The Novels of Nora Roberts, Volume 5 (130 page)

“What do you call that?” Gull asked her.

“Mine.” She carried it to the table, dropped into a chair. “What’s the word, Cards?”

“Plumbago.”

“That’s a good one. Sounds like a geriatric condition, but it’s a flower, right?”

“Shrub. Half point for you.”

“The flower on the shrub, or plant, is also called plumbago,” Gull pointed out.

Cards considered. “I guess that’s true. Full point.”

“Yippee.” Rowan dumped syrup over her bacon pancakes. “How’s the leg, Chainsaw?”

“Stitches itch.” He glanced over as Dobie wandered in, grinned. “But at least it’s not my face.”

“At least I didn’t do it to myself,” Dobie tossed back, and studied the offerings. “If I hadn’t lost that bet, I’d’ve joined up just for the breakfasts.” To prove it, he took a sample of everything.

“Your eye looks better,” Rowan told him.

He could open both now, and she recognized the symphonic bruising as healing.

“How are the ribs?”

“Colorful, but they don’t ache much. L.B.’s got me doing a shitload of sit-down work.” He pulled out a bottle of Tabasco, pumped it over his eggs. “I asked if I could have some time today. I figured I’d walk on down, check out your daddy’s operation. Watch some of those pay-to-jump types come down.”

“You should. A lot of people make a picnic of it. Marg would pack you up something.”

“Maybe I’ll go with you.”

Dobie wagged an impaled sausage at Stovic. “You’ve got that gimp leg.”

“The walk’ll take my mind off the itch.”

It probably would, Rowan thought, but just in case. “I’ll give you the number for the desk. If you can’t make it, they’ll send somebody to get you.”

Marg stepped in, scanned the table as she walked over and set a tall glass of juice in front of Rowan. “Are you all going to be wandering in and out of here all morning, and lingering at my table half the day? What you need is a fire.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Rowan picked up the glass, sampled. “Carrots, because there are always carrots, celery, I think, some oranges—and I’m pretty sure mango.”

“Good for you. Now drink it all.”

“Marg, you’re looking more beautiful than ever this morning.”

Marg cast a beady eye on Dobie. “What do you want, rookie?”

“I heard tell you might could put together a bag lunch if me and my fellow inmate here mosey on down to Rowan’s daddy’s place to watch the show.”

“I might could. You tell Lucas, if you see him, it’s past time he came in to pay a call on me.”

“I’ll sure do that.”

AS HE HAD
a short window before a tandem jump, Lucas made a point of walking out when he got word a couple of the rookies from the base were on the grounds.

A lot of tourists and locals came by to watch the planes and the jumpers, with plenty of them hooking the trip to his place with a tour of the smoke jumpers’ base. He figured it was good for business.

He’d started with one plane, a part-time pilot and instructor, with his mother handling the phones. When they rang. His pop ran dispatch, helped with the books. Of course in those days, he’d only been able to give the half-assed business his attention off-season, or when he was off the jump list.

But he’d needed to build something for his daughter, something solid.

And he had. He took pride in that, in his fleet of planes, his full-time staff of twenty-five. He had the satisfaction of knowing one day, when she was ready, Rowan could stand on what he’d built and have that solidity under her.

Still there were days he watched a plane rise into the sky from the base, knew the men and women on it were flying to fire, that he missed it like a limb.

He knew, now, what it was to be on the ground and know someone he loved more than anything in the world and beyond was about to risk her life. He wondered how his parents, his daughter, even the wife he’d had so briefly had ever stood that constant mix of fear and resignation.

But today, so far, the sirens stayed silent.

He stopped a moment to watch one of the students—a sixty-three-year-old banker from town free-fall from the Otter. Applause broke out in the audience of watchers when the chute deployed.

Zeke had been Lucas’s banker for close to forty years, so Lucas watched a moment longer, gave a nod of approval at the form, before he walked over to the blanket where the two men from the base stretched out with what he recognized as one of Marg’s famous boxed lunches.

“How’s it going?” he asked, and crouched down beside them. “Lucas Tripp, and you must be Dobie. I heard you got in a scuffle at Get a Rope the other night.”

“Yeah. I’m usually prettier. It’s a pleasure meeting you,” Dobie added as he held out a hand. “This one’s Chainsaw, as he likes to use one to shave his legs.”

“Heard about that, too. If you’re going to get banged up, it might as well be early in the season, before things heat up.”

“It’s a real nice operation you got here, Mr. Tripp,” Stovic commented.

The polite deference made Lucas feel old as an alp. “You can hang the mister around my father. We’re doing pretty well here. See that one.” He gestured toward where Zeke touched down and rolled. “He won’t see sixty again. Bank manager out of Missoula. Granddaddy of eight with two more coming. Known him longer than either of you have been alive, and up until a couple months ago, he never said a word to me about wanting to jump.
Bucket List
,” Lucas told them with a grin. “Since that movie came out, we’re getting a lot of clients and students with some age on them coming in.

“I’ve got a tandem jump coming up. Client’s due in about fifteen. Fifty-seven-year-old woman. High-school principal. You never know who’s got a secret yen to fly.”

“Do you miss it?” Dobie asked him. “Jumping fire.”

“Every day.” Lucas shrugged as he watched his banker wave to a trio of his grandkids. “But old horses like me have to make room for you young stallions.”

“You must have a lot of stories from back in the day.”

And older yet, Lucas thought, but grinned at Stovic. “Get a couple beers in me, I’ll tell them all, whether you want to hear them or not.”

“Anytime,” Dobie said. “Anyplace.”

“I might take you up on it. I better get on, give the principal the thrill of her life.” Lucas pushed to his feet. “Enjoy your day off. You won’t get many more of them.”

“I don’t see how he could come to give it up,” Dobie commented. “I don’t think I could.”

“You haven’t jumped fire yet,” Stovic pointed out.

“In my head I have.” Dobie bit into a drumstick Marg had fried to a crispy turn. “And I didn’t try to castrate myself with a chain saw.”

Stovic gave him a good-natured punch in the arm. “It got the Swede’s hands on my thigh. Worth every stitch.”

“You try to move on that, Gull’ll give you more than a few stitches. His eyes’re homed in that direction.”

“I ain’t blind. But she’s sure got a nice touch.” Stovic dug into the potato salad as they watched the next jumper.

 

 

LUCAS CHECKED HIS LOGS,
the aircraft, had a quick conversation with his mechanic and the pilot for the tandem. Even if the client arrived on time, Marcie—his service rep—would sit her down for an overall explanation, have the client fill out the necessary forms. Since she’d ordered the DVD package, he swung through to make sure his videographer was lined up for the go.

When he walked into the operations building, he spotted Marcie and the client at one of the tables dealing with the paperwork. His first thought was a cliché, but true nonetheless.

They hadn’t made principals like that when he’d been in high school.

She had red hair, and a lot of it, that kind of swept around her face, and eyes like forest shadows. Deep and green. When she smiled at something Marcie said, shallow dimples popped out in her cheeks, and her lips turned up in a pretty bow.

He wasn’t shy around women—unless he was attracted to one. He felt the wash of embarrassed heat run up the back of his neck as he approached the table.

“And here’s your jump master,” Marcie announced, “and the owner of Zulie Skydiving. Lucas, I was just telling Mrs. Frazier she’s about to experience the thrill of a lifetime, and she’s got the top dog to take her through it.”

“Well,” Lucas managed as the heat spread to the top of his skull.

“If I’m going to be thrilled, I like knowing it’s with the top dog.” She offered her hand—narrow, slender-fingered. Lucas took it loosely, released it quickly, worried he might crush it.

“Mrs. Frazier’s son bought her the package for Christmas,” Marcie added.

“Make it Ella, since we’ll be jumping out of a plane together. He heard me say I wanted to try skydiving one day, and took me seriously, even though I believe I’d had several glasses of wine at the time.” Those lips bowed up again; the dimples popped. “He and his family are out poking around, as are my daughter and hers. They’re all excited to watch.”

“That’s good. That’s nice.”

“So . . .” Ella waited a beat. “When do we start?”

“We’ll get you suited up.” Though she beamed smiles, Marcie slid a puzzled look up at Lucas. “While we do, you’ll watch a short instructional video. Then the boss will give you a little training, answer any questions. That’ll take about thirty minutes, so you’ll be familiar with the equipment, feel comfortable and learn how to land.”

“Landing would be key. I don’t want to traumatize my grandchildren.” She said it with a sparkle in her eye.

Married. Lucas’s brain caught up with the rest of him. With kids. With grandkids. Knowing she was married eased the shyness. Now he could just admire how pretty she was, seeing as she was off-limits.

“No worries about that.” He was able to grin back at her. “They’ll remember today as the day they watched their grandmother fly. If you’re done with the paperwork, we’ll get you your flight suit.”

He changed into his own while Marcie got the client outfitted. He generally enjoyed doing tandems with first-timers, soothing their nerves if they had them, answering questions, giving them the best experience possible, and a memory they’d carry for the rest of their lives. He expected this run would be no exception.

The client looked fit, which helped. He glanced at his copy of the form and noted he’d been on the mark on her statistics. Five-five, 123 pounds. No physical problems.

He stepped outside to wait for her.

“I feel official.” She laughed and did a little turn in her flight suit and jump boots.

“Looking good. I know Marcie went over the procedure with you, but I can go over it again, answer any questions you’ve got.”

“Marcie was thorough, and the video was great. The harness attaches me to you, start to finish, which is very important from my point of view.”

“It’s a good way to make a first jump. Low stress.”

She bubbled out a laugh. “Easy for you to say. I guess you’re used to screamers.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m betting you’re going to be too happy and too dazzled by the view to scream.” He led her to a small training field. “We’ll go up to about fourteen thousand feet. When you’re ready, I’ll take you on a trip into that big sky. The free fall’s a rush, exhilarating. It’ll last about a minute before the chute deploys. Once it does, you’ll float, and listen to the kind of quiet only jumpers know.”

“You love it.”

“Absolutely.”

“I’m doing this for a couple of reasons. First for my son. I just couldn’t disappoint him. And second, I realized on the way here, to remind myself I used to be fearless. Tell me, Mr. Tripp—”

“Lucas.”

“Lucas, how many people chicken out once they’re up there?”

“Oh, there’s some, sure. I can usually peg them before we get off the ground.” He gave her an easy smile. “You won’t be one of them.”

“Because?”

“You were fearless once. You don’t forget what you are. Sometimes you just put it aside awhile.”

The dimples fluttered in her cheeks. “You’re right. I’ve learned that lesson the last few years.”

He showed her how to land, how to use him, her own body for a soft touchdown. He strapped the harness so she could get accustomed to the feel of it, and having his body against hers.

The little jump in the belly he felt had him relieved to remind himself she was married.

“Any questions? Concerns?”

“I think I’ve got it. I’m supposed to relax and enjoy—and hope I don’t scream the whole way down so the DVD shows me with my mouth wide open and my eyes squeezed shut.”

“Hey, Mom!”

They looked over at the group hovering at the edge of the field.

“The family. Do you have time to meet them before we do this?”

“Sure.”

He walked over with her, made some small talk with her son—he looked pale and nervous now that it was zero hour—her daughter, the three children, including the one watching him like an owl from his daddy’s hip.