Touching the Clouds (2 page)

Bill circled an arm around Kate’s shoulders. “We’ll tell him.”

She leaned against her father. He’d always understood her.

The wind sighed, lifting dust and fallen leaves into the air. A longing for peace swelled inside Kate. If only she could settle for an ordinary life. “I better go.”

Joan caught Kate in her arms and studied her daughter with adoring eyes. She brushed a strand of auburn hair from Kate’s forehead. “I remember when I first laid eyes on you. Oh my goodness, you squalled, outraged at having been born. And you’ve fought my attempts to gentle you ever since.” She glanced at Bill. “You’ve the same spirit as your father.” She swiped away tears. “I haven’t given up on your settling down and having a family one day.”

Kate looked at her booted toes, then at her mother. “One day.”

“Richard will be here when you get back. He’ll wait . . . if you’re not gone too long.”

Kate took a deep breath, the weight of her decision heavy in her chest. “You think so?”

Joan nodded. “He loves you.”

Her father rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m proud of you . . . for not settling. You’re a good pilot, don’t ever forget that. Alaska will be better off because of you.”

“I hope you’re right.” Worry pricked Kate’s confidence. She rotated her shoulders back, trying to relax tight muscles, then looked to the sky where downy white clouds drifted. “It’s a good day to fly.” Her gaze moved to the grass runway bordered by apple orchards. “I’ll miss having fresh apples— heard they’re hard to come by in Alaska.”

“We’ll box some up and send them,” her father said.

“I’ll hold you to that.” As Kate walked to the plane, panic swept over her, and she felt like that little girl again, taking her first flight and scared out of her wits.

“I’ll crank her for you.” Bill moved to the side of the Bellanca, engaged the hand lever in the flywheel, and started cranking.

Kate climbed into the plane, pulled the door closed and latched it, then moved to the front of the craft and settled into her seat. When the flywheel was singing along pretty well, she pulled on her helmet and called out the window. “All set?”

Bill stepped back. “It’s ready to go.”

Kate pulled the ignition and the engine came to life. Bill handed the crank to her through the window, and she stowed it.

With the engine’s roar in her ears, she checked the oil pressure and temperature gauges—they were normal. Gas level was good. While the engine warmed, she double-checked her gear, then logged her time of departure.

With one more look at her temperature gauge, she waved out the window and then pulled it closed. The windsock that sailed from a pole alongside the airfield kicked from west to east.

Her adrenaline pumping, she moved to the east end of the grass runway, turned the plane into the wind, and revved the engine. The cockpit smelled of fuel and oil.

Her mother lifted a hand, but didn’t wave. Her father flagged his hat at her. With a hand on the stick and her feet resting on the rudder pedals, Kate moved the craft forward. Increasing speed, the plane rolled down the airstrip while Kate’s heart battered against her ribs. She’d done this a thousand times, but it had never mattered so much. Then a picture of Alison flashed into her mind.
This is for you.

With one final glance at her parents, who stood with their arms linked, she increased power. She felt the plane lighten as its wheels left the ground and then the momentary sense of weightlessness as she lifted into the air.

The farm and its orchards fell away. Kate soared over the trees and looked down at the familiar patchwork of the family ranch. Large oaks hugged the old farmhouse, and chickens hunted for bugs in the yard. Apple trees stretched out in long green rows.

The sun’s glare flashed across the windshield, blinding her for a moment, and then she could see the endless blue sky. Kate felt joy working its way up from her toes, displacing her fears. She couldn’t keep from smiling.

She soared over soft brown hills that reached toward green forests and white-capped mountains. She made one more pass over the farm, then turned the plane in a wide arc. As she approached the landing field, she dropped down until she was just above the trees.

Buzzing the field, she dipped the wings of the plane back and forth in a salute of farewell, her joy mixing with a touch of regret at the sight of her mother leaning against her father. Bill and Joan waved, and Kate headed toward the white craggy peaks of the Cascades.

2

D
ry grasses and scrub trees passed beneath Kate’s plane. Beyond stood the mountains that served as a barrier between eastern and western Washington. They were no small obstacle. Kate had crossed them before and knew lethal downdrafts and dangerous side winds waited for unsuspecting pilots. Her eyes fixed themselves on Mount Rainier in the distance. Even from this distance she could feel its strength. Her thoughts moved to what lay ahead—first Vancouver, then on to Southeast Alaska, and finally Anchorage.

Winds were calm as she approached the Cascades. Below, the dark waters of Rimrock Lake huddled between pine forests. Kate’s stomach tightened. Horrifying images bombarded her. She could still feel the icy waters. When her plane had hit, the lake had sucked down the craft as if hungry for lives. That was seven years ago, but it felt like yesterday.

I’m sorry, Alison.

Accusations from the past swirled at Kate.
Why did you
go to the lake? It was foggy. You knew better.

Self-loathing swelled inside her. She’d convinced Alison to take a jaunt in her father’s plane that day. When they left home, the skies had been clear, but when they reached the lake, fog clung to the hillsides and sprawled across the waters.

She should have turned back, but she didn’t. And then . . . it was too late.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
She swiped away tears, relieved to see the lake fade into the collage of trees.

Kate barely crested the mountains when her eyes latched onto Mount Rainier. It stood amidst the rugged Cascade Range like a gleaming white jewel. As always, its power was startling.

As she negotiated the pass, she soaked in the splendor of forests, roiling rivers, and fields of white. Today, the mountains were merciful, sparing her from treacherous currents. The crossing was calm and heartening.

Leaving the Cascades behind, she approached Seattle. Lakes, looking like dollops of blue, speckled the landscape. Silver ribbons of water divided rich farmlands huddled in the broad valley that lay south of the city.

Kate’s attention turned to the blue waters of Puget Sound and the metropolis of Seattle with its stacked hillsides and long piers that reached into the bay.

Her eyes followed a scar that slashed across a section along the waterfront. Tin roofs, black stovepipes, piles of trash, and clotheslines marred the beauty. Images of those swept out of their homes by drought, dust storms, and poverty had been plastered across newspapers for months. Shantytowns, better known as Hoovervilles, sprang up across the country. Kate gladly left behind Seattle’s mecca for the homeless and headed for Vancouver.

After a decent night’s sleep, Kate felt refreshed and ready for the next leg of her trip. She walked across the airstrip, Vancouver drizzle wetting her hair and clothes. She glanced at a gray sky and craved the previous day’s sunshine.

An airport employee waited for her at the plane. He smiled and extended a hand. “Morning. I’m Donald Brown.”

“Kate Evans.” She made sure her grip was strong, feeling a need to convince him that she was sturdy. Women pilots were often under extra scrutiny.

“Got your plane gassed up and did a general check to make sure she’s ready to fly.”

“Thanks,” Kate said. “I appreciate the help.”

“Heard you’re heading north. Did you get a report on the weather?”

“I did, from a pilot who flew in from Port Alice last night. He said it was raining pretty good and that the winds were stiff—kept him on his toes.”

Donald grinned. “They measure rain by the foot up there.”

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Kate said, but even poor weather conditions couldn’t suppress her enthusiasm.

“Weather along the coast can get bad real fast, even in July. So be cautious.”

Kate buttoned her jacket and pulled on her leather helmet. “I’ll be careful, but I figure my Bellanca can handle most anything.”

Donald glanced at the Pacemaker. “Good solid plane, all right. Still better set her down if it gets rough.”

Kate nodded, but she wasn’t thinking caution, she was thinking adventure.

Wiping moisture from his face, he said, “I’ll crank her for you.”

“Thank you.” She moved to the plane.

“Not many women, or men for that matter, willing to fly the Alaskan Territory.”

Kate pulled open the door and chucked in her bag. “I don’t understand how pilots can stay away.” She flashed him a smile before climbing inside. She grabbed the crank from the cockpit and handed it to Donald. “I appreciate your help and your concern.”

With a nod, he moved to the side of the plane.

Kate closed the door, climbed up front, and dropped into her seat. After logging in her time of departure, she adjusted her helmet. Donald gave her the thumbs-up and she started the engine. He handed the lever to her through the window.

“Good luck,” he called.

“Thanks. I’ll need it,” Kate hollered and then closed the window. After one final check of the gauges, she moved away from the hangar and taxied to the end of the airstrip. There was no wind. She’d have to power up a bit to ensure a safe takeoff.
Now the real flying begins.

Kate moved down the runway, the churning in her stomach starting up again. She glanced at her grandmother’s Bible, lying on the passenger seat, and remembered that her parents were praying for her. She wasn’t alone.

After five days of remarkable, wonderful, and unpredictable travel, Anchorage was finally within reach. The thrum of excitement and hope buzzed through Kate.

And then, Alison’s smothered laughter and the anguished faces of her dead friend’s parents ambushed Kate. For a moment, she felt dizzy and disoriented. Her gaze wandered over the endless wilderness.
What was I thinking? I’m not ready
for this.
She felt small and afraid.

An unexpected blast of wind thrust her plane upward. She gripped the stick and fought for control.
Pay attention!
Currents, created by mountain ranges, tossed Kate’s plane about as she worked her way through the lower elevations. She put her mind on the business at hand, trusting in the Bellanca’s sturdiness despite her shaken emotions.

Below lay the spectacular beauty of the Alaskan wilderness— white peaks, gray and black rock formations, ice fields, and steep valleys. The mountains gave way to rounded knolls and sparse foothills. The winds subsided and Kate relaxed. Small patches of white stood out against the green backdrop. It took a few moments for Kate to realize the white splotches were sheep grazing on the short grasses on the hillsides. Juniper and alder forests hugged mountains that seemed to flow toward the sea, and frothing waterfalls looked like slashes of white against dark cliffs. As she continued north, ponds and bogs replaced grasslands and forests.

And then it was there—Anchorage. The community huddled along a huge slate-gray bay.

“I made it!” Kate whooped.

Euphoric, she headed toward the settlement. It was small, but looked like a real town.

Kate soon found the airport. She banked the plane and circled the field, which consisted of two dirt runways, a wind sock that flapped frantically, one small building, and what looked like a night beacon.

She lined up with the north runway and headed down, anticipating the moment that her wheels touched the ground. A crosswind caught her plane and tossed her sideways. Kate gripped the stick and with a careful touch to the pedals maneuvered the craft back into position. She cheered when the wheels connected with the earth.

The plane bounced twice before rolling smoothly to the end of the strip. Turning her Bellanca toward the building, she stopped in a small grassy area off the runway. Letting out a big breath, she pulled off her flying helmet and closed her eyes. “I’m here. I’m really here.”

Kate grabbed her handbag, took out a brush, and pulled it through her hair, then dug out a compact and put on fresh lip-stick.
No use looking like I just climbed out of bed
, she thought, rubbing her lips together. She tossed the compact and lipstick into the bag and headed toward the back of the plane.

She knew her parents were probably waiting to hear from her.
I’ll call them the moment I’m settled.
Richard bombarded her thoughts and a pang of sadness caught her unawares. She managed to dismiss him . . . for the moment.

She climbed out of the plane and looked about, hoping to find someone working. There was no one. Calculating in her mind how much money she had, Kate headed for the building.
I hope they need a pilot.

When she reached what she figured was the office, she stopped at the door to gather her thoughts. She’d rehearsed what to say a hundred times, but at the moment she couldn’t get hold of one reasonable thought. She reached for the doorknob and turned it. With as much self-assurance as she could muster, she stepped inside.

All was quiet. The small room had only one window. A castiron stove squatted in a corner, and a scarred wooden desk with a matching chair sat alongside the far wall. Spare parts and tools were piled on workbenches. There was the sharp smell of diesel, making Kate feel more at home. It reminded her of her father’s shop on the farm.

Still holding onto the doorknob, she leaned into the room. “Hello. Is anyone here?”

A moment later, a stocky man wearing a heavy plaid shirt and blue jeans stepped into a doorway that led to a back room. He wiped his hands on a rag. “Afternoon. What can I do for you?” His cheek bulged with what Kate guessed must be tobacco.

“Hello. Are you the manager?”

“Suppose I am. Mostly I just try to keep planes in the air.” He shoved the cloth into a back pocket.