Page 17 of Aim High Mountain Man
Maybe if I had known about it, I would have too.
“What do you do?”
I jumped slightly, causing him to chuckle.
“Not funny. I wasn’t expecting you to talk and I was enjoying the solitude, thank you very much.” I took a sip of my coffee, savoring it before answering. “I’m a blogger. It’s a great source of income and it’s a great sense of independence. I can also do it anywhere.”
“What do you blog about?”
“Different things. I did a series on grief after Johnnie died. It actually helped. Done a series on vacations, being solo, and the horrors of dating. I have different things, but mostly it’s what comes to my mind. I’m not famous or anything like an influencer, but I have quite a few subscribers and it pays my bills.”
“Huh.”
I glanced over at him; my brow raised in a silent question. Usually not the response I get when I tell people that, but I shouldn’t be surprised since it was him.
“Huh, what?”
“Never thought about that being a job. But I guess if people seek answers or help, or even have questions, it’s a good gig.”
“It really is. I have die hard fans who always await my next blog with bated breath, or so they tell me. I guess, to me, it’s my way of helping others.”
“I like the thought.”
I took another sip of coffee, watching him over the rim. The details I received about Johnnie’s death were limited, and I stillhadn’t gotten much out of Chance. I didn’t want to dwell, didn’t want that to be the only thing between us, but I had so many questions.
“Why did you choose to isolate yourself after his death?” I asked.
“Big questions, I see.”
“Just curious, Chance. You don’t have to tell me. Grief is hard and hits everyone differently. But you’re still a strong, good looking, smart, young man. You have a lot to offer people, not just the ladies.”
“No, on that Johanna, you’re wrong. Your son’s death aged me.”
“It did it to me too, you know. But that doesn't mean that I'm going to be a hermit.”
I watched him again, seeing the look on his face. He has to have at least guessed I was going to be asking questions. I mean, I am worried about him, as I'm sure his own mother would be.
And that thought made me pause.
I was old enough to be his mom. I didn't feel like it, not after all we had done, but it still sat odd for me. Did he see me as an older lady at all?
“I tried saving him, did you know that? I was flying with him when his plane malfunctioned, and he clipped his wing. He crashed, and the plane ignited so fast. I jumped out of my own plane, hauling ass to get to him, but the flames were too intense. I burned my body, as I'm sure you noticed.”
“I did. And I figured you had. They said someone tried saving him but would have died himself.”
“I had enough smarts to know I couldn't go in. When the rescue squad came, I was out cold from the fumes. And when I awoke, they had informed me that he didn't burn to death; he was already dead. When he crashed….,” he trailed off, not needing to tell me anymore.
I could read between the lines, especially with the little that I was told. I'm only glad he didn't suffer. That would have been far worse for me to deal with.
“When I got back stateside, I had to learn how to cope without my best friend, but also back to being a civilian. I also had to learn how I wasn't to blame. That wasn't the worst part because I still haven't gotten there.”
I set my mug down so fast that liquid spilled over the sides, and I climbed onto his lap, my hands cupping his cheeks.
“None of this is your fault, Chance.”
“I was flying with him, I could-”
“No,” I told him firmly, cutting him off. “He was my son, and I loved him dearly, but there is no one to blame for this. He loved to fly; it's all he ever wanted to do, and nothing that day would have kept him out of the cockpit. Had you done something, you could have been just as lost.”
