Chapter 12

Katie’s turn:

The immortal words of the philosopher (Yogi Berra) apply: “You can observe a lot by watching.” Yogi was right. I’ve been watching, some, and it’s hard to observe it all. Consider the following:

First was the trip to Auburn from Dallas. My introduction to Pilatus avionics -- nice! I’ve had a few looks at Gulfstreams, and Pilatus is better. A couple of Citation flights with Don Matzke, and then several solo charters. We don’t really have enough pilots to use two for each charter, but Matzke had to make sure.

Then Cindy came over for a couple of PC-24 charters, and made me fly left seat. Why? Because she’s a CFI, has an ATR, and is type-rated in PC-24’s. Means she can sign me off. Evidently she wants ME to fly PC-24 charters for the company. Umm. She didn’t have to twist my arm much. This bird is NICE! MUCH better than a Gulfstream.

There are stories, sometimes using the phrase: “The Cindy.” “Cindy” is her name, but “The Cindy” is the effect she has on odd situations. I’m just now beginning to understand. Thinking about it, “The Cindy” is what happened to me at DFW.

Today’s exercise is “going to the wedding”, so we re-scheduled a couple of non- critical charters, left 3 pilots for the others, and now a PC-12 is loaded with me, Don and Teresa, Geno and Sonya, Wally and his wife. Geno took the right seat and grinned at me. Big grin on his face when I got us airborne and retracted the wheels. He said, “You’re doing great, Katie. Wish I could still do it, but Sonya would kill me if I even started talking about it.”

We landed at 3Sigma field, and we were followed in by another PC-12, identical to this one. THAT one rolled up right next to us. I note that there are FOUR of these, with consecutive tail numbers and identical livery. Coincidence? Think again, Katie.

The bunch that stepped off the Louisiana plane were attired in 3Sigma polos and ... yeah, just like us. Coincidence? Nope. This is starting to look like an upscale fraternity convention.

So, off to the hotel, where half of an entire floor was reserved for the out-of-town wedding attendees. The large conference room was reserved and decorated for the wedding. The 3Sigma Pavilion just isn’t large enough.

I note that one of the Louisiana guys has two women dressed identically -- powder blue dresses. Another one has THREE dressed in navy blue dresses -- two of ‘em look like Guatemalan twins. Beautiful, if you hadn’t guessed.

Mandy’s wedding? Let’s see: Music was “Ode to Joy” played with a flute, violin, and a BANJO being used as a harp! The wedding began, with Mandy walking down the aisle on her Dad’s arm, giving her free hand to Captain Daniels. Gotta admit, those dress blues look REALLY sharp!

Here’s an oddity -- dunno if anyone else noticed, but when Mandy turned to give her flowers to Cindy (matron of honor, you know), their hands touched briefly, and I think I saw a mild blue flash. Cherenkov radiation? Electric arc? Dunno. Nobody said anything about it, but I’m pretty sure about what I saw. I’ll have to ask Cindy.

Vows, rings, and Captain Daniels kissed Mandy. Looks like he intended it to be brief, but nope. She grabbed the back of his neck, and kinda INHALED him, to much laughter and applause. Somehow he managed to remain standing, but it was a struggle.

The reception? The food? Lord, I’ll have to recalculate weight and balance for the return trip. I’ll bet we’re all five pounds heavier. I note that only about a third of the crowd is drinking wine. Maybe the rest of us are going to be flying tomorrow.

Finally got a break, grabbed some cookies and coffee, and sat down next to a tall guy -- looks like a college student. He introduced himself as “Buddy Jeffries, Junior student, Electrical Engineering.” I asked if he was “part of this bunch”. He said, “No ma’am, but I hope I can be some day. I’m here because Mandy is my lab teacher, over at Auburn.” Damn, she’s too young to be teaching ... or is she?

I said, “Buddy, I’m still kind of an outsider, and I fly for their Birmingham outfit. Can you explain what I’ve been seeing around here? I mean, they’re all very nice people and having lots of fun. But it seems like most of ‘em fly, and they’re mostly engineers. What do you think it’s all about?”

He said, “Ma’am, I don’t know, and this is the first time I’ve seen ‘em all in one place. But I was watching an old video on YouTube a few days ago, and it reminded me of this place. You know about “The Wizard of Oz?” Dorothy, the Tin Man, all that?”

I nodded, and he said, “So the movie starts out in monochrome, they have the tornado, and when it’s all over, Dorothy steps out of her monochrome house into a world of color. She says, “Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.” Remember that?”

I smiled, and he said, “This place, these people, they’re kinda like that. Same world as the rest of us, but when you get around any one of ‘em, you get something like an injection of color. I don’t know how it works, but that’s what I’m seeing.”

Then, “Katie, since you’re new here, I’ll ask you if it’s just me. When Mandy handed her flowers to Cindy, did you happen to see a quick blue flash?”

I smiled and said, “Buddy, I saw the same thing. I don’t understand it either.” OK, this IS a legitimate question for Cindy.

Buddy looked directly at me, his probably four years younger, sandy-headed, blue-eyed self, and asked “Katie, is it very hard to learn to fly?”

“You look reasonably coordinated. I mean, you do dance well. And if you’re in your third year of engineering then the bookwork won’t be an obstacle. So unless your tender constitution can’t handle the changes in attitude and g-forces, you should be a shoo-in. I understand Cindy’s a licensed instructor.”

“Of course she is,” he grinned.

“Seriously,” I said. “She’s got every rating they have for fixed-wing aircraft.”

Charming boy, but honestly, I don’t do short-term relationships. Tried that. Found myself lying awake at night when they inevitably ended, wondering what happened, what was missing, and what the costs were for the small returns I gained.

Four years younger? No, that’s starting out with the scales tilted already.

Then I found out the age differences between husbands and wives, Cindy and Dan 1.0, in particular.

Peculiar. Still...

Cindy’s turn:

I’m selfish in some ways. I know it. Dan knows it, but in his case I’m selfish about HIM. The others know it. I’m selfish about the Munchkins. They used to be like a herd of puppies but they’re growing, several of them are married, most, actually, and so they have that pulling them so they don’t rely on me and the others for a central social group. Don’t get me wrong, we ARE still the central social group, but they have outlets (or inlets, if you have one of THOSE kind of minds) and so outside of work hours and the weekend socials, they tend to disperse.

Other way I’m selfish: Flying.

I like to fly, ever since the first time Dan flourished the keys to our sweet old Cessna 180. I’ve got an impressive logbook full of signoffs and aviation experiences.

And over at our hangar at Birmingham there’s this almost new Pilatus PC-24 bizjet that we’re trying to justify.

We have three pilots signed off on it. I’m one. The other two, though, are tied up and we have a hotshot cargo that’s flying into Houston air-freighted from Europe and needed...

So let’s see if Katie’s up for her third flight in the 24.

Cellphone. “Hey, Katie, it’s Cindy...”

Snicker in my ear. “Just like it says on the screen. What’s up?”

“We did ask if you had a valid passport, right?”

“Indeed I do.”

“What’s your dance card look like for the next two days?”

Heavy sigh over the phone. “I have no dance card. Since you brought me here I’m either flying or wandering around aimlessly.”

“I have a picture in my mind,” I laughed. “Here’s the deal. PC-24. Round robin, Houston, Edmonton, Alberta. Back home. From the left seat this time. I’m your copilot.”

“You’re trying awfully hard to keep me,” she laughed.

“You’re a flower in a sea of testosterone as far as our pilot roster is concerned.”

“As long as I can live in Auburn, I’m good,” Katie stated. “Birmingham? Ughhh!”

“None of our people LIVE in Birmingham,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, still...”

So there I was, dealing with my BIG problem of the day – Katie, and how we could make things work for us.

I was like that poor dude in the grass hut on the beach of a Caribbean island who didn’t know a storm was brewing.

Jerry Peebles’ turn:

I’ve been the D.A. here for 16 years. Some of it has been good, mostly not. Thankfully, I have my Dad’s “gray hair” I can lean on, from time to time. He’s a retired judge, named Charles Peebles.

My office door opened to Deputy Sheila, and Ruth Bentley, holding the hand of a skinny little redhead, who looked very scared. I stood and walked around to the front of my desk. Sheila said, “Jerry, you already know Ruth, and this is Kelly Boothe.”

I said, “Thank you, Sheila.” She nodded and left, closing the door. I said, “Good afternoon Ruth, and I’m pleased to meet you, Kelly. My name is Jerry Peebles.”

She nodded and didn’t say anything. I said, “Kelly, I want to tell you that you’re not in any trouble at all. Do you understand that?” Again, she nodded.

I continued, “However, we DO have a problem, because your Mom is in jail. She’s physically fine, but she isn’t able to care for you right now, which leaves us with the responsibility to take care of you. Do you understand that?”

She nodded and asked, “So, what happens to me now?”

Ruth started to speak, but I held up my hand and asked, “Kelly, let me reverse that question. What would you like to happen?”

She said, “I don’t know, but I don’t like living the way we do now. I don’t like Mom’s boyfriends, and I don’t like living in our trailer. The best food I get is lunches at school, and people always point at me and make fun of me. They laugh at my clothes, and they get mad at me because I make better grades than they do. It sucks.”

I asked, “One more question, Kelly -- how old are you?”

She said, “I’m almost ten!”

Ruth interrupted, saying, “Jerry, we suspect gang involvement, so we need to get her out of town quickly, for her protection.”

I was silent for a minute, remembering another little redhead, several years ago. I wonder if she’d be willing? Only one way to find out.

I said, “Kelly, Ruth, if you’ll allow me, I’d like to try something, and I don’t actually know if this will work. I’m going to attempt a relocation and foster care out-of-town.”

“Here’s what I’d suggest: Ruth, collect enough of Kelly’s belongings to last a few days, take her home with you, feed her and shelter her. Because of my prosecutorial duties, I cannot allow any further personal connection, but I know someone who could.”

Ruth nodded, and I said, “Kelly, may I take a picture of you?” She nodded, so I pulled my cell phone and snapped a picture. Damn, she’s a cutie.

They exited the office, and I punched the speed-dial for Dad. He answered, and I said, “Dad, I have a problem, and I think you may want to help.”

Ruth Bentley’s turn:

Most of my days are paper-work drudgeries, and I get REALLY tired of all the lame excuses from lousy parents about their lousy child-care efforts. One of ‘em was from (can’t say her name here) a woman who’s in jail, along with her boyfriends. Meth is NOT your friend.

Have to smile some, about her foster care. Redheads -- in groups, I suspect the nearby air temperature goes up by several degrees. Who knew?

My phone buzzes -- text from an unknown phone number. Text says, “New phone, ma’am, I’ll call tomorrow. Kelly!!!”