Wild At Heart: A Novel

by Tucker, K. A.

  Jonah lets out a weak chuckle as he rubs his brow. “You don’t have a lot of confidence in my flying ability, do you?”

  “I do. But I also thought we were going to hit those trees back there.” Jonah brought us down so close to the tree line, I couldn’t keep the screams of panic from escaping. Even now, cold sweat coats the back of my neck, and there’s a fifty-fifty chance I still might vomit.

  “I wasn’t sure how big the lake was, and I wasn’t gonna risk having to do a second pass to get enough runway.”

  Especially not when he had already cut the engine before the floats touched down. I heard enough of his radio chatter to understand the gist of what was going on. Things like “in the red,” “burning up,” and “stall out.”

  It was far more serious than Jonah was letting on.

  He nods to my chest. “You can let go.”

  I look down and see that my hands are curled so tight around my seat belt that my knuckles are white. I release my grip and peer out the window. “Where are we?” Besides in the middle of nowhere.

  “Here.” Jonah points out the lake on the map, surrounded by mountains and far from any town or landmark. We couldn’t walk, even if we wanted to.

  “Is that guy going to come?”

  As if on cue, our headsets crackle with the man’s voice, asking if we’re okay.

  Jonah responds, giving him our coordinates, and then yanks off his headset. “He should be here soon. I need you to listen and relay any messages from him.”

  “Where are you going?” We’re in the middle of a lake!

  “I need to see how bad this is.” He reaches behind my seat for his tool bag. His mouth is mere inches from mine. Normally he’d have stolen a kiss by now. He always does when he’s reaching for anything behind my seat.

  But he hasn’t this time.

  I’d like to think it’s because he’s too focused on our current engine predicament, but I can’t help but worry that it’s about the other, more serious problem at hand.

  On impulse, I lean in and capture his lips with mine. He responds with the briefest of kisses, his soft sigh skating across my cheek as he pulls away. “Listen for this Sam guy, okay?”

  “Don’t fall in.” Who knows how deep that lake is, and the floats are likely slippery.

  He pops open his door and eases out.

  Leaving me alone with worry gnawing at my insides.

  * * *

  “What kind of plane is that?” I study the mustard-yellow one-seater that taxis along the lake toward us. It looks like a brightly painted fighter plane, with the little pilot hatch on the top.

  “A Fire Boss.” Jonah watches its approach while standing on a float. “They use them to fight forest fires. The pilots fly down low over a lake, slurp up a bunch of water into the floats, and then dump it on the fire from above. It’s pretty cool.” Jonah’s words don’t match his flat voice and grim face. Whatever he found under that engine panel had him cursing Bart, Alaska Wild’s mechanic.

  The silence drags as we wait.

  “So, how bad is it?” I finally dare ask.

  “Don’t know yet. I need to get Toby here.”

  The yellow plane stops twenty feet away, and Jonah tightens his grip as the subtle waves rock us. The hatch pops open and a bald man waves. “Not havin’ a great day, are ya!”

  You have no idea.

  “Thanks for comin’, Sam,” Jonah hollers.

  “No problem. You need a ride outta here? I can come back with another plane, but it’ll be a bit. Or I’ve got a friend not too far away I can call.”

  “Either would be much appreciated.”

  “Lemme get a hold of my friend. Probably faster.”

  Jonah gently thumps his fist against the fuselage. “I’ll start tyin’ him up.”

  * * *

  “Did you do it right?”

  I look up from my perch on the closed toilet to glare at Jonah. “How many ways are there to pee on a stick?”

  “More than one, based on this.” He scowls at the pregnancy test instructions. “It’s less complicated to fly a damn plane.”

  I stare hard at the tiny window, turning it this way and that under the light of the naked bulb above, searching for the second pink line that’s supposed to appear within two minutes. It’s been five and there’s not even a hint of one. Based on this test, I’m not pregnant.

  Relief sweeps over me, though I know we’re not in the clear yet.

  Jonah crumples and tosses the pamphlet into the trash can. “So, what now?” His mood hasn’t improved since Sam’s friend brought us home. We left Archie at the edge of the lake, secured by ropes and anchors, and I know it’s eating at him.

  “I’ll do another test in the morning, to make sure. Maybe my hormones are messed up this month.” I can’t hide the hopefulness in my voice.

  Just as Jonah can’t seem to hide the disappointment from his face.

  He nods slowly. “Did Toby respond yet?”

  “Yeah. He said he’s free to go today if you want,” I say.

  “Today would be ideal.” He hesitates. “You good with staying home, or did you want to come with us?”

  I can’t help but sense that Jonah would prefer the former of those two options. After my epic meltdown at the cabin, I wouldn’t blame him.

  I smile, even though it stings to think he wants time away from me. “I think I’ve had enough flying excitement for one day.” My nerves are frazzled by that emergency landing. “Go do what you have to do.”

  He peers at the second, unopened pregnancy test. He opens his mouth to say something but decides against it. Leaning down, he plants a quick kiss on my forehead and then turns for the door.

  “Jonah?”

  He pauses, his back to me. “Yup?”

  “Are we okay?”

  “Of course, we are.” He turns back to flash a comforting smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I’m practically skipping out of the bathroom and down the stairs the next morning, despite the heavy cramping in my abdomen, buoyant with the knowledge that the crisis has been averted. I am without a doubt not pregnant. I don’t know what caused the delay in my cycle, but I will certainly never forget a single pill ever again.

  It’s only 6:30 a.m. and a quiet calm hangs in our house. I heard Jonah leave through the front door as I was waking, likely not expecting me up for another hour or two. My guess is he’s in the hangar, itching to fetch Archie from his temporary parking spot in the remote wilderness.

  Toby dropped everything yesterday to come help him. They took off in Veronica, first to the plane so he could assess the damage. He confirmed what Jonah suspected—that several seals and lines weren’t tightened properly during maintenance, causing an oil leak. All fingers point to Bart, or whoever he had doing the work because Alaska Wild’s mechanic was known for pawning off basic maintenance to grounds crew who swore they knew what they were doing. He would normally double-check their work, but maybe, with everything going on at Wild, he missed that step.

  The guys flew to Anchorage to buy the necessary parts, then back up the mountain to try to fix Archie on-site—because what else do you do when your plane is stranded on a lake? There’s certainly no tow truck you can call.

  The sun was setting by the time Veronica’s floats broke the calm of our lake once again, both men wearing tired faces but chuckling over the idle threats Jonah plans on making to Bart the next time he sees him. Toby seemed confident that there wasn’t any permanent damage to the engine. Jonah, less so, and he’s already hired Toby to do a full, top-to-bottom service of the plane next week to make sure nothing else arises.

  Something so simple as sloppy maintenance could have killed us had we not had somewhere to land, had Jonah pushed our luck, had the engine stalled before we touched down.

  But it didn’t, and the plane is fixed, and I am not pregnant, and everything needs to go back to the way it was between us when Jonah yanked the covers off the bed yest
erday morning.

  My nerves stir as I text Jonah.

  Calla: You at the hangar?

  I make myself a latte while I wait for an answer.

  Jonah: Yup. Sam’s giving me a ride up the mountain to get the plane. He’ll be here at eight. I’ll swing by the house before I leave.

  Jonah seems to have bonded with the wiry, bald firefighter in the yellow plane who rescued us from our predicament yesterday.

  Calla: So it’s safe to fly?

  Jonah: It better be or Toby’s a shitty mechanic.

  I smile. At least he’s starting to joke about it.

  Calla: BTW … False alarm.

  I watch for the three bouncing dots that signal a response. It takes a full minute before they appear.

  Jonah: OK.

  “Okay?” I don’t know what answer I expected from him.

  You must be so relieved.

  Let’s make sure we’re more careful.

  Don’t worry, I love you and next time, we’ll both be ready for it.

  “OK” seems so … not okay.

  That feeling begins to gnaw in my stomach again, that our relationship took a major hit yesterday with this pregnancy scare. But I could also chalk it up to Jonah not being keen on texting. And it’s easy to misinterpret thoughts and feelings in texts. It’s too easy for your own insecurities to breed falsities in a simple word.

  What I do know is that I can’t let him fly off like this, with my head and my heart spinning, not until I’ve talked to him, face-to-face.

  I charge for the hallway, for my red plaid jacket—the one Jonah bought me last year after he bled all over my favorite cardigan—intent on getting out to the hangar and spending the next hour fixing this tension however I can before Sam gets here. In my haste, I knock Jonah’s wool jacket off the hook.

  A small box falls out of his pocket.

  I frown at the small black jewelry box as I collect it from the floor. It takes a few beats to process what it could be.

  No way …

  With my pulse pounding in my ears and a furtive glance out the door to confirm Jonah is not about to walk into the house and catch me snooping, I pop open the lid.

  I gasp at the diamond ring that stares back at me, and the pieces fall into place.

  Jonah was wearing this jacket yesterday. The surprise trip to the cabin … the lunch … the bottle of champagne … him, acting so strange …

  He was going to propose.

  Before his words triggered the pregnancy scare, he was talking about spending the rest of his life with me. I remember—vaguely—one hand leaving my face, reaching toward his pocket.

  He was literally in the process of asking me to marry him when I panicked about being late.

  “Seriously?” Wild flutters stir in my stomach. With no warning? No marriage conversations beforehand? I mean, we’ve only been living together for five months! We’ve known each other less than a year, and yet, here is this ring—this stunning diamond ring designed to look like a snowflake, with countless diamonds of various sizes—and he was going to propose to me yesterday.

  And I would have said yes, I realize with absolute certainty.

  I would have been shocked speechless when he asked, but I would have said yes, as I said yes to Alaska and yes to this house, because being with Jonah is not optional. Because, despite knowing him for less than a year, I can’t imagine my life without him in it anymore. I never want to be without him again.

  I would have said yes.

  I would be wearing this ring. We would be engaged.

  Instead, I freaked out about the possibility of being pregnant and probably not in a way that screamed, “We should get married!”

  An ache stirs in my chest as I think back to that look on Jonah’s face—of hurt and disappointment. He’d planned the entire day—the location, the lunch. He’d even brought champagne. And me, being entirely caught unaware, never put two and two together.

  Oh my God.

  What if he doesn’t want to marry me anymore?

  “Yeah, but a baby changes everything, Jonah. It’s permanent. It’s for life.”

  “As opposed to what we are?”

  Did I unwittingly create a fissure between us with my rambling?

  I shut the box and slide it back into its hiding spot in his pocket, fixing the jacket as best I can so I don’t let on that I’ve discovered Jonah’s secret.

  And then I head for the door, hoping a walk to the hangar will give me enough time to figure out what the hell I’m going to say to him.

  * * *

  I frown at the silver truck parked next to ours outside the hangar. There’s no doubt whose it is. A magnetic sign with her veterinarian clinic name clings to the door.

  But what is Marie doing at our house at 6:45 a.m.? Does this have something to do with Oscar? As far as I know, the wolf dog is back home with Roy, slowly healing from his leg wound.

  “… and then everything blew up from there.” Jonah’s voice carries from the gaping hangar door, stalling my feet.

  “So, I guess you didn’t get a chance to ask her, then.” Marie’s soft, sympathetic voice answers

  “You kidding? There wasn’t exactly a way to segue back to marriage after that.”

  It’s clear they’re talking about what happened yesterday. Jonah must have told Marie he was going to propose. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. She’s his closest friend. And yet, an unpleasant feeling settles in the pit of my stomach, knowing that he has obviously divulged the pregnancy scare to her as well. It feels like a betrayal of confidence. It’s something private between the two of us that we haven’t fully discussed, and yet here he is, talking about it with her.

  That’s why Marie is here. Jonah must have called her. He needed to talk about it with someone who isn’t me.

  Hurt pricks my chest as I edge in closer and eavesdrop shamelessly.

  Jonah sighs. “I’ve never seen her like that before. I mean, I’ve seen her snap plenty, believe me … but this was somethin’ else.”

  “She is only twenty-six, Jonah. And she’s gone through a lot in the past year. Her whole life has been turned over, more than once. She’s obviously not ready to have it flipped again yet. Cut her some slack.”

  Yes! Exactly!

  “No shit.” He snorts. “But five or six years? I’ll be almost forty.”

  “You’re not that old,” Marie chides.

  “I will be if it turns into eight or nine. And it might. You should have seen her, Marie. It was like the idea of being pregnant was a death sentence.”

  I feel my cheeks flame. I know having children is important to Jonah, but he told me it was okay that I wasn’t ready, that I shouldn’t apologize for not being ready.

  Was he lying to me when he said that?

  “Or it could turn into two or three years, once she settles and her priorities change,” Marie counters. “Don’t forget, when you met her, she was living at home with her parents. Her focus was on looking good and going out to clubs.”

  Is that what Marie thinks of me?

  “But, Jonah, you haven’t even started trying to have kids. What if she ends up not being able to at all? What are you going to do then—divorce her?” There’s an accusatory tone in Marie’s voice, almost a challenge to admit he’d be so callous, and my heart softens for her again.

  “Fuck, of course not! I just …” His voice trails for a long stretch. “Maybe I am moving too fast.”

  No! No, you aren’t! I want to cry out. I mean, it is fast, but I’m ready for this, for us. I never realized how ready I was until that ring fell out of his pocket.

  “Yeah, you’re not known for your patience,” Marie says, and I hear the smile. “But you can’t help it. You’re so passionate when it comes to someone or something that’s important to you.” There’s a pause, and when she speaks again, there’s a hint of yearning in her soft voice. “It’s one of the things I’ve always loved about you, Jonah.”

  Despite Marie’s earlier words of
seeming support for me, a wave of jealousy burns my insides, hearing her remind him in a not-so-subtle way that, yes, they may be just friends but she’s still waiting on the sidelines for a chance at more. I’m sure Marie would be more than happy to deliver Jonah’s baby on the ground of the hangar right here, right now, given the opportunity. That I’m not ready feels like a strike against me, a competitive edge that she has over me, even though the diamond ring in Jonah’s pocket is meant for my finger.

  “Marie, you know how I feel about Calla—”

  “Of course. I wasn’t trying to …” Her words drift. “I care about you, and I only ever want to see you happy.”

  “I know, and I am happy.”

  “Are you, though? Completely? Are you happy turning down jobs because you’re afraid to leave your girlfriend alone?”

  Jonah’s been turning down jobs because of me? What jobs?

  “It’s not like that. I promised Calla I wouldn’t drag her all the way out here and then take off for days at a time.”

  “And how long is she going to hold you to that?”

  “I don’t know! Until she feels comfortable, I guess.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but I’d be more worried about how long that’s going to take than I would be about when she’ll be ready to have kids. I mean, she’s terrified of stepping outside!”

  “Don’t worry about Calla. She’s figuring things out and doin’ fine, running the office stuff and getting the house settled. She’s got that big garden out back—”

  “I’m not worried about her, Jonah. I’m worried about you.”

  Just like that, any goodwill I felt toward Marie withers.

  “You wanted to be free to fly wherever, whenever. It’s why you didn’t take over Wild from Wren when he tried to give it to you, remember?”

  “It wasn’t mine to take.”

  “You were like a son to him, Jonah. No one would have thought anything of you for accepting his offer. You could have had the entire thing.”

  I frown. What does she mean by that? My father did ask Jonah if he’d be willing to buy Wild at one point, but Jonah didn’t have the money.