She put it on, her pulse drumming in her ears—not from fear, but from the swell of anticipation. The canopy of trees seemed to bow low around them, holding its breath.
Nick looked over at her. “Ready?”
She nodded.
The propeller whirred to life with a shuddering growl that quickly smoothed into a steady, throaty purr. Nick’s hands moved with confidence—throttle, yoke, foot pedals—all second nature. As they taxied forward, her heart thudded in sync with the hum of the engine.
And then, the wheels lifted.
They were flying.
The air beneath them cradled the plane like invisible silk. Below, the valley surrounding Jackson Hole unrolled like a living map—rivers glinting in the morning sun, aspen groves flashing golden leaves, and soon she spotted her Teton Trails Ranch, a patchwork of fences and pasture that made her heart twist with affection.
As they climbed, the Tetons rose to meet them—knife-edged and majestic, snow dusting the highest peaks signaling fall’s advance. The sky above was a perfect western blue, clear and endless.
Nick’s voice crackled in her headset. “That’s Grand Teton coming up off the right wing.”
She turned her head and gasped. The mountain towered above the range, proud and solemn, its glacier-scored face catching the light in angles of silver and stone.
“It’s like looking into a bit of heaven placed on earth,” she said softly.
“Exactly,” he replied.
They soared past Cascade Canyon, its deep V carved into the range like a secret. Below, Jenny Lake mirrored the sky, cupped gently in the cradle of ancient rock.
The world fell away.
She forgot the guest ranch. The endless list of to-dos. The worry about her father’s health. Even the lingering need to fix things—horses, broken fences, jammed camera shutters—but her truest habit was mending the people she loved, stitching up their heartaches with steady hands and never once asking who would mend hers.
Up here, there was only wind, sun, sky—and Nick.
She glanced over at him. He wasn’t watching the mountains. He was watching her.
Her breath caught.
“What?” she asked, her voice barely audible even through the headset.
Nick’s mouth curved just slightly. “Just wanted to see that look on your face.”
She looked away, blinking fast. Could it be that sometimes you find your true direction reflected in someone else’s eyes?
They flew for nearly an hour, tracing the spine of the range, dipping slightly to circle over the Snake River where a herd of elk meandered like slow-moving shadows in the morning light. The air grew cooler as they climbed higher, and she caught the faint smell of pine resin on the breeze creeping through a vent.
Finally, Nick turned the plane gently east, toward a remote valley dotted with lodgepole and a grassy landing strip near an alpine lake. He brought them down with smooth precision, the tires touching the ground with barely a bump.
She exhaled only then, realizing how long she’d been holding her breath.
Nick climbed out and opened her door. “Come on,” he said, offering a hand. “I packed lunch.”
The sun had climbed high by now, and the scent of wild sage mingled with damp earth. Birds called from the trees. A chipmunk darted across their path as they walked to a shady spot near the lake’s edge, where Nick had already set out a blanket, a basket, and—of course—a thermos of coffee.
“You really thought of everything,” she said, sitting cross-legged on the blanket.
“I thought of you,” he said, handing her a sandwich.
They ate in quiet for a while, watching the sunlight dance on the ripples of the water. A butterfly landed on the corner of the blanket and stayed a while, flapping its wings like it had nowhere better to be.
After a long pause, Nick said, “You don’t always have to carry everything, you know. You can put it down sometimes.”
