by Bonnie Leon
“Me too.” Paul’s expression turned pensive. He stared out over the concession stands to the mountains bordering the valley. The joy seemed to drain from him.
“Have you been to many fairs?” Kate asked, hoping to recapture his good mood.
He looked at her as if he’d forgotten she was there. “What? I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
“Just wondering what kind of fairs you used to go to.”
“Bigger. But they’re all pretty much the same.”
When the ride ended, they walked toward a row of booths where men called out to passersby, tempting them to put down money to play for trinkets.
“You thirsty?” Paul asked.
Kate nodded.
“How about a Coke?”
“I wonder if they have root beer.”
“Well, we’ll find out.” Paul took her arm and steered her toward a stand advertising popcorn, candy, and drinks. “You want something to eat?”
“No, not yet.” She scanned the crowd, hoping to see Mike or Frank, and feeling disappointment when she didn’t spot them.
Paul bought them each a pop and they strolled down a row of vendors. “What do you want to do next?”
“Your turn to pick.” Kate smiled, thinking this was beginning to feel like a date. It wasn’t meant to be. She wondered how Paul felt about it. He seemed to be having a good time.
“Let’s have a look at those giant cabbages,” he said.
“Okay.” They headed toward the produce barn. “You think they’ve found Frank yet?” Kate asked.
“We can go back to the airport if you want.”
“If they don’t show up soon, we’ll go.”
After looking at some of the biggest vegetables Kate had ever seen, she and Paul wandered toward the animal barns. They stopped to watch a pie-eating contest. Kate couldn’t imagine eating so much pie so quickly. Just the thought made her stomach ache.
Frank’s friendly face flashed into her mind. “I wish Mike and Frank would show up.”
“You want to go?”
“Yeah. Do you mind?”
“’Course not.”
“I just can’t stop thinking about him.”
They set off for the car. “Have you had any interesting runs lately?” Paul asked.
Kate remembered the birth that happened on her plane. “If you call delivering a baby interesting, then yes.” She grinned.
“You did what?”
“About a month ago I had a passenger, a woman who was very pregnant. She needed a flight to Fairbanks and neglected to tell me or Sidney that she’d been having birth pains. After we got into the air, the baby decided it was time to meet the world. Things got serious so fast I had to put down. Her husband was no help.”
Paul smiled, admiration in his eyes. “You delivered the baby?”
“Mostly I caught it. The mother did all the work. Still, I wish I’d had a doctor with me or Doris Henley, the nurse from Anchorage hospital.”
Kate started across the field outside the fairgrounds. “Alaska needs doctors. For the most part, people in the villages don’t have any medical care. But the trouble is, most doctors don’t want to spend their lives flying from one Alaskan village to another.”
“I can understand that.” Paul sounded defensive.
Kate wondered why he’d be defensive and was just about to ask him about it when Mike’s car pulled into the parking area. He was alone. The set of his jaw and the angle of his shoulders gave Kate a chill. Something was wrong. She ran to meet him.
When he stepped out of the car, she knew the truth but still had to ask. “What is it? What happened to Frank?”
“Kenny found his plane. He cracked up just north of Tal-keetna.” Kate waited, sick to her stomach and hoping her gut was wrong.
“He’s dead, Kate. The plane came apart when it hit.”
Kate felt her legs weaken. It couldn’t be true. Not Frank. He was the sensible one. He wasn’t supposed to die.
Eyes shimmering, Mike pulled Kate into his arms. Holding her against his chest, he smoothed her hair. She clung to him. “Why Frank? He was a good man.” She felt Paul’s hand on her back. She glanced at him and, again, saw the wound he kept hidden inside.
Mike didn’t answer, but held her more closely.
Stepping back, Kate asked, “Do they know what happened?”
“A couple of us’ll go and have a look. Maybe we can figure it out. But planes are just unreliable.”
Without a word, Paul walked away, cutting across the field. He walked in a hurry, as if he were angry.
Using the back of his hand, Mike brushed away tears. “Frank said the carburetor had been giving him trouble. That might have been it. I should have helped him fix it. He wasn’t a very good mechanic. We’ve got to look out for each other.”
The following day, Kate flew Paul back to his cabin. They didn’t talk much. Kate’s mind was with Frank and his accident. A lot of pilots died. Would her life end that way too?
By the time they reached the creek, a sharp wind kicked up small breakers on the water and sinister-looking clouds drooped above the forest.
Paul climbed out of his seat. “You want a cup of coffee and something to eat before you head back?”
Kate knew she ought to hurry on to get ahead of the storm, but Angel whined from the back of the plane and she enjoyed Paul’s company even though he’d been quieter than usual since learning about Frank. “I guess. Angel needs a run.”
They moored the plane, then walked up the trail to the cabin. Paul’s dogs greeted them with exuberant barking.
Once inside, Kate sat at the table, elbows propped, chin in her hands. She watched while Paul started a fire. With a deep sigh, she said, “I still can’t believe Frank’s gone.”
“Yeah. It’s a shame.” Paul’s voice sounded tight. “He seemed like a nice guy.” He added larger chunks to briskly burning kindling. Wood popped and sizzled. He slid the stove plate back in place, filled the percolator with water, and added coffee to the basket.
“How does bread and cheese sound? Or I could make soup.”
“Bread and cheese is fine.” Kate moved to the window. Wind slapped the bushes and grabbed tree boughs. It didn’t look good. She turned to Paul. “Do you see the Warrens much?”
“Yeah, quite a bit. They’re good neighbors.” He cut a slice of cheese, then glanced out the window at the storm. Wind whistled under the eves.
“The storm’s picking up. I better go.”
“Okay, but take some bread and cheese with you.” A gust blasted the side of the house. “You sure you ought to fly? It’s looking fierce out there.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Like Frank was fine?”
Shocked at the statement, Kate stared at Paul, wondering why he’d say something like that. “I’m not Frank. And I’m sure he was being careful. It was just an accident.”
“Yeah, I know. But . . . well, for crying out loud, Kate, bush piloting is dangerous work. Have you ever thought about not flying?”
“That would be like not breathing.”
“You could work somewhere else. Fly safer routes.”
“To do that I’d have to leave Alaska.”
Paul wrapped the cheese and bread in waxed paper. “You have family and friends down south.” He handed her the small meal.
Kate thought about her friends in Alaska that she’d miss. Paul was one of them. Interestingly his face came to her mind before Mike’s. “There are people here who matter to me too.” She forced a smile. “I’m a good pilot.”
“Frank was too.” Paul stared at her solemnly. “Working somewhere else is better than dying.”
“I’m not going to die. And I thought we were friends. You don’t seem to care where I live as long as it isn’t here.”
“That’s not true. But sometimes being a bush pilot is just plain foolish.”
“You think I’m foolish?” Angry and not sure why she felt rejected, Kate headed for the door. Before Paul
could say anything, she stepped onto the porch and into the storm.
25
Wind buffeted Paul as he stepped onto the porch. He shielded his eyes from blowing dust and debris. It’s idiotic to fly in this weather. He headed for the trail.
When he reached the path, he spotted her immediately. “Kate!” he hollered.
She glanced back just as a small branch, carried by the wind, smacked her face. She pressed a hand to her cheek and hurried on.
“Stubborn woman,” Paul muttered, running after her. Closing the distance, he called again, but she ignored him. Finally catching up to her, he grabbed her arm. “Stop! Listen to me!”
She whirled around and faced him. “What do you want? I’ve got to get to Anchorage.”
“If you go, you’re crazy.”
“So, now I’m crazy and foolish?”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” He gazed up at the maelstrom of whipping tree limbs and flying leaves. “You can’t fly in a storm like this.”
“I can do whatever I choose.”
Still gripping her arms, he said more gently. “Kate, stop it.” He didn’t want anger to push her into doing something deadly. He purposely spoke in a steady tone. “I’m sorry for what I said, but this is a bad storm. You can’t go up.”
The fight seemed to go out of Kate. She glanced at the sky, shielding her eyes from heavy rain. “I know.” She looked around. “The storm blew in so fast.”
He looked at the plane, bobbing in choppy waters. “Come back to the house. You can stay until it passes.”
“I’ve got to secure the plane.”
Together they covered the engine, pulled a tarp across the front window and around the sides, adding more rope to hold it firmly. Kate stepped back and studied the Bellanca bobbing wildly in the chop. “I hope it’ll be all right.”
“Can’t see what else we can do.”
Kate nodded and headed back up the trail, Angel trotting ahead of her.
Once inside the cabin, Paul moved to a shelf and took down a pot and filled it with water. “I’ll make soup.” He set the pan on the stove. “Be right back. I need to get some meat and vegetables.” He headed for the door, but stopped and looked at her. “You have a change of clothes? You’re soaked through.”
“Yeah. In my bag on the plane.”
“I’ll get it.” He pulled on a rain slicker, stepped outside, and headed for the plane. Most bullheaded woman I’ve ever met.
The Bellanca pitched in the stormy waters. Hanging onto the seats as he searched, Paul found the bag stashed behind the pilot’s seat.
He hurried back to the cabin. Thankful to close the storm outside, Paul stepped into the house and handed the bag to Kate. “Here you go. You can change in my room.”
“Thanks.” Her voice quiet, she added, “I wasn’t gonna go.”
“You weren’t? Why were you so set on getting to your plane?”
Kate shrugged. “I was mad and didn’t know what else to do.”
“I’m glad you stayed,” Paul said, feeling more thankful than he understood. He headed for the door.
“Thanks for coming after me.”
He looked at her, wearing a half smile. “Couldn’t let you go. What would I do without my mail lady?”
“So, it’s the mail you care about.”
“No. You weren’t listening. I said, the mail lady.” Paul’s tone was tender.
“Oh.” Kate smiled.
Paul’s stomach did a little flip as he gazed into Kate’s warm eyes. He cleared his throat. “Well, I better get the meat and vegetables.” He stepped outside. The storm had intensified, howling through the trees. Inside the shed, the sound of rain and debris pummeling the tin roof was deafening. Paul selected an onion from a sack hanging from the ceiling, then headed for boxes of vegetables where he grabbed a handful of carrots. He stuck a bunch under one arm and picked out some potatoes. Next, he took a jar of moose meat off a shelf and then headed back to the house, his mind on the meal. Biscuits would be good. When he reached the door, he knocked on it with his foot.
Kate opened it and unloaded some of the vegetables. “I could have helped.” She set the produce on the counter next to the sink.
He closed the door. “Storm’s brutal.” He noticed her Bible on the table. He used to read his, but couldn’t see any reason for it now. He set the vegetables in the sink. Glancing at her, he said, “You look better.”
“Dry clothes and a hairbrush can do wonders.” She grinned. “So, what can I do to help?”
“Vegetables need washing. After that, you can chop them if you want.”
“I think I can do that.”
He twisted the ring off the jar of meat, popped the lid, and dumped chunks of meat into simmering water. Kate worked on the vegetables while he started on the biscuits.
Working alongside Kate reminded Paul of the day they’d gone clam digging. It had been a good day. He smiled at the memory of her digging for her first clam. She’d seemed almost childlike.
“What are you smiling about?”
Embarrassed at being caught daydreaming about her, Paul checked his emotions. “Am I smiling?”
“Yes, you are.”
He shrugged. “Just thinking about the biscuits. I can already taste them.” He wasn’t about to let himself care too much for Kate. Besides, she and Mike were a couple.
Kate held up a potato. “My mother peels potatoes. Not me.”
“No problem.” Paul’s mind went back to the argument between him and Kate, before she’d slammed out of the cabin. “Earlier . . . why did you get so mad?”
Kate cut a potato in half and then into fourths. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I guess . . . it felt like you didn’t care about me, as if you wanted me to leave Alaska.”
A crash accompanied by the sound of splintering glass reverberated from the back room.
“What the . . .” Paul ran into the bedroom. Kate followed.
Cotton curtains flapped like flags in the wind. Rain pelted the broken windowpane and soaked the bedroom floor. A treetop rested on the windowsill.
In three strides Paul crossed the room. He examined the damage. “I’ll have to cut it free from outside.” Heading for the front of the house he called over his shoulder, “Stay put. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
Kate stepped into the doorway. “I can take care of myself, thank you.”
Paul stopped and looked at her. “I’ve no doubt you can.” He couldn’t conceal a smile and shook his head slightly from side to side. “Is it ever all right for someone to protect you?”
“Sometimes.” Her voice sounded guarded.
“You know, it’s good for people to watch out for each other.”
“True, but . . .” Her eyes held his. “I’ll bet if it were Patrick here with you instead of me, you wouldn’t have told him to stay put.”
Paul exhaled through his nose. “Okay, you can help me. But I’ll need you to do that from inside.”
Her pursed lips softened into a smile. “Sure.”
After the tree had been removed, the glass swept up, and a tarp stretched over the broken window, Kate and Paul returned to dinner preparations.
“Most of the water’s boiled away. I’ll have to add some more. It’ll take a while to heat up,” Paul said. “And I barely got started on the biscuits. Dinner could take a while.”
“I can wait. My stomach’s not growling too loudly. And I’ve never made biscuits before. I’d like to learn.”
“Okay. If you can wait, I can. The recipe is my grandmother’s— best biscuits you’ll ever eat.” He glanced at the window. “Hope Jasper found a place to weather the storm.”
“He’s still hanging around?”
“Yeah, but less these days. He comes in once in a while, looking for a free meal.” He rested his hands on either side of the mixing bowl. “Now to the biscuits.”
Paul put the biscuit dough together, explaining each step to Kate. When he finished, he smeared lard into the bottom of a D
utch oven. “Just put spoonfuls in a pot like this and cook.” He dropped dollops of dough into the pan, closed the lid, and set the pot on the stove. “Won’t take long.”
“I might actually be able to make them.” Kate rested a hip against the counter. “Now what?”
The beef and broth was boiling and Kate added sliced vegetables.
His mind flashed to a rainy day when he and Susan had prepared a meal together. It felt peculiar doing something so similar and domestic with Kate. He needed a distraction.
“Most of the coffee boiled away. I’ll make some fresh,” he said.
With dinner cooking, Paul glanced out the window. “Getting dark. Time to light the lanterns.” He lit two lamps in the living room and one hanging on the kitchen wall.
Kate moved to the window and gazed out. “I don’t think I’ve seen a summer squall this bad since I moved here.”
“It’s pretty wild out there.” Paul checked the coffee.
“Hope my plane rides out the storm all right. Can’t afford to replace it.” She paused. “You have a big family?”
Paul looked at her. She was leaning against the windowsill, studying him. “What?”
“There are a lot of people in that picture on your bureau.”
“Oh. Yeah. There are a lot of us—me, my three brothers and two sisters, six kids in all.” He lifted the lid of the pot to check the biscuits. “I pretty much had a charmed life growing up.”
“Aren’t there three women in the picture, not including your mother?”
“Oh. Right.” Paul didn’t want to talk about Susan, but figured Kate might as well know about her. “The other gal . . . she was my wife. She died.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It was a long time ago.”
The room turned quiet, the pop and sizzle of burning wood the only sound.
Kate sat at the table. “It was just me and my parents. I never had any brothers or sisters.”
“Were you lonely?”
“I always wished I had a sister, but I wasn’t lonely. Mom and Dad are the best.”
“You miss them?”
“Yeah. I wish they’d move up. I think Mom’s ready, but Dad’s not about to leave his apple ranch. He loves farming.” Paul stirred the soup. He took down two bowls from the cupboard and set them on the table along with cups and silverware.