Chapter 45

Nikki's turn:

We're going to pick up Kara. Cindy's Dan is the pilot in command. Cindy's flying, though. And I'm in the back seat. It's different. I don't usually fly without the controls in front of me. As matter of fact, I can count those times on one hand, because the first time I was ever in an airplane, I was catching a ride with the owner of OUR plane while my Dan was out for a flying lesson.

We're pretty excited today. We have pretty much decided that Kara is going to be a good addition to our community. Yes, she's single, and a year older than me, but she's terrifically smart, right there with me and Cindy, plus she plays violin.

Five hours in the air. Cindy giggles because she calls it Dawn Patrol, a tag that started out as an inside joke between her and Tina, but we're all in on it. It's rooted in an old movie about World War I, but the connection to us is from when Alan found out that cohabiting with his then seventeen year old love, our sister, Tina, was illegal under Tennessee law, he and Tina flew to Louisiana the next morning to get married.

This time the goal is to get to Houston to get our new sister Kara and, of all things, have lunch with her and her dad. That's sort of unexpected. I got the feeling from talking with Kara that her dad really didn't care that much, yet he wants to have lunch. Cindy's Dan says that he thinks that maybe there's a side to Mister Evan Sevinsky that we don't really know.

Cindy, though, says that the guy's a lawyer, and he's used to presenting a façade as a course of everyday life.

Me, I just want Kara's soft-pedaled sense of humor around the rest of us. She wants to grow academically? Yeah. And we have the greenhouse.

The trip to Houston was pretty routine flying until we got into that huge mess of air traffic control that is the Houston area. I paid close attention and kept quiet. Yes, Cindy had the controls – left seat, you know, but Dan kept a running commentary of altitudes and headings and handled the radio communications. That's unusual. Cindy's perfectly capable elsewhere, even though she's too young to get a license. I have my student license, but Cindy just has the knack. I learned a lot. Dan's (apparently both of them, but this time it's Dan 1.0) a good teacher. His direction over the intercom for Cindy came with a commentary for me.

Things started lightening up when we finally entered the traffic pattern for the little general aviation airport.

"Next time, Dan, I wanna do it all," Cindy said.

"You're crazy," I said.

"Oh, no, Nikki. You see the patterns. We'll look at the chart again. It makes sense."

"Yeah," I said. "I guess it does." I noticed that Dan didn't even move toward the controls for Cindy's landing. She's getting good. We shut the engine down at the fueling station. We'd flown six hundred and fifty miles. Cindy's plane could've done another couple of hundred, but full tanks make for a comfortable feeling.

Three people were making their way across the apron. One guy in work clothes, probably the FBO, another guy in a suit, and a brown-haired girl who finally skipped ahead.

"Kara!" Cindy and I said almost in unison.

"Nikki! Cindy!" Kara squealed, and she broke into a run for the last twenty yards. Group hug.

The FBO guy took the fueling hose away from Dan so he could turn to meet the guy in the suit. They shook hands. I could barely make out happy sounds from them.

We girls finally broke our hug and walked over to meet Dan and Kara's dad.

"Dad, this is Cindy and this is Nikki."

Mister Sevinsky extended his hand. I shook it. Cindy shook it.

"You're right, Kara," he said. "They are a couple of cuties."

"Why, thank you, Mister Sevinsky," I said. Cindy smiled her answer.

"Excuse me," Dan said, mostly to Mister Sevinsky. "I need to go park our plane."

"Sure," Mister Sevinsky said. "I'll take the girls inside."

We went into the FBO office. Looks awfully familiar: Pictures of airplanes. Big planning chart on the wall. Coffee maker. Counter with a few odds and ends displayed.

I heard the Continental engine start up, then a burst of throttle, the sound changed directions, dropped to an idle for a bit, then coughed to a stop. Presently, Dan came through the door with the FBO guy. There was the short conversation at the counter as Dan paid for the fuel, then he turned to us.

"Van? You have a dinner venue in mind?"

"Does everybody do steak?" Mister Sevinsky asked.

Cindy and I nodded.

"I know Kara does," he said, "but I have to ask. So many young people have strange ideas about diet these days."

"'Vegetarian' is Indian for 'poor hunter'," I said, to Cindy and Kara's giggles.

Mister Sevinsky laughed. "Yes, okay. I expect that if my Kara is choosing you as friends worth traveling across four states for, you're not going to be some sort of New Age nut-cases."

"I thought attorneys were all about careful speech," Dan said.

"In a courtroom, maybe," Mister Sevinsky popped. "I prefer a good steak, and prefer the company of those who share my choice."

"Steak it is, then," Dan said.

Mister Sevinsky loaded us all up in a big SUV and off we went. Was a good steak. The conversation, compared to some that Cindy and I have previously enjoyed with Kara, was somewhat subdued.

Dan and Mister Sevinsky talked about business, mostly about our company's licensing and liability protection.

"You need an attorney here in Texas," Mister Sevinsky said, "I'd be glad to help."

"Customary charges apply?" Dan asked, smiling. Husband of Cindy is not a dummy.

"Of course, but we can work up something equitable."

"Then let me talk to the others," Dan said. "I have an Alabama attorney and a retired judge keeping us between the lines right now."

"That's Alabama, this is Texas. There are differences."

"And naturally, you'll be doing all this personally, right?"

"Dan, I have minions. I pay good money, I have GOOD minions. And yes, I will take a personal interest." He laughed. Okay, the guy DID have a personality, despite the tales Kara had related. As Cindy says, it goes with his territory.

After lunch, a brief fight over the bill, where Dan graciously surrendered, we were deposited back beside the plane. Dan stowed the bags that Kara was bringing for the week, she hugged her dad, Dan shook his hand, we buckled in.

Mister Sevinsky leaned in the right door. Dan's in the right seat. Cindy's in the pilot's seat. "You sure? She can barely see over the dashboard?" he asked Dan.

"Van," Dan said, "she flew us here. If she had another two years on 'er, she'd be licensed. And I can do everything from this side if I need to. I don't need to."

"Bye, baby," he said to Kara, reaching back to touch her fingers.

Touch her fingers. Now I'm parsing that. If it was a spontaneous move, it means something. If it wasn't, if it was for show, then for whose benefit was it?

Mister Sevinsky backed away from the plane. Cindy popped her window open, hollered "Clear!" and started the engine. As Cindy pivoted around to taxi, I saw Mister Sevinsky wave at Kara. She waved back.

Cindy kept a running commentary over the intercom as we made our way to the active runway, and then we took off. Once we were established at altitude, picking our way back through the Houston air traffic maze, Kara's head was on a swivel as she took in the sights.

"I never flew like this before. Commercial, you know, it's ZOOM! Up to waaay high. This is neat!"

"Funny! That's what I thought the first time," I said. We kept conversation rather sparse until we were well outside Houston, headed on a course of around seventy degrees. Or not.

Cindy's voice. "We're going to follow the interstate until Winnie, Texas, then angle up on course. Keeps us south of the Fort Polk restricted area. And now we can talk."

"Dad was on his best behavior," Kara said. "He can be quite charming."

"He succeeded," I said.

"Don't get me wrong," Kara continued. "He doesn't treat me bad. It's just that he doesn't treat me good, either. I don't lack for anything material, you know."

Reprise of an old speech.

"There are worse things, Kara," Cindy said.

"I know," Kara replied. "We had this talk. I just wish..." her voice trailed off. She stared out the window at the ground sliding by a mile below us.

"Second thoughts?" Cindy's Dan asked.

"I shouldn't have them," Kara said. "I've been sent off to every imaginable teen adventure and summer music camp every summer for years. But this just feels different. Like I made a choice all by myself."

"Kara, it's your choice. If you're thinking you made a mistake, we can turn around," Dan said. "Nobody will think badly of you. This is a big step."

"We're here for you, Kara, whatever you want," Cindy reinforced.

"No," Kara said with emphasis. "Let's do this. A year from now I'd have to do it. Or the year after that. Sooner or later. I can do this. You all can help."

I put my arm around her. "Kara, we're glad to have you. This is going to be okay."

"I guess so. I'm sorry. Just having an episode." She looked out the window again. "You know, flying like this is just plain neat!"

"I've never flown the other way," I said.

"Me neither," Cindy echoed.

"Is it hard?" Kara asked.

"No, not really."

Kara looked at me. I nodded. "We'll make sure you get a try at it," I said. "Probably let one of the guys with a lot more hours do it with you in the front seat."

Kara's eyes brightened up. "I'd like that. Really."

"Another one who can get her license before I do," Cindy said, feigning sadness. "Hang on! Steep turn!" She dipped a wing and wheeled us around in a 60-degree bank. I knew her execution was correct when we ran into our own turbulence, just like my instructor said.

Kara squealed. "Hey! Neat!"

"I need to get you a ride with my friend Hanna back home," Cindy said. "I'm soooo tame."

"Cindy keeps threatening to expose us to her friend," I said. "Hanna's a trophy-grade aerobatic pilot."

"Makes my little turn look like a kiddy ride," Cindy said.

"And Cindy's not supposed to be doing steep turns at cruising altitude," Dan said.

"A steep turn is a clearing maneuver in its own right," Cindy said. "Nobody's supposed to be that close to us anyway."

Cindy's right. It's rare that we see another light plane outside the vicinity of an airport. Now, I have to give a different report for the times we've flown along the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. There's a constant stream of helicopters moving down there, but if you stay above a couple of thousand feet, you'll be above them.

Kara said, "You can feel the gravity change. Like a roller coaster."