Touching the Clouds (21 page)

His mind reeled back to San Francisco. He’d prayed then too, but God hadn’t answered him. Paul pushed away from the table and walked outside. Staring in the direction of the creek, he wished there was something he could do. He was powerless. He gazed into drifting fog. Why would Kate go out in weather like this? Why did she have to push so hard?

The dogs set to barking and he turned to see a light bobbing through the fog. It was Patrick. “Did you hear?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Patrick clapped a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “They’ll find her. I’m sure she’s all right.”

Paul nodded. “You want to come in? I’ve got coffee on and there’s cake.”

“Sure.”

Patrick followed Paul inside. His eyes went to Nita. “She having her pups?”

“Probably by morning.”

Paul had planned to give one to Kate. Now . . .

Trying to block out morbid thoughts, he moved to the kitchen counter and cut a slice of cake for Patrick and then poured him a cup of coffee. He sat across the table from his neighbor.

Patrick took a bite and chewed. “Almost as good as Sassa’s. Don’t tell her I said that.” He cut into the cake with his fork. “Kate’s a good pilot. She most likely set down somewhere to wait out the weather.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.”

Patrick took a drink of coffee. “I’ll radio Sidney if you want.”

“The man on the news said they couldn’t search right now because of the fog. Doubt Sidney knows anything.”

Heaviness of heart pressed down on Paul. If something happened to Kate, the world would seem a little less bright. He’d miss her.
We barely know each other
, he thought, realizing he wanted time to know her better.

Paul kept the radio on while assisting with the delivery of five male and four female puppies. Unfortunately, the station signed off without additional news.

Unable to dismiss thoughts of Kate, he couldn’t quiet his anxiety. His body vibrated with tension. He checked on Nita. The puppies were nursing while their mother gave them another bath.

“You’re a good mom,” Paul said, resting his hand on her head.

She pushed against his palm, then went back to cleaning her babies.

Imagining all sorts of horrific scenarios, Paul couldn’t sleep. He tried to pray but couldn’t believe anyone was listening.

Sometime in the middle of the night, he climbed out of bed. After stoking the fire, he made a quick check of Nita and her new family, then dropped into his chair. He picked up his Bible and stared at it for a long while. Finally he opened to Psalm 50 and read the fifteenth verse.
Call upon me in the
day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you will honor me.

Once he’d believed those words. But when he’d needed God the most, he hadn’t been there. Paul closed the book, set it back on the table, and returned to bed.

16

H
uddled beneath a blanket, Kate sat with her knees bent and pulled close to her chest. She stared at a fire made from driftwood and frozen grass. Cold air sucked the heat from the flames and carried it into the darkness.

She and Doris had cleared a small area at the edge of the beach out of reach of the inlet’s extreme tide changes. She looked at Doris. “I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

“It’s your fault that we’re alive.” Hands trembling, Doris pulled her hood closer around her face.

Kate added more wood to the fire. It flared, sending a spray of burning embers into the air. “I shouldn’t have taken the run.”

“I chose to go with you. We were both thinking about that poor man.” Doris’s tone was persuasive. “And you couldn’t control the compass.”

Kate wanted to accept the heartening words, but the armor she’d worn for so long deflected them. “You want anything more to eat or drink?”

“I’m fine. And we better save some for tomorrow. If the weather doesn’t change, we could be here awhile.”

Kate gazed into the blackness, feeling dismal at the thought of spending days trapped on this frigid beach. There were enough provisions for a few days, but beyond that . . . she’d have to get creative. She rested her chin on her knees and closed her eyes.
Lord, please get us out of here soon.

Kate envisioned what was happening at the airfield. Sidney and the pilots were there, ready to search the first moment weather allowed. Albert and Helen would probably be there too. Someone would have notified her parents. She felt a pang of sadness at what they were going through—wondering what had become of her. If only she could tell them she was all right.

Doris bunched up a travel bag, then lay down and rested her head on it. She bundled deeper into her coat and burrowed beneath two wool blankets. She gazed at the fire for a long while, then in a small and timorous voice, she said, “I thought we were done for. It was a miracle you spotted this beach. And then your ability to get us down—well, I’m thankful for my life.”

“God was looking out for us.” Kate lay as close to the fire as she dared and pulled blankets over her. “If it’s clear in the morning, we’ll head on up to the mine and see if we can help that miner. We can call Sidney from there and let him know we’re all right.” She studied the flicker of blue, yellow, and orange flames. “Do you think he’s still alive?”

“It’s hard to know. But it sounded like he was seriously injured.”

“Yeah,” said Kate, her heart heavy. “Well, we better get some sleep.”

Paul lay on his back and stared at the ceiling and thought about Kate. She reminded him of a spring day. Her smile was warm and genuine, and her hazel eyes flashed with spirit. He imagined trailing a finger down her cheek, smoothing the smattering of freckles.

No one in their right mind was a bush pilot. Why Kate?

He rolled onto his side and finally slept, though fitfully. Each time he woke his thoughts turned to Kate. At five o’clock he was wide awake. Unable to stay in bed any longer, he got up and put on a pot of coffee.

He forced himself to do the mundane, scrambling eggs and making toast. He ate, barely tasting the food. He was wiping out a cast iron skillet when Patrick showed up. He knocked and, before Paul could answer, stepped inside.

“Morning.”

“Hi.” Paul set the fry pan in the cupboard. “I was wondering if you could contact Sidney. Maybe he knows something.”

“Sorry. No news. I already radioed him. That’s why I came by.” He patted Nita’s head and looked at the pups. “How many she have?”

“Nine—five males and four females.”

“They look good. Might want one of those males.”

“Sure,” Paul said, not thinking about pups. Where was Kate? “Just let me know which one and he’s yours.”

“I will.” Patrick headed for the door. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

Paul did his best to stay busy the rest of the day. He put on a pot of beans, skinned out two marten and a fox he’d brought home late the previous day, and chopped kindling. He kept a close eye on Nita and the puppies. They all looked healthy. Nita was a little thin, but that was to be expected.

Daylight faded and still no word. Paul was antsy for the Mukluk News to begin. He fed and watered Nita, then turned on his battery-operated radio and rotated the dial. There was nothing except a buzz, but he left it on.

Paul lifted the lid off the pot and steam whooshed into the air, carrying the aroma of beans and pork. The radio crackled to life, and a man’s baritone voice said, “Good evening to all you listeners across Alaska. We have news to report. Missing pilot, Kate Evans, showed up this afternoon in Anchorage. She and her passenger, Doris Henley, were both in good condition. It seems the Alaskan women are tough and fared well after a night in the bush. Sadly, the injured miner died. His name has not been released.”

Relief erupted inside Paul. He set the lid back on the pot and moved to Nita’s bed, where he knelt and gave her a massage. “Did you hear that? Kate’s all right.”

He picked up the smallest pup in the litter, a female with just the beginnings of silver markings on her face. “You’re the one for Kate.”

Holding her against his chest, he stroked the puppy’s soft hair. She made a mewling sound and nuzzled him. Nita watched attentively and finally stood, as if to tell Paul she wanted her baby back.

“Okay. Okay. Just a minute.” He turned the puppy on its back and rubbed its round tummy.

His thoughts returned to Kate. She’d fly until it killed her. No matter how pretty she was or how much he admired her, he couldn’t allow himself to care too much. If he did, he’d be like this pup, exposing its underbelly.

And he couldn’t do that.

After her ordeal, Sidney ordered Kate to take a couple of days off. When she returned to work, she hated to admit that she was nervous. Her thoughts kept circling back to her battle with the fog. She’d done everything she knew to do and still nearly died. Being reminded how quickly things could go bad was unnerving.

Walking to her plane, she tried to act nonchalant, hoping no one sensed her nervousness. She checked out the Bellanca, double-checking the new compass, and after cranking the flywheel, started the engine. When she left the ground, her muscles felt tight, her stomach uneasy. It was a good flying day, but she was unable to reel in her apprehension.

Kate felt like she’d failed . . . again. More than that, she’d been foolish . . . again, and nearly gotten herself and Doris killed. She was more like Jack than she wanted to admit—too confident in her own skills.

Kate dragged her mind to the present. She had mail to deliver.

When she set the plane down on the sandbar at Bear Creek, Patrick and Sassa waited to greet her.

Sassa pulled her into plump arms and held onto her as if she’d never give her up. “When I heard the news, I started praying. I was so scared. I thought your plane had cracked up.” She stepped back and smiled. “But here you are.”

“The Mukluk News said you were headed to Independence Mine. The ice fog was bad. Why’d you go out?” Patrick asked.

“The people up at the camp said they had a man injured so badly he’d die if he didn’t get to a hospital. I thought I could do it, and would have too, but my compass went haywire. I ended up off course.” She glanced at her feet, then back at Patrick. “God was looking out for me. The fog opened up enough for me to land.”

Patrick gently grasped her upper arms in his large hands. Moisture in his eyes revealed his affection for Kate. “You gave us a scare, girl.”

“Well, I’m fine now.” She glanced toward Paul’s cabin. “And I’ve got mail for you.” She handed Patrick an envelope, unable to keep her eyes from wandering back to Paul’s house.

“He’s not coming,” Sassa said.

“Who’s not coming?”

“Paul.” She smiled kindly.

“Is he sick?”

“I don’t think so. He asked us to get his mail . . . from now on.”

Disappointment touched Kate. “Is something wrong?”

Sassa shrugged. “Sure. But we don’t know what exactly. He carries a big hurt inside.”

“Now, Sassa, you don’t know that.” Patrick’s voice was stern.

She lifted one eyebrow. “I do know.”

“He’s never told us.” Patrick’s tone held a warning.

“If you see him, say hello for me,” Kate said, unable to conceal her dejection. She headed for the plane.

When she took off, she glanced down at Paul’s cabin. Smoke trailed from the chimney. The sight of it made her feel lonely. She thought he was lonely too.
Lord, whatever it
is that torments him, please mend it.

In the weeks to follow when Kate stopped at Bear Creek, the Warrens and Klaus were the only ones to meet the plane. Kate liked the crusty old German.

One afternoon when she touched down on the Susitna, no one came to meet her. She had a letter for Paul so decided to deliver it in person. She stepped into the frigid February air and trudged across snow-covered ice, her boots crunching through a frozen crust. A path leading from a dock to Paul’s house was clearly marked. Someone had kept it packed down.

As she neared the house, a sharp pop echoed from somewhere behind the cabin, then a rending sound like splintering wood followed. She moved along the path and to the back of the cabin.

His back to Kate, Paul picked up a chunk of spruce and set it on a chopping block. Hefting a double-headed axe, he brought it down, easily splitting the wood. He chopped each half into two smaller pieces and threw them into a pile. He picked up another round and set it on the block. Kate had the uncomfortable sensation that she was spying on him so she cleared her throat, hoping to get his attention. He swung around and looked at her.

“Hi,” she said, holding up the envelope. “There’s mail for you. No one came down to meet the plane so I brought it up.” She took a step toward him. “I figured you’d want it.”

“Sure.” He closed the space between them and took the envelope. “Thanks.”

The dogs started barking as if they only now realized someone had come to visit. Nita, who was indoors, planted her big feet against the front window and woofed at Kate.

“That’s enough,” Paul said. When the dogs didn’t stop, he hollered, “Quiet.” This time they obeyed.

“They’re beautiful. Are they friendly?”

“If they know you.” Paul rested his axe against the stump. “I’ll introduce you.” He moved toward them. “The big one is Buck.”

Kate smiled. “Like the one in
Call of the Wild
?”

“Yeah.” Paul gave Buck a pat. “You’ve read it?”

“At least a half dozen times. It’s a wonderful story.”

“One of my favorites.” Paul reached for Buck and got hold of his lead. The dog wagged his tail and pulled on the leash, trying to reach Kate. “Hold out your hand, palm down, and let him sniff you.”

Feeling a little nervous, Kate did as he said. “He’s the biggest dog I’ve ever seen. What kind is he?”

“Malamute. Anyway, that’s what the guy said who sold him to me.”

Buck sniffed Kate’s hand, then pushed his nose under her palm. Kate stroked his broad head. He moved close and leaned against her.

“He likes you.” Paul moved to the black dog. “This is Jackpot. He’s a mix.”

Kate stepped up to Jackpot, who greeted her with exuberance. “He has an interesting name.”

“I won him in a poker game.”