by Bonnie Leon
Weariness and pain vanished. Kate sat up, pulled on her boots and coat, then headed for the airfield. Angel trotted ahead.
Nena was already there with the oil warmed. A firepot heated the engine.
Three men arrived, carrying a man on a litter. A woman, whom Kate guessed must be the man’s wife, stayed at his side, holding his hands and reassuring him. Kate checked him briefly. He was obviously gravely ill. If only there were a doctor.
“Lay him on the floor inside the plane,” she said.
Angel had already leaped aboard. She watched the men lift the litter and carry the man inside. The patient groaned, clutching his chest.
Nena handed Kate the pot of oil. Hands trembling, Kate poured it into the oil tank, then capped it off and climbed inside. Her passenger wasn’t improving. His breathing was still labored. His skin looked pallid and he was sweating profusely. “Who’s going to take care of him while I’m flying?”
“I can do it,” a young man said. “He’s my uncle.”
“I’m going,” the woman said, looking down at the man, fear etched into her face. “We have been together for thirty years. I will not leave him today.”
“Okay. Let’s go.” There was a doctor in Nome, but Kate knew in her gut that Nome was too far away to be of help to this man.
With Angel on the seat beside her, she fired up the plane. Waiting for it to warm up felt like an eternity, but finally they were in the air. She checked her maps and glanced back. The sick man was quiet except for an occasional moan. He looked bad.
“Ma’am! Ma’am!” The young man’s voice sounded strident. “He’s not breathing!”
The woman held her husband’s hands in hers. “No. John. Please.”
John’s lips were tinged blue.
“Turn him on his side,” Kate ordered. “Give him a hard slap on the back between the shoulder blades.”
The nephew smacked him again and again, but there was no response. The young man finally stopped his efforts. His voice flat, he said, “He’s dead. He’s gone.”
Arms wrapped about her upper body, the woman rocked back and forth. She didn’t make a sound, but tears trailed down her cheeks.
Kate turned the plane around and headed back to Kotze-bue. The sick feeling in her stomach wasn’t from yesterday’s fever but from the brutal reality of life in this wilderness. Sometimes she hated being a bush pilot.
18
Although she was uncertain it was a good idea to have dinner at Mike’s place, Kate pulled her Plymouth up in front of his house. She pushed in the clutch and dropped the gear into park. Was she getting into something she’d regret? He seemed like a lot of fun, and she wanted to get to know him, but would he assume too much?
The door opened and he stepped onto a small front porch and waved. Kate turned off the engine. It was too late to change her mind. She was here.
Mike hurried down the steps and out to the car, managing to open the door before Kate did. Wearing his usual friendly smile, he said, “Just on time.”
His blue eyes danced with pleasure, and Kate couldn’t resist his natural charm. She instantly warmed to him.
“Didn’t want the ‘best’ spaghetti in all the territory to go to waste,” she said with a grin.
“You jest, but you’ll see. It’s my mother’s recipe.” Mike placed a hand on Kate’s back as the two walked up a gravel pathway leading to the house. The outside of the home screamed for attention—it needed paint, and weeds had sprouted in the flower beds. There was no sign of spring flowers.
“Come on in.” Mike opened the door and held it for Kate and followed her inside.
Although it was sparsely furnished, the house was tidy with a large floral area rug in the living room. “This is nice,” she said, noticing fringed curtains on the windows. She breathed in deeply. “And something smells good.”
Mike grinned. “That would be my spaghetti. I also baked a fresh loaf of sourdough bread and an apple pie.”
“Where did you get the apples?”
“I held some over through the winter, just for special occasions.” Kate felt herself relax. This would be fun.
“How’s that tooth of yours?”
“Better.” Kate put a hand to her cheek, which was still tender to the touch. “I had it pulled in Kotzebue.”
“They have a dentist in Kotzebue?”
“No . . . not exactly.” Kate chuckled. “Alex Toognak, the local sage, pulled it. He did a good job, but it hurt like crazy.”
“Glad it was you and not me.” He grinned. “Here, let me hang up your coat.”
Kate slipped off her jacket and handed it to Mike. He hung it in a small closet.
“It’s such a nice day, I almost decided not to wear a coat. It’s colder than it looks, though.”
“April’s a little early for shirtsleeves—have to wait ’til June.” He walked into the kitchen. “Hope you’re hungry. I made plenty.”
Kate and Mike sat across from each other at a small table in the kitchen. He’d managed to find a set of plates, but the glasses and flatware didn’t match. Mike dished spaghetti straight from the pot onto Kate’s plate and handed it to her.
“Looks good,” she said, setting the dish on the table in front of her. She took a slice of bread and buttered it.
“Not fancy, but I figured you wouldn’t mind.”
“I like things simple.” Kate stuck her fork into the spaghetti and twirled it until she had more than a mouthful. She’d never mastered the art of getting the proper amount of spaghetti on a utensil. She managed to get it into her mouth without slopping too much sauce on her chin. Using a napkin, she dabbed up the spill and chewed. The mingling flavors of spices, meat, and tomato sauce delighted her palate. “This is delicious. If I ever have a real kitchen, I’ll have to get the recipe.”
“I thought you hated cooking.”
“No. I just said I’m not very good at it. When I have my own place, I might give it a try.” She took a bite of bread. “Didn’t know you were such a good cook.”
Mike leaned his arms on the table, fork in hand. “Truth is, this is the only thing I know how to make.” He grinned. “Good thing you like spaghetti.”
Kate laughed.
Mike and Kate talked flying mostly, but they also discussed life in Alaska versus that in the states. The conversation turned to their families, and Mike told her a little about growing up in Chicago. Although he seemed somewhat reluctant to talk about his family, Kate did learn that his father had been a drunk, and his mother raised him, his brothers, and a sister on her own. Kate figured it must be Mike’s determination to be nothing like his father that made him so principled and loyal. Her admiration grew for her flying comrade.
After dinner, Mike served coffee and apple pie. He made good coffee, but the pie left something to be desired. The crust was tough and overcooked, but the apples tasted good.
They sat in the living room—Mike on a well-worn sofa and Kate in an easy chair. Mike looked around the room. “Figure one day I’ll fix things up.”
“I like it. I think too much stuff makes a room feel cluttered.”
“Maybe, but it could use a woman’s touch.”
Kate wondered if he was hinting about a relationship between them, but she chose to ignore the implication.
“The outside needs a lot of work, but I’ve already bought paint, so when I get a few days off this summer I’ll spruce it up.” He leaned forward, placing his arms on his thighs. “It’s not much, but I own it, free and clear. And the lot’s big enough so I can add on . . . one day . . . when I have a family.” His expression warmed.
An alarm went off inside Kate. She hoped he wasn’t leading up to something.
“I was wondering how you’d feel about us dating . . . more seriously.” He hurried on before Kate could answer. “We’ve got a lot in common, you and I. And with both of us being pilots, we understand the job with its long hours and everything else . . . and . . . well . . . I’m crazy about you. Never knew anyone like
you, Kate.”
She didn’t know how to respond. “I-I . . . like you . . . too,” she stammered. “But I’m not sure about—”
“I don’t mean we have to get married or anything, but maybe just think about a future.”
Kate studied Mike. She did like him . . . a lot. And he was good looking. But she wasn’t sure she could ever love him. “It’s kind of soon. You know I was supposed to marry Richard last summer . . . and I’m new here and still learning so much. I don’t know if I ought to get serious about anyone.” Kate knew she was rambling. “But maybe. We’ll see. You’re a fine man and I do think a lot of you.” She clamped her lips together. She’d already said too much.
“Okay. That’s good enough for me.” He smiled. “There’s a new movie at the cinema. Maybe we can go later this week?”
“Sure.” Kate stood. She needed some space and time to think. “I’d better be going. I’ve got mail to deliver tomorrow.”
Mike walked her to the car. The two stood for a moment in the growing dusk. Kate couldn’t get the door open because Mike had his hand on the handle. He leaned close and pressed his lips to hers, gently, demanding nothing. It was a sweet kiss, and despite her reluctance, Kate liked it. She opened her eyes and found Mike staring at her.
“You’re really something, Kate,” he said softly.
“You too,” she managed to say. “But, I have to go.”
“Right.” Mike opened the door and held it for her while she slid onto the seat. “See you,” he said, then closed the door and stepped back.
Her heart pounding, Kate pushed in the clutch, turned the key, and put the car into drive. With a small wave, she moved off, leaving Mike standing in the road, staring after her. Me and Mike? She pressed her fingers to her lips. She’d liked the kiss. Maybe. She smiled.
Kate dropped down over the Susitna, and set up to land on the sandbar at Bear Creek. Paul and Patrick were already waiting. With breakup over, she knew using pontoons and landing on the creek made more sense, but she wasn’t ready for the switch. The thought made her stomach roil. She hadn’t attempted a water landing since the accident on Rimrock Lake. Deciding not to think about it, she made a wide turn over the trees and headed upriver for her approach.
As usual, Angel was in the front seat. She stood panting and gazing out the window. The dog was well acquainted with the mail run and knew this stop included Paul, who almost always took time to play with her. Kate brought the plane down with one little hop and then cruised to a stop.
Angel leaped off the seat and hurried to the door. When Kate opened it, the dog bounded out and headed straight for Paul.
Wearing a broad smile, Paul knelt and captured the large pup in his arms. He gathered the bundle of black and silver fur against his chest and tried to avoid her wet kisses. “She’s looking good. Getting big.” He laughed. “A little wet, though.”
“I almost think she likes you better than me.” Kate breathed deeply. The cool air was scented with new vegetation and the fragrance of spruce. “It smells like spring. I love it.”
Before she finished speaking, mosquitoes descended. Kate waved them off, but the pests persisted. Slapping one, she said, “These are the only thing I don’t like about this time of year. Are they always this bad?”
“Worse.” Patrick’s mouth lifted in a sideways grin. “Wait another month. You won’t want to get out of your plane.”
With another swipe at the buzzing mosquitoes, she said, “Only mail I have today is for Klaus.”
Angel tore across the sandbar, chasing after a seagull.
“I’ll take it to him,” Patrick said. “He was going to come today, but wanted to plant one more row of carrots.”
Kate handed him the letter. “Tell him hello for me. Is he doing all right?”
Patrick glanced at the envelope. “Since the weather warmed up, he’s doing pretty good.”
Patrick slapped a mosquito that had landed on his neck. “If someone came up with a repellent for these little beasts, he’d be rich.” He scratched a large welt on his arm.
“Heard the natives use cow parsnip,” Paul said. “They rub the flowers on their skin. You ever try it?”
“Yeah. Only trouble is, they don’t bloom for another couple of months.” He scratched his arm.
“I’ll pick up a tonic for the itching when I’m in Anchorage.” “When are you going in?” Kate asked.
“Figured I’d get my boat set up today and head out in the morning.” He glanced at the cloudless sky. “As long as the weather holds.”
“I could give you a ride.”
Paul considered the invitation. “Sounds good, but how do I get back?”
“If you don’t mind staying a few days, I’ll bring you out next week. Or one of the other pilots might have a trip this way.”
Paul lifted his hat and resettled it on his head. “Guess that would work.” He turned to Patrick “You think one of your boys could look after the dogs?”
“Douglas’ll do it. He’s still hoping you’ll let that one pup go.”
Paul scrubbed his cheek. “You tell him if he takes care of the dogs and keeps the weeds out of the garden, the pup is his.”
Patrick raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? He’ll be a fine sled dog.”
“I don’t need four dogs, just hated to part with him. He’ll be happier with Douglas anyway.”
“It’ll make his day.”
From the safety of the cockpit, Kate watched Patrick row his dory across the creek toward her. Paul sat up front in the boat. She wondered if she’d get answers to some of the questions she had about him.
When the boat reached the sandbar, Paul leaped out, then gave Patrick a push off to free the boat from the rocks.
Patrick waved and headed for home.
With a pack slung over one shoulder, Paul trudged toward the plane and Kate moved to the door. When she opened it, Angel bounded out again, ready to romp. She grabbed a stick and trotted toward Paul. When he tried to grab the branch, she darted out of reach.
“I’m not playing that game.” With a glance at Kate, he straightened and folded his arms over his chest.
“She loves to play keepaway,” Kate said.
“She’ll bring it to me. Just wait.” Paul acted as if he didn’t care about the dog or her prize. A few moments later, Angel returned and dropped her stick in front of him.
He picked it up and sent it flying. Angel chased after it. This time she brought it back.
Kate warmed at the sight of the two playing and would have loved to stay awhile, but work waited. “We’ve got to go,” she said reluctantly. “I’ve got a couple more stops to make. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. It’ll be a nice break, something new.” Paul moved to the side of the plane. “I’ll crank it.”
Kate started the engine, and Angel settled in her usual spot beside her. “Not today, girl.” Kate gently tugged the dog’s collar, dragging her off the seat. Angel found a place in back and laid down to gnaw on her stick. Kate knew there’d be a mess to clean up, but she didn’t have the heart to take the dog’s prize.
With the engine roaring, Paul dropped into the seat beside Kate. He lifted a basket off the floor in front of him, which held Kate’s Bible. “Didn’t know you were religious,” he said, picking up the book.
“Guess there’s always something new to learn about a person.” She looked straight at him. “How about you?”
A flicker of discomfort touched Paul’s eyes. “You mean, am I religious?” He returned the Bible to the basket and set it behind his seat. “I’m not.”
Paul’s tone made it clear he didn’t want to discuss religion, so Kate said simply, “The Bible belonged to my grandmother. She was one of the finest people I ever knew.”
“Was?”
“She died a few years ago.” An image of her grandmother’s small hands with their translucent skin came to mind. “I miss her.”
Paul leaned back in his seat and folded his arms over his ch
est. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Do you have family still living in California?”
“Some.” He didn’t look at her.
Kate figured she’d probed enough for now and concentrated on taking off. Once in the air, she didn’t know what to talk about.
Paul was the first to speak. “So, how’ve things been going for you?”
“Good. I’ve been flying a lot—thanks to the longer days. Had a little trouble in Kotzebue—had a tooth pulled by a medicine man, for one thing.”
Paul chuckled. “Really? Sounds interesting.”
“It was, believe me. But the worst thing was what happened after that.”
Paul studied her with interest.
“I had a passenger die right in my plane.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know for sure. By the time we got in the air, he was in bad shape—pain in his chest and sweating profusely.”
“Trouble breathing?”
“Yeah. He was really struggling.” Remembering the ordeal brought back the panic and sense of helplessness. “I was trying to get him to Nome. They have a doctor there.”
“Sounds like he had a heart attack.”
“It was horrible. A nephew and the man’s wife stayed with him during the flight. They tried to help, but no one knew what to do. If there’d been a doctor, the man might have lived.”
“Not likely,” Paul said, tight-lipped.
Kate’s mind recaptured the emotions and dreadful events of the flight. She gazed down at the river, then glanced at Paul. “There’ll be more emergencies . . . like that one. I’m just a pilot, but people expect me to know how to handle every kind of crisis.”
“That’s pretty unreasonable.”
“Yeah. I guess. But I wish I knew more. And if there’d been a doctor in Kotzebue—”
“You can’t worry about that. The people choose to live there.” He paused, then added, “And dying is part of living. None of us will escape it.” His tone was somber. He gazed out the window. Neither spoke.
After Kate’s last stop and they were on their way again, Paul asked, “Do you have a favorite place in Anchorage to eat?”