Joy Takes Flight (25 page)

Walter nodded. “I understand. But you're a good doctor and this hospital is one of the finest in the country. At St. Francis you'll be challenged—every kind of injury and disease comes through here. And we have the best technology available. Your skills will be tested and tried. They'll be expanded.”

Paul took a drink of his root beer. The idea of working here was enticing. Maybe Kate wouldn't mind so much. They already had a house if they wanted it.

Kate sorted mail, her mind preoccupied with Paul. When would he come home? She didn't understand why he had to stay so long. He had two brothers and two sisters who could see to the tasks of his mother's estate. And why was he working at the hospital? Did he want to stay? Had he decided San Francisco was his home and not Alaska?

She felt as if he'd deserted her. During one of the most difficult times in her life, he'd left her to tend to his family. She understood the original urgent need, but now it was the hospital. Did they need him more than she did? It was time for him to come home. She couldn't decide if she was more angry or hurt, but tears stung as she tried hard to blink them away. She didn't want the guys to see her crying.

The sound of the shop door being opened and then closed summoned her curiosity. Alan said something she couldn't quite distinguish. Wiping away the tears, she moved to the door. Angel lay beside the woodstove, clearly more interested in a nap than a conversation between pilots.

“I've got a run up to Kotzebue,” Sidney told Alan. “Can't take anything else.”

“What about Donald?” Alan asked.

“I'm ready,” Donald said. “Talkeetna's not so far, and if Jack'll give me a map, I can find the landing strip.

Kate stepped into the room. “I don't know. It's locked in by mountains and the weather during the winter is pretty unpredictable. And by the looks of things today, I'd say a more experienced pilot would be better.”

“You ought to know by now that this territory's nothing like what you'd been flying down south.” Sidney grinned. “In fact, you sure you don't want to skedaddle on home? You look a little wet behind the ears.”

“I'm not leaving.” Donald stared hard at Sidney. “I'm ready to fly this territory.” He glanced at Kate. “She can vouch for me. She knows I've been doing okay.”

“You mean since you hit the hangar?” Kate smiled.

Donald's face turned red and he stuck out his chin. “It could've happened to anyone.”

“All right. All right,” Alan said. “I'll take the run to Talkeetna and Donald can come with me.” He strode toward the door. “Let's get a move on.”

When they walked out, Jack stopped working and stared at the door. He sat and leaned back, picking up his cigar again and clamping it between his teeth. “I'll bet he doesn't make it a month before he turns tail and runs south.” He grinned, his gaze moving to Sidney and then Kate.

She lifted her eyebrows, not sure how to respond. It didn't sound like Donald had much experience. She had to agree with Jack—he'd probably pack it in after a while.

A few days later, Jack had errands to run in town and he left Kate and Donald at the shop. Donald gazed out the window. Snow came down softly and the temperature was dropping. “I think I'm ready to make a run to Fairbanks or maybe even Nome. And I'd really like to get a look at the Southeast.”

“This time of year, getting back and forth to those places is real dangerous,” Kate said, stroking Angel's heavy coat. The dog leaned against her. “Be patient. Allow yourself time to learn.”

“I'll never make any money the way I'm going. I spend most of my time sitting in here and feeding the fire.” He took a sinker from a box that had been sitting in the shop for at least three days. He dunked the stale donut in his coffee and took a bite.

“When I first came, I had a lot more experience than you, and all Sidney would let me do is the mail run. He owned the airfield back then. I was frustrated, like you, but it was good practice, which I needed. Flying this territory isn't like any other place that I know of. It's big and full of trouble. A pilot never knows what they're going to come up against. I've had some close calls. Probably should have died a few times.” She reached out to him and gave his arm a pat. “Be patient. You've only been here two weeks. That's nothing.”

The door opened and Jack stepped inside. “Okay, who wants to make a trip to Palmer?”

Knowing how much Donald wanted more flights, Kate said, “Give it to Donald. I'll wait and see if something else comes in.”

Later that morning, Kate wished she'd taken the run. There were no other trips that day. Disappointed, she headed for home. The house was quiet as usual. Kate tidied up, made herself a late lunch, and then sat down to write to Paul. There wasn't a lot to say, nothing much had been going on. All she could think of was how much she missed him and wanted him to come home. But she couldn't fill the pages with that. She rested her cheek on her hand. Hoping he'd be home for Christmas, she hadn't made a reservation to travel south. Besides, she'd decided that if he didn't come home, she'd fly down. The weather could be unpredictable, but it was unpredictable everywhere in Alaska. And surprising him would be fun. She looked back at the paper and started writing, telling him about her latest runs, the dogs, and the homestead. Maybe the reminders would bring him home sooner.

When she returned to the airfield, the phone jangled just as she walked into the shop. It was a call from a passenger looking for a ride to Fairbanks. “Figure this is yours,” Jack said. “No one else is here.”

Just as Kate spoke, Alan flew in.

“When do I need to be ready?” Kate asked.

“Your riders are on their way.” Jack glanced outside. “It's late. You'll have to stay over.”

“No problem.”

There were no more mishaps the next couple of days. On the third day, Kate and Donald were in the shop when a call came in from a homestead north of Palmer. “Ol' Jacob Collins needs a lift into town. Kate, can you give him a ride after you finish your mail run?”

She'd hoped to spend a little time at the cabin during the day. There were chores that needed to be done and she had planned on a visit with her neighbors. “Maybe Donald wants to take it.”

“You know how that landing strip can be up there. It gets dicey in the gorge. Never know what the winds are going to do.”

Kate looked at Donald.

The young man got to his feet. “I can do it. I've handled every run you've given me—no problem.”

“If the wind catches you up there, you can get in a heck of a lot of trouble real fast.” Jack studied Donald. “Guess you gotta learn sooner or later.” He leaned over his desk and rolled out a map. “Get over here and I'll show you what you need to do.”

Happily, Kate completed packing her mailbags. Donald helped her load them.

“Hey, thanks for not saying anything . . . back there.”

“Experience is the best teacher. And it's not that tough a landing. Just keep the winds in mind. They can come through the gorge there in a rage.”

“I'll remember.” Donald chucked the mailbags into the back of Kate's plane. “See you later,” he said and strode toward his plane.

Kate got Angel loaded up and she took off shortly after Donald. There was a lot of mail because of the upcoming Christmas holidays, but she still managed to make her deliveries, do a few chores around the homestead and get in a quick visit with Sassa and Lily. She made it into the airfield just at dark. Angel leaped out of the plane and galloped to the office door.

Icy winds whipped at Kate as she trudged toward the shop. When she stepped inside, Sidney, Alan, and Jack were all there. “Feels like we've got a storm coming in. Any reports on the weather?”

Instead of an answer, the men stared at her, their expressions sullen.

“What's up?”

Jack leaned on the desk. “Donald . . . he crashed.”

Kate's stomach plummeted. “Is he all right?” She glanced at the door. She hadn't seen his plane, but its absence hadn't registered with her.

“No. He's not,” Alan said, his tone icy.

“Evidently the wind caught him when he was making his approach—slammed him into the rock face east of the homestead.” Sidney took a drag off his cigarette. “He probably died instantly.”

“Me and Jack went up and retrieved his body,” Alan said. “Why didn't you just take that run, like Jack asked you?”

“I . . . I thought he'd want it. He's been asking for more time in the air.”

“He wasn't ready for that one. And you knew it.” Alan glared at Kate.

“How could I know that? I haven't even flown with him.”

“All right, you two,” Sidney said, his tone conciliatory.

Alan ignored Sidney. “If you'd done like Jack said, this wouldn't have happened.”

“You're the one who asked Jack to give him a job. Didn't you know how green he was?” Kate knew she was being cruel. But she wasn't about to take the blame for what happened. She stepped closer to Alan and met his gaze. She could see hurt and guilt in his eyes. Shame and sadness enveloped her. He'd been so young. “I guess someone should have gone with him. I'm sorry, Alan. I didn't mean what I said. And you're right. I should have gone. I'm sorry.”

Alan walked to the door. He opened it and stood there, then he turned and glared at Kate. “Maybe it's time you acted like a wife and joined your husband.” He stepped out, slamming the door behind him.

Kate stared after him. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time for her to be a wife . . . if Paul still wanted her. He had his old life back, the one before he'd known her.

P
eering through a hole she'd scraped in the ice on her windshield, Kate turned her car onto the street and headed for the airfield. She hoped Alan wasn't there. At Donald's funeral, she'd expected him to be solemn and tearful, but he'd refused to speak to her, and if looks could kill . . . well, her life would be over.

She understood. If she'd been more interested in Donald's safety rather than her own needs that day, he wouldn't have died. But she also knew that in a pilot's life, danger and the threat of death were part of the job. Frustration welled up inside Kate. She was tired of blame. She'd carried the blame for Alison's death for years. Then her despair over the early birth and death of her daughter was intensified because she knew it had been her choice that brought on early labor. And now Donald?

Guilt made her chest feel tight. She longed for the comfort of Paul's arms. If only he were home. She'd expected him back long before now. His explanation about why he had to stay was reasonable, but she wanted him to be unreasonable—for her. And the longer he remained in San Francisco, the more she feared he wouldn't return.

She'd sought solace in God's Word, but it was fleeting. And she couldn't find peace in prayer. After the funeral, she'd gone to Muriel's. She needed to talk to someone. But the baby was sick with croup and Muriel was worried and worn out. Kate didn't want to burden her further, so she stayed only a short while, then returned to her empty house.

She was confused. Paul loved her, she was certain of it. At least he had before he'd gone to San Francisco. What if being home had nurtured the memories he had of Susan? And maybe being with his family had convinced him that he belonged in San Francisco? Kate felt sick. She needed to see him.

Maybe there wouldn't be any runs today. She wanted to be home at the creek, tucked away in the cabin where she could feel cozy and secure.

The temperatures were frigid and a gray sky threatened snow. By the time she'd reached the airfield, the interior of her car still wasn't warm. She pulled to a stop in front of the shop, dropped the gearshift into first, and shut off the engine. The only plane on the field other than Jack's was Alan's. Kate let out a groan.

She sat in the car for a few minutes. She wasn't ready to talk to him. Angel nudged her hand and Kate scratched the underside of her neck. “So, you ready for another day?”

Kate forced herself to open the car door and step out. An icy wind caught hold of her hood. She shivered. Angel leaped out and ran for the shop door. Kate walked through fresh snow, and when she stepped inside the shop heat was the first thing she felt. She headed toward the stove, but didn't see Alan. She glanced at Jack, who was filling a cup with coffee. “Morning. You have anything for me?”

Jack set the coffeepot back on the cookstove. “I was just getting ready to call you.” He took a drink of the coffee. “I need you to make a run up to Palmer with me.”

Disappointment swept over Kate. “What's up?”

“I've got a passenger who needs a ride up, and I've got to fly a plane down for a friend of mine. I'll need you to fly my bird back for me.”

“Who's going to man the shop?”

“Alan's on his way in. He's down in the dumps and said he'd fill in for me while I'm out.” His eyes slid to Angel. “I don't know about taking the dog.”

“She won't be a problem and this time of year she's not shedding.”

Jack lifted his eyebrows in a mocking way, then said with a resigned voice, “All right.”

Kate hadn't flown with Jack in a long while. She'd never much liked it. His surly personality seemed even more extreme in close quarters. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad. Recently he'd been almost cordial. “Sure. I'll go along. I can always use the money.”

“Good.” Jack took another drink from the cup and then set the mug on his desk. He pulled on his parka and dug into the pockets for his gloves. “Give me a hand with the plane.”

Jack's Stinson was faster than her Pacemaker, but it was also smaller—a four seater with little storage space. Yet Kate couldn't deny that it was a good plane. It was reliable, plus fast and maneuverable, which made it easier to get in and out of tight spots. Kate helped Jack pull off the tarp. While he poured in warm oil and fueled up the plane, Kate scraped ice from the windows and made sure the fuselage, tail, and wings were ice free.

About the time the plane was warmed up and ready to go, a pickup pulled onto the field. The driver climbed out and walked around to the bed. He lifted out a suitcase. Another man, much larger than the first, heaved himself out of the truck. He took the suitcase and lumbered toward the plane. Kate guessed he weighed more than three hundred pounds. She wondered if he'd fit through the plane door and into a seat.

Jack eyed him, but said nothing. When he approached, Jack said, “You must be Eugene Phelps.” He held out a hand in greeting.

“That I am,” he said, shaking Jack's hand.

“I'm Jack Rydell.”

Eugene's gaze fell on Kate. “You headed for Palmer, too?”

“No. I'm helping out Jack.”

“She's one of my pilots.” Kate thought she heard a tone of pride in Jack's voice.

“Nice to meet you, Kate,” Eugene said, clasping her hand with fingers that looked like sausages. He smiled and his flushed cheeks rounded. His two chins became three.

“We better be on our way, otherwise the daylight won't hold out long enough for us to get back.” Jack stood at the bottom of the steps. “Everything's ready to go.” He took the suitcase and climbed inside.

Kate waited with Angel. Eugene stood at the bottom of the steps, rubbed his clean-shaven chin, and studied the door. She guessed he was trying to figure out just how he was going to fit his bulk through it. Kate was more concerned about how the plane would handle with Eugene's extra weight—there was no way to distribute it.

Eugene lugged himself up the steps, hesitated at the door, then managed to squeeze through. He sat in one of the two rear seats. Angel leaped inside. Kate climbed in and closed the door, then squeezed past him to get to the front passenger seat. Angel sat in the other passenger seat in back. Maybe her weight would help offset some of Eugene's.

Jack glanced back and smirked, then leaned closer to Kate and said, “Good thing this is a short flight.” He taxied as close to the end of the runway as possible and lined up for takeoff. He'd need all the space he could get to make sure the plane was airborne in time to clear the trees.

Jack revved the engine and then opened the throttle as he sped down the airstrip. The plane rolled toward the end of the runway. For a moment it looked like they might not get off the ground soon enough. Jack pulled back on the stick and the skis lifted, though the Stinson felt sluggish.

“Eugene,” Jack hollered. “Move closer to the middle aisle and lean forward.” The big man's face reddened. Wearing a humiliated expression, he did as he was asked. Kate could swear the tops of the trees tickled the plane's belly as they cruised over them, but they'd made it and headed north.

In the turns, the plane was slightly less responsive than usual, but Jack seemed at ease. He never said much when he flew and today was no exception. Kate wondered what he was thinking. The plane made a sudden dip slightly left. Kate looked back to see that Eugene, who had been nodding off, had fallen against the window and was fast asleep.

She turned to face the front, gave Jack a sidelong look, then folded her arms over her chest. Sinking down into her seat, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. As always, her thoughts turned to Paul. She hadn't heard from him in four days. No phone call. No letter. She wondered what he was doing. Christmas was only two weeks away. Would he make it home? He'd have to decide soon. It was already nearly too late to travel by ship. It was possible that if he didn't sail, he could take a passenger flight, but those were spotty this time of year. She decided that when she got back to Anchorage, she'd call him. The idea of them not being on the homestead for Christmas made her stomach ache. Her hope was slipping away that their first Christmas, as husband and wife, would be spent celebrating together at the creek.

Again, trepidation trudged through her mind and her heart. Had he changed? She couldn't imagine him other than strong and steady and gentle-hearted. No matter where he lived, that's the kind of man he was.

She felt a sudden flare of anger toward his family. Had they convinced him to stay in San Francisco and work for the hospital? Maybe Audrey didn't really need him. What if they'd convinced him his time in Alaska had been a mistake—that she was a mistake?

She tried to envision life in a city like San Francisco. If she and Paul lived in a place like that, they wouldn't be the same couple. Alaska was part of who they were.

She gazed down at the forest below. Alders and cottonwoods stood naked and frozen, their bare branches mounded with shavings of white. Wind whipped flurries of snow, almost like a white fog, about the plane. In spite of the low visibility Kate felt at ease. Jack had always bragged about his skill as a pilot. Kate hated to admit it, but it was true—he was good. And he'd made this trip more times than anyone she knew.

When they reached Palmer, the snow was coming down hard. Jack remained calm and confident. Kate hoped the weather would clear so she wouldn't have to stay over in Palmer. She wanted to go home to the cabin.

“Hey, Eugene. Wake up!” Jack yelled. “I need you to move toward the center of the plane.” Jack didn't bother to look back to see if Eugene had followed orders. He kept his full attention on his job, his eyes on the landing strip, now buried in fresh snow.

Eugene scooted toward the aisle and the plane dipped slightly to the right. Jack made a quick correction and at the same time a crosswind hit them. The runway was coming up fast. Jack skillfully touched the pedals, kept a light hand on the stick, and the bird came back into balance. The skis touched down smoothly and then they were on the ground. Jack hadn't shown the slightest sign of stress.

He grinned. “That was fun.”

Maybe he
was
the best pilot around. Kate was impressed. “Good job,” she said.

“What did you expect?” Jack was still in possession of his usual bravado. “I've done this a thousand times. Easy as pie.”

He taxied toward the end of the runway, stopping close to a small building. The place looked deserted. There'd be no hot coffee or fire to keep them warm.

Jack shut down the engine and then headed for the back of the plane. He squeezed past Eugene and opened the door. Icy wind and snow swirled inside. He grabbed Eugene's bag and climbed out, then waited while the big man worked to get free of the plane and made his way down the steps. Even in the cold, he was sweating. Angel waited for Kate, then climbed out ahead of her.

Eugene looked about. “I was expecting a ride.” A few moments later, a Ford sedan slid around a corner at the end of the field and headed toward the cluster of travelers. Eugene waved, then turned to Jack and reached into his pocket. He took out a wallet and opened it, then counted out several bills and handed them to Jack. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Jack tucked the money into his front pants pocket.

Eugene gave Kate a little wave, opened the back door of the sedan, and threw in his suitcase, then climbed into the front passenger seat. Tires spinning, rear end fishtailing, the car moved away and disappeared in the blowing snow.

Jack gazed around. “Hmm.” He walked toward a hangar and disappeared inside. A few moments later, he reappeared. “Plane's here, but no Eddie. Something must have held him up. He's usually pretty reliable.”

“So, what now?” Kate asked. “Obviously there's no one in the shop. And I'm not about to stand out here and freeze to death.” She pulled her hood closer around her face.

“He'll show up. Until then, how about you and I get something to eat.”

“Sounds good to me.” Squinting, she looked up into the falling snow. “Do you think this storm's going to let up?”

Jack shrugged. “How should I know?” He headed toward the edge of town, which lay only a few blocks away.

When they reached the café, Kate tapped the toe of her boots against the porch to knock off snow. Jack held the door for her. She stepped inside, thankful to be out of the weather. Angel managed to slip in ahead of Jack. Kate pushed back her hood, savoring the warmth of the room and the smell of coffee and cooking meat.

“What are you two doing out in this kind of weather?” Ruth, the owner of the café, asked.

“Had a passenger to deliver and a plane to pick up,” Jack said.

“Only you would be crazy enough to fly in a snowstorm.”

“It wasn't snowing when we left Anchorage,” Jack said as he moved to a small table plastered with bright green paint with wooden chairs to match. He sat down and Kate took a chair across from him. Angel lay beside her.

Ruth grabbed two mugs and a pot of coffee. She set the cups in front of Jack and Kate. “Good to see you, Kate.” She smiled, creases from lots of smiles deepening at the edges of her blue eyes.

“Seems I'm in here at least every few weeks these days.”

“And where's that handsome husband of yours?”

“San Francisco . . . his mother died.”

“Ah sweetie, I'm sorry. You tell Paul for me.”

“I will.”
If I ever see him
, she thought.

Ruth filled the two mugs. “Figure you'd want coffee on a day like this.” She glanced out the window. “You'll probably need a couple of rooms over at the hotel. Don't look like you'll be flying back to Anchorage today.”

“What's your special, Ruthie?” Jack sat back in his chair and studied the woman, a touch of humor in his eyes.

Kate wasn't sure she'd ever seen that look on Jack's face before. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was sweet on Ruth.