by Bonnie Leon
“Must be an old seagull, one with lots of life experience.” Paul’s mouth tipped into a sideways grin.
Kate took a bite of her sandwich, then tore off a piece for Angel. Talking around a mouthful, she asked, “Most of your mail comes from San Francisco—is that your home?”
Without looking at her, he said, “Uh-huh.”
“Never been there. But I’d like to go some day.”
“It’s nice.”
“You have family there?”
“Yeah.” Paul knew where the questions would lead, so he diverted the conversation. “How about you? Did you say you’re from Washington?”
“Yakima. My parents own a farm there. They grow apples mostly.”
“You miss it?”
“Sometimes.”
“And flying, where does that come from?”
“My dad. He was flying way back when all the planes had open cockpits.”
“That’d be a thrill.”
“There’s nothing like it.”
Paul took another bite of his sandwich, enjoying the heady flavor of the fish. He finished it off. “You don’t happen to have another one of those sandwiches, do you?”
Looking smug, Kate reached into the basket and held one up. “I came prepared.”
“They’re good. Who said you can’t cook?”
“It’s pretty simple, just some mayonnaise, salt and pepper, and canned salmon.” She took out a container of brownies. “These are thanks to Helen.”
After finishing off their lunch, Kate and Paul went back to work. When the second bucket was full, they loaded the clams and gear into the plane, then took turns changing into dry clothes. Paul cranked the plane, then climbed in and closed the door. He dragged Angel off the front seat while Kate turned the plane into the wind for takeoff.
Paul dropped down beside Kate. “So, still think you’re not cut out for clam digging?”
“Guess I’m not too bad at it, after all.” She flashed him a smile and headed the plane down the beach. “That was fun. Can we go again?”
“Sure. Next time I’m in Anchorage.”
“My parents are going to be here in a few weeks. I’d love to take them.”
“Let me know if you need my help.”
“I think they’d like it.” She glanced at the buckets. “We’ve still got to clean them. Don’t figure that’s going to be much fun.”
“It’s not bad. I’ll show you.”
As they lifted into the air, Paul sat back contentedly, folded his arms over his chest, and allowed his mind to replay the day. It had been one of the best he’d had in years.
When Paul and Kate carried their trophies into the store, Helen was working at the front counter, tallying the day’s receipts. Kate proudly held out one of the buckets.
“Look what we got.” She smiled broadly.
Helen peered into the bucket. “Oh my. You did well.” She looked from Paul to Kate. “Where do you plan to clean them?”
“We were hoping you’d let us use your place. Paul said he’d make some chowder.”
“Albert loves clam chowder. And I’ve got fresh-baked bread.”
“There are plenty of clams,” Paul said. “Probably enough for canning too, if you want them.”
“I certainly would.” Helen closed the till. “Go on over to the house. Albert’s there. I’ve got about another hour’s worth of work to do.”
“Okay,” Kate said. “But I’d like to shower and change first. I feel like I’ve got grit everywhere.”
“I can wait,” Paul said, although acutely aware of the salt and sand in his hair, on his skin, and beneath his fingernails. Helen seemed to read his mind. “Feel free to clean up at the house.”
“Thanks.”
When Kate and Paul arrived at the Towns’s place Albert was on his knees weeding a flower garden. He pushed his slender frame up from the ground.
“Hi, you two. Helen called and told me you were coming.” Brushing dirt from his hands, he moved toward the front porch. “I can already taste the chowder. Come on in.”
After a shower, Paul felt more like himself. He and Kate stood side by side at the sink. He showed her how to pry open the clam shells, scoop out the insides, then cut away the guts and rinse off the sand. It wasn’t unpleasant. The clams had a fresh, tangy smell.
“They feel slimy.” Kate cut the guts away from the meat. “I’m not sure I’m going to like chowder.”
Albert chuckled. “It’s delicious, you’ll see.”
Helen arrived just as Paul and Kate were finishing the last couple of clams. “What do you need me to do?” she asked, tying on an apron.
“We need you to sit and watch while we cook,” Paul said. “I’ve got my grandmother’s recipe imprinted in my mind. It’s the best I’ve ever tasted.” He looked around the kitchen. “You have onions?”
“I do.” Helen took one out of a basket hanging inside her pantry door and handed it to him. “The least I can do is make coffee.” She moved to the percolator and dumped out the morning’s leftovers.
While the chowder simmered, everyone moved to the living room. Coffee in hand, Paul settled into a chair. He felt at ease. Glancing at Kate, he wondered how much of his good mood was because of her. The idea of spending more time with the spirited woman was appealing. He wished he hadn’t already arranged a flight home with Mike for the following morning. A few more days in Anchorage would be nice.
He caught Helen’s eye and lifted his cup as if offering a toast. “Good coffee. Just the way I like it.”
“Thank you. Hope you’ll come back and visit.”
“I’d like that, but it’s quite a trip from the creek to Anchorage.” He glanced at Kate and caught her studying him.
Her cheeks pinked slightly. “It’s not so far by plane,” she said innocently.
“No, I guess not.” He smiled. “Next time I come, you cook the chowder?”
“You have a deal.”
20
Kate’s coupe bounced through a pothole, and she let off the gas, then floored it again as she hurried toward the airfield. Her parents were due, and she was late.
Searching the skies, she pulled up at the shop. No sign of her father’s bright yellow Stinson. With Angel trotting at her side, she walked into the office.
“Morning,” she told Sidney who sat behind his desk.
He took a cigar out of his mouth. “Today’s the big day, huh?”
“Yeah, they ought to be here any time.” She stepped to the door, opened it, and looked out. “Didn’t realize how much I missed them.” She peered south, hoping to catch a glimpse of her father’s plane. “Can’t wait to show them Alaska. They’ll love it.”
Leaving the door open, she stepped halfway back inside and glanced around the shop. “You the only one here today?”
“Yep.” Angel rested her head on his lap. He gave her a pat, then stuck his cigar back in his mouth.
Kate searched the skies again.
“Don’t blow your wig. They’ll be here.”
With a shrug, she finally committed to staying inside and closed the door. Angel padded over to a braided rug that sat in front of the woodstove and lay down.
Sydney leaned on the desk. “We’re behind the grind, you know—too much business.” He furrowed his brow. “Parents or not, I’m going to need you.”
“I know. I’m available. I told Mom and Dad I’d have to work, at least part of the time. Wish they were staying longer.”
“How long they going to be here?”
“Three weeks. Dad’s got to get back to his orchards.” She glanced out the window. “Albert and Helen promised to show them around while I’m working. It was nice of them to let my parents stay at their house.”
She heard the drone of a plane and hurried to the door. Angel perked up. “That’s got to be them.” Looking skyward, her eyes found her father’s Stinson and felt the unexpected sting of tears as a rush of homesickness and memories swept through her.
The plane touched down and Kate
ran onto the field, Angel loping alongside her. Kate’s father was the first to appear at the door. He jumped to the ground and then turned to help Joan.
Kate ran full out. “Mom! Dad!”
Bill opened his arms just in time to pull Kate into them. He held her against his chest, and Kate hugged him back as hard as she could. When he released her, Kate stepped into her mother’s embrace. She breathed in the familiar fresh-scrubbed scent of her mom. Oh, how she’d missed her.
Finally, Kate forced herself to step back, and gazed into her mother’s loving eyes. “I can hardly believe you’re here.”
“Me too. The trip seemed to take forever.” Joan pulled Kate close again and smoothed her daughter’s bobbed hair. “It’s so wonderful to be here.” Holding Kate away from her, she said, “Now, let me have a look at you.” She placed her hands on Kate’s cheeks. “I declare, you’re more beautiful than when you left home.” She let her eyes take in the rest of her daughter. “You’re a little skinny though.”
“I’ve lost some weight, but that comes with the job. I’m fine.” Kate couldn’t stop smiling. With one arm tucked into her mother’s, she leaned against her father. “How was the trip?”
“Couldn’t have had better weather. And we saw some of the most beautiful country God ever created.” He turned and faced the Chugach Mountains. “You’ve got some incredible mountains up here.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet. I can’t wait to show you around. There’s so much I want you to see.”
Angel barked a greeting.
“Well, who’s this?” Bill asked.
“That’s Angel, my dog. She’s friendly.”
“I can see that.” Bill bent down and smoothed the dog’s heavy coat. “Beautiful animal.”
Kate spotted Sidney standing in the shop doorway. “I’d like to introduce you to my boss,” she said, and the three headed across the field with Angel romping alongside.
Kate drove along Lake Spenard, her thoughts with her parents. She’d had so much fun showing them Alaska, and they’d been properly impressed. Albert had taken her father fishing while she and her mother had done some shopping. Kate had never really liked to shop, but helping her mother find souvenirs to take home had been fun.
They had only a few days left of their vacation, and sadly Kate had to work today. However, tomorrow they planned a day of clam digging. They’d love it.
Their time together had been even better than she’d hoped. In spite of her job, Kate had managed to show them a good deal of the territory. She almost thought she had her father convinced to move up, but he wasn’t yet ready to let go of the farm. Maybe one day.
Her parents both admitted to understanding why she’d stayed in Alaska. Still, Joan confessed to hoping Kate might return to Washington, eventually. Kate was startled to hear that Richard was still waiting and hoping she’d come back to him. There’d been no more letters, and she’d assumed he’d gone on with his life. There was nothing more she could do—he’d accept the truth sooner or later.
She spotted Jack’s plane floating free, several yards from shore with one pontoon mostly submerged. Kate stopped the car and got out for a better look. How had the plane come free of its moorings? One pontoon looked badly damaged. Jack would be furious.
Wondering if he knew about the plane’s condition, she climbed back into the sporty little Plymouth and pulled up in front of the office. Surprisingly, all the pilots’ planes were on the field, and Kate wondered why everyone was grounded. She’d expected to be working today.
Angel trotted into the shop ahead of Kate. Pilots didn’t like it when they weren’t flying, and the atmosphere inside was subdued. Jack leaned back in a chair, arms folded over his chest and a toothpick bouncing between his lips as he chewed on it. Obviously he didn’t know about his plane. Kate needed to tell him, but could already hear his outrage and recoiled at the idea of being the one to share the news.
Angel sauntered over to Mike who gave her a good rubdown.
“No work today?” Kate asked, trying to figure out how to tell Jack. She glanced at him, then walked to the schedule tacked on the wall and flipped through the next couple of days—nothing for her.
Sidney leaned on his desk. “Kate, since things are so quiet today, it’d be a good time for you to practice taking off and landing on the lake.”
Her stomach clenched. She’d been dreading this day.
“You said it’d been a long while since you’d done any water landings.”
“Yeah,” Kate said, quaking inside. “But first we’d better check out Jack’s plane.”
“My plane? Why?”
“When I drove by, it was . . . in the lake, floating freely. It’s off its moorings and looks like one of the pontoons is damaged.”
“What?” Jack exploded, leaping out of his chair and striding to the door.
Kate’s eyes met Mike’s. Everyone followed Jack outdoors. He strode toward the lake, cussing all the way.
Mike hung back with Kate. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. I just noticed it when I drove in.” Kate hurried to catch up with the guys.
At the dock, Jack gaped at his plane, then turned accusing eyes on the group. “Who in blazes did this?”
No one spoke.
Sidney was the first to offer an explanation. “I’m sure it was an accident. No one here would set your plane afloat.”
“So you’re saying the plane did it all by itself?” The veins in Jack’s forehead bulged and his face was crimson. Cursing, he waded into the water. By the time he reached the plane, he was neck deep. He checked it over, then examined the pontoon. Looking angrier than ever, he grabbed the line and headed back toward the dock.
Mike and Frank splashed in to help. Mike stood on the side with the good pontoon and Frank moved around behind the plane. The three worked together to steer the Stinson back to the dock where Jack tied it off.
Once secured, he examined the pontoon. He straightened, and looking ferocious, he bellowed, “Someone gouged a hole in it!” He glared at the pilots. “I know you’re jealous. I’ve got two good birds. And you’re lucky just to have one pathetic piece of junk.” His eyes stopped at Kate. “Fess up.”
“No one did anything to your plane,” Sidney said. He walked to the end of the dock. “We wouldn’t do that, not even to you.” He looked at the plane. “All it needs is a new pontoon and it’ll be good as new. I don’t know why you’ve got your shorts all up in a wad.”
“Replacing it will take more than pocket change.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve got plenty of that.” Sidney shook his head.
“No one’s jealous of you,” Kenny said, puffing out his chest and shoving his hands into his pockets, seemingly proud to be standing up to Jack.
“Is that right? You don’t care that I get more business than every last one of you, or that I’ve got two planes, or that I’m the best pilot?”
He sloshed out of the water, wrung out the front of his shirt while still wearing it, then directed a derisive look at Kate. “That albatross of yours can barely get off the ground.”
Just then, Kate’s parents walked up. She could see by her mother’s expression that what she’d just seen and heard distressed her.
“I thought you went sightseeing,” Kate said.
“We thought we’d stop by here first.” Joan looked over the bunch of men, her gaze stopping on Jack, unable to hide her revulsion. She moved close to her daughter and softly asked, “Are you sure you’re safe . . . working here among these ruffians?”
“They’re not ruffians,” Kate said under her breath. “Jack just lost his temper because his plane got damaged.”
Frank squeezed water from his pants legs, then followed the rest of the men to the shop.
Joan pressed her palms together. “Maybe moving up here wasn’t such a good idea.”
“She’s fine,” Bill said. “I’d be upset too if something happened to my plane.”
“You get upset, but you never
behave the way that man just did.” Joan stared at Jack.
“Maybe so, but Kate will be fine. She can hold her own against anyone.” Bill gave Kate a squeeze.
She leaned against her father. “Thanks, Dad.”
“We’re heading for Palmer today. See you later?”
“Sure.” Kate considered asking if she could go along. It would mean she didn’t have to practice water landings and takeoffs, at least not today. But she knew it was time to face her fears.
Mike stepped out of the shop and headed toward Kate. “You ready? We need to get the pontoons on your plane.”
Anxiety set Kate’s pulse racing. “Sure.” She hugged her mother. “I’ll see you later. Have fun.” Kate watched them go, then turned toward the shop, her stomach roiling.
Every nerve on edge, Kate eased into her seat. Mike remained on the pontoon and cranked the flywheel. She pulled the starter and the engine lit off.
“We’re all set,” Mike said with a wink and dropped into the seat beside her.
Kate nodded, keeping her eyes on the water. I can do this. She gripped the stick.
“Kate?” Mike looked at her more closely. “Something wrong?”
“No. I’m fine.” She tried to keep her voice from quaking.
“You have done this before, right?”
“Sure. No problem.”
“You look kind of tight.”
Kate ignored the comment and moved out across the lake. Memories pummeled her—Alison’s scream, the icy water . . . I can’t do this. She stopped, then, without looking at Mike, turned back toward the dock, and shut down the engine.
“Kate, this isn’t going to work,” Mike teased. “You’ve got to be out in the water with the engine running if you want to take off.”
She didn’t respond.
“Kate.”
She looked at him. “I . . . I can’t do it.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“I just can’t.” She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want him to know what she’d done.
“Hold on. You flew, on your own, from the states to Alaska. You’ve been all over the territory—landing on all kinds of airstrips, places without runways with nothing more than a cleared place in a field or a sandy beach—in fog, wind, snow, and rain. And you’re telling me you can’t take off from a lake on a clear day?”