turned green, and Buster stepped out of the plane, Blake in front of him.
For a moment, Blake’s body reacted with terror, sure he was hurtling to his death. The wind roared in his ears and cut off his air. His arms flailed for a moment, reaching for something stable. It was difficult to get a breath. Buster held his arms out above him, which reminded Blake to put out his arms and legs. Below him was a red speck. They fell faster than the speck and soon the speck became Lydia and Liam. Buster and Liam maneuvered through the air until they were about twenty feet apart. It looked like Lydia was yelling something, but Blake couldn’t hear it above the roar of the air. She gave him a thumbs up, and Blake gave her one in return. Buster made an adjustment and they began a slow spin that took them farther away from Lydia. The ground below him was moving in circles as they fell fast.
Buster seemed to be in no hurry to pull the chute cord, and Blake started to wonder if he’d forgotten that little detail. “Don’t forget to open the parachute,” he yelled, but his words were probably lost in the screaming air.
Buster finally pulled the cord and the parachute opened above them. The sudden change in speed made Blake feel like a marionette whose puppeteer had experienced a sudden muscle spasm. Now they were falling feet first. The rumbling air quieted to a gentle whisper, and even though they were still falling much too quickly, the contrast was dramatic. It felt smooth and peaceful. Everything was intense and beautiful. From this vantage point he could see the city turn into suburbs, the suburbs into a patchwork of fields, and in the distance the fields gave way to the mountains. A few moments ago, the wind had robbed him of his breath. Now it was the beauty that stole it.
In the distance, Lydia waved as she swayed gently through the air. The earth seemed to move toward them faster the closer they got. “Hold your legs up,” Buster said and Blake obeyed. Buster’s feet hit the ground running and Blake remembered their safety briefing and kept his legs up and out of Buster’s way.
When they were stopped and his feet were on the ground, his legs began to quiver as they adjusted to the earth’s surface. Blake looked around for Lydia. She was landing about half a football field away. “Go find your girl,” Buster said, when he’d unstrapped the parachute pack. “We’ll get the rest of this off you inside.”
Blake started toward Lydia on shaky legs. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever done in my life,” she yelled before he’d reached her. Liam was still unhooking her straps. “Did you like it?”
“Once the parachute came out. I could’ve done without the freefall.”
When Lydia was free of the straps, she threw her arms around Blake’s neck. “I loved it all,” she said. Blake hugged her back, wishing they weren’t wearing noisy nylon suits. “Thank you for making me do this.” He put her down and she squealed again. “I can’t believe we just did that.”
The smile stayed on her face long after they were back in the car and driving toward Hickory. Blake felt a sense of pride that he’d helped put that smile there, and he kept glancing over at it. Something about her smile tugged at something inside him.
She’d almost kissed him. Lydia couldn’t believe she’d almost kissed him.
The crazy thing was, she’d just jumped out of an airplane, had watched the ground rise up to meet her, and all she could think about was that she’d nearly kissed Blake. It was probably because of the excitement of her first real adventure or the relief of having her feet solidly on the ground again. Or maybe it was her gratitude that Blake had arranged this whole wonderful, exhilarating experience. A doctor might have explained it away saying the fault belonged to the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Whatever the cause, Lydia had hugged Blake and almost kissed him.
She blushed at the thought of it. It was so unlike her to be forward like that. Who was this girl who’d impulsively stayed in Charlotte and had just jumped out of an airplane? Lydia felt like she was in a stranger’s skin.
“Hickory is the next exit. You’ll turn right at the light.” Blake had been pretty quiet since they’d gotten in the car. She’d caught him glancing at her a couple of times, but he hadn’t said much. “Are you glad you did it?” she asked him.
“I’m glad we did it,” he said.
“Thank you. For doing that with me. I don’t think I could have done it without you.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Turn left on 8th Street. It’ll be on the left.”
Blake pulled the car into the Shady Days Manor parking lot. The name was perfect. Large trees lined a wide sidewalk that led to the front doors of the gray stone building. The information desk looked like it belonged in the lobby of a fancy hotel. They stepped up to the counter and spoke to Candace, a girl with a sweet voice and heavy eyeliner.
“We’re looking for a resident that lives here,” Blake said. “Gladys Baker.”
A sad expression came over the girl’s face. “I’m so sorry. Gladys passed away last spring. I think it was in April.” Blake took a slight step back, disappointment evident.
Lydia stepped closer to the counter. “Maybe you can help us.” Lydia explained their situation to Candace. “Could you put us in touch with any family that might have taken her things? Could you possibly give us a phone number?”
“I don’t think we can give that out. You’d need to talk to my supervisor, Janet. Maybe she can help you.”
Janet was at lunch so they made an appointment to visit with her an hour later.
“They might not help us.” Blake said as they ate tacos at a little restaurant a couple of blocks from Shady Days.
“Then we’ll have to break into their offices after hours and find it ourselves.”
“Wow. Get the unadventurous girl to jump out of an airplane, and she’s suddenly ready to commit felonies. Criminals do lead adventurous lives, I suppose.”
“Just show her that little dimple, and she’ll probably give you whatever you want,” Lydia said. Blake raised his eyebrows. Lydia couldn’t believe she’d just said that out loud. “I mean, just smile and be really nice to her and she’ll proba
bly cooperate. You know, be charming?” She wanted to crawl under the table. She really should have talked to more people the last three months. Maybe if she had, she wouldn’t sound like a social buffoon.
“I’ll do my best,” Blake said, “but I’m afraid my charm has its limits.”
Lydia wasn’t sure about that.
Janet’s stark office looked more like the showroom at an office furniture store. The only things on her desk were a computer screen and a telephone. A row of filing cabinets lined one wall, and a clock was mounted on the wall opposite the desk. There was nothing personal—no diplomas, no pictures, not even a nameplate.
“Please, come in.” She motioned for them to take a seat and sat down opposite them. “Candace tells me you were asking about Gladys Baker.”
Blake smiled a smile that would make an orthodontist proud, and Lydia bit the side of her mouth. “Yes, we’ve come from Denver. Gladys and my grandfather were friends. She had a box of belongings I was supposed to come get.”
“But you’re not actually related to her.”
“No, but—”
“I’m terribly sorry, but our policy is that we don’t give out any personal information. I’m sure you understand.” She scooted away from the desk, ready to dismiss them.
“I understand, but Mrs. Baker told my grandfather to have me come.”
“But Mrs. Baker is no longer here. Perhaps your grandfather knows Gladys’s family and can arrange it for you.”
“My grandfather died last spring. He can’t arrange anything else.”
“I’m so sorry. But I can’t go against policy.” Janet stood. “I wish I could help you.”
“Ma’am, would it be possible for you to contact Gladys’s family and see if they’d be willing to talk to us?” Lydia asked. Janet sat back down, a thoughtful look on her face.
“I could—“
The phone on Janet’s desk buzzed, and a voice came over the intercom. “Janet, Grace Whittaker in Room 219 has fallen. Chet needs you up there right away.”
“Of course,” Janet said to the voice. “I’ll be right there.” She stood and ushered Blake and Lydia into the hall and closed the door behind her. “If you’d like to send me a letter, I’d be happy to forward it to Gladys’s family. Now if you’ll excuse me,” she said and hurried down the hall.
“Great,” Blake said as they started for the exit. “Now what would Nancy Drew do?”
Lydia watched Janet turn the corner and disappear. She stepped back and tried the door. It was unlocked. “She’d find a name,” Lydia said. “Watch the door.” Before Lydia could talk herself out of it, she was back in Janet’s office.
“Lydia, I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Blake said, but his words were lost as the door closed behind her.
“Baker. Baker.” Lydia whispered as she opened the first file cabinet. It was hard to tell what these files were. Invoices? Payment records? Whatever they were, they were mostly numbers. Lydia closed the drawer and moved to the next cabinet. The top drawer started with the last name Andreason and then jumped right to Calloway. No Baker here.
And then the phone buzzed. Lydia froze. “Janet? Janet, could you please pick up? I have a delivery here for you. Janet?” a voice said through the speaker.
Lydia thought she might hyperventilate. She should leave. What if someone caught her in here? But she didn’t want Blake’s trip to be wasted, so she moved quickly to the third file cabinet. It was locked. It was probably Janet’s purse or her private stash of chocolate.
She heard voices in the hall, but couldn’t make out the words. Shadows moved in front of the frosted window in the door, and the voices continued. She was trapped here anyway. She might as well check the last file cabinet.
It was unlocked. The voices in the hall stopped as she quickly leafed through the files. Acord. Ashby. Atwood. Ball.
Baker, Gladys.
Lydia pulled out the file and looked over the first page. She flipped through the remaining pages, looking for the name of any next of kin. Nothing. Surely there was a name of some relative in here. She went back to the first page and examined it more slowly. There it was. Emergency contact: Francie Davis, Boone, North Carolina. Relationship: granddaughter. With shaking fingers, Lydia took a picture with her phone. She straightened the papers and carefully put the file back in the drawer.
“Let’s go,” she said to Blake who was waiting just outside the door. She quietly closed the door behind her.
Blake didn’t speak. They walked into the lobby, careful not to rush. Lydia’s legs felt weak and liquid. “Thanks for your help,” Blake said to Candace.
“No problem. Y’all have a nice day.”
The warm, outside air felt good. It meant that with every step, they were further from criminal charges. Blake unlocked her door for her. Lydia collapsed into her seat. Blake slid in behind the wheel and drove the car out of the parking lot.
“What did you just do?” Blake’s voice was a tense whisper, and Lydia thought he might be angry.
“I just got her granddaughter’s name and phone number.”
“Lydia.” His voice fell off, and she couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or relieved. “I was joking about becoming a criminal.”
“I know you were.”
“Will she be able to tell you went through her things?”
Lydia took a ragged breath. “No. I was very careful. Who was in the hall?”
“A guy had a printing order. I talked to him for a minute and told him Janet was out of the office but I’d be sure she got it. It’s on the floor just outside the door.”
Blake pulled into the parking lot of a department store and put the car in park but left it running.
“Are you okay?” The concern in his voice made tears sting Lydia’s eyes.
“Look at me. I can’t stop shaking.” She held her trembling hands up in front of her, and a tear slipped down her cheek.
“You’re crazy,” Blake said and pulled her into his arms. He rubbed her back, slowly replacing her frayed nerves with a wonderful tingling feeling.
“I’ve never done anything like that before,” she said, her laughter accompanied by tears. Blake held her close as she calmed down. He smelled so good—citrusy and laundry soapy and manly.
“This won’t be fun if I have to bail you out of jail. No more Nancy Drew stuff, okay?”
“Okay,” she said into his shirt. When she finally pulled away, she dried her eyes. One of Blake’s hands stayed on her back, like it was reluctant to leave. “I don’t remember Nancy Drew ever saying how scary it was to be a detective.”
Blake laughed and smoothed her hair, his hand barely touching her cheek.
“Tell me where we’re going.”
It was difficult to think of something other than the feel of his hand, but after a moment, she answered. “Boone.”
“Where is Boone?” Blake asked.
“I have no idea.” Lydia’s voice still had a little tremor in it, and Blake wished he was still holding her in his arms.
What had she been thinking? Sure, he was glad they had a name and phone number, but he’d stood out in that hall for several minutes imagining her going to jail. For him. He hadn’t known what to do. Had he done the right thing by waiting and watching outside the door? What if Lydia had been caught? Should he have gone in after her and dragged her out?
What had happened to the bookworm he’d met at the airport yesterday?
“I’ll get gas up here on the corner and you can figure out where Boone is.”
“Sounds good.” Lydia started digging through her purse. “Would you get me a bottle of water?”
“Of course. Put your purse away. I’ll get it.”
“You paid for the skydiving and my tacos. I don’t want you paying for everything.”
“A water is a lot cheaper than paying your bail. I’ve got this. You just figure out where we need to go.”
“Boone is an hour north of here,” she said when Blake came back to the car.
/> “It’s already three. Maybe I should try calling her before we drive up there.”
“Good idea. See if she can see us today, or if we should drive up first thing in the morning. Her name is Francie Davis.”
Blake admired Lydia’s positive attitude, but he wasn’t sure if Francie would want to see them at all. He dialed the number Lydia gave him and the phone started to ring. He felt Lydia watching him as he waited for an answer. After five rings, it went to voicemail.
“My name is Blake Knowles. I’m trying to reach Francie Davis. My grandfather knew your grandmother. I’m in North Carolina and wondered if I could speak with you. Would you give me a call at your earliest convenience?” Blake left his phone number and hung up. Almost immediately his phone beeped with a text.
I can’t talk. I’ll call you back in about five minutes.
“I guess we wait,” he said and drank most of his water. His fingers tapped on the steering wheel, releasing a little of his nervous energy. Lydia was leaning back on the headrest, her eyes closed. She looked drained.
Eight minutes later, Blake’s phone rang. “Hello,” he said on the first ring.
“Hi. This is Francie Davis. I just got your message.”
“Thank you for calling me back. I came to Hickory to see your grandmother, but… I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Francie said. “What did you say your name was?”
“My name is Blake Knowles. Your grandmother and my grandfather were friends.”
“Ah, yes.”
“I guess my grandfather spoke to her about a year ago about a box. I don’t know what’s in the box, but he wanted me to have it, and Gladys, I mean your grandmother, said she had it and that I should come to North Carolina and get it.” Suddenly Blake felt sick inside. What if Francie didn’t have the box? And if she did have it, maybe she wouldn’t want to give it to him. Would she question why it had taken him so long to come? How would he answer that? Sure, he’d been busy with his job, but that sounded like a hollow excuse now that Grandpa was gone.
