“IVAN, are you sure about this?” I’d asked as he buckled my life vest and then did the same with the seat straps.
“Oh I’m very sure about taking you for a ride in my plane.” He leaned close and kissed me expertly, leaving me breathless again. He pulled on the straps to check them and said, “Safety first, Miss Hargreave, but you’re going to love this, trust me.”
I still wasn’t completely sure what had just happened with him. One minute he was reminding me how well he could use his lips on me, and the next he was pulling me toward his plane and asking if he could take me up for a ride.
He said, ‘trust me.’
Could I trust Ivan Everley? Should I trust him?
He’d looked so serious when he asked the question, holding my face in his two hands and waiting for my answer. I think I would have devastated him if I’d told him no. I thought about it. I should have told him no. I think the four, or was it five, berry mojitos might have had something to do with my acquiescence, but he looked so happy when I agreed to go.
One of my many flaws is that I am a risk-taker at heart.
I’ll try anything once.
So, when Ivan suggested we take a night flight in his Cessna floatplane, takeoff from the water, and look at the city lights of England under a summer full moon, I said ‘why not’ and let him put me in his plane. Again, the mojitos helped me come to my decision to go with him.
“You were totally right, the city lights are so incredibly pretty.” I peered out the window thoroughly enjoying the view from the air.
“Your lack of fear impresses the hell out of me, Miss Hargreave.”
“Why do you call me that all the time? It’s so formal.” The alcohol had loosened my inhibitions and all kinds of questions started pouring out of me, but he didn’t seem to mind answering. So, I kept asking.
“I like formalities … sometimes … as you’ll learn,” he said deliberately.
“Because you’re a lord?”
He gave me a snort. “No, that’s not why.”
“Who taught you to fly a plane?”
“My uncle arranged for me to go to flight school when I was at university. He thought it was appropriate for his heir to know such things. It was something I really took to heart. I loved flying from my first lesson.”
“Why did you love it?”
He shrugged. “The freedom I suppose. Troubles seem less important from up here. At least it’s always felt that way to me.”
“Are we flying over the ocean right now?” I couldn’t see any more city lights and it made sense.
“That is the Irish Sea below us.”
“Do you ever land this in the ocean?”
“No. That’s the thing with floats; they only work in very calm waters. The ocean is far too rough and landing in it would not be safe, trust me.”
“You keep telling me to trust you.”
“I know I do.” He reached his hand over to mine and brought it forward to rest on his lap. “Is it working?” he asked hopefully, pulling it up the rest of the way to his lips. Ahhh, so he could do romantic, too. Deadly combination Mr. Everley had going on.
“Well, I’m trying really hard to trust you. I let you take me for a ride in your plane when I could be putting my life at risk. I mean, how should I know if you’re a licensed pilot and have the proper skills to land on a lake?”
He flashed me another of those teeth baring smiles. They were very white and even, but he had the gap between the front two. Sometimes imperfections were more beautiful than the absence of them.
“You’re about to find out. Here we go.”
He had to release my hand to work the controls and do his checks. His hands moved in precise motions, focused and confident.
I was mesmerized as I watched him work to prepare the plane for landing.
He banked toward the left before leveling it out to descend rapidly and drop us just a few feet over the dark water of the lake. We skimmed along for a bit until the swoosh of water grabbed the bottom of the floats and immediately slowed our momentum. In a matter of seconds we were no longer propelled through the air, but floating in water and gliding along smoothly like a sailboat.
“Wow, that was so—so awesome.” And I really meant it.
“So, you enjoyed that did you?”
“Yes. It was beautiful.”
He looked at me and said, “You’re beautiful.”
~*~
I read about the story behind the poster and was absolutely fascinated by the rich history involved in its creation. In 1939 the posters were commissioned as WWII propaganda to bolster the public during the dark days of wartime hardships coming to Britain. Fifty years later a bookshop owner found one in a box purchased at auction and loved it so much she had it framed and displayed in her store. I found a cool YouTube about the history of