Christy reached over and squeezed my hand. Then Susan glanced at us in the rearview mirror.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Christy,” she said. “You’ll have to visit in the summer when you can enjoy the lake and everything else we have to offer.”
“I’d like that,” Christy said. “And it was a pleasure to meet you, too. I’m very sorry for your loss, though.”
“Thank you. We’ll feel Jeremiah’s absence for a long time, I think.”
“Do you have plans to find a replacement?” I asked. “Well, no one can replace Gunny, but you know what I mean.”
She nodded. “We were talking about it last night. Doug thinks I should…”
We spent several minutes on her plans for the camp and how to run it without Gunny to do the maintenance.
“I’ll decide on something,” she said eventually. “I need to weigh all the options.”
Christy cleared her throat and gave me a significant look.
“Trip and I might be able to help,” I said to Susan.
Christy nodded encouragement.
“How?” Susan asked.
“Well, we normally work on houses nonstop in the summer, but we can make some time to work here instead.” I looked down at Christy. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s a great idea,” she said, as though it hadn’t been hers in the
first place. “You’ll have to talk to Trip, but…” She grinned up at me. “I’m sure Wren can convince him.”
I snorted a laugh. “Wren could convince Jerry Falwell to come to camp.”
“Please don’t,” Susan said immediately. Then, “Let me think about it. I like the idea, but let’s talk more in a few months.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said.
“The next generation of campers,” Mom said as she and Susan shared a look.
“Seems only fitting,” Susan agreed.
Christy beamed up at me.
Susan and my parents chatted about the weather and mundane things for the rest of the drive, but my mind was already racing. Christy and I had just made our third major decision as a couple, and this one had serious implications, far beyond what she realized.
The flight to Knoxville was bumpy and tense, and the winds at Island Home were so unpredictable that I wasn’t happy with my first approach and decided to go around. Better safe than sorry. I worried that Christy would be nervous or panicky, but she was a trooper.
I ran through our options as we turned back into the pattern. We had more than enough fuel reserve to go around a second or third time, or to divert to another airport, but the weather was only going to get worse the longer we stayed airborne. A dark line of squalls already filled the sky to the west, and it was moving toward us at a steady clip. Even so, I didn’t want to force a landing.
I lined up my second approach and dipped the upwind wing. Then I corrected with the rudder and sideslipped toward the runway. A gust caught us over the threshold, but I rode it out with a Zen-like focus on the controls. I felt the plane more than flew it, and our touchdown was smoother than I had any right to expect under the conditions.
I taxied to the Comanche’s regular parking spot and shut down the engine. My skin prickled and I felt vaguely edgy without the engine’s vibration, but we were down safe. I sat there for a moment and let the adrenaline wear off before I removed my headset and hung it on the hook.
Christy did the same beside me. Then she unbuckled her seatbelt, climbed to her knees, and kissed me.
“Not that I’m complaining,” I said after, “but what was that for?”
“For being the most awesome boyfriend ever. That was amazing. It was kinda scary at the end, but you were incredible!”
“Thanks. I thought we might have to go around again when that gust caught us.”
“My stomach still hasn’t settled down.”
“No kidding,” I said. “I’m really glad we left South Carolina when we did.”
“I know. But it was still cool watching you fly. That was awesome. You were awesome.” She kissed me again to prove it.
“Hold that thought,” I said at last. The squall line was even closer, and I could see the rain slanting along its leading edge. “We’d better get a move on if we don’t wanna get soaked.”
She nodded and leaned out of the way so I could unlatch the door. She pulled the handle, and the door blew open in a strong gust. She climbed onto the wing, and her blonde hair immediately whipped around her face. The wind felt heavy with moisture when I followed her out. I closed and latched the door and jumped to the ground.
“Grab our stuff from the baggage compartment,” I told her. “I need to tie the plane down.”
We made it to the FBO just as the rain hit. Earl Walker and a couple of his cronies were there.
“Nice landing,” he said. “We were taking bets on how many times you’d bounce.”
“Who won?”
“Me, of course.” He turned to his buddies. “Taught him everything he knows.”
“And did a fine job, too,” I said. “Good to see you, Earl.”
“And you. Who’s your little friend?”
“Earl, this is my girlfriend, Christy, the cutest copilot ever. Christy, this is Earl Walker, Air Force vet and flight instructor extraordinaire.”
They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. We chatted for a few minutes about where we were coming from and why. Earl and friends offered their condolences and then he changed the subject.
“When’re you gonna start your multi-engine rating?”
“Funny you should mention that,” I said. “My dad’s talking about buying a Beech Baron, so I might need it after all.”
“Nice plane. We have one here if you’d like to get your rating in it.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said. “Let me get through the holidays and then I’ll give you a call once my schedule settles down.”
“All right.” He glanced through the windows. “In the meantime, looks like you’re gonna get a break in the weather. Dunno how long it’ll last.”
“Then we’d better make a run for it,” I said.
He and the others said goodbye, and Christy and I headed out. We still got wet as we ran to the Land Cruiser, but not soaked to the skin like we would’ve been earlier. Unfortunately, the downpour had strengthened by the time we pulled into the driveway at home, so we sat and waited while the storm spent its fury.
“I had fun this weekend,” Christy said.
“Me too. I didn’t think you’d take to being a nudist quite so quickly, though.”
“You make everything easy,” she said, “which kinda worries me.”
“Does it bother you? What we did?”
“Yes and no. It’s doesn’t bother me when we’re doing it. But… I still feel guilty sometimes, especially when I think about what I want to do.”
“Fantasies getting ahead of your morals?” I said.
“I’m wondering if I still have any morals.”
“You do,” I assured her. “Besides, morals are about more than sex. Be a good person. Help others. Tell the truth. Eat your vegetables.”
She grinned at the last.
“But… what about me? Do you think I have morals?”
“Of course you do,” she said. “You’re a very good person.”
“But I have sex out of wedlock. And I’m slowly trying to convince you to do the same.”
“I know. And that’s what worries me.”
“Well, the key is ‘slowly.’ I’m not trying to rush things.”
“What if I am?”
I shot her a sideways look.
She nodded. “Mmm hmm. What I want and what I think I should want are having a major fight in my head.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“No. Just be patient with me.”
“I will.”
“And…”
I waited.
“Maybe give me Sara’s number? She was raised Catholic, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And I think I’ll ask Marianne. She’s always given me good advice.” She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “She might’ve let it slip that she wasn’t exactly a virgin on her wedding night.”