Some Kind of Wonderful (Puffin Island 2)

“Yes, you do.” His voice was rough. “But maybe you shouldn’t read any more of your grandmother’s diaries if they’re going to upset you.”

“I want to. I want to know everything there was to know about her. I always knew she was determined, but I never knew how much she struggled when she first came here. Now I understand why she encouraged me to work so hard. She wanted me to have options and she believed that studying gave you options. My mother hated it here and couldn’t wait to leave.”

“You don’t talk much about your mother. Are you in touch with her?”

“Occasionally. We email. We talk on the phone. But we’re not close. Never have been. I was closer to my grandmother. She raised me.” She stared out to sea. “The people who are your real family, the people who you can rely on one hundred percent, are not always your closest relations. But you already know that.”

His expression didn’t change. “What I know,” he said slowly, “is that the only person you can rely on one hundred percent is yourself.”

It felt as if someone was squeezing her heart. “Sure, if you’re in trouble, you deal with it yourself, but while you’re dealing with it, it’s nice to have the support of people who love you. It’s like crying. You can cry by yourself but it’s a whole lot better if someone hugs you while you do. I couldn’t imagine a life without my friends in it.”

He gave a half smile. “Why would you need to? You have a thousand friends.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Grams always said that a thousand friends prepared to party with you are worth less than one friend who is willing to stay and help you clear up after everyone else has left.”

There was a brief silence. “Then I guess you’re fine, because you have friends who would do that.”

“So do you.”

He gave a soft laugh. “Honey, there are at least a dozen people who would boot me off this island if they had their way.”

“Maybe ten years ago that was true, but not now. You need to take another look.” She wondered how he couldn’t know that so many people cared about him. Trying to lighten the mood, she made a joke. “Mel would love to be in a room with you when the lights go out.”

“I need to make a note not to be anywhere near Harbor Stores when the power is out.”

Brittany grinned and finished the chicken. “That was delicious. You do know that if it was packed by Kirsti, the rumor mill will be working overtime?”

“I do know. I also know I’m being closely watched.”

She helped herself to more chicken. “If you made me cry in public everyone would feel sorry for me and I’d be given free food. Might be worth thinking about.” She licked her fingers. “Tell me more about flying in Alaska. I don’t understand how you can fly in all that snow and ice.”

“Sometimes you can’t. If it was light ice, I flew. Severe ice, I didn’t. Pilots in Alaska spend a lot of time hanging around checking the weather. Most of the time it was something in between and then you try and get above or below it.”

She reached into the basket and took a chunk of the olive bread Kirsti had packed. “How does that help?”

“If you encounter ice, you need to climb. The higher you go the colder it gets, so there’s

less ice. You can always go back down. NASA has done research on icing and ninety percent of the time climbing or descending three thousand feet will get you out of ice. But it isn’t just the ice that’s a problem up there, it’s the wind, too.” He reached down into the sand and picked up a pebble, running his thumb over the smooth surface. “The weather is in charge, just as it is along this coastline.”

“So you either freeze or get blown out of the sky?”

He stared across to the mainland, hazy in the distance. “Worst flight I ever had was when I was taking a group to a remote village. It was a bumpy ride right from the start and as I flew over the lakes, I could see the wind shadow.”

“What’s wind shadow?”

“When you look down on the water you can see the ripples caused by the wind. Look at the shore and you’ll see a crescent where the water is calm—that’s the direction the wind is blowing. If you have white lines on the water, you don’t want to be flying. As landing strips go in Alaska, this was a good one. As I came in to land I dropped the wing into the wind—” he glanced at her “—it’s called cross controlling and it compensates for the crosswind—” he continued to talk and she listened, absorbed by the detail and his obvious love for the outdoors.

“So the wind sock was horizontal?”

“I came in sideways. It was like flying a crab. Landing like that can put a side load on the wheels and blow a tire, but luckily the runway was gravel so there was some give. If it had been a paved runway I would have been in trouble.” He drew his arm back and threw the pebble into the water. “I don’t know who was more relieved to be alive, me or the passengers.”

Finally she asked the question that had been burning inside her. “How did you come to own a plane?”

“It was a gift from the guy who owned the drilling company.” He hesitated. “I did him a favor.”

“Must have been some favor. What did you do?”

For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he reached into the basket and helped himself to some of the bread. “I flew his little girl to the hospital.”