“But…you know it might not be as thick in other spots,” Trask reminded her, trying not to let her see the depths of his distress.
“Which is why I’m doing a low pass overhead in a minute,” she replied patiently. “To have a closer look.”
Which wouldn’t tell her much, Trask wanted to complain; certainly not the dangers that might lie within the ice; holes, stray branches.
Still, he knew there was nothing he could do to discourage her. She’d made up her mind.
He heard her plane coming in low and closed his eyes to listen intently as she buzzed by, sending up prayers he was not accustomed to making.
“It doesn’t look terrible,” she told him. “I can see some of the surface because the wind has blown a lot of the snow away. It appears rough, but not as uneven as some of the terrain I’ve landed on in the past.”
She complained for one moment. “I only wish that I’d sprung to have these damned pontoons swapped out for skis. That retrofit would have come in handy right about now.”
Trask knew that skis would have made an ice landing so much easier.
Without them…
A pontoon touchdown was out, because the wide, flat bottoms would create too much drag and send her plane cartwheeling. A terrifying picture.
Her regular landing gear remained the only option.
But that lent itself to all kids of disastrous results that had Trask’s head almost exploding; careening out of control across the lake, heading for a thin spot in the ice that would have her submerging…
“You’re going to drop your wheels, right?” Trask somehow managed, wanting to hear reassurances from her.
“You know it. It’s my best bet. My only bet,” she laughed tightly. “Now let me concentrate, okay? I have a possible ‘runway’ sighted, and I’ll be coming in using my best, soft-field techniques. I promise.”
Trask knew that meant lowering her flaps, easing off the throttle, and adjusting her pitch so she didn’t stall.
There were still so many things that could go wrong, and even though he didn’t want to distract her, she spoke directly to him, again.
“I hear your brain sizzling down there, Trask. Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
The damned woman was going to be the death of him. She had nerves of steel, and a confidence that could lead to disaster.If she got out of this in one piece, he was going to paddle her ass until it glowed.
“Coming in,” she told him. “Flaps lowered. Reducing airspeed…”
Trask held a painful breath as she talked him through her prep.
“Uh, Trask? Just in case something goes wrong,” she postulated a little less confidently. “I…”
Trask groaned and waited.
“I…I actually need to tell you that I love your bossy, grumpy ass. And you’d damned well better fish me out of the drink if I go in head first.”
She…loved him? What the…?
Her distraction worked, because the next thing Trask knew…
“Skimming. Skimming…” she said as if she hadn’t just rocked his whole world.
He held his breath.
“Touchdown!” she shouted.
That was good, but before Trask celebrated, he wanted the plane stopped.
“Using rudders only. No brakes,” Jett added in almost a whisper to keep him in the loop. “Come on, baby,” she said to her plane. “We can do this.”
