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“Enough to leave the ground beneath you?”
“I—” A smile comes over her, and she looks down at her lap. “Sure. Why not?”
“Good.” I prime the throttle. “We’re going to fly over our island, so this is the easiest way to show you.”
“A private island?” Holding her hands against the sides of her headphones, she laughs. “Should I have expected any less from Bachmans?”
I check the switches and flip on the battery. “Italy has over four hundred islands in the Mediterranean, Tyrrhenian, and Adriatic Seas.”
She quotes. “Italy’s well-known islands includeSicily, Sardinia, Capri, Ischia, and Procida. Last year’s geography lessons.”
“Good to see my money’s gone to good use,” I tease.
She shoots me an eye roll.
“Get ready. It’s going to be loud.” I turn the ignition switch and start both engines. They roar to life. I check the gauges and set the RPMs to fifty percent. I often fly alone at night to clear my mind. My pilot's license has a night rating, and the chopper is outfitted with navigation and landing lights.
Before putting on my night goggles, I peek over at Ophelia. She's a little paler than her usual, if that’s even possible, but she’s good. She looks up and gives me a brave smile, followed by a nod. She’s ready. I put on the goggles, engage the clutch, and turn on the alternator switch and timer.
As we rise from the concrete helipad, we lift off, and I can see the black Bachman Brotherhood emblem below us, guiding us home. Night flying can be dangerous, so I stay focused on the task while keeping her safe. I’m not used to having a passenger beside me on these evening flights. It feels… nice. I like having her here, beside me.
It feels as if she’s always been in that seat.
As we fly, I tell her about the project I’ve been focused on for the past five years. “We’re growing fast. We need more space. It doesn’t make sense to lose the protection of the forest at the Villa. I never was one for deforestation in the first place. I don’t want to clear more land.”
“Gian and I wrote an essay about humans’ impact on biodiversity,” she interjects.
“We’re keeping that in mind as we build. We have the funds and the resources to do it safely.” Speaking of safety, I add, “The Villa has the protection of the mountains, the woods, and the lake; I thought, why not the ocean? We’re already doing it with the Parish, an island off the coast of Greece.”
“Funny name,” she says.
“The origin story is that the family bought boats from a priest to first get to the island,” I explain.
We’re leaving the mainland now, flying over the ocean. The moonlight reflects white over the capped peaks that rise in the dark, glittering waters.
“The water is so beautiful at night,” she says. “I’ve never seen it like this.”
Pride rises in my chest that I’m the one who gets to show her these firsts. The island comes into view. We fly over. The shoreline is a narrow strip of rough, rocky terrain.
Tendrils of brown poke out from between the craggy stones. Stubborn vegetation determined to reach the sun. The soil doesn’t have the nutrients it needs. Still, it won’t stop reaching its goal. It's the same as me.
“I had a meeting with Liam today.” I don’t mention that it didn’t go well. “Afterward, I came out here to do some work.”
And clear my mind. Not knowing I’d come home to find Gian gone.
“You seemed out of sorts when you left this morning,” she says shyly. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”
I can hear that I hurt her with my abrasiveness. I’m used to being surrounded by rugged, grown men. I need to soften for her. “Sorry about that. I woke up in a bit of a… daze.”
She shrugs. “S’okay.”
“After that meeting, I had to get away and blow off some steam, so I came here to hit some nails. Got a head start on the framing before the rain comes.” I point to the early stages of the first structure I’m building. “It’s dark, but you can see a bit of it.”
“Hit a few nails?” She stares out over the concrete pad and the two-by-fours. “It looks like you single-handedly framed half this building.”
“The framing phase goes fast.” It’s funny she knows the term for the framing phase. I joke, “Did you take carpentry at that fancy school?”
She surprises me with her answer. “I did, actually. Since we go to this rich kid school, one of the board members thought it’d be good for the students to take what they call a fundamentals class—something to do with their hands. Most of them can’t fry an egg in a pan or do a load of wash. I think they have people for that.”