by Julee Baker
***
“State Senator Loren Calhoun, actor Bradley Thompson and two others, returning from a fishing trip in Northwestern Montana are reportedly missing at this hour. Shortly after three this afternoon, the chartered float plane’s pilot reported to the Kalispell airport the plane was experiencing engine trouble moments before radio contact was lost. The plane was believed to be somewhere over the northeast quadrant of the Bob Marshall Wilderness Area. Shown here is a live clip of area search teams mobilizing across the region to search for the missing aircraft. Stay tuned to Action News Nine for breaking updates and a full story at six.”
***
The live clip they showed was of the Glacier Rescue Rapid Response team getting ready. Sure enough, there was Hawk and two other men in orange jumpsuits—GRRR logos emblazoned across their backs, standing next to . . . a plane . . . Oh, dear God, no . . . Her stomach lurched. The aircraft was identical to the one their parents crashed in.
She looked to River. Unfortunately, his memories of the plane their parents went down in were still vivid. The news stations must have shown that clip of them getting in the plane that day, a hundred times. Lake had to carefully monitor River’s viewing for quite a while, and still missed one occasionally. The GRRR plane was a match, down to the color.
River went silent. The station returned to regular programming. Still nothing from River. He continued staring straight ahead.
“I’m sure they’ll be okay Riv.” She put her hand gently on his head.
River looked up at her. “That plane . . . it looked like the one . . .”
“But it’s not the same one, Riv. We can’t think about that. Besides, Hawk told me he goes up in the helicopter, not the plane. Didn’t you see the helicopter in the background? That’s what Hawk would be going up in—if they use it at all. A lot of the time, they take trucks, or motorcycles, or hike in sometimes. They’ve practiced a lot, Riv. Experts check all their equipment.”
Was she trying to convince River—or herself?
“They’ll find those people and help them out. I’m sure Hawk will tell you all about it when he gets back.”
“Should we say a prayer for them?” He was searching for a way to help. Her eyes got watery at.
“That’s a great idea. I think it’s the very best thing we could do for them right now.” She kissed him the top of his head. “You know what? You’re one, smart kid.”
River led their prayer in the sweet, clear voice of a believing child, “Please help Hawk find those people and please help them not to get hurt. Especially Hawk. I don’t know why you wanted mom and dad to be with you more than with me, but I really hope Hawk can stay around for longer. Oh, and please help Lake’s foot be okay. Oh, and thank you for all the animals at school today. And please help the animals from being hurt. And thank you for summer vacation. Amen.”
Lake hugged River tightly. It gave her a few more seconds to try and swallow the huge lump in her throat and blink back the tears. “Amen.”
Bring the little ones to me. A question glimmered through Lake’s head—aren’t we all little ones?
The prayer seemed to help River a lot—Lake, not so much. Her mind skipped back to frantic prayers she said for their parents. Why couldn’t she stop the thoughts? Disappointing. Still so near the surface . . . Would it ever be different? She didn’t know, so she prayed about that too.
But mostly, she prayed Hawk would be safe.
In the middle of one of those prayers, Frank Effron, the older man who had been nervous about teaching last week’s class, called to let Lake know he would be teaching tonight. There was no way Lake could imagine going now. She couldn’t focus on anything except Hawk and any news. She thanked Frank for calling, but used the cut on her heel as an excuse.
She and River ate a quiet supper, talking a little about the animals that Ranger Randy had shown them that afternoon. Thankfully, between that and attempting to draw the animals they had seen kept him occupied for most of the rest of the evening.
The six o’clock news hadn’t offered much more than the bulletin. They kept repeating the same information over and over, wording it a little differently. They went into detail about Senator Calhoun, who evidently was quite a celebrity around here. Played pro football in Denver for a while, back in the day. Naturally, they spent a profuse amount of time reporting on Bradley Thompson. At thirty-two, the actor already had two Oscar nominations under his belt and the entertainment world constantly discussed the actor.
Lake had met Thompson once on a shoot. A brief meeting, but he had been surprisingly down to earth. She prayed for him, too.
River was off to bed at eight-thirty. Tomorrow was the last day of school and he was ready for summer vacation. Lake turned the TV on, but hit the mute button, glancing over every so often for new developments. So far—nothing.
After putting a meatloaf together for tomorrow and busying herself in the kitchen for a time, she pulled a couple of recipe books out and absently flipped through pages. Nothing sounded good.
Lake reached over and touched the soft petals of the daisies Hawk brought earlier. He had used her make-shift water-pitcher weapon for a vase. So cheery. She stared at them, pictures of Hawk flashing through her mind as if she had taken them with her camera. That’s just how her brain was wired.
Sometimes a blessing, sometimes a curse.
Lake glanced up at the clock for what must have been the fiftieth time. Eleven thirty-seven. Uh . . . Torture. Was he in the air right now? Searching in the dark? She hoped not.
That’s what he does, Lake.
Was she strong enough to cope with this on a regular basis? Was it smart for her? For River? Her little brother was already becoming attached to Hawk after only a few meetings. Probably only natural for the little guy to look for a strong male role model now that dad wasn’t here . . .
All her fears about having a relationship with Hawk, washed over her in a huge, capsizing wave. She’d been floating her boat on denial, she grimaced, and she couldn’t pretend any longer.
This was the reality she had been pushing to the back of her mind. Hawk the sculptor—she could easily relate to. They shared an artistic temperament and world view that, though they practiced their art in different fields, was, in reality, quite similar. That was a Hawk she could soar with.
But the GRRR Hawk . . . that was also a huge part of who he was—is—she flinched. They were both part and parcel of the same man. Was she kidding herself? Lake picked up her phone from the counter and hopped her way over to the couch. She lay down and curled up in a tormented knot, phone in one hand, remote in the other, the flickering flashes from the TV’s nonsense the only light in the room. Was she strong enough to deal with this kind of mental torture? Should she put an end to this before it went too far?
If only her faith was stronger. Another thing they shared, but Hawk’s was so much steadier than hers. But, if she truly believed . . . Lake wanted Hawk in her future. Could she deal with the fear? Let her trust . . . and hope again? Or let fear rule. As she laid there drowsy, but unable to sleep, a simple bit of verse from somewhere. It came out of nowhere and slipped into her head, about “casting all your worries on Him, because He cares for you”. Her mind grasped at the lifesaver she’d been tossed and she dozed off.
Casting . . .
***
Billowing, dark, grey, storm clouds were flying past the studio windows at a Dorothy in the tornado rate . . . Her phone was ringing . . . Or was it a dog barking? How did her phone end up in the middle of the room . . . on the floor . . .? She had to get it . . . It might be Hawk . . . She tried to get up, but . . . Oh. Both her feet were wrapped together with the hospital gauze . . . She fell.
“Uhh.”
Disoriented, Lake sat up on the floor beside the couch, the coverlet tangled around her feet. She rubbed her face.
What?
A dream. She frowned, trying to make sense. Her phone was ringing. Lake tried to fo
cus, reaching frantically for it, knocking it off the coffee table and crawling after it on the floor, fumbling to answer. Hawk. She flung it open.
“Hawk, I was so . . . Hawk?”
“Lake. No. It’s me, Sam.”
“Sam? What? Oh.” She sank back to the floor. “No. Please, no.”
“No. No, Lake. No—nothing like that. Hawk’s alive. Not exactly okay, but he’s managing.”
A qualified relief washed over Lake.
“What happened? Is he hurt? How is he? Where is he? He hasn’t called . . .” She fired out the questions faster than Sam had any hope of answering.
“Slow down, Lake. Sorry I couldn’t give you any news sooner, but they had to fish him out of the crash site.”
Lake’s eyes widened in alarm at “fished out”.
Sam continued, “It was a bit tricky. Deep in the trees. Really a miracle no one was killed. They got everyone out. GRRR got to them first. Broken bones, concussions, but they’ll all make it. Textbook rescue . . . that is . . . up until it wasn’t.”
“What do you mean? What happened to Hawk?”
“He was the last one being hoisted back up to the chopper, when, I still can’t believe this, but a fastener on one of the cables snapped.”
Lake’s stomach turned.
“How bad? Tell me the truth.” Her knees went weak . . . her stomach went to her throat.
“Relax. He’s tough . . . and trained. Luckily, if you can call any of it lucky, he was only about eight feet off the ground when it snapped. Hit the ground hard. Doesn’t think anything’s broken, but, the worst of it was the steel cable fastener cut his thigh when it snapped.”
“Is he okay now? Is he at the hospital?”
“He’s at the hospital in Kalispell. They’re working on the leg now. He lost a quite a bit of blood. Needed a transfusion.”
A blood transfusion? Lake struggled to her feet . . . make that her foot. “I’m coming down. As soon as I can find someone to stay with River. Call me if you hear anything more, please?”
“Sure thing.”
“And Sam—”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. Thanks so much for calling me.”
“Sure. I know he’d have wanted me to.”
***
Lake managed a quiet kind of tiptoe on her injured foot into River’s room after calling Fran. She sat on River’s bedside and softly explained what Sam had told her. She told him that Hawk had cut his leg and was in the hospital. That she wanted to go see him.
“So, when you wake up, Fran might be here to help you get ready for school.”
“God heard us.” Riv said sleepily.
Lake gave him a little hug and kiss. “He always hears, Riv.”
Lake re-tucked his covers and did her modified tiptoe out of his room. She hopped down the steps after that and met Fran at the studio door.
Fran was amazing. She was there in ten minutes.
“Hi hon.” Fran gave her a big hug. She noticed Lake’s foot. “How are you doing?”
“Oh, I cut my foot on some broken glass. Long story. But, if I’m not back in time to get Riv off in the morning, would you please drive him to school tomorrow? It’s important. I don’t have time to explain now, but it’s a safety issue. You’ll probably have to pick up his friend Zach too. His mom’s number is on a list by the phone. And please make sure they get into the school before you drive off. I’ll explain later.”
Fran shook her head yes, with a frown.
“Good, but, right now, I want to get to the hospital.”
“Of course, you do. Don’t worry about a thing here. Go. Go.” She pushed at Lake to go out the door.
***
Thirty-five minutes later, Lake hobbled through the automatic doors of the hospital in Kalispell, to the whoosh of antiseptic smell and whirlwind of medical and rescue personnel trying to make their way around the media throng. Efforts were currently under way to herd the crowd into a large conference room. Looked like the staff was having a time keeping them corralled, though.
Their vehicles, complete with satellite dishes and antennas, lined both sides of the road leading to the hospital and took up most of the parking lot, which had forced Lake into a parking space at the edge of the solar system.
Her foot was throbbing again, although her own injury didn’t concern her right now. Hawk’s did.
The information desk was hopelessly crowded, so Lake opted for a nurse’s station, and was promptly sent back to the information desk, where, after waiting for almost half-an-hour, they wouldn’t give her any information anyway.
She wasn’t family.
Tired, aching and frustrated, she spotted an open chair. A rare commodity. Regroup and form another plan. She’d pictured herself just walking in and finding out how Hawk was doing . . . Maybe even getting to see him . . .
Bleary eyes searched for a wall clock. 3:06 a.m. Yikes. This had been one monster of a day. How long could adrenaline keep you going? She slumped forward, elbows on knees, head in hands.
The uniformed legs of a group of law enforcement types walked rapidly by, one pair skidded to a stop.
“Lake? What are you doin’ there?”
She looked up. “Sam—they won’t tell me anything. I’m not family.” She stated flatly.
He shook his head, and scanned around. “This place is crawling with reporters.” He glanced at her bandaged foot. “Looks like you had some tough luck yourself.
“Broken glass. It’s nothing.” She waved the mention of her injury away.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Sam walked over and spoke quietly to his group, causing heads to turn in her direction. After several nods, they proceeded down the hall and Sam came back to her.
“Come with me Lake.” Sam stopped by the nurse’s station and hijacked a wheelchair, rolling it over and pointing for Lake to get in.
“Oh, Sam . . . I don’t . . .”
“Please don’t argue. It’ll save you some hurting and me some time. Hop in.”
Sam was right. He negotiated the corridors in no time. They pulled to a stop in front of a recovery room and he spoke to the nurse standing outside the door who was examining a chart.
Sam was back in a moment.
“Lake, listen, I got the okay for you to go inside for a few minutes.”
His brows compressed in a look of concern.
“I want you to be prepared. He’s pretty bruised up and has lots of stuff hooked up to him right now. Mostly precautionary. He took a hard fall—bruised ribs and his face is beat up. Well, he’s basically one, big bruise. The most serious injury was the cut in his thigh.” He shook his head. “Thank God his helmet kept him from being knocked unconscious from the fall. He stopped himself from bleeding out. Missoula Rescue’s chopper was only a couple minutes away. They fished him out.” He finished with a wry smile, looking toward the room. “He’s excited about that.” He gave a short laugh. “There’s quite a rivalry between the two groups.”
She didn’t know a whole lot about first aid, but she did know the femoral artery went down through the thigh and a cut to that could be fatal. Quickly. She was thankful she was still sitting.
“Oh.” She swallowed hard, but couldn’t say anything more.
He stood and rubbed her shoulder. His smile reappeared.
“Hey. Not to worry. He’s supposed to keep still. He’s pretty drugged up and has been fading in and out. So, take it easy on him.” He smiled a sideways smile, teasing, “He seems to lose his cool around you.”
Her tension eased. If Sam was laughing, things couldn’t be too bad.
Lake tilted her head at him and smiled back. “I promise, I’ll be on my best behavior. Thanks again.” She stood and gave him a hug.
“I’ve got a few things to sort out here; then I need to pick up Slug and Elle. They’re over in the office. I’ll take Elle to my place for the time being. After that, I’m gonna hit the sa
ck for a few hours. You should too. I’ve got a mountain of paperwork ahead of me tomorrow.” He grimaced. “But it’ll feel pretty good, considering everyone made it out of that mess alive. I’ll probably see you tomorrow. Night.”
With a parting squeeze to Sam’s hand, she steadied herself, and peering around the door, stepped in, Sam’s warning at the forefront of her mind as she did. Even though she knew Hawk was going to be all right, she still weakened at the sight of him lying in the hospital bed.
The recovery room was well lit for three-thirty in the morning. There was a curtain three-quarters of the way around his bed. He was hooked up to several monitors blinking messages and bottles dripping liquids.
What she saw at his bedside made her almost light-headed. One side of Hawk’s face was scraped and swollen, the skin reddened now, but she was willing to bet it would be purple by morning. Same with his left arm, from what she could see.
He was out of it. Sam said he might be. She quietly moved a chair to his bedside and sat, blinking back tears. His right hand didn’t look too injured, so she reached out and took it with both of hers, kissed it and laid her cheek upon it.
“Lake . . . here.” The rough whisper was groggy, but oh, so good to hear.
She raised her head to see the warm eyes open a slit.
“Hawk. I’m here.” She couldn’t say anything more. All she could do was look into his eyes and give his hand another soft kiss.
He groaned. “Uhh . . . kiss it . . . make it . . . bett . . . er.” He even managed a little dimple, before a frown creased his brow. “Shhorry . . . gave me shhome shhtrong shhh . . . tuf.” Another frown. “I dunno . . .”
“Don’t try to talk. You need to rest. I should let you sleep. I’ll come back in the morning, after you’ve slept. I’m just so relieved you’re going to be okay. I don’t know what I would have done . . .” she told him softly, from the heart.
His eyes were already closed when he mumbled, “Mmm-nnight . . . love you . . .”