he tried.”
Molly shuddered. She hoped he wasn’t drawing an analogy between the famous daredevil’s doomed flight and the one she was now on. Did she really want to work with a man who seemed to be hooked on adrenaline? She didn’t have a choice, since he was considered the best of the best now that her father was gone. Accepting this position meant she’d fly with him from time to time as they medevaced patients from the islands to the hospital in Anchorage.
If she took the job.
Nothing was set in stone. In fact, she couldn’t risk jeopardizing the project, if she couldn’t get past her fear. She’d have to let someone else take her place. Except none of the other doctors had stepped up and volunteered—they all had families, and no one was anxious to leave a thriving hospital to work in a government-funded clinic.
And part of her father’s heart was still on those islands. A part she wanted desperately to understand.
She blinked, realizing the stabbing terror that had frozen her on takeoff was trickling away. She was still afraid, but the more Blake talked the more her nerves settled.
It had to be his voice. Maybe flight instructors gave lessons in hypnotism as well as voice modulation.
“What about you?” he asked. “Are you seriously thinking about taking the position? Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but you don’t seem to be in love with the idea of flying.”
Was that his way of calling her chicken? The urge to flap her wings and cluck had only happened once so far, during takeoff. “Maybe I need to understand why my dad traveled back and forth between the mainland and the islands. To make peace with where his journey led him.”
No need to tell him she was a coward in more ways than one. That sometimes it was easier to run than to stand your ground and fight.
He was silent for a minute, before he answered softly. “You can’t always make peace with it. Sometimes all you can do is accept what life dishes up and then move past it.”
Or you could always fly away from it as fast as you could.
The plane dipped for a second and so did Molly’s heart. “What was that?”
“Just a pothole.”
“Sorry?” The fear was back, stronger than ever. She licked her lips, trying not to focus on the vibrations of the plane around her but noticing every tiny shiver just the same.
“Turbulence. It’s like bumps in a road. You wouldn’t expect to have glassy-smooth highways forever, would you?”
“No, of course not.” She relaxed her grip on the shoulder harness.
He was right. It was just a pothole. Not even a very big one.
Somehow thinking of it like that made it easier. “My mom hated flying. She never went to the islands with my dad, no matter how many times he asked her to. Not even to take a vacation. She wouldn’t let me go either. And after his plane went down, she became even more…” Demanding? What exactly was she planning to say? “I just don’t want to be like that, you know?”
“Understandable. But if your mom didn’t let you fly with him, then when did you…?” He frowned. “This isn’t your first time up, is it?”
“No!” She bit her lip. “Well, not exactly. I mean, I’ve been on a plane before.”
He scrubbed a hand through his hair, the dark silky locks falling neatly back into place. “Really? When was the last time you were on one?”
“A few weeks ago.” She tossed her head as if it had been nothing special.
He seemed to relax in his seat. “Where’d you go?”
“Go?”
“On your flight.”
“We, uh, didn’t exactly go anywhere.” The mumbled words sounded weird even to her.
“I don’t follow.”
She hesitated. If she didn’t tell him, he’d just ask Doug why she’d acted so whacked out during the flight once they got back to Anchorage. “The plane was part of a desensitization course.”
Something she’d needed to make sure she could survive this trip.
“A what?” His head jerked to stare at her. “You mean you’ve never flown before in your life?”
Indignation washed over her. She had, but why should it matter? It was ridiculous to expect everyone to have flown all over the world from the time they could crawl. “I have flown. Just not recently. I—I couldn’t.”
Not since her father’s accident.
“Oh, hell.”
She shifted in her seat to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means if you’re looking for a pilot to help you get past your fear, you’d better keep looking. A desensitization expert I’m not.” He laughed and the sound was no longer low and mellow. “I know of at least one person who’d testify to that fact. Only she’s no longer speaking to me.”
The anger behind that last comment made her hackles rise. Had he purposely scared someone during a flight? If so, he was right. She didn’t want him flying her anywhere. “Fine. Once we get back to Anchorage, I’ll make sure you never have to—”
“Wrong. Those ‘bumps in the road’ I mentioned? They’re going to get worse the closer we get to the islands. And the landing strip at Dutch Harbor is barely up to FAA standards.” He glanced up as if sending a distress call to some higher power. “Listen, I signed on to take a doctor to Unalaska to scope out the work at the clinic. I’m not here to be the next rung on your twelve-step ladder. If you expect me to sweet-talk you into getting back on the plane tomorrow, you’re out of luck.”
Her chin went up. “I guarantee that’s not going to happen.”
“You’re right. It’s not.” His dark eyes swept over her face and the expression in them chilled her to the bone. “If you’re not on the plane, strapped into your seat, by eight o’clock in the morning, you can find yourself a new pilot.”
* * *
Okay, so he could have handled that better. A lot better.
But from the moment Blake had noticed her clutching her seat, a warning siren had gone off in his brain. He’d quickly dismissed it, chalking up her reaction to takeoff jitters. A lot of people got nervous, especially on flights to the Aleutians, where landings could be very hairy. Transitioning from a jet engine to a turboprop seven years ago had given him a few gray hairs of his own, so who could blame her?
Besides, her dad—a man Blake had looked up to and respected—was famous in these parts, so he’d had some ridiculous notion that Wayne McKinna’s daughter would have logged some serious flight hours. Her physical appearance had only added to that impression. Brown, choppy locks were cut in a way that gave her delicate face a fearless impudent look. And the bold, take-charge style drew immediate
