Always Ready

by Susan Page Davis

  Caddie smiled and reached for it with her good arm. Amazing how much better she felt after just a few minutes of conversation. “Thanks a lot. I don’t know how long I’m stuck here for. This might save me from dying of boredom.”

  “Could have been worse,” he said. “I mean, you’re not left-handed, are you?”

  She chuckled. “No, I’m not.”

  “Well, listen, I’ll be back for the weekend. Unless my ship’s called out for an emergency, that is. If you’re out of the hospital. . .” He anxiously scanned her face.

  “Oh, I think I will be. I hope I can leave today. The doctor should be in soon to tell me.”

  “Your arm must hurt.”

  “It does. They tell me it will for a while.”

  “I’m sorry about that. Do you think you’ll be in church Sunday? Or does your ship go out again?”

  She gritted her teeth. “I don’t think they’ll let me go back on active duty for a while, so I should be there.”

  “Oh, of course,” he said quickly. “I didn’t think about that.”

  “I might get to go home and see my family for a while.”

  “You should if you can.” She looked up at him, and he shrugged. “It’s hard sometimes to keep touch with your family.”

  “Yeah.” She wondered how Mom and Jordan and Mira were getting along back in Washington. “I guess it depends on what the doctor and my CO say.”

  The nurse bustled into the room carrying a tray. “Here we go. Sorry I got held up with another patient for a few minutes.” She nodded at Aven. “Hello.”

  “I guess I’d better get going,” he said.

  Caddie wished he could stay, but that was silly. He had work to do. “Thanks for coming. It. . .means a lot to me.” Had she said too much? She barely knew him.

  Aven sucked in a deep breath and glanced toward the nurse. “Well, I hope to see you Sunday.”

  “Yeah.”

  He nodded and walked out, his back and shoulders straight.

  The nurse gazed after him and sighed. “Now that’s a keeper.”

  Caddie felt a blush rising from the neck of her johnny to the throbbing bump on her head. “Oh, he’s just a friend. An acquaintance, I should say.”

  The nurse handed her a small cup with her pain pills inside. “He’s not your CO, is he?”

  “No. No, he’s on a different ship even.” Why did she feel she needed to say that?

  The nurse smiled. “Yup. A real keeper.”

  Three

  Late Friday afternoon, Aven drove a rented SUV into his family’s dooryard in Wasilla. The big log house sat squarely against a backdrop of mountains in the distance. He sat for a moment, soaking up the view—his favorite after the open sea.

  A dog began to bark, and soon two dozen more picked up the chorus. His sister Robyn came around the corner of the house as the front door opened and Mom came out onto the stoop.

  “Aven!” His mother hurried down the steps.

  Robyn broke into a run and reached him first, flinging her arms around him.

  “Hey, Sis.” Aven let her kiss him and then embraced his mother.

  “I can’t believe you’re here. Are you on leave?” Mom pulled away and looked him up and down.

  “I had an errand in Anchorage. I have to go back tomorrow and fly out to Kodiak, but I can stay the night.”

  “Great!” Robyn looped her arm through his. “Come see the pups.”

  “Whoa. Let him bring his things inside,” Mom said with a laugh. “Those dogs aren’t going anywhere.”

  Aven opened the back door of the vehicle and hauled out his bag. He slung it over his shoulder and walked between them toward the log home.

  Robyn looked great, as usual, in casual clothes, with her dark hair pulled into a braid. She never wore makeup, but then she’d never needed it. At twenty-two, she’d left the tomboy persona behind, keeping the sturdiness that came from everyday hard work mingled with grace inherited from their mother.

  “How’s Grandpa doing?” he asked.

  His mother wagged her head back and forth, frowning. “He has a lot of pain from his arthritis. Hard to get around. But he wants to help all he can, so we find jobs he can do without too much discomfort.”

  As Aven entered the house, he struggled once more with the conflict he always experienced when he came home. Should he be here in Wasilla, helping them? Or should he go on with his career? His mother and sister shouldn’t have to work so hard.

  Grandpa Steve looked up from his recliner in the living room and grinned. “Well, well, well! Look who’s here.” He leaned forward and pushed on the arms of the chair, then sank back into the cushion with a little moan.

  “Don’t get up, Grandpa.” Aven bent to hug him. “How are you?” He lowered his bag to the floor and sat down on the sagging sofa nearby.

  “Awful. Just awful.”

  “Oh, come on, Dad. Don’t be so negative.” Aven’s mother smiled, but the worry lines on her forehead deepened.

  “Do you want me to lie and say I’m doing great? It takes me half an hour to get dressed in the morning.”

  “At least you can still dress yourself,” Robyn said.

  “Ha. There is that.” Grandpa waved a hand, dismissing their opinions. “If anyone had ever told me how hard it was to get old, I’d have laughed. But now I’m starting to appreciate the old folks.”

  “You’re not old, Grandpa,” Aven said.

  “Says you.” He pulled off his glasses and polished them on his shirttail. “This climate isn’t kind to the old bones. I don’t know how the pioneers did it.”

  “You want to move to California?” Mom asked. “Just say the word, Dad. We’ll pack up and move.”

  “No, don’t start that.” Grandpa winked at Aven. “Robyn would never go. She won’t leave her dogs. And there’s not much call for sled dogs in Southern California.”

  “I’m going to start supper,” Mom said. “Aven, put your things in your room.”

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I need to finish feeding the dogs,” Robyn said, heading for the door.

  “I’ll help you.” Aven rose and reached for his sea bag.

  “Better change out of that uniform if you’re going out to the kennels with me.” Robyn paused with her hand on the doorknob. “I’ll meet you by the barn. I was measuring out food when you drove in.”

  Ten minutes later, Aven met his sister outside wearing frayed jeans that he left at home for times when he had leave. The barn was really only a log shed sturdy enough to secure the dogs’ food against marauding bears. Robyn was about to make a trip among the kennels, where the adult dogs were chained to their individual doghouses.

  “How many mutts do you have right now?”

  “Counting my sled team and alternates, the pups, and the boarders, forty-two.”

  Aven whistled. “That’s a lot of dog food and meat.”

  “I’ll say.” Robyn handed him a bucket full of food and pointed to the left side of the kennel yard. “Give those six a scoop each. Boffo and Scooter will be glad to see you.”

  The dogs were yapping again, demanding their supper. The sun was still high—it would barely sink below the horizon tonight. The dogs didn’t seem to mind. After their meal, they would settle down for a snooze.

  Aven laughed when Scooter yipped and jumped to the end of his chain. He reached to pat the aging husky’s head. “Hey, fella. Long time no see.” He stooped down, and Scooter licked his face. The old dog had been Aven’s leader when he used to mush during his teen years. Dreams of the Iditarod Trail had faded once Aven joined the Coast Guard, but it was possible his sister still thought about it. The race of more than a thousand miles was every musher’s dream. The short race the family had established a decade ago had fed his own interest when he was a teenager. With Robyn, the dog business had become almost an obsession.

  He gave Scooter his food and moved on to the next dog.

  When all the adults were fed, Robyn grabbed his sleeve and dragged him
over to the puppy pens. “Look! Aren’t they great?”

  “They look terrific. Sold any of this batch yet?”

  “Two are reserved. And, Aven, did I tell you? Craig Liston bought one of our two-year-olds last week. JoJo will run in the Iditarod next February.”

  “Wow, I’m impressed.” Aven reached out and tugged Robyn’s dark, thick braid. “Selling dogs to champion mushers. How cool is that?”

  She grinned, and he thought how pretty his sister was when she wasn’t carrying a load of worry. “It’s super cool. And Craig and his wife stayed to lunch and talked to us for about an hour about racing.”

  “That’s great. Are you going to enter any races this year?”

  Robyn grimaced. “Can’t afford to.”

  “The entrance fees are pretty stiff,” Aven agreed.

  “Not just that. I need to concentrate on training. I really need some new harness for the clients’ dogs, though.” Robyn sighed. “I should have one, anyway. People come here when we host the Fire and Ice, and the sponsors are getting around with beat-up old equipment and harness held together with baling twine and bubble gum. That doesn’t make people want to buy pups from us or hire us to train their dogs.”

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  “Nearly.” Robyn’s eyes flickered. “The profit from last winter’s race only lasted a couple of months. We barely had enough for the last load of dog food. And Dr. Baker let us pay the vet bill in installments.”

  Again Aven felt a stab of guilt. He’d joined the service over eight years ago expecting to stay in only four years. But he’d discovered that he loved the sea and the life of the Coast Guard. Now that he’d worked his way up to boatswain’s mate, he was able to help the family out. Since his father’s death, he’d sent almost half his pay home to his mother every month.

  But on days like today, when he saw how they struggled, he wondered if he couldn’t do more good for the family here at home.

  Robyn turned toward the house. “Come on. I shouldn’t be whining to you, of all people. You’re a huge help to us.”

  “I’m glad I’m able.”

  She nodded soberly. “I don’t think we’d have made it through last winter without you. Mom wanted to sell all the dogs.”

  “But then how would you support yourselves?”

  Robyn shrugged. “I don’t know. Move into Anchorage and find jobs, I guess. But we didn’t have to. That’s the good news. We got two teams of dogs in to train, and we sold a couple of yearlings. Between that, the Permanent Fund, the money you sent us, and what Mom invested from Dad’s insurance, we got by.”

  “You should have told me things were tight. Maybe I could have done more.”

  “Well, we’re doing okay now. You shouldn’t have to put every penny you earn into this place.”

  Aven followed her back to the shed, where she stowed the buckets and locked the door.

  “I’ll come back out after supper and refill their water dishes.” Robyn took his arm again, as though she wanted to reassure herself that he was actually within reach.

  Aven looked back at the now quiet kennels. The dogs had been a hobby when he lived at home. His father had worked for an oil company, and the dog business didn’t have to support them while Dad was alive. But now the Holland family lived close to poverty.

  “I really need to get home more often,” he said. “Grandpa’s lost weight.”

  Robyn nodded. “He had it rough this spring, but I think he’s a little better now.”

  “He won’t be able to cut wood this year.”

  “Well, we still have about three cord left that’s nice and dry, but we figured we’d have to buy the rest for next winter—you’re right about that.”

  Aven knew he couldn’t get enough time off now to do the job, but maybe he could contribute more to the cost of the fuel. His own expenses were minimal. He was glad he had a pay envelope in his pocket to give his mother. “So, how much does a team harness cost?”

  Robyn shrugged. “More than I’ve got saved so far. I’d like to have a good one when I get it. You know, one that will last and look good to the customers who come to look us over. But don’t worry. I’ll keep saving my pennies, and someday I’ll have it.”

  ❧

  On Sunday morning, Caddie dressed in civilian clothes. She was proud of her uniform, but she also enjoyed wearing her civvies while off duty. Going to church in a dress brought a renewed sense of femininity, something easily lost on a ship with fifty men and only a handful of other women. And when she met people at church, she didn’t want the uniform to cloud their perceptions of her. A Coast Guard petty officer’s uniform carried expectations.

  Of course, the cast on her arm detracted somewhat from the look she’d hoped for. She studied her reflection in the mirror. Her face wasn’t as pale as it had been two days ago, when she’d come home to the tiny one-bedroom apartment she rented in the base housing units. And the snowy white sling would go with any color in her wardrobe.

  The memory of a certain boatswain’s mate’s impromptu visit to the hospital also influenced her choice of outfit and careful grooming that morning. Aven had said he hoped to be back from Anchorage in time for church this weekend. She hadn’t expected to meet a charming and eligible man during her assignment in the North. Was meeting Aven one of God’s blessings for her?

  She closed the closet on the neat row of uniforms, glad that her captain had sent her clothing and camera bag to her apartment the day she left the hospital. Maybe soon she’d feel like taking pictures again.

  She walked to the nightstand and picked up the small, pewter-framed photo of herself and her father. Both wore their dress uniforms. Her mother had taken the picture after Caddie’s graduation from basic training, and it ranked high among her treasures. “I love you, Dad,” she whispered. She brushed back a tear and squared her shoulders.

  Mark and Jo-Lynn picked her up right on time, and she dove into the backseat of their decade-old sedan. She was getting used to the awkward cast and moving about without jarring her injured arm.

  During the ten-minute drive, she and Mark compared notes on their recent experiences at sea. Though Caddie knew Mark served with Aven, she didn’t mention his name.

  Neither did Mark. He launched into a tale of woe about his assignment to inspect a crab fishing boat in rough weather. “One man was seasick all day, from the time we boarded that boat. And I thought I’d have frostbite by the time we got done weighing all the crabs.”

  “Didn’t you wear gloves?” Caddie asked.

  “Well, yeah, but the cold still gets to you. They did their processing on the deck, and the wind chill was intense.”

  “Oh, like Caddie doesn’t know that. It gets cold at sea up here, even in summer.” Jo-Lynn swiveled in her seat and looked at her. “You’re lucky you came home at all, girl. You got a crack on the head and a broken arm. You could have drowned.”

  Caddie nodded. “God protected me.”

  “Well, I’m glad you weren’t hurt worse. Have you told your mother?” Jo-Lynn asked.

  “I called her yesterday. She wants me to come home for a while, but I haven’t decided yet.”

  Mark pulled into the parking lot, and they all entered the church together.

  “Hey, there’s Aven Holland,” Jo-Lynn whispered as they walked down the aisle looking for a place to sit. “He’s staring at you.”

  Caddie glanced over the pews to her left and spotted him. She smiled and raised her Bible a little as a substitute wave. She felt her face flush and wished she could have left the sling and cast back in her apartment.

  Aven’s face lit up, and he returned her wave.

  She turned her attention back to Jo-Lynn, knowing her face was scarlet by now. “Do you want to sit here?” She didn’t wait for her friend to answer, but scooted into a pew and sat down halfway along the row.

  A moment later, Jo-Lynn bent toward her and said, “I think he likes you.”

  Caddie opened her mouth to respond, but though
t better of it and swallowed. She fought the urge to glance across the aisle and back. The music director walked to the podium, and Caddie resolved to keep her attention on the service.

  Afterward was a different story, however. As the people surged into the aisles, Mark made a beeline toward Aven.

  In less than a minute, Caddie found herself standing a yard from him as Jo-Lynn and Mark asked him how his trip to Anchorage had gone and if he’d be joining the crew of the Milroy when the cutter headed out again Tuesday.

  His dark eyes flickered Caddie’s way now and then as they talked, and his smile drew her in, too.

  “When the pastor was talking about how the Lord abhors dishonest scales, I was thinking of the boat my crew boarded last Wednesday,” he said.

  Mark chuckled. “Yeah, you got a fellow who abhorred the honest ones, didn’t you?”

  “That’s about the size of it.”

  “I hear they gave you a lot of trouble,” Jo-Lynn said.

  “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

  Caddie shivered. Whose adventure had been worse—hers or Aven’s? She was thankful God had brought them both safely to their home port.

  Aven wore his uniform today—most of the men did. Probably it was easier for them, especially those who were single, than maintaining a Sunday civilian wardrobe. He was an inch or two taller than Mark, and his short, dark hair lay shiny and clean, parted casually on the left. His shoulders remained straight, even as he relaxed and talked to his friend.

  Their conversation turned back to the sermon they’d just listened to. Caddie was mildly surprised but pleased that Aven commented on how the pastor’s message about honesty encouraged him to do his job the best that he could, even when it was hard. He seemed like just the kind of man Caddie could go for, but she didn’t want to make any assumptions. Personal relationships in the military could be tricky.