Skydiving to Love Read online

  Skydiving to Love

  Linda W. Yezak

  Published by Canopy Books of Texas, 2018.

  Skydiving to Love

  Linda W. Yezak

  Copyright © 2016

  Linda W. Yezak

  2nd Edition Copyright © 2018

  Linda W. Yezak

  Cover design by Indie Cover Design –

  All rights reserved. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

  Skydiving to Love is a work of fiction. All characters, incidents, and dialogue are derived from the author’s imagination. Resemblance to any event or person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Bible verses used in this work of fiction are taken from the New King James Version, Copyright © 1982 by Thomas

  Nelson.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Published by Canopy Books of Texas

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9973336-5-7

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  The End

  Love Comes on a Dare

  About the Author

  Special Thanks

  Books by Linda W. Yezak

  Special note from the author

  Sign up for Linda W. Yezak’s Mailing List

  Dedicated to all who take the faith leap into love.

  “Without faith, it is impossible to please Him.”

  Hebrews 11:6

  Chapter 1

  Breathe. Just breathe.

  JoJo Merritt squeezed her eyelids tighter and clamped her hands onto the armrests. I can’t.

  Inhale. There ya go. Good. Now exhale. Repeat.

  What on earth had made her tell the girls that skydiving held top spot on her bucket list? As a veterinarian who owned a large animal practice, she was living her bucket list. Every calf she helped birth, every colicky horse she healed, fulfilled her dreams. But no — that wasn’t good enough for her old college quartet. She had to do something totally off the charts. What on God’s green earth had made her say skydiving?

  The passenger jet’s engines revved. Her breath jerked from her lungs. All around her, bored businesspeople and cool-as-a-Popsicle travelers settled in with magazines and headphones. But for her, even this simple, normal flight had been a disaster so far.

  “You going to be okay?”

  The deep voice next to her pierced her panic. She lifted one lid for a peek at its source in the aisle seat. Any other time — like when her stomach wasn’t threatening to toss up everything she’d eaten in the past year — she would’ve found the man with the compassionate blue eyes attractive.

  She slammed her lid shut. “I’m f-fine. Or I will be. Maybe. When we get where we’re going and land and I’m still in one piece, I’ll be fine. I-I think.”

  Great. She wasn’t just stammering, she was throwing out more words than she’d spoken all week.

  She peeked at him again. Great looking guy, square jaw, wavy dark hair. Too bad. If she didn’t turn him off by tossing her breakfast, she’d do it by jabbering like an idiot.

  His gentle laugh caressed her like a velvet glove. “You’ll be fine. I know the pilot. Never lost a passenger.”

  Yet. He forgot the yet. Always a first time.

  The plane began moving, taxiing this way, then that. She had no clue where because all she could see were the backs of her eyelids. Soon the engines pitched to a high whine and the plane moved faster and faster and she couldn’t breathe and her heart lodged in her throat and threatened to choke her to death which didn’t matter because she couldn’t breathe. The engines roared, her brain screamed—

  Then the plane lifted, leaving her stomach back on the runway. No big loss. She was going to throw it up anyway.

  They climbed and banked to the right. The engines fell quiet, and the muffled sounds of the other passengers reached through her fear. Her shoulders relaxed, her heartbeat returned to normal. Finally, she dared to open her eyes and look out the window. Puffy clouds drifted by, giving her only the occasional glimpse of the small towns and fields below. Before long, the ranchland scenery would shift to a cityscape as they flew over Austin and, soon after, over San Antonio. And then the pilot would land. God bless him.

  “Feeling better?”

  Mr. Dark-and-Handsome had traded the compassion in his eyes for humor. Kind humor, but humor just the same … okay, no. He was laughing at her. Who wouldn’t?

  She flexed her cramped fingers and offered him a lame smile. “Yeah, I’m better. This is my first flight.”

  “It’s not so bad once you get used to it.” He poked his hand out. “Mitch O’Hara.”

  She shook with him. “JoJo Merritt.”

  “Where you from, JoJo?”

  Small talk. They would now drift into small talk, something she’d blissfully avoided in her day-to-day life. She said she was from Hereford; he said he was originally from nearby Amarillo. She told him she was a large animal vet; he worked as a seismic engineer in San Antonio, where they were headed. She stifled a yawn.

  Had she remembered her iPad, she could’ve tuned him out with a great audio book while watching the clouds below. But in her rush to get this week over with, she’d forgotten it.

  At least he was nice to look at, animated as he described whatever project he spoke of. Intelligent eyes. Amarillo was near enough to Hereford, they could visit when he came home, yet far enough away not to stumble over each other. But it didn’t matter. She wasn’t looking for male companionship, just to finish her mission so she could head back to more earthbound things like cattle, horses, and goats.

  “I’ve bored you enough with my business talk,” Mitch said. “What about you? What are your plans while you’re in San Antonio?”

  His friendly chatter had kept her nerves calm during the bulk of the flight, but now, as they jetted over more densely populated areas, he decided to include her in the conversation. She sighed inwardly. Being rude was not an option.

  “I’ve always wanted to see the River Walk,” which was why she chose the jumping school there instead of the one in Dallas. “Maybe take in El Mercado.”

  “Sounds relaxing.”

  Right. That part did sound relaxing. Jumping from somewhere in the sky, putting her trust in a parachute someone else packed — that didn’t sound relaxing.

  “Maybe I’ll run into you,” he said. “I know a great restaurant — Mi Tierra. Ever hear of it?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’d love it. They make the best pork dish I’ve ever eaten. Like pork?”

  The fasten-seat-belt sign dinged and her stomach clutched.

  “They have traditional stuff too. Enchiladas, tacos, nachos …”

  She felt queasy, was probably turning guacamole green.

  “Great chicken dishes too.”

  The wings tilted to the left. The plane slowed noticeably. Taking off had been horrid. Being up hadn’t been so bad — none of the plane-shuddering turbulence she’d heard of. But what would landing be like?

  “You do like Mexican food, don’t you? I’m sure they have an American menu—”

  “Please!” She shot her hand up and scrunched her eyes shut. “Just stop talking, okay? Please?”

  “Oops. Sorry.” Humor laced
his voice again. Fine. Let him laugh.

  The plane had tilted deeper to the left and slowed further.

  She slipped her hands under her thighs to keep them from shaking and dared a glance out the window at the city below.

  The city.

  Highways. Neighborhoods. Schools. Businesses.

  No runways. No place to land.

  And the plane kept getting slower.

  Was the pilot out of his mind? There was no place to land!

  She hunched her shoulders forward. If she could close in on herself, turn herself into a tiny ball, maybe the impact wouldn’t hurt so bad.

  Well, that was stupid, wasn’t it? The impact would kill her! They were all going to die!

  Mitch chuckled and said something along the lines of everything being all right. At least that was what it sounded like. Hard to tell over the blood rushing in her ears and the relentless we’re-gonna-die soundtrack.

  The plane slowed more.

  Her hands fisted.

  The plane leveled and dropped lower.

  Her stomach leapt to her throat.

  Where would they land? There’d been no airport, no runway in sight. Maybe if she opened her eyes, she’d see one.

  No. No, this was fine. If they were going to crash, she’d just as soon not see the ground rushing up to greet her.

  Dear Father in Heaven, open the gates, I’m coming home!

  The plane bounced slightly; the wheels screeched. The engine’s whine dropped from a high-pitched squeal to a lower, though not soothing, tone. The passenger jet slowed more and more, until it felt like the speed of a Sunday drive. People rustled around her, anxious to get their gear from the overhead compartments and move on with their day’s activities.

  She just wanted the plane to stop so she could unclench her fists and catch her first glimpse of San Antonio. From the ground.

  Mitch nudged her. “We’re at the terminal.”

  With her stomach lodged in her throat, she could do nothing more to acknowledge him than nod crazily like a bobble-head.

  “You can open your eyes now.”

  “Oh, okay.” She’d had them squinched so tightly, the right lid began to twitch.

  He stood in the aisle with his carry-on bag strapped over his shoulder. “Want me to get your bag?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind.” Maybe that would give her a moment to flex her cramping fingers.

  The door opened, the flight attendant spoke unintelligible words through a scratchy intercom, and the restless travelers began to file out.

  Mitch held up the line to let her in. “What did I tell you? We landed just fine. Flying’s not so bad.”

  Matter of opinion.

  She managed a feeble smile as she squeezed in front of him and followed everyone out and into the airport. Her nerves felt tight enough to tune, and her stomach threatened again. How would she survive skydiving if she could barely survive a simple one-hour flight?

  SHE ROLLED HER SUITCASE far enough into her room to allow the door to close behind her, then dropped it and bee-lined toward the window. She’d spent a small fortune for a hotel right on the River Walk, though not enough of a fortune to get a river-front room. Still, when she drew the shades aside, she sucked in a breath. The city view was magnificent. And she could walk anywhere she wanted to go.

  Except to the airport where she’d take her skydiving lessons.

  She released the drape panel and dropped heavily into the cushioned armchair next to the window. The flight here had just about sapped every ounce of strength from her. Her fingers still felt gnarled from being clamped to the seat arms. How would she survive going up in a plane again, much less jumping out?

  Her cell phone chimed, and she dug it out of her pocket.

  A text from her college friend—and one of the ones who got her into this mess—Kat Brownlee. “U there & safe?”

  “Safe,” JoJo typed.

  “Ready for 2moro?”

  “No.”

  “LOL. It’ll b gr8. U’ll see.”

  JoJo sighed. Having lost a limb while fighting in Afghanistan, Kat wouldn’t likely understand her fear. Nothing scared Kat. Ordinarily, nothing scared JoJo either.

  “GTG,” she typed. “L8r.”

  She tossed her phone on the bed and stared at her suitcase. She might as well unpack. She’d be vacationing here for a week. Less, if the fall killed her.

  Chapter 2

  Refreshed from an afternoon nap and a long, back-pounding shower, JoJo sat at a table under a bright red umbrella at an outdoor café full of bright colored umbrellas. If she tuned out the buzz of the people around her, she could hear the river lapping against the restaurant’s rock foundation.

  Muscovy ducks swam as close as they dared and were rewarded with bits of bread tossed into the water. Terrible habit. Bread was bad for ducks. Made them heavy and fat, and didn’t supply the nutrients they needed from their regular diet.

  Still, they were cute to watch.

  One timid hen held back from the rest of the squabbling quackers, nabbing only the occasional morsel tossed toward her. An aggressive drake charged her, his black, mottled neck and wings stretched as he squawked at her, but the splash from a chunk of bread nearby turned him from his attack. Soon, more bread landed closer to the hen, but away from the other ducks so she could have some of the treats to herself.

  JoJo turned to see who threw the bread with such an expert arm.

  Mitch grinned back at her. “Hey. I was hoping I’d run in to you again.”

  She scowled. “You shouldn’t be feeding bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

  “Yeah, but it’s fun, and they seem to like it.” He brushed crumbs off his hands, then grabbed his soda and strolled toward her. “Mind if I join you?”

  Yes, she minded. She wanted the evening before her inevitable doom to be a calm, pleasant one. And as much as he talked, it would be anything but. All the ranchers and animals combined didn’t talk as much as he did. But denying him a seat would be rude—especially since he’d already made himself at home.

  “Good to see you survived the flight. Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  She twirled a french fry in the dollop of ketchup on her paper plate. “Not bad, compared to having a tooth pulled without Novocain.”

  He clicked his tongue. “And to think you have to face another flight to get home.”

  “Oh, no. I rented a cute little two-door with great gas mileage and only forty thousand miles on it. I think I’ll take it home with me.” Eight hours behind the wheel, more or less, would get her home without seriously cutting into her vacation time, considering she’d spent almost that much time fighting airport traffic, checking her only suitcase, and going through security with her carry-on. Next time, she’d just drive her pickup.

  Next time, she wouldn’t take a vacation to jump from a plane.

  Mitch gave a light snort. “I guess driving would be better on your nerves. If you can stand the traffic.”

  She nodded. “That may be an issue. In my normal life, I’m much more likely to be held up by a herd of meandering cows than slow traffic and crazy drivers.”

  “You didn’t say much during the flight about your normal life. Actually, you didn’t say much of anything.” He leaned back in his chair and propped an ankle across the opposite knee as if he were settling in for a nice, long talk. “What’s a normal day like for you?”

  He appeared relaxed, interested. A casual conversation between friends. But she barely knew him, and chit-chat had always been impossible for her. Aside from her college buddies, her closest confidants had hooves and tails. Maybe he could open up and say moo.

  “Oh, c’mon, now. Consider this payback.” He grinned. “I must’ve bored you to tears with my stories when I was trying to keep your mind off the flight.”

  “Is that what you were doing?” How sweet! Not that it worked, but it was a nice gesture.

  He shrugged a shoulder. “Since I travel a lot, I’ve come across a few people w
ho are afraid of flying. Sometimes talking helps, sometimes listening helps. I do my part to keep them distracted.”

  “So you regale the poor, frightened folks with engineer talk and algebraic equations?”

  “Works every time.”

  Almost every time.

  On the river, a crowded tourist gondola puttered past the restaurants and shops. Some aboard waved at those on more solid ground, others studied the shops and gazed at the ancient architecture. The gargoyles had captivated JoJo’s attention also as she’d strolled along the river earlier.

  Mitch nodded toward the tour boat. “It’s not as romantic as the way the Venetians ride the waterways, but it still looks like fun. Want to try it?”

  Eventually, but not as much as she wanted to just relax … alone. Besides, with the sun setting and the lights from the surrounding shops beginning to reflect in the rippling water, the ride would seem too romantic to take with someone she’d just met.

  “Hesitant?” His eyes held the glint of a challenge. “You’re not afraid of water too, are you?”

  “No, of course not. I was just thinking I’d turn in early. I had a busy day, and tomorrow will be just as busy.” Not to mention terrifying.

  “Oh, yeah. I understand that. I’m a little tired myself. What do you have planned for tomorrow?”

  “Shopping in the Mexican Market, like I said earlier, and anywhere else that catches my attention.” No way would she admit the truth of her plan to a man who knew precisely how ludicrous it would sound. “You know, girl stuff.”

  “The market is great. Maybe after my meeting, I’ll find you there.”

  “Uh … well, maybe.”

  He frowned and studied his soda cup. “Oh, I see. Not interested.”

  “Look. We just met. I don’t even know you.”

  “That’s what we’re doing here now, getting to know each other.” He rose and pushed his chair to the table. “But I can take a hint.”

  With that, he strolled away. He tossed his paper cup into the nearest trash bin, then headed up a set of rock-slab stairs and out of sight.