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He flew toward the cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul. The size of them amazed her, as did the twisting, turning Mississippi River. He turned the direction of their flight before they reached the cities, and the farm fields caught her attention then. They looked like squares on a quilt.
Time seemed to go by as fast as they were flying. Before she knew it, she could see Lester’s farm again. Disappointment threatened to overtake the joy filling her, but she refused to give it room to grow. She was too happy for that. Furthermore, she had no idea how much work it must be for Forrest to keep the plane flying. It must take a lot of concentration. His intelligence had always amazed her, and that amazement had just increased tenfold.
As smoothly as a bird swoops to the ground, the plane eased downward, and with little more than a couple of bumps, they were on the ground, rolling toward the building. Unable to stop herself, Twyla squeezed her eyes shut, afraid they might run right into the wooden structure. She opened them as she felt the plane turn.
When the plane came to a complete stop, the building was straight behind them. That, too, astounded her. Forrest certainly knew how to maneuver the plane, both in the air and on the ground.
Her ears were still ringing, and it took a moment before she realized the noise of the engine had stopped. Twisting about, she grinned and held up one thumb.
He smiled and pushed his goggles up onto his forehead.
“So?” was all he said.
“So?” Twyla tried to shove up her goggles, but all she managed to do was pinch the skin at her temples. The strap was so tight they wouldn’t budge. Forrest had climbed out of his cockpit and stood on the frame of the lower wing as he had when he’d helped her climb in. Reaching over, he pulled the goggles off her eyes and pushed them onto her forehead.
“That,” she said, grabbing his forearms, “was the most amazing thing ever. Ever. When can we do it again?”
“You didn’t get sick?” he asked.
“Sick?”
“Yes, a lot of people get sick to their stomach or light-headed the first time they go up.”
Twyla shook her head. “My stomach fell clear to my toes a couple of times, but I never got sick.” She stared deeper into his luminescent brown eyes. “You remember that about me, don’t you, Forrest? How I never got sick on amusement park rides or swings, or when the waves would get so high the rowboat would list.”
Goodness, but he was so very handsome. The way he stared back made her heart speed as out of control as the little wooden boat they’d once used to row out over the lake.
“Yes,” he said. “I remember.”
Twyla didn’t realize she was holding her breath until Forrest removed his hands from her goggles. She emptied her lungs, but wasn’t disappointed, not in the least. She then attempted to release the straps he’d secured around her waist and over her shoulders, but seemed to be all thumbs.
“I’ll get it,” Forrest said, pushing her hands aside.
“When can we go up again?” she asked.
Still grinning, he winked one eye, an adorable action that made her heart skip a beat. She’d forgotten how much he’d always filled her with something a bit unnerving. That feeling was unique, no matter how hard she’d tried to find it again—and she had tried. She could spot a handsome man at one hundred yards, and make sure they noticed her, too. Yet not one of them had made her feel the way Forrest could. No other man had ever been of his caliber, either in looks or the way he made her heart and stomach flutter.
“Here, climb out,” Forrest said, reaching out to assist her.
She held on to his shoulder with one hand while lifting one leg and then the other over the edge of the plane. The pants were big and cumbersome, but eventually she managed, and then followed Forrest’s directions as to where to step. Once he’d jumped to the ground, he reached up and grasped her waist.
Setting both hands on his shoulders, she held on while he lifted her down. Her legs wobbled slightly when her feet touched the ground.
“Give yourself a moment to get your sea legs back,” he said.
“We weren’t on a boat,” she needlessly pointed out, while not letting go of his shoulders.
“I know,” he said. “But it’s similar. Give yourself a moment for your equilibrium to return.”
Flying had nothing to do with her unsteadiness. It didn’t have anything to do with the way her mouth went dry when their gazes met, either.
She bit into her bottom lip. Hard.
Time stopped. Her mind went blank, and for some unexplainable reason, she felt rather dizzy. This was Forrest. Her old best friend. Her sister’s ex-boyfriend. The man Norma Rose insisted they all had to hate and whom she’d claimed was as much their enemy as his father had been. Twyla closed her eyes against the idea.
