The Flyer by Marjorie Jones

clear to anyone.
    Frowning, Helen found herself drawn to the natural spectacle until several dogs leapt on the closest camel, smaller than the others, bringing the majestic beast to its knees almost immediately.
    She turned away, closing her eyes while Paul leveled the plane.
    A few moments later, the plane descended slightly. Gradually, they flew lower and lower while approaching an area of the desert sprinkled with more brush and darker red earth. Lower still, they flew over a wide river with a pristine, sandy beach on one side and a mass of trees on the other. Paul banked and, seemingly out of nowhere, a long, narrow strip of ground opened beneath them.
    When the wheels touched the earth, the plane bounced once, then rolled to a gradual halt. Paul turned off the engine, the propellers stopping almost instantly.
    “Are you all right?” Paul called from the pilot’s seat behind her. His voice sounded far away, a remnant of the engine’s deafening power.
    She nodded, pushing herself out of her seat and climbing over the edge of the fuselage. Paul appeared, offering his hand to assist in her descent.
    She took it and leapt to the dry, red earth. The tips of her fingers tingled where Paul held them, and Helen’s mouth turned as dry as the dirt. She swallowed, willing herself to drop his hand, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Thankfully, Paul seemed to have more control. He released her fingers, then smoothed his hand over his leather cap, pulling it free. The sun captured the lightest strands of his hair like a halo.
    Mesmerizing.
    Fright leapt into Helen’s throat. She couldn’t allow herself to feel … anything. Gathering what little control remained from the pit of her stomach, she turned away and hurried around the wing to the front of the plane.
    All around her, the Pilbara stood proud. A thin forest of tall trees with bright white trunks stood on one side of the landing strip, offering a well-needed diversion. Tall grass grew in thick patches on both sides of a wide river.
    Above the trees, the sky stretched forever, and the billowing clouds were reflected in the water.
    It looked like paradise.
    Paul joined her, his unique, masculine scent adding to the majesty of the land she admired—as though he were a part of it, somehow. “Sorry about that dingo mess. I didn’t see them, or their … intentions when I banked to watch the camels.”
    Helen swallowed. “I’m fine, really. It’s all a part of nature. But that poor camel.”
    “A camel is no match for a pack of dingos, I’m afraid.”
    “Obviously not. I suppose I should expect that sort of thing, out here in the wilderness. I’m simply not used to it, that’s all.”
    “What are you used to?” Paul returned to the side of the plane and reached into the storage compartment, retrieving her medical bag. “Here, love, give me your jacket and I’ll stow it inside.”
    She shucked the jacket while she joined him, then handed it to him. “I’m used to the polar opposite of everything I’ve seen here so far. My parents insisted on private schools, and no lady would be so brash as to expose herself to direct sunlight … heaven forbid.” She fanned herself playfully.
    “That’s your mother talking, I reckon.”
    “You’d be correct. My mother also insisted I attend every cotillion or other fashionable event in San Francisco, determined that I find and marry the most eligible bachelor in the city.”
    “Yet, you’re a doctor. An unmarried doctor. Hardly a profession for a lady, especially a lady of leisure.”
    “My father is a doctor. He had no sons. Simple.”
    “It must have been a challenge for you, being a woman.”
    When he quirked his left eyebrow and looked down at her, Helen’s pulse fluttered. Whether the reaction came from the intensity of his eyes, or the intensity of his statement, she couldn’t be sure.
    It had been difficult, but not just because she was a woman. There were other girls in her medical-school class, other