“Rob—”
After a silence he said, “That wasn’t the one-word answer I wanted to hear. I knew you were the one for me when we first met. Surely you’ve realized I’m in love with you, Jasmine.”
She wished she could say the same, but she couldn’t. “I care for you a lot, Rob. Otherwise I wouldn’t be with you now, but—”
“But your feelings aren’t strong enough to say you’ll marry me,” he broke in on her.
“I need more time to commit to a decision that will change my whole life.”
“How much more? I’d hoped we’d return from our trip with the engagement ring I bought for you on your finger. I want it there when we attend the rally in three weeks. It’s a good thing I know your feelings now instead of at dinner when I’d planned to propose to you.”
Her heart sank. “I’m so sorry, Rob. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I’ve always been slower to make any important decision. It’s my nature. You know I think you’re wonderful, or I wouldn’t have come with you.”
She felt horrible and wished she hadn’t agreed to come with him. Now she’d ruined the weekend. In the silence she suddenly heard a thump and then there was a burst of feathers in the cockpit. A bird had crashed through the windshield. The propeller fluttered before the engine died.
Jasmine cried out Rob’s name, but his focus was on the controls, pushing in knobs, pulling out others. He turned to her. “We’ve hit a hawk, and now we’re going to have to put her down in the mountains.”
“We’re going to crash, aren’t we?”
“Afraid so, but we have about ninety seconds before we reach the treetops. After impact, we have to get out as quickly as we can. If I’m unconscious, remember to pull these latches to get out of your seat belt and get me out of mine. You need to get away from the plane as fast as possible. Now I want you to cover your head with your arms.”
She turned straight forward in a state of shock while she heard him call, “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday.” Jasmine couldn’t believe this was happening to them.
“Look—right over there. A logging road that might open into a small meadow. I’m going to head for that. Let’s pray she glides to the opening, and we don’t hit the trees.”
While Jasmine was praying with all her might, she heard him repeat, “Come on, come on. I don’t know if we’re going to make it, but we’re going to try.”
The next thing she was aware of was the crush of branches, and she realized the tail was raking through the trees. All of a sudden she was thrown forward in her seat, and the plane hit the ground. In that horrific moment it slid up a slope to a stop.
Amazed she was still alive, she turned to Jim. His head lay against the side window. She cried his name, but he didn’t respond. He’d been knocked out, but she didn’t see any blood except some cuts on his hands and arms. It took her a minute to think.
If I’m unconscious, remember to pull the latches to get out of your seat belt.
She followed his instructions and reached for the latch to extricate herself. Then she pulled his latch. He still wasn’t moving. She felt for a pulse. He was still alive, thank God.
She had to get them out of there, but when she tried to open her door, it wouldn’t budge. She tried again before realizing it had been dented on impact and would need force in order to pry it open.
The only thing to do was climb out the shattered windshield and jump down so she could pull him out of the plane on his side. First she had to push out the broken glass so she wouldn’t cut herself exiting the cockpit.
With her adrenaline gushing, she cleared it enough to get through, then climbed up on the seat. After gripping part of the dented frame, she swung herself through and took a leap. The ground came up hard, almost knocking the wind out of her. Nausea swept through her. When she could find the strength to stand, she hurried around to the pilot’s side of the plane.
She reached for the door handle and opened it. Jim was six feet and a dead weight in her arms. She tried to work him out of his seat belt. If he had internal injuries or a broken neck or bones, she had no way of knowing. All that mattered was to get them as far away from the plane as possible before something exploded.
Wymon had been driving along one of the logging roads in the Sapphires for about ten minutes when he saw a single engine plane plunge into the trees directly ahead of him.
His heart almost failed him. He reached for his phone and called 911. After identifying himself, he gave the coordinates of the crash. “I’m headed to the site. Send an ambulance and a Bronco with a tank of water ASAP.”
Another minute and he reached a clearing where he saw a wrecked Cessna and a blonde woman working to pull the pilot from the cockpit. No fire had broken out yet—there was just a trail of ripped-up ground made by the plane when it came down. Amazed that part of it was still intact, he knew a crack pilot had been at the controls.
He jumped out of his truck and ran to help. “I’ll take over, but first I need to get you to safety. My name is Wymon Clayton.” He picked up the woman and carried her to the edge of the clearing.
“Thank you. He still has a pulse,” she yelled after him as he ran toward the plane.
Wymon pulled the pilot free of his harness and dragged him as fast as he could toward the woman. The poor guy was covered in cuts from the broken windshield. Oddly enough, he looked familiar to Wymon. Once he’d reached her, he began CPR.
“Come on, Rob. Wake up,” she cried.
Rob. This was Robert Farnsworth, a state representative who’d been vocal about the drainage cleanup from the mines. Wymon could understand that, but more recently he’d been against the grizzly reintroduction issue which went against what Wymon was fighting for.
He continued giving him CPR. In another minute the pilot came to.
“Oh thank God, you’re awake!” the woman said and smoothed the hair off his forehead.
“Jasmine?” he said faintly.
“Don’t move, Mr. Farnsworth. An ambulance is on its way.” He looked into the woman’s beautiful spring-green eyes. She’d survived an ordeal that should have knocked her out too, or worse. Cuts covered part of her arms, as well. “Make him lie still while I run for a blanket.”
Wymon raced to the truck. He pulled two blankets from the truck bed where he always kept his camping gear for emergencies and reached for a can of soda from the rear seat. When he returned, he put one blanket over the pilot to keep him warm, and then told the woman to sit down. He was surprised she hadn’t gone into shock already. Once she’d done as he asked, he wrapped the other blanket around her. In the process, his face brushed against her sweet-smelling hair.
“Drink this. You need the sugar.”
“Thank you,” she said in a quiet voice. “If you hadn’t come when you did...”
“Don’t think about that.”
He moved over to the pilot and hunkered down next to him. “The paramedics will be here any moment. Are you feeling severe pain anywhere besides your head?”
“No. A hawk... It flew into the propeller and shattered the windshield.”
“You deserve a medal for getting both of you out of this crash alive. There aren’t that many open pockets in this area.”
“Rob’s an incredible pilot,” his companion acknowledged. “He told me exactly what to do.” She took a few more sips of the drink.
He