Such a Rush(11)
Author: Jennifer Echols

Jake and Alec hooted laughter. Alec said, “That’s exactly what I was thinking: ‘Grayson is probably enjoying this.’”

“That’s what Dad was thinking too,” Jake said. He slipped into the imitation of Mr. Hall that all his sons could do so well. “‘That boy probably thinks this is fun. He never did have the sense God gave a goat.’”

Their laughter quieted as Mr. Hall passed me on the grass. Grayson still smiled, but the laughter had left his eyes. He waited for his father’s verdict.

I held my breath for the second time that afternoon. When something went wrong at Hall Aviation, it was usually Grayson’s fault, because he forgot a chore or blew it off. But Mr. Hall tended to blame him even when the problem was Alec’s fault, or Jake’s fault, or Mr. Hall’s own fault, or nobody’s fault at all. I had wanted to tell Mr. Hall this before, but it was not my place to say.

Mr. Hall slapped Grayson’s shoulder, then moved his hand to the back of Grayson’s neck. “And that, son, is a ground loop.”

They all burst into laughter again, Mr. Hall included. Grayson said sarcastically, “Thank you for the insight, Father.”

“Let’s see what kind of damage you did to her.” Mr. Hall walked around the wing tip lodged in the grass, heading for the nose. Alec and Jake followed him, but Grayson stayed where he was. Now that they weren’t watching him, his blond brows knitted. He looked at the plane, then at the sky, and bit his lip.

I whispered, “Are you really okay?”

His gray eyes widened at me, as if he hadn’t noticed me standing there until now. He whispered back, “Actually, I think I’m going to hurl.”

“I’ll cover for you.”

He stared at me for a moment more, like he didn’t trust me. Then he turned and jogged toward the trees.

I followed Mr. Hall and the boys around the wing and peered over their shoulders as they turned the seemingly undamaged propeller by hand, testing it. I waited until they noticed Grayson was missing.

“Grayson? Where’s Grayson?” Mr. Hall called.

I glanced back at the wing. “Uh-oh, the gas tank has ruptured.”

“What?” Mr. Hall bellowed. He and Alec and Jake moved from the propeller to crowd around the wing. I pointed to a scrape as if I thought this indicated structural damage to the tank. They poked at the wing, ran their hands along it, fingered the joints. After a few long minutes, Mr. Hall looked up at me like I’d lost my mind.

I felt Grayson’s shadow return behind me. “I guess not,” I said.

All of them straightened and discussed the findings. Grayson stepped toward them without comment like he’d been hanging around the other end of the plane the whole time. The consensus was that the plane was hardly damaged at all, but they wanted to tow it back to the hangar where they could get a better look before the rain came. Without glancing at Grayson, I handed him my bottle of water. He took a swig while the rest of them were talking and spat it on the grass.

They all turned and sauntered back toward the hangar. Their laughter rolled back to me against the cold wind. It wasn’t like the boys had forgotten me, because I was never part of their family anyway. I was nothing to remember. But Mr. Hall had forgotten me completely, as if I hadn’t been standing next to him while we witnessed the wreck.

That was only fitting. All three of his sons were with him at once. That hardly ever happened anymore. It was Christmas. And Grayson was safe.

Without breaking his pace, Grayson looked back over his shoulder at me and mouthed, Thank you. He turned around again without waiting for my answer.

A month later, back in Afghanistan, Jake would die in a jet crash. And Mr. Hall’s heart couldn’t take it. A month after that he would follow Jake to the grave. So in the end I was glad they had this one last family afternoon together, and I wasn’t loitering around the Hall Aviation hangar, polluting it.

The phone rang in my back pocket. Still watching the Halls walk away, I brought the phone to my ear. “Heaven Beach Airport.” My voice shook. I held the phone at arm’s length and took a deep, steadying breath. Then I started again. I said into the phone, evenly and all better now, “This is Leah. How may I help you?”

three

April

The Admiral’s dead calm voice came over the radio on loudspeaker, announcing to other pilots in the area that he was nearing the airport. The moan of his engine drifted to me on the breeze, but the plane was too far away to see.

I sat in one of the rocking chairs on the porch of the airport office, ready to run onto the tarmac and place chocks around the wheels of the plane after the Admiral landed. But mostly I was preoccupied with staring past my newspaper, past the gas pumps and the flagpole, way up the tarmac at the Hall Aviation hangar. This was the first day since Mr. Hall had died that I’d seen Grayson’s truck and Alec’s car parked there. They must be starting spring break of their high school senior year, like I was. They would spend their free week going through Mr. Hall’s things, his papers and gadgets and inventions and equipment and four airplanes, preparing to sell them off and pocket the dough. They didn’t need to work for him to earn college money anymore. They could take it all and run.

Which was unkind of me to assume. It must be hard for them to sift through their dad’s stuff, hard even to be in the hangar without him or Jake either. More than once during that long Saturday at work, I’d thought about ambling over and peeking in on them to see if there was anything I could do.

Memories of Mr. Hall’s funeral stopped me. The Admiral and his wife had taken me with them to the funeral home. The Admiral’s wife probably made the Admiral ask me whether I needed a ride. Much as I hated accepting obvious charity, if they hadn’t driven me, I wouldn’t have been able to go. Molly had a Valentine’s date. I wouldn’t have asked her to break it for me.

At the funeral home chapel, and later at the graveyard, I stayed close to the Admiral’s wife, like we were family. The Admiral sat up front because he and Mr. Hall had been such good friends, and he was the one who had found the body. So he was next to Alec and Grayson, and neither of the boys ever looked around at me.

They should have. They could have come and asked me earlier today about Mr. Hall’s ridiculous filing system. I would have saved them hours of work. But they wouldn’t ask, and I wouldn’t offer. I’d shared one glimmer of a friendly moment with Grayson four months before when he crashed the Piper. That didn’t matter now. I couldn’t shake the sound of him saying more than a year ago, Why else would that stingy bastard give away flying lessons for free? If I stepped inside the hangar, they would think I wanted something.