by Hazel Hunter
The fire blazed brightly as he fanned it with what looked like the aeronautical map and extra heat flooded over her.
“You carried me from the plane,” she said quietly.
He only nodded, not looking at her.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Don’t thank me,” he said, as he stared into the flames.
She hadn’t exactly expected a simple ‘you’re welcome’ but his reaction surprised her.
His profile was stern and he looked more serious than she’d ever seen him. She didn’t know what to say but as she watched him, his jaw tightened and he stopped fanning the fire. He had a faraway look and rather than interrupt, she watched. He was seeing something else–or maybe someplace else. His hand slowly went to his right knee and he rubbed the outside of it.
Is he hurt?
As she watched, Jules felt a tightening in her chest. She nearly reached out to him but stopped herself in time. Becoming a doctor hadn’t really been a choice. It’d been a calling. Though it pained her to see people suffer, to think that Logan might be hurt was agonizing.
Please just say something, Logan. Please let me help.
He reached for another piece of wood and tossed it on the fire.
Logan had only neared the subject of the Iraq war a few times but, invariably, he’d either shut down or gotten that same faraway look.
Rather than push, she forced herself to avert her gaze. It landed on the plane and a thought occurred to her.
“Will someone come looking for us?” she asked, pulling her jacket tight in front of her.
“Absolutely,” he said, finally looking at her. He was smiling that wonderful smile again. “Royal Canadian Air Force out of Victoria. Someone will hear the ELT, the emergency locator transmitter, and I filed a flight plan. No problem there. But they won’t be coming in this weather–in darkness. We’ll have to be prepared to stay at least one night.”
Now the lean-to and all the other preparations made sense.
“And let me tell you,” he said with a bit of pride in his voice. “I don’t pack an emergency kit with granola bars.”
He stood and she noticed that he quickly shook out his right leg.
In just a couple of strides, he was right next to her, reaching behind her into the lean-to, and he produced a couple of brown paper packages. He crouched down and showed them to her.
“IMPs,” he said. “Individual Meal Packs. Do you want,” he paused to read the packages, “Thai chicken or shepherd’s pie?”
• • • • •
“Shut up!” yelled Seth.
Frank had been coughing in his room for hours.
Served him right. You smoke that much BC Bud and you’re gonna cough. Not to mention it was potent as hell.
Frank coughed again.
BC Bud was why they were here but not to smoke it. It was the cash crop of the region–illegal but not yet high on the list of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. No way did the RCMP have the manpower to track down all the growers. Seth’s farm was little and still did several million dollars a year. One more crop and he’d be out of here. He’d had enough of the wilderness.
He lay on his cot in the darkness and put his hands behind his head.
Those crops in the grow barns would be the last. They’d stolen B. C. hydroelectric transformers and a hydroelectric bypass to get the power they needed undetected. They’d built the short airstrip and the graded dirt road. They’d built the cabin–small enough to hide in the trees. They’d camouflaged the tops of the barns and the production building. They’d grown 7,000 plants a year.
It’d been hard work–a lot of it. And now it was almost over.
The Interstate 5 corridor connecting Southern California and British Columbia had paid off big time. That Piper had been carrying 1,000 pounds of their bud, worth three million dollars. They were rich but living like cave men.
Frank coughed again.
Seth was sick of his brother. Sick of canned food. Sick of year old DVDs. And sick of being without women.
Frank kept coughing.
“Shut up!” Seth screamed. “Shut up!”
• • • • •
Logan realized they’d fallen into their usual cockpit pattern. He was sitting on the left about a foot away from where she sat cross-legged to his right. They had their jackets on and faced the fire with their IMPs and, as they ate, he occasionally tossed on more wood and they talked.
“I knew he was seeing someone else,” she said quietly.
She used the plastic spoon that had come with the meal to move the warm Thai chicken around in the foil pouch. The only thing she’d really eaten was the applesauce. They’d been talking about Lumby and the vaccine surviving in the plane when she’d simply started about the divorce.
He put his spoon down and looked over at her.
“You knew?”
“How could I not?” she sighed, still staring into the fire. “A million little things tell you.” She paused. “And a couple big ones.” She looked down at the food. “Finding a condom in the washing machine was a high point.”
She laughed quietly but without smiling.
“In a way,” she said. “I’m glad it’s finally over.”
Logan slowly shook his head and concentrated on the fire.
“I’m not sure which is worse,” he said. “Knowing or not knowing.”
In his peripheral vision, she was looking at him but he fixed his gaze forward.
“I had no idea when it happened to me,” he said. “And, let me tell you, it came like an anvil out of the sky.”
“You were married?”
He shook his head.
“Engaged. Before the war.”
There was only the sound of the crackling fire for several moments.
“And did she send you a letter?”
“I think that would have been better,” he said. “No. I came home on leave, as a surprise.” He paused. “The surprise was on me.”
“Oh my god,” he heard her whisper. “For the longest time I was able to be in denial but…with something like that…”
He shrugged.
“It was over and done,” he said.
“Don’t tell me she found another gorgeous pilot,” Jules said.
“The lawn guy,” Logan said but in his mind the word ‘gorgeous’ echoed a few times.
He’d been very careful never to think of Jules as anything but a coworker and a friend. From the moment they’d met, he knew she was married. Then, as she’d talked about the troubles she and Ted were having, Logan had closed off his feelings. He knew what it was like for someone to take advantage of a situation. He had no intention of coming anywhere near that possibility.
“The lawn guy,” Jules said, sounding incredulous. “The lawn guy?”
Logan put another small log on the fire. He eyed the pile of wood, with the hatchet resting against it, and decided there was plenty to get them through the night. A large pop of resin sent bright embers swirling upward over the flames.
“I adore a fire,” Jules said. “There’s just something so comforting about it.”
“I think it’s a primal thing–how humans evolved.”
“I imagine you’re right,” Jules said. “I just wish I didn’t have to be out in the wilds to have one.”
“But your house has a chimney. Is there something wrong with the fireplace?”
“Oh it works,” she said laughing lightly. “I don’t.” She shook her head. “I can’t get a fire started to save my life.” She paused. “Which is pretty pathetic, given the circumstances.”
“Julie Moore,” he said melodramatically. “Doctor extraordinaire but can’t light a fire.” He dropped the overly deep tone. “Don’t let your patients know.”
She laughed quietly.
“Luckily,” she said. “I don’t have to use stone knives or bear skins either. I think the patients are safe.”
They laughed together for a few moments and he thought briefly of having
used her full first name. It didn’t suit her. He recalled her tiny smile the first time he’d used ‘Jules.’ She thought he hadn’t seen.
As their laughter died away, they were simply content to watch the fire. After a few minutes, though, Jules yawned.
“It’s been quite a day,” he said, looking into the fire.
“You must be tired,” she said. “Doing all this.”
She gestured around.
He did feel a bit tired but it was going to be a long night of sleeping and waking to keep the fire going.
“Is there a plan?” Jules said.
“A plan?” he asked, looking at her.
The firelight bathed her face in soft, warm tones and sent gleaming highlights into her hair. Her lips looked as though she were wearing lipstick, though he’d noticed in the past she didn’t use any.
“I just thought,” she said, “that since everything else was so organized, there must be a plan.”
“Stay warm and get some rest is the main plan,” he said, smiling. “Unless the temperature drops more than usual, we’ll be fine.”
It’d stopped raining but at least there was still cloud cover. That would help to keep the temperature up. Despite his reassuring tone, a frown was forming on her face and she seemed to look through him.
“What?” he asked.
She blinked and focused on his face.
“I was thinking of Lumby,” she said. “A couple of patients in particular.”
He slowly shook his head. They had crashed in the wilderness, she was injured, and still she worried about others–amazing.
“I think you should probably lay down and try to get some rest,” he said.
She ran her fingers through her hair and tucked some strands behind her ear.
“What I wouldn’t give for a nice, hot shower,” she said quietly.
Logan did his best not to imagine what that would be like and wondered if a smile had frozen on his face.
Jules glanced back into the shadowy lean-to and down at the metallic and wool blankets. Then she gave him a disapproving look.
“Seriously, Logan. I hope you’re not going to stand on ceremony. There’s no reason the two of us can’t get under the blankets together.”
“Oh I’ll be right along, don’t you worry. I want to make sure the embers are good and white before I grab some shuteye.”
She looked exhausted as she glanced at the blankets again.
“Lie down, Jules. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She gave him a tired smile and nodded once as she uncrossed her legs and scooted back onto the emergency blanket. As she lay back, he helped lift another thermal blanket over her and then the wool blanket over that.
“Sweet dreams,” she whispered, her eyes already closed.
“Sweet dreams,” he said.
CHAPTER THREE
Jules woke with a start. Logan was yelling.
“Logan!” she said, pushing up on her elbow.
She looked down at his face as she tried to make sense of what was going on. He seemed to be asleep and she had been lying in the crook of his arm. A vague memory of being cold and snuggling up to him came to her and then he yelled again.
“Put the gun down!”
His eyes were shut tight and she could feel his arm behind her back now, pulling her close.
“Put it down!”
Is he dreaming about the war?
“Logan,” she said, putting a hand on his chest. “Logan, wake up.”
The faintest light of early morning lit his face. Under the lids, his eyes moved back and forth at a furious rate.
“Logan?” she said, rubbing his chest. “Wake up.”
His eyes snapped open and immediately landed on her.
“Are you okay?” he said, searching her face.
He seemed to be instantly awake.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I’m fine. You were having a nightmare.”
“Did I wake you up?”
“No,” she said. “Not at all.”
One corner of his mouth curved upward.
“You’re a bad liar,” he said, with a growing smile.
He rubbed her back a little and, as if he’d just realized what he was doing, the smile vanished.
“Right,” he said, letting her go. As he slowly sat up, he raised his arm over her head. “Let’s see about this fire.”
He threw the blankets off himself and got up.
As Jules watched him go, she wished she hadn’t woken him up. She hadn’t meant for him to just jump up and leave. It wasn’t as though anything had happened. They were both still wearing their jackets.
She sat up and threw off her side of the blankets and suddenly realized her back was stiff. The pine needles had helped but it was still the ground. Of course, it was probably the aftermath of the crash as well.
Slowly, she stood. The dull ache in her ankle flared into a sharp pain as she put her weight on it. Sprained. When she looked back to Logan, he was watching her intently.
“Your ankle?” he asked.
“Probably a sprain,” she said, as she limped forward to stand closer to the fire.
Logan immediately came to her side and helped her the last couple of steps. The feel of his strong arm around her waist, like when she’d woken up, was reassuring.
“Thanks,” she said, as he let her go.
As he went back to the pile of wood, he looked at the plane and then up to the sky.
“With any luck,” he said. “SAR ought to be in the air soon. We’ll be out of here today.” He looked back down at her ankle. “And we can get you to a hospital, doctor.”
“I think it’s okay,” she said, holding out her hands to the fire. “I’ll wrap it later.”
The fire was blazing nicely and he held his hands out to it too.
Put the gun down, Jules thought. Though he’d never said it in so many words, the war years were a forbidden topic. She’d gently probed a couple of times but he’d never taken the opportunity to open up.
“I’d ask you how you slept,” she said, looking into the fire. “But I think I can guess.”
He was quiet.
It bothered her that he was troubled. Logan was her best friend. It had actually surprised her when she’d realized it. But there wasn’t anybody she trusted more. As her marriage had become more and more strained, her husband had actually accused her of having an affair with Logan. All those hours together, Ted had sneered–all those trips to remote places. In hindsight, she realized he was projecting something onto her that he’d been doing himself.
Logan continued to stare into the fire.
I ought to let it go. Now isn’t the right time. But when is?
“You said something about a gun,” she said quietly.
He slowly drew in a deep breath and let it go. He was apparently not ready to talk.
“I’m sorry,” Jules said. “Forget I said that. It’s none of my business.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “It’s…”
She finally turned to him. There was that faraway look again, the flames reflected in his eyes. He lifted his gaze to meet hers. For a moment, his lips parted as though he’d say something but then they closed. When he turned away, she felt a pang in her chest.
“It’s time to get more firewood,” he said.
Suddenly, a wild baying sound, the high-pitched cry of an animal, pierced the air.
Jules immediately screamed and jumped. Her hands flew to her chest and she stepped hard on the sprained ankle, which made her teeter–toward the fire. Logan was instantly in front of her, his arms around her.
“What was that?” she said, barely managing to control her voice.
“Grey wolf,” he said, looking over her head and into the forest.
Her heart was hammering and she laid the side of her face against his chest, hugging him like a life preserver.
“Is it close?” she said, her voice beginning to quaver.
“Nah,” he said, drawing out
the syllable, his tone so casual he might have been talking about the family dog. “That came from miles away. We’re fine.”
Jules didn’t know how he’d know but she was okay with believing it.
“Besides,” he said. “They won’t approach the fire.”
She felt him stroke her hair.
“It’s okay,” he said quietly. She felt his deep voice rumble in his chest. “We’re safe.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. For several moments, he held her–the only sound the crackling of the fire.
“I don’t have to go far for the wood,” he said.
She hugged him tighter.
“Please don’t leave,” she whispered.
In response, both his arms wound around her.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered into the top of her hair.
Again, the wolf howl sounded through the air and, though it was no louder, it sent an icy chill through her. A wild animal was out there. She and Logan weren’t camping–their plane had crashed. They were alone. They were in the middle of nowhere–lucky to even be alive.
“Jules?” Logan said, separating from her. “Are you okay?”
“No,” she said, clutching him. “Don’t let go.”
His arms tightened around her again.
“You’re trembling,” he said. “Are you cold? It’s warmer in the lean-to.”
She turned her face into his chest and shook her head.
“Jules, can you look at me?”
He stroked her hair and waited.
Finally, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. His eyebrows were knit together but he gave her a little smile.
“That wolf is nowhere near us,” he said quietly.
“I know,” she said, trying to pull herself together. “It’s silly. I don’t know why I’m so scared.”
It was more than silly. It was embarrassing. She was a woman of science.