Page 43 of The Cloud Catcher

She moved towards the kitchen table, where the vibrant flowers stood proudly in a vase now, their purple and yellow hues — her favourite combination — a testament to Jay’s thoughtfulness. ‘I’m sorry to spring this on you after you’ve just decided to sacrifice what you love, to be here, for me, for us …’

‘Zara, my love,’ Jay cut her short, his gentle tone wrapping around her like a warm embrace and his blue eyes reflecting a sky free of doubt. ‘I understand. Truly, I do. You’ve always soared, not just when you’re up there but here, with us too.’ He gestured around the room, their home, a sanctuary of their love and the life they’d built together. ‘Your independence, it’s one of the things I adore about you.’ His hand found hers across the table, his touch solid and sure. ‘We’ll figure this out, like we always do.’

‘Can we, though? Balance it all?’ The vulnerability she felt was overwhelming.

‘Let’s think about what matters most,’ he urged, his voice the foundation she needed to steady her racing heart. ‘Our love, our family, they’re not constraints, they’re our wings, Zara.’

‘Perhaps,’ she whispered, allowing herself to lean into his strength and to believe in the possibility of flight without fear of falling. ‘But can we keep on flying high without losing sight of the ground beneath us?’

‘Always,’ Jay promised, his unwavering belief in their unbreakable bond shining through the uncertainty. ‘Because no matter how high we fly, we come back to each other, our girls, to this place, our home, and to the time we’ve carved out for ourselves.’

A small nod was her acquiescence to hope and to the shared dreams that spanned beyond the horizon where the clear blue sky met the untainted landscape. They’d navigate the journey together, with love as their compass and time as the wind at their backs.

‘Thank you, Jay Maverick, for always allowing me to be me.’

‘I wouldn’t want you any other way, Za.’

* * *

Five days later, Jay stood at the threshold of the flight school’s office, his palms slightly clammy as he gripped the folder containing his meticulously organised resume and certifications.

‘Mr Maverick?’ The deep voice pulled him from his reverie, and he turned to face the head instructor, a sixty-something man with weathered features.

‘Call me Jay,’ he said with a smile, stepping into the room that smelled faintly of leather and old paper, holding decades of aviation history.

‘Take a seat, please.’ The man gestured to the one opposite his cluttered desk.

Sitting across from his interviewer, Jay’s heart swelled with the familiar rush of adrenaline he often felt before take-off, but this was different. This was not about soaring towards a destination with hundreds of passengers on board, it was about lifting others into the realm of clouds and dreams so they could follow in his footsteps.

‘So, Jay, what does this job mean for you?’ The man clasped his big hands on top of the desk.

‘Teaching is about connecting,’ Jay began passionately, ‘while guiding each student to find their own way through the skies, and not just instructing them on the mechanics of flight.’

The head instructor nodded, clearly attuned to Jay’s passion that seemed to fill the room like the sunlight streaming through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. ‘Tell me, with your amazing career at its height, why do you wish to teach here, specifically?’

‘Because this place,’ Jay gestured towards the window where small aircraft dotted the tarmac, ‘is where the heart of flying beats strongest. It’s not just about the aircraft, it’s about the community, the shared aspirations, and the magic of defying gravity.’ His words carried a sense of wonder and reverence for his work.

‘Hmm, I like your thinking, very much.’ A broad smile finally broke the interviewer’s stern features.

Jay finally felt the ease to breathe properly. And when the interview came to an end, he walked out of the flight school with a quiet confidence. It felt like he had this in the bag, but he couldn’t be too confident, given there were another five applicants. Wandering towards his car, his thoughts drifted to Zara. He imagined her, elegant in the aisle of an aircraft. They were both charting courses anew, with destiny giving him the chance to take the reins at home, so she could do something for herself, by herself. She definitely deserved to. And as he started the engine and turned towards home, the bright blue sky seemed to hold endless possibilities, just waiting for the both of them to reach out and take hold.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the hubbub of Brisbane, Zara stepped into the familiar cabin of a training aircraft, her senses immediately inundated with the scent of synthetic upholstery and sanitised air. She ran her hand over the seats, feeling the smoothness of the material beneath her fingers, and smiled at the other attendees, all there to rekindle their knowledge of the skies. The sound of their chatter and laughter filled the cosy space, creating a sense of camaraderie she’d not realised she’d missed so much, until now.

‘Welcome back, everyone,’ the trainer greeted them, her voice crisp over the hum of the hangar outside. ‘Let’s get this ball rolling, shall we?’

Zara listened intently, absorbing every piece of new information. Her dedication to her craft was as unyielding as the steel craft that encased them. As the instructor demonstrated the latest safety procedures, Zara moved with grace and precision, her movements honed by years of experience yet eager for refinement. Her focus remained steadfast as she looked towards the endless horizon she so loved — a horizon that promised adventure and whispered of the delicate dance between earth and ether.

‘Remember,’ the instructor emphasised, ‘the passengers look to you not just for service, but also for security and comfort. You’re essentially their guardian in the skies.’

Zara nodded, her eyes reflecting the weight of that responsibility and the pride she took in it as she thought of her daughters, and of the example she wanted to set — strength intertwined with compassion, independence balanced with commitment.

Almost at the eight-hour mark, broken only for lunch, the session began to wind down. Bidding farewell to her fellow flight attendants, Zara stayed behind to ask additional questions, her notebook brimming with annotations. She hadn’t noticed the time slipping by, nor the golden hue that now bathed the room as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

She was having fun, and time was flying.

* * *