Mia Ross - Circle of Family

A hundred percent male, he loved anything that went fast: Matt’s Harley, John’s Triumph convertible, now Ridge’s plane. She had to accept it, Marianne reminded herself. Her little boy was growing up, and she loved him too much to hold him back.

Hoping her sudden funk didn’t show, she smiled. “Let’s all go.”

With an excited whoop, he took off like a shot with Emily on his heels and the rest of them trailing behind. The kids ran down the lane until Marianne warned them to stop so they wouldn’t be too close to Betsy’s landing strip.

Goodness, she berated herself. Now she was calling the plane by name. Clearly, Ridge’s nuttiness was contagious.

After a minute or two, she noticed that Ridge wasn’t coming in to land. He was skimming low over their planted cornfields, spraying dust that would keep bugs and rot from destroying the crops as they grew. At the end of each long row, the plane looked like it couldn’t possibly pull up soon enough to avoid crashing into the woods. Yet somehow, Betsy made it every time.

“That’s so awesome!” Kyle exclaimed, pointing into the distance so Emily could follow the runs. “Ridge must be the best pilot in the world.”

Marianne didn’t know much about flying, but she admired his skill. He made the little plane dive like a hawk, then rise gracefully back into the air to circle around for another pass. Even though she had no desire to take a ride, she couldn’t help wondering what the sprawling Sawyer Farm looked like from the air.

Ridge must have spotted them all standing there, because the plane banked and came toward the house. Waving from the open cockpit, he rocked the wings back and forth. Screaming and waving back, the kids jumped up and down with delight. She saw him grin before whipping into a full barrel roll that took him over their heads and perilously close to the tops of the trees.

“He’s going to crash in the woodlot,” she predicted in a tight voice.

“Nah,” John assured her with a grin. “Ridge knows what he’s doing.”

Marianne wasn’t convinced of that. But she was certain that he’d once again turned her very carefully planned schedule upside down. “He was supposed to dust here tomorrow.”

“Does it really matter?” John asked.

“I close the windows when they dust,” she explained, “and make sure the kids aren’t here while all that pesticide is floating around.”

“We really liked it, Mommy,” Emily added, looking up at her brother. “Didn’t we, Kyle?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, eyes fixed on the plane as it looped around and came to rest on its makeshift runway. “Ridge is so lucky, being able to do that.”

Even though she’d never admit it to anyone, Marianne couldn’t agree more. With her own confidence in tatters, she admired the courage Ridge showed in the air and on the ground. Fearless and confident, he seemed to assume that things would work out for the best. His fun-loving personality showed when he flipped the plane like it was a kite and began his descent.

She was grateful for the life she and her children enjoyed, settled in this safe, cozy place. But she couldn’t help wondering how it felt to have the wind rushing past you while you flew through the clouds, free as a bird.

* * *

To avoid damaging the field any more than he had to, Ridge brought Betsy to a gentle stop in the same marks he’d already made. As he shut the engine down, he looked out to see a line of people headed his way, the kids running in front. He was seldom in one place more than a few weeks, so people didn’t usually make such a fuss over him. Between the wedding and today, he’d gotten more attention than he had in the last six months. For a habitual wanderer like him, it was kind of fun.

“That was awesome!” Kyle said approvingly with a huge grin. “Did you see us waving?”

“Sure did.” Ridge smiled at him and then Emily. “I wasn’t putting on a show for the corn, y’know.”

While John complimented him, Ridge was only half listening. He was more curious about the expression on Marianne’s face. He was used to women being impressed with him, or at least with his flying. The problem was, she didn’t look impressed.

She looked annoyed.

For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine why. Then she filled in the blanks for him.

“I thought you were dusting tomorrow.”

Her clipped tone told him she was irritated with the change in plans, and he waited a beat to make sure he sounded professional. “The forecast is for rain tomorrow and Tuesday. I moved up my jobs to make sure they got done, so the spray wouldn’t get washed off before it had a chance to soak in and do its work.”

The glacial temperature of her eyes warmed a little, and she nodded. “Well, that makes sense.”

When the others headed back inside, she turned and followed them. As he fell in step beside her, Ridge took a shot at what might be bothering her.

“Don’t worry about paying me,” he said. “I’ll be around.”

“This farm is a business, and we pay people what we owe them when it’s due.”

She refused to look at him, and he sighed in resignation. “I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just that Matt and I are friends, and I don’t want to make things tough on you. Financially,” he added, to be sure they were clear on that point. In the short time he’d known her, Marianne had struck him as someone who liked to dot her i’s and cross her t’s.

She didn’t respond to that, and he figured it was best to keep quiet. Then she surprised him.

Glancing over at him, she said, “Thank you for doing those tricks for the kids. It was nice of you.”

I’m a nice guy was on the tip of his tongue, but he thought better of it. He hated to sound pathetic, like he was trying to convince her of what most people got right off the bat.

So he settled for, “I’m glad they liked it.”

He wondered if she’d enjoyed the show, too, but figured it would be lame to ask.

“I also want to thank you for helping John clean up the tables and chairs last night,” she added. “He said it took half as long as he thought it would.”

“No problem. Just pitching in where I could.”

She didn’t say anything else as Ridge followed her up the front porch steps and through the double doors. From the large entryway, one arch led into the living room and another to an office.

In direct contrast to the neat but lived-in look of the rest of the house, this room was ruthlessly tidy. Every surface was clear of papers, which he assumed were filed in the row of cabinets along the far wall. The walls were a fresh cream color, with family pictures from many generations scattered all around.

One on the desk caught his eye, and he picked it up for a closer look. Anybody with half a brain could tell it was the Sawyers. All of them. Ridge had never met Matt’s parents, but he smiled at the happy family sharing a picnic somewhere. The little girl hanging over their father’s shoulder looked a lot like Emily, and he pointed to the grinning face.

“Is this you?”

Marianne glanced over, and a sad smile dimmed her features. “Yes. That was taken just before Mom got sick.”

Her last good memory of her mother, Ridge realized with a frown. No wonder the little frame held the place of honor on her desk. Very carefully, he set it down and wandered over to the windows. One looked out over the front garden while the other framed the pond, making it seem like a landscape painting. Except for the sleek laptop and printer on the large desk, the scarred antique furniture appeared to have been here since the house was built.

“Great spot.” He strolled over to admire her view of the pond. “Must be nice working in here.”

“It is,” she replied as she sat down and opened a program on her computer. While her fingers clicked on the keys, she asked, “I know your name, but what’s your address?”