she said, glancing around as if looking for a third alternative.
“I need your help in this, Amalia,” he said. “This is no time to argue. We’ll be on the ground, so your phobia about height shouldn’t get in the way.”
She glanced up at the balloon overhead. “I can’t keep it properly inflated. I’ll try to tie the rope.”
“Don’t try, do.”
She glared at him. “Just tell me how I’m supposed to do that and I’ll do my best. I am not here to sabotage your blasted race. Though if something happened, I’d sure get home sooner.”
“Don’t even think it.”
She looked away. Her anger seemed to drive away her fear.
He gave her directions, keeping an eye on the rapidly approaching clearing. It was going to be a bit more tricky than he liked—especially with a novice on board. But unexpected challenges were what made the race interesting.
In less than ten minutes he set the basket down right at the edge of the clearing at least a dozen feet or more from the water’s edge. As soon as it hit the ground he yelled at Amalia to jump off and grab one of the tethering ropes. She used the step in the side to scramble over the edge and he heard her land, then jump to her feet and pull on the rope.
“There’s nothing here to tie it to. If you lift off, I’m letting go,” she called.
He could just see her over the edge of the basket. It skidded along the ground for a few feet. He glanced at the balloon. He wanted to keep it as inflated as possible for quick rising once the tanks were switched, but not so much it pulled against the basket while they were on the ground. He didn’t want to skid across the ground, but couldn’t let the envelope collapse all the way, or they’d take valuable minutes reinflating it.
“Wait, there’s a stump sticking up. It’s a big one, maybe too big for the rope to go around.” Her voice faded as she disappeared from view. He looked over the edge. She was winding the rope tightly around a stump. If she didn’t secure it just right, it could slip off. Frustrated, Rafael wanted to jump off and do it himself, but it would be a stupid move to leave the balloon unmanned.
When she finished, she looked up and smiled. Standing, she did a little dance.
“I’m on the ground again!” she shouted, turning in a big circle, her arms outstretched.
“Take this rope and secure a second anchor,” he called, tying another to the frame and tossing it to her.
She found another stump and quickly tied that rope then sat on the stump and looked up at the balloon, then around the clearing. The basket was anchored; now it was up to the chase crew to find them.
Rafael tried the radio again, but being lower than the surrounding hills, the signal wasn’t reaching the rest of the team.
There was nothing to do but wait.
“How long do you need to keep the balloon inflated?” she called.
“Until the crew can switch out the empty tanks with full ones, or we run out of propane. If that happens, I’ll need your help to keep the balloon away from the water and the trees.”
“How long before they get here?”
“Whenever they get here.”
Amalia went to the water’s edge and gazed across the expanse. It was a large reservoir with wide cleared areas surrounding it. Obviously trees had been cut—stumps were scattered as far as she could see.
Amalia took a deep breath. She relished being back on the ground. Somehow she’d have to convince Stefano to renegotiate the bet. She did not want to go up again. Though all things considered, it hadn’t been as bad as her imagination. No one had fallen out. The basket hadn’t given way. And she had been held closely for a brief moment by one of Barcelona’s most exciting bachelors. Not that she had bragging rights. But for those few moments she’d felt totally safe.
She refused to think about the moments he’d held her hand and tried to charm her into joining forces with him. Best left in the past. It wouldn’t be repeated.
Sighing softly for what could never be, she looked around, spotting a road winding down through the trees. When the chase crew arrived it would be from that direction.
She walked back to the basket.
“Now I’d like some thing to drink, please,” she said.
Rafael tossed a soda to her. “Something to eat, too?” he asked.
“In a little while. I’m hoping this will settle the butterflies in my stomach.”
“You did fine, Amalia. No need to be afraid,” he said gently, leaning against the side of the basket, taking a long drink from the can he held.
“Phobias aren’t something that go away on your say-so,” she said. She drank from the cold can, then looked around.
“No, I guess not.” He was silent for a moment then turned toward her. “So why the Children’s Home, to make the check out to?”
“You’ll really do that?” she asked.
“I said so, didn’t I?” There was a hint of steel in his tone.
She flashed back to the meeting in her boss’s office. Rafael had become angry with the slightest hint from Stefano that he wasn’t honorable. Obviously that meant a lot to him, which struck her as odd, given the ruthless nature of every successful businessman. Was Rafael a bit different? Unlikely.
Amalia had never had such a generous gesture made for her. “My parents were both orphans. My mother actually lived in the Home for a few months when she was about eleven. It was a favored charity for them. Made in their name should bring hope to other children that when they grow up they’ll be happy, too.”
“And were your parents happy?” he asked.
“Yes. We did things together as a family. It wasn’t perfect. My mother had a real temper and she would let it fly rather than bottle things up inside. But ten minutes later the storm was over and they were hugging and kissing.” She smiled a bit at the memories. “I want a relationship like that if I ever get married,” she said, looking at the water, remembering the sudden storm that had swamped the boat they’d been on, ending their happy family life forever.
She shivered.
“I shall be happy to make the donation in their name,” Rafael said, watching her.
The minutes dragged by. By feeding the hot air into the balloon periodically, enough to keep it from fully deflating and drifting to the ground, Rafael watched the gas gauge. It was getting lower each time he fired the burners. If the propane gas ran out, the balloon would gradually sink to the ground. If that happened before the rest of the team arrived, he’d just have to hope he and Amalia could control the deflating envelope enough to keep it from catching in the trees.
Amalia drank her soda and ate one of the sandwiches Maria had prepared.
“How
