Cloud Nine, page 8
‘Yes, I was.’
‘But it’s not where you learned to fly?’
‘No, I’ve always loved flying. I grew up in Waterford, Connecticut, near a small airport, and I learned how to fly before I could drive. My first job was taking charters out to Block Island.’
‘So this is nothing new to you. Flying people out to islands.’
‘No, it’s old hat,’ he joked, laughing.
‘Snow said you flew in the navy.’
‘Some of the time. Yes, I did.’
‘She’s so proud of you,’ Sarah said.
Will was silent for a while. ‘I don’t know why,’ he said.
Sarah could hear the self-hatred in his voice. Whatever had happened had hurt everyone very badly. She could see it in Snow, in the way she dawdled on her way home from school and hung around the shop, and in the way she changed her name. She could read it in Will, the deep lines of sorrow in his face, the way he was spending his holiday flying her to Maine instead of with people who loved him.
‘It doesn’t matter why,’ Sarah said.
‘Everything matters,’ Will said.
‘Except “why,”’ Sarah said. ‘Why they’re proud of you, why they love you, why they need you so much. All that matters is that they do.’
‘Is that how it is with you and Mike?’ Will asked, turning to see her face.
‘I do the best I can and try to let go of the results.’
‘If you can do that, you’re very lucky,’ he said.
‘I don’t do it perfectly, that’s for sure,’ Sarah said. ‘I remember the day he told me he was leaving. The words that come to mind are ‘killing rage.”’
Will’s gaze intensified, and he stared harder at the sky, as if it were a busy highway with dangerously merging rush hour traffic.
‘Look!’ Sarah said.
There, in the distance, far beyond the last hill and the tall buildings of the last city, was a line of silver.
‘Wow, Sarah,’ he said. He had been concentrating so hard on his thoughts, he seemed shocked by the sudden appearance of the sea.
‘Do you know how long it’s been since I saw it?’ Sarah asked, resting her fingertips on the dash.
‘No, how long?’
‘Three years. At least,’ Sarah said. ‘Three and a half, in Marblehead. How about you?’
Will stared at the Atlantic Ocean. It had appeared as a silver thread on the horizon, and it was spreading into a silver-blue sheet. The sun was behind the plane. It had risen high and was making the distant water glisten with bright light.
‘I know exactly when I last saw it,’ he said.
‘When?’
‘When we moved up from Newport, five years ago. Right after I left the navy. I haven’t seen the ocean since.’
‘Well, you’re seeing it now,’ she said gently, watching his face. Mentioning Newport, the lines in his face had hardened with pain. He felt her staring at him, so he looked over.
Sarah remembered one time at the hospital, lying on a table, terrified and claustrophobic about going in for an MRI. A young nurse she had never met had stroked her hand and held her gaze. That gentle human contact had calmed her so much, and she never forgot. Reaching for Will’s hand, she pulled her sunglasses down to make sure he could really see her eyes. She smiled.
‘I haven’t wanted to go back,’ he said.
‘I know,’ Sarah said. She felt the fear pouring out of him, although she didn’t know what it was for. The reasons didn’t matter.
‘I see it, and I think of him in there.’
‘Who, Will?’
‘My son Fred,’ Will said.
‘What happened to him?’ Sarah asked, afraid to hear.
‘He drowned,’ Will said. ‘In the Atlantic,’
‘I’m sorry,’ Sarah said.
Will nodded. There was no anger or hardness left in his face. The lines had relaxed, and his eyes were blank. He looked straight at Sarah and nodded.
They were getting closer. Although the plane was sealed tight, Sarah could almost imagine she could smell the salt air. She could see waves breaking over rocks, the foam pure white and solid looking. Ships left V-shaped wakes behind them. Small towns dotted the coves, and white spires seemed to stand on every hill.
Will called in to a new tower, and the familiar flat tones of a New England voice greeted them. Announcing plans to land and refuel, he received clearance. They circled the airport at Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Although Maine was just across the Piscataqua River, they still had a long flight to Elk Island. Sarah closed her eyes and felt Will bring the plane in for a landing, almost enjoying the loss of control.
She was lost in her thoughts, in the thrill of seeing the ocean again and moving closer to Mike. What did it cost to survive? Breathing deeply, she said a prayer for Will and a boy she had never met, overwhelmed with the uncomfortable gratitude that every parent feels when she hears that it was someone else’s beloved child who has died, and not hers.
Snow couldn’t hold back another minute. She had curled herself into a ball and taken an extra-large hit of her inhaler, just in case of an inopportune midair asthma attack. She’d had some tense moments an hour or so back, when her nose had started itching. All she needed was one big sneeze, and her father would be turning the plane around, flying her back to Fort Cromwell, with an attitude the size of New York.
The plane had touched down, another one of her father’s perfect landings. Snug in her hiding place behind the backseat, covered with the old green blanket her father kept stowed there for emergencies and picnics, she flexed her muscles. Poking her head up, she looked around.
There was Sarah walking into the hangar and her father talking to the fuel-pump guy. Snow really had to use the ladies’ room. She figured that was where Sarah was heading, and if she timed it perfectly, which she knew she could, she could run behind her father’s back and sneak into the other stall before Sarah was finished, without anyone seeing her.
Using other planes to hide behind, she ran into the hangar. She saw by the sign that they had landed in Portsmouth, so she knew they were near the sea. Running as fast as she could, she sniffed the air for salt, but all she got was the smell of fuel. Once inside the hangar, she found the ladies’ room. Sarah was in one of the stalls, her feet visible beneath the door.
Snow went into a stall at the far end. The room was freezing cold. Drafts blew in from everywhere. She felt slightly guilty, peeing with such subterfuge. She liked Sarah, and she didn’t enjoy hiding from her. Trying to eavesdrop on her father and Sarah, all she had been able to hear were wordless voices droning at a pitch just below that of the engines. It had been so frustrating.
Now, hearing Sarah flush the toilet, she knew she had very little time to sneak back aboard the plane. Peeking through the crack in the stall door, she caught sight of something that made her gasp out loud. Sarah stood there, her hair bleached and very short, looking gorgeous. For the first time, Snow saw that she was quite a young-looking woman, beautiful, with more style than anyone Snow had ever seen.
‘Hi, Snow,’ Sarah said.
‘How did you know it was me?’ Snow asked, still peering through the crack.
‘I recognized your voice.’
‘Just from that little gasp?’
‘Yes.’ Stepping close to the beige metal door, Sarah brought herself eye to eye with Snow.
‘Are you mad?’
‘That’s beside the point.’
‘Are you going to tell my father?’
‘I think I should, don’t you?’
‘Don’t, Sarah. Please.’
‘How long were you planning to hide?’
‘Just till it was too late to turn back.’
Sarah closed her eyes and bowed her head. Something came over her, and Snow had the feeling she was fighting herself to keep from crying or yelling, some very big emotion. Snow had seen her mother in the same state, mainly during bad fights with her father. Seeing Sarah like that scared her. But when Sarah spoke, her voice was gentle.
‘We’re not turning back,’ she said.
‘Did you know I was aboard the whole time? Were you fooled? Or did you suspect I was there?’
‘It occurred to me as a possibility, but I didn’t really suspect,’ Sarah said, not sounding very friendly.
‘I’m sorry.’ Slowly, Snow opened the door. Somehow she had expected Sarah to like what she had done, maybe even to help her hide the rest of the way. Sarah’s angry mood confused her. But now that she was truly facing Sarah, she could get a good look. Her skin was glowing, her cheeks pink. Her hair had come out white and silky, so fine you just wanted to touch it.
‘I gasped because I can’t believe how great you look,’ Snow said quietly, because she didn’t want Sarah to think she was trying to get on her good side.
‘Oh,’ Sarah said, looking doubtful, glancing in the mirror.
‘You really do. It’s like a makeover in Vogue.’
‘Thank you,’ Sarah said, surprising Snow by sweeping her into a tight hug. Snow closed her eyes and hugged back. Sarah felt solid and strong, like a good mother. When it was time to quit, Snow didn’t want to let go. She was so glad Sarah didn’t hate her. She hung on, feeling tears in her throat.
‘I would never have had the courage if it weren’t for you,’ Sarah said.
‘Didn’t your mother dye her hair when it went gray?’
‘No,’ Sarah said. ‘And when you see the island, you’ll understand why.’
Snow smiled. Sarah had said she would see the island.
‘We’ll stay out of the way,’ Snow said helpfully.
Sarah seemed to mull that over. She didn’t seem angry anymore, but she wasn’t smiling either.
‘Let’s go see your dad,’ Sarah said, her arm around Snow’s shoulders.
They started walking toward the plane. Stepping into the bright sunshine, Snow reached into her pocket for the pair of sunglasses she always kept there. Being the daughter of an aviator had its advantages. Putting them on made her feel hidden, and she had the wild thought that maybe her father wouldn’t recognize her. There he was, standing by the Piper Aztec with his back turned.
‘One thing,’ Snow said to Sarah, tugging her sleeve.
‘What?’
‘How did you suspect that I was aboard? Did you see the toe of my shoe or something? Did I leave something showing?’
Sarah shook her head, for the first time really starting to smile. ‘No,’ she said, linking arms with Snow. ‘It’s just something I would have done.’
‘We have a stowaway,’ Sarah said quietly.
Will turned around, coming face-to-face with his daughter. Trying to control his expression, to make it seem stern, he failed to block his initial reaction: delight.
‘Susan!’
‘Dad, don’t make me go back.’
‘What the hell’s going on here?’
‘I want to be with you, that’s all. I was worried about you.’
‘I made a promise to your mother, Susan. She wants you with her on holidays, and that’s that.’
‘It’s just Thanksgiving, Dad. You know she only cares about Christmas.’
‘Christmas might be her favorite, but she cares about them all. Jesus, Susan!’
‘Please let me come with you. We must be more than halfway there – you can’t do this to Sarah.’
Sarah felt anxiety bordering on fury. She had gotten so good about accepting things. Being sick, she had learned to live by the schedules of other people, by the unknown timetable of her illness. She was a polite woman, and she cared about others. But here they were on their way to see Mike, wasting time arguing about whether to turn back to Fort Cromwell. She felt the physical sensations of anger, the light-headedness that precedes a blowup. Trying to stay calm, she reminded herself to breathe. There was injustice here that had nothing to do with her: Will knew the right thing was to deliver Snow back to her mother, but he wanted to keep her too.
‘Please,’ she said quietly. ‘We need to leave. We need to be on our way.’
‘What?’ Will asked.
‘This is my charter. Do I have any say in this?’
‘You should,’ Snow said boldly. ‘You’re paying.’
Sarah looked from one Burke to the other. Snow had her father’s eyes. Both faces were full of guarded hope.
‘If you fly this young lady all the way back to Fort Cromwell, we’ll waste half the day. I hired you because you were the best pilot around.’ Sarah pointed at Snow. ‘She told me so herself.’
‘I did,’ Snow said, shrugging.
‘Now I have a mission to accomplish, and an island to get to, and I want to see my son.’
‘I see,’ Will said.
‘I’d like you to fly me to Maine. Now.’
Sarah stepped back. Folding her arms to keep herself warm, she watched the Burkes and tried to keep from crying. Here she was, preventing another woman’s child from returning to her on Thanksgiving, and all she could think of was seeing Mike. She nearly shook with the graveness of it, they were this close, just over the border from Maine, just a couple of hours from the island.
‘Mom will understand,’ Snow said, stepping closer to her father, tugging his sleeve. ‘She will.’
‘You’d better call her, then. Tell her what’s going on, then let me talk to her.’
‘Sorry about almost screwing up your charter.’
‘Just don’t let it happen again,’ Will said, his voice stern but that same flash of serious delight behind his eyes.
They made the call. Snow dialed, but after a few seconds Will took the phone away from her. He knew this wasn’t going to go smoothly, and he wanted to protect her from the worst of it.
‘Hello?’
Shit, it’s him, Will thought. ‘Julian? Is Alice there?’
‘Yes.’ He hesitated, picking up instantly on the fact that something was wrong. ‘What is it? Something with Susan?’
‘Yeah, she’s with me on the way to Maine, but I’d like to tell Alice myself.’
‘Okay,’ Julian said. The response was quick and respectful, and Will could tell by the way he covered the mouthpiece that he was doing his best to break it to Alice gently.
‘Will?’ Alice asked, her voice high and nervous. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Alice, Snow is with me.’
‘Where are you?’
‘New Hampshire. I’m flying that charter I told you about, and she decided to come along.’ Aware of both Sarah and his daughter watching him, he spoke carefully. ‘Now we’re halfway there, and we can’t turn back. She’s coming all the way.’
‘Did you plan this?’ Alice asked. ‘I swear, Will. If you –’
‘No, no,’ Will said quickly, and to his surprise he could hear Julian in the background trying to calm her down, saying something about how they loved Susan’s impetuosity, that’s all this was. ‘Julian’s right,’ Will said, amazed by his unlikely ally. ‘She decided all on her own.’
‘I’m furious,’ Alice said.
‘I don’t blame you,’ Will said.
‘She’s in for it when she gets home.’
‘Uh-huh,’ Will said, watching the light fill his daughter’s eyes, the smile illuminating her face.
‘I’m so mad, I don’t think I should even talk to her right now. Just put the phone to her ear for one second.’
Doing what he was told, Will held the receiver close to Snow’s ear.
‘Be a good girl,’ he heard Alice say loudly.
‘I will,’ Snow said. ‘I’ll see you very soon.’
When Will tried to continue the conversation, he found that Alice had already hung up. He reached out to give Snow a hug, but she had already turned away. She was running across the wide tarmac, the black surface glittering in sunlight, her feet flying. She was fifteen, but she ran like a young girl: with the knowledge of being passionately wanted by both her parents, with all the thrilling hope and abandon of being on a fantastic adventure with her father.
Will and Sarah watched her go, not really daring to look at each other. He got the feeling if Sarah looked into his eyes, something was going to happen. She was going to start laughing or crying, he wasn’t sure which. But it was going to be full force, and he knew it wasn’t going to be easy to stop. So she just continued to stare straight ahead. The expression on her face was neutral, that of a woman who was paying good money to charter a plane, trying to remain patient until they got under way again.
8
Mike Talbot kept looking at the sky. He was sweeping out the picking shack, shutting it down for the first time since coming to the island. Grandpa was a driven man. He’d work twenty-four hours a day, Sundays included, if Aunt Bess didn’t ring the dinner bell at six sharp and keep ringing it until the men walked through the kitchen door and took their boots off. He probably planned to work Thanksgiving – say it was just another day – but Mike had other ideas.
‘What the hell’s going on here?’ Grandpa asked, following two geese down the snowy path. His face was windburned and wrinkled. Gelsey, the lame collie, limped along by his side. Grandpa looked around. He filled his days with more work than he could keep up with just so he didn’t have to think. Mike had watched him do it.
‘Closing up,’ Mike said.
‘Who told you to do that?’
‘Thought of it myself.’
The old man’s eyes narrowed. He took out his pipe but didn’t light it. Mike felt his face redden; he had done the wrong thing, and he could feel his grandfather’s disapproval.
‘Never considered you as being dimwitted before, but what kind of goose farmer shuts down the day before Thanksgiving?’ Grandpa asked finally.
‘They’re not turkeys, Grandpa. Besides, Mom’s coming today –’
‘Fowl is fowl, Mike,’ Grandpa growled, cutting him off on the subject of his mother. ‘Some folks likes their birds nice and gamy, not all dried out like those big, stupid turkeys. All white meat. Makes me sick.’
‘Yeah, but –’
‘Did I ever tell you about the time those Butterball fuckers came up and tried convincing me to quit geese and take on turkeys instead? Rose had to hold me back, I had my shotgun cocked and ready …’ Frowning, Grandpa sat down on the chopping stump and stared at his boots. He was winded from old age and old memories, and he had to catch his breath.
