Storm the Author's Cut

  Storm

  The Author's Cut

  by

  Vanessa Grant

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Copyright © 1985, 2011, by Vanessa Grant. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

  Cover art © 2011, Angela Oltmann

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  Storm

  The Author's Cut

  Broadcaster Laurie Mather wanted desperately to be aboard Luke Lucas's seaplane when he flew out on a search-and-rescue mission off the treacherous coast of Haida Gwaii—for professional reasons, but also for deeply rooted personal reasons.

  But when she pressured Luke into accepting her presence, she had no idea that she was Luke's private fantasy, a warm living voice he listened to on lonely flights—but one he had no desire to turn into reality.

  When Laurie succeeded in talking her way aboard Luke's plane, she had no idea that her life was about to be changed forever.

  Author's Note

  Storm is my second novel, the story of Luke and Laurie falling in love on the magical islands of Haida Gwaii in British Columbia. Luke and Laurie have always had a special place in my heart, and the storm that drew them together symbolized many coastal adventures I've shared with my husband.

  When I wrote Storm, I set the story on the Queen Charlotte Islands of British Columbia, islands originally named after the wife of the British King George III without regard to the fact that the indigenous First Nations had already named their islands. In 2009 the province of British Columbia signed a historic reconciliation agreement with the Haida Nation, and the islands were renamed Haida Gwaii. Because the romance in Storm is so much a part of the heritage of Haida Gwaii, I wanted to bring the story forward into the 21st Century.

  In bringing the islands forward to the present day, I've taken artistic license with regard to logging on Lyell Island. A few years after the book was originally published, a national park was established and the Gwaii Trust was given the task of managing the forests. Because logging itself is not central to the story, I've taken the artistic license of leaving the logging camp on Lyell Island.

  Chapter 1

  Luke scanned the harbor ahead for logs and other hazards as water rushed through between the floats of his Beaver seaplane.

  All clear.

  The motion of a bumpy takeoff smoothed and the plane skimmed lightly along the wave tops. Then, between one wave and the next, the wings lifted and flight began. The sensation still thrilled him after years of flight as daily routine.

  He banked the seaplane gently, turning north, and then adjusted controls for an easy, steady climb, and spoke into his microphone.

  "QC Air, this is CF191."

  "Base here. Go ahead, Luke."

  Luke pushed a hand through his sun-bleached hair. "I'm northbound over Lawn Point, Barry. The storm is still holding off to the south. My ETA at Massett is 13:00, twenty minutes ahead of schedule."

  "Roger that, Luke. I've got a party of three for Cape St James. Who shall I send?"

  "Willie can take them in the new Cessna. The weather should hold long enough. Warn him to keep to the open water and stay out of those passages."

  Luke signed off. With the radio silent, he was alone high above the world. Below him, Graham Island stretched towards Alaska. On the west coast of the island, he knew the open Pacific Ocean would be crashing storm waves against the mountains. Here on the east coast, the Hecate Strait—sixty miles of water notorious for sudden and dangerous storms—separated the islands of Haida Gwaii from the mainland west coast of British Columbia.

  This was his peaceful time. Running a charter company, Luke spent a good deal of each day talking with people—all kinds, from mining executives to the lighthousekeepers' wives who chartered planes to escape lonely isolation for a few days in the city. Passengers liked to talk and Luke enjoyed listening.

  When his wristwatch signaled noon, he switched his radio to the broadcast.

  A half-mile above the earth Luke Lucas listened to Laurie Mather's vibrant, low-pitched voice as she read the news. He had seen her only once, microphone in hand, black curls tumbled in the wind as she interviewed a fisherman on the docks while the boats in the harbor surged and flexed against their lines.

  The gusty wind hadn't upset her balance although she was a small woman. She'd altered the microphone angle to minimize wind noise and smiled at the fisherman, asking a question Luke couldn't hear.

  He'd imagined her smile was for him.

  When the news ended, her voice became lower and more intimate. The news was serious business, but now was time for a more personal tone. He listened to her banter gently with John Wainwright, her co-announcer.

  "This morning I talked to Tony Whitshire, an Australian who spent the last six weeks crossing the Pacific Ocean in a thirty foot sailboat."

  Luke's eyes scanned the land below, but he saw her in his imagination as she interviewed the Australian. "How do you feel, having just crossed the ocean from Australia to Canada?"

  "Fantastic! In the middle of the Pacific Ocean, I was the only person in the world. The greatest moment was when I sighted these islands. I'd taken sun sights with my sextant, knew I was somewhere just west of the Queen Charlotte Islands, but when I sighted land—I know how Columbus must have felt!"

  Although Laurie didn't correct the sailor directly about his name for the Islands, she ended her interview with a friendly, "Welcome to Haida Gwaii, the islands of the people." Luke smiled at her acknowledgment of the recent Haida Gwaii Reconciliation Act, which had officially renamed the Islands to their traditional First Nations name.

  He had been listening to Laurie's voice since he first came to the islands two years ago. In his imagination, he knew the sound of her voice in the aftermath of love and how her eyes would darken with passion.

  In such a small town it would have been easy to find out about her, even to meet her; but he was careful never to mention her name, never to learn any detail of her personal life. As a voice on the radio, an image in his mind, she was in no danger of becoming an uncontrollable part of his life.

  There had been women in his life, but he instinctively kept clear of any real commitment. Laurie, whom he had never met, he kept safely in his dreams.

  She spoke to him, bidding him goodbye as the Noon Show ended. When the impersonal tones of the afternoon disc jockey echoed hollowly in Luke's ears, he switched the radio back to his company aircraft frequency, intensely aware that he was alone in the sky.

  * * *

  After the Noon Show, Laurie ran out to do a quick interview before Island Time aired at two. An international mining corporat
ion was rapidly expanding in the area. Good for the economy, but bad for the ecology. The mine manager evaded her attempts to talk about the environment.

  Back at the station, Island Time moved with the relaxed purposefulness of most of the islanders. Funny, queer items of local interest were aired along with more serious topics like the economy and ecology. As usual, the hour whizzed by for Laurie and when John signaled her, she closed the show with "For Friday, June the tenth, this is Laurie Mather..."

  "...and John Wainright," added her colleague, his classy baritone in sharp contrast to his tall, thin body and its shaggy hair.

  "...wishing you a good weekend," finished Laurie. "Island Time will be back on Monday at two. Right now, stay tuned for Harry Devon with soft music for a windy afternoon."

  She met her audience every day, her neighbors and friends, but when she spoke to the microphone, she spoke to only one person. John had taught her that years ago, when facing a microphone made her tremble with nervousness.

  "Think of someone close," he had said. "Imagine the person closest to you, talk to him and only him."

  After the broadcast Laurie went into the library to search out music between the inevitable phone calls. The new hospital administrator returned her call and she recorded a brief interview over the phone, then Ken McDonald called to confirm his younger sister's arrival on the afternoon plane from the mainland.

  "She's looking forward to the party Mom arranged for tonight," he said. "You won't be late?"

  "No overtime tonight," she promised.

  The next call was Ellen, the station manager's administrative assistant, who also happened to be Ken's older sister. "Nat wants to see you, so don't let him talk you into overtime. Mom's got a party tonight and Ken is worried you'll be late."

  "I'm on it," said Laurie.

  She had been boarding at the McDonald house three years when Ken moved back home. Ellen, married and living in the house next door, had heartily approved Laurie's recent engagement to Ken and she frowned on any events that might keep Laurie late.

  When Laurie got to Nat Howard's office, he waved her to a chair and started talking.

  "Charter plane took off from the mainland at nine this morning, flying into a lumber camp south of here. Should have arrived about ten-thirty. Six hours overdue now."

  "Oh, no!" Better than anyone, she knew what a missing plane meant on these remote islands on the west coast of Canada. She had memories of other small planes lost. Lives lost.

  "What sort of plane? How many on board? Any radio contact?"

  "Amphibious Grumman Goose with six passengers. Last radio contact with Prince Rupert twenty minutes after takeoff. They were in Hecate Strait—where they should have been—heading west for the Islands."

  "I'll call JRCC for an update."

  "I've already done that, " said Nat. "Planes are just starting out on the search. The Goose wasn't reported overdue till half an hour ago. The logging company phoned the charter outfit on the mainland to ask where their men were. Every amphibious plane in the area is going up to search. You know Luke Lucas?"

  "QC Air's owner," said Laurie. "He bought the airline about two years ago and John's been trying to interview him, but apparently the man's got no time for the media."

  "He's sending his whole fleet on this search. Not much daylight left, but they'll search while they can. Go down there and get a comment out of him. If he tells you to go to hell, he's too busy looking for the downed plane to play publicity games, be sure you get it recorded."

  Outside, but the sky had blackened as if day were almost over. For a moment the life that had animated Laurie's movements faded and she stared blindly at the threatening sky.

  She had once loved storms, loved the independent wildness of the ocean.

  She pushed the memories back and forced herself to focus only on the missing plane and its passengers as she drove her blue Honda to the seaplane wharf. She parked at QC Air and ran into the building. A gust of wind caught the door as she opened it and she grabbed wildly as it slammed against the building.

  Inside, a lean young man looked up owlishly through round spectacles.

  "Sorry about the door," she apologized breathlessly.

  "No problem. The door's hooped." A radio console blared and he picked up a microphone and announced, "CF191, this is base."

  The voice coming from the radio was nothing more than gibberish but evidently the owly young man understood it.

  A map on the wall showed Haida Gwaii, with a series of concentric circles drawn around Queen Charlotte City. Beside the map, a blackboard was sectioned off in columns. One column was labeled CF191. Below it, she saw written, "Masset-QC City lv. 1500."

  "Roger that. I'll be standing by." The young man left the radio transmitter and made unintelligible amendments to the words on the blackboard. "We're not flying any more charters today," he said to Laurie.

  "I'd like to talk to Mr. Lucas. I'm Laurie Mather from QC Radio."

  "Luke's flying—that was him I talked to."

  She looked at the board with more interest. "He should be here any minute, shouldn't he? "

  "Nope. A seaplane was reported missing this afternoon—not one of ours, but..."

  "Tell me about it," she urged him, holding her recorder towards him. "When did you first hear about it?"

  He was eager to talk. "I heard it on the radio—our aircraft frequency. The owners of the missing plane called the other charter companies in the area—that was about an hour ago. Luke was in the air, flying a charter. He told me to get all the planes out flying a pattern over Moresby Island, then call JRCC to advise them—"

  "JRCC?"

  "The Joint Rescue Coordination Centre. They supervise rescue work on Canada's west coast." Although Laurie knew this, she wanted the explanation captured for her listeners.

  "Are all Mr. Lucas' planes out searching now?"

  "Yeah, even Luke. He was on a charter flight but his passenger volunteered to stay up and help spot—makes it easier to search with two people in the plane."

  "They'll land at sunset then—if they don't find the missing plane first?"

  "They sure can't search at night." The young man pushed his glasses back up his nose. "It's tough enough now—such a dark day they could easily fly over the missing plane without seeing it. They'll come in just before dark."

  "Can you show me exactly where the missing plane was headed and where your planes are searching?"

  She followed him over to a map on the wall.

  "This is Lyell Island," he said. "That's where the missing plane was headed. Luke's searching north of Lyell right now. The other planes are further south."

  "And the logging camp?"

  "Here, on the north end of Lyell."

  Laurie thanked him for his help.

  "My girlfriend will get a kick out of hearing me on the radio."

  "Tell her to listen to the six o'clock news. If I'm lucky, I'll get back in time to get it on."

  Back at the studio she edited the recording and was sorting the last of her papers into order as her countdown began on the big studio clock. She introduced the news and moved into the lead item, describing the official news on the missing aircraft as obtained from JRCC. Then she announced, "A few moments ago I talked with Barry Stinson of QC Air about QC's involvement in the search." She cut in the interview.

  "Sounded good," said Nat when he came in after the broadcast. "But what about Lucas?"

  "I'll catch him when his plane lands just before dark."

  When Laurie left the studio, Nat's office was empty, Ellen's typewriter covered and her desk empty. In Studio I, Harry had finished programming the automatic disc jockey and was getting ready to leave. Laurie locked the door behind her, thinking of the interview she hoped to get with Lucas... of Bev's visit... of the party she was to attend that evening, and a missing plane somewhere south of her.

  At the McDonald house, she left her purse and recorder in her car because she'd be heading for the seaplane docks j
ust before sunset.

  The house had become a second home to her. When she had returned home to Masset after a two-year business administration course on the mainland, her parents had hoped she would go into her father's hotel business. Instead, she found a job with the radio station at Queen Charlotte City, a two-hour drive from her parents' Masset home. Her father was disappointed, but pleased when she agreed to take lodgings with the McDonalds, long-standing family friends. Now that she was going to marry Ken, her father had decided her new job was a good thing.

  Laurie found Bev curled up quietly in the easy chair by her bedroom window. As teenagers they had been opposites: Laurie slim and dynamic with dark curls; Bev softly rounded and quiet with long, ash-blonde hair. When they were both fifteen, Laurie was the one who urged Bev to accompany her on a forbidden wilderness trip, Bev the one who tried to talk her out of it.

  Later, both girls left the Islands—Laurie to take a business course and Bev to train as a nurse. The locals were surprised that Laurie was the one to return and settle near home, while Beverly stayed to make her life in urban Vancouver. Bev's decision hadn't surprised Laurie. Her friend had always dreamed quiet dreams of the excitement of the big city.

  Bev's soft adolescent curves had become slender curves, but her curtain of beautiful ash-blonde hair had not changed, nor the serenity of her face.

  "Hi, Laurie. How's it going?"

  "Busy. You look tired—are you up to a homecoming party tonight?"

  "Who's coming?"

  "A few school friends, a couple of neighbors. Mom invited Harry Devon, but I think Jenine will keep him away." Harry was an old high school boyfriend of Bev's and Janine his wife.

  "How's Harry? And Jenine, of course."

  They laughed together and Laurie said, "Expecting their second child. Harry's got a pot belly."

  "Too much beer, or too much Jenine."