Touching the Clouds (30 page)

“How should I know? I’ve never had a baby before,” Jean said.

Kate tried to focus on flying. She was a pilot, not a doctor. Panting now accompanied the whimpers and moans.
Babies
take a long time to get born. Don’t they?

Jean yelled.

Kate jumped, then hollered, “What’s going on?”

“I . . . I think she’s having the baby.” Fred sounded terrified. “We need a doctor!”

“Well, there’s no doctor up here!”

“It hurts. Oh, it hurts.” Jean grabbed the front of Fred’s shirt. “Help me. Please help me.”

“Everything’s going to be all right, sugar.” He moved up front and got close to Kate’s ear. “You’ve got to get us to a hospital!”

Kate couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Look out the window. Do you see any hospitals down there?”

Fred gazed at endless tundra. “What’s the closest place?”

“Fairbanks. And if your wife is getting ready to have a baby, that’s too far.”

Fred went back to Jean. “Can you wait, honey?”

“No! It’s coming! I can feel it!”

Fred moved back to the cockpit. “You’ve got to help us. I don’t know what to do. She’s never had a baby before . . . Do you know what to do?”

“No.” Kate looked at Mike. “Have you ever delivered a baby?”

“Are you kidding?”

Kate glanced at Fred. “You’ll have to handle it.”

Sweating and pale, he stared at her, his eyes wide.

Kate knew he would be absolutely no help
.
“All right. I’ll look for a place to put down.” Her eyes scanned the wilderness below them. “Outsiders. They’ve got no business being here,” she muttered.

“I can keep flying while you help with the baby,” Mike said.

Kate looked at Fred, then back at Mike. “No. That’s not going to work. I need your help.”

Mike went pale. “I don’t know—”

“I need you. And I’m putting down. Help me find a place.” Kate could hear the alarm in her voice and tried to quiet it. “Please . . . look for a place to set down.”

Kate scoured the Nenana River, hoping for a quiet spot to land. “Jean, hang on just a little longer. And whatever you do, don’t push.”

“That looks like a good spot,” Mike said, pointing at a quiet stretch of water.

Kate dropped down to get a better look. She didn’t see any debris.

Mike moved to the back and sat with Fred, who was clearly distraught.

“All right. Just hang on.” Kate turned the plane and came back around. As gently as possible, she skimmed the surface and dropped onto the water.

Jean screamed.

Her blood pumping, Kate steered toward the bank.

Mike opened the door. “I’ll tie us off,” he said and leapt out.

Kate scrambled out of the pilot’s seat and went to check on Jean. “Let’s get you in the back where you can lie down. Fred, get those bags out of here. We need room.”

He handed one out to Mike, then disappeared with the other one. Kate didn’t know what she’d do now. She’d seen dogs and kittens born, even a calf. Was this much different?

Holding her abdomen, Jean stood and made her way to the back. “It hurts. Ohh, it hurts.”

Fred returned, soaked from the thighs down. He helped Jean lie down. She rolled onto her side and pulled her legs up to her stomach.

Mike climbed in and crouched beside Kate. “What do you want me to do?”

Angel tried to nose in. “Angel, not now. Get back.” The dog retreated.

Kate nodded at one of the bags she always kept with her that held incidentals. “Grab that pack. We’ll put it under her head.”

Kate’s mind clicked through what needed to be done. She’d taken one class in emergency training, but the teacher had spent only a few minutes on births. “In my survival pack there are scissors. And I’ll need antiseptic and some blankets.”

She knelt beside Jean. “How you doing?”

Jean didn’t seem to hear. She squeezed her eyes closed and groaned.

“I’ll need some water,” Kate hollered.

Fred smoothed damp hair off her face.

“I’ll get it.” Mike grabbed a can and disappeared out the door.

Still pale and sweating, Fred asked, “Is she going to be all right?”

“I’ll do the best I can.” Kate unfolded two blankets and pushed one up next to Jean’s back. “Jean, I need you to lie on your back. And then lift your bottom so I can get this blanket under you.”

“Do you know how to deliver a baby?” she asked, rolling onto her back and raising her hips.

“There can’t be that much to it. It’s a natural thing, right?” Kate hoped she sounded composed. Her insides quivered.

Mike stood in the doorway, watching and looking helpless. Jean shrieked as another contraction hit her.

Kate wasn’t angry anymore. Instead she was afraid—for Jean and the baby. She didn’t know what to do. What if something went wrong?
Lord, show me how to do this. Help me.
She held Jean’s hand. “Everything will be fine. Soon you’ll have your baby in your arms.”

I’ve got to find out how close she is to delivering.
“I need to look . . . to see if the baby’s coming out.”

Jean nodded.

Gently Kate lifted the woman’s skirt and removed her undergarments. “Sorry. I know this is embarrassing.”

Jean didn’t hear. She was in the midst of another contraction. “Bend your legs.” Groaning, Jean managed to pull her legs up. Kate gently parted her knees just enough to get a look. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “It’s almost here. I can see the head.”

“I’ve got to push!” Jean screamed and bore down.

“Go ahead.”

Two pushes later, the head was completely out and resting in Kate’s hands. One more push delivered the shoulders and the baby slid free. Kate caught her, then holding her in one hand, she wiped the infant’s mouth and face with a cloth. The baby let out a squall.

“It’s a girl! You have a little girl.” Kate felt like laughing and crying all at the same time. She held up the infant so the parents could see.

“Mike, get me some string out of my bag. I need to tie off the cord. Fred, I need you to hold the baby.”

He nodded and took the child, staring at her with adoration and wonder. He held her so his wife could see. “She’s beautiful.”

Mike moved in closer, amazement on his face.

Kate wasn’t sure where to tie the cord but took a guess and then cut the child free of its mother. She shook antiseptic powder on the cord. She glanced over her shoulder at Mike. His eyes were flooded with tears.

“I had no idea,” he whispered, then looked at Kate with adoration and pride. “You were wonderful.”

“I mostly just caught her. Jean did all the work.”

While Jean and Fred admired their daughter, Kate cleaned up the blood and water with a towel, then disposed of the bloodied blanket and afterbirth.

She and Mike sat on the bank, giving the parents a few moments alone. Kate felt surprisingly peaceful. She pulled her knees close to her chest. “I’ve never been part of anything like that before.”

“I had no idea,” Mike said, his voice still filled with wonder. His blue eyes found Kate. “One day I’d like to have a family. With the right woman.”

Kate knew he was talking about her. “I’d like to have children . . . some day.” She rested her chin on her knees. “But I have a lot I still want to do before I settle down.”

23

P
aul shoved a spade beneath a potato plant, then lifted it and shook out the dirt. Tender vegetables clung to the roots. He’d had a good season. There would be plenty for eating and for trading.

Wiping sweat off his face with his shirtsleeve, he looked at the August sky. Ribbons of translucent clouds reached across the pale blue canopy. Fall was fast approaching.

He laid the shovel across the top of the wheelbarrow mounded with potatoes and pushed the cart to the root cellar. By the time he finished transferring the potatoes to wooden boxes, it was time to clean up. He was due at Patrick and Sassa’s by six o’clock for dinner.

Standing in an outdoor shower, Paul shivered while icy water splashed over his head and cascaded down his body. He quickly soaped down, then pulled a cord that released more water to rinse off most of the soap. He grabbed a towel and rubbed down to dry off. With the towel wrapped around his waist, he hurried indoors.

Freshly shaven and wearing clean clothes, Paul followed the trail to the Warrens’ place. Seeing movement in a thicket near the creek, he stopped. A massive set of antlers rose up from the bushes and seemed to rotate all by themselves. They rested on the head of an enormous moose. Using his tongue, the beast pulled greenery into his mouth. He’d been grazing on tender shoots that grew along the creek bank.

Paul never tired of watching the wildlife and now stood enthralled, gazing at the animal. The huge beast lowered his head with its heavy load and plucked more grass from the pool, capturing vegetation between bulbous lips. Seeming at peace with the world, he chewed contentedly.

At the shoulders, the animal must have been at least seven feet. He’d provide enough meat for an entire winter.
Hope
you’ll still be around come hunting season.

Reluctantly, Paul moved on.

When he arrived at the Warrens’, he was met by the two oldest boys, their arms loaded with firewood.

“Hello, Mr. Anderson,” Douglas said politely.

“Evening.”

“Hi,” Ethan said, flashing a smile over his pile of wood.

Paul hurried ahead of them and opened the cabin door. “Looks like your dad’s put you to work.”

“Mom,” Douglas said.

“I’m sure she appreciates the help.”

“She does,” Ethan said. “At least that’s what she always tells us.” He followed Douglas inside, and Paul followed.

When Paul stepped into the kitchen, Sassa looked over her shoulder at him. “Welcome!” she said, continuing to knead a mound of dough. “Hope you like biscuits.”

“If they’re yours, I do.” He looked around the room. “Where’s Patrick?”

“He’s getting turnips out of the garden.” She glanced out the kitchen window. “He’ll be back any minute. Sit.” She patted out the dough until it was about a half-inch thick.

Paul walked to the counter and stood beside her, watching. “I can taste them already.”

Lily came in, tying an apron around her waist. Her steps faltered when she saw Paul. She smiled, but the expression in her eyes was gloomy. “Hi.” She walked to the table where carrots were piled on a cutting board.

“Hello,” Paul replied.

Lily didn’t look up. He wondered what was wrong, but figured it wasn’t his business.

The door opened and Patrick stepped in, holding a handful of turnips by the stalks. “Howdy, neighbor.” He held up the vegetables. “Just getting the last of our supper.” He laid the vegetables in the sink, then strolled into the living room. “Come and sit.”

Paul settled into a threadbare armchair. “Looks like your garden’s doing well.”

“It is.” Patrick picked up a pipe and a packet of tobacco from an end table. He sifted the tobacco into the pipe and tapped it down. Striking a match, he held it over the bowl and took several small puffs until smoke curled into the air. He shook out the match and set it in an ashtray. Settling back in the chair, he said, “I’ve got more than enough vegetables for trading. Figure on making a trip to Susitna Station before the month’s out.”

“It’s been a good year.” Paul clasped his hands over his stomach. “I miss tomatoes and corn, though. Wish we could grow them up here.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “And fruit. Have you ever eaten an orange or apple fresh off the tree?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Used to have them all the time when I lived in California. Makes my mouth water just thinking about them. Nothing’s as good as fresh picked. What we get up here only resembles the real thing. Being picked half ripe and then shipped ruins the flavor.”

“We got wild berries. Ever see those down in California?”

“Sure. All kinds.” Paul felt as if he were defending his old home.

“Oh.” Patrick took several puffs off his pipe. “Do you know anyone who could ship you some fruit?”

“Yeah, but getting it up here fast enough is the challenge. Even if you pick it and ship the same day, it takes too long by steamer. It’d have to be flown in.” Paul could almost taste the crisp sweetness of a ripe apple.

“Someone could go down, get it, and then fly it back. How about Kate? Her family owns an apple farm.”

“That’s a long trip just for fruit. Course if she was already going down . . .”

“Didn’t she say she wanted to make a trip this summer?” Patrick asked.

“Don’t think it’s going to happen. She’s busy, and she hates losing flying time.” Paul wished she would make a trip. They could go together. He might even stop to see his family.

A dinner of caribou stew and biscuits was set on the table. Sassa called everyone to dinner. The boys dominated most of the table talk. They couldn’t wait to share the day’s adventures. They’d gone fishing and had spotted bear tracks along the creek. They’d also wandered over to Klaus’s place and helped him with his garden. Afterward he’d shown them how to whittle and promised to teach them more next time they came.

“Klaus is good with a knife and a chunk of wood. He’s carved some amazing figures of Alaskan birds and animals,” Patrick told Paul. “Ever see them?”

“Yeah. In fact, he gave me a real nice figurine of a moose. Real quality work.”

Lily was quieter than usual. She barely looked up the entire meal. Paul wondered what was troubling her.

“I did it again,” Paul said, setting down his fork. “Sassa, that was so good I made a pig out of myself.” He pushed away from the table.

Sassa smiled and cast a glance at her daughter. “Lily did a lot of the work.”

He looked at the young woman. “Thank you, Lily. Wonderful meal.”

An almost imperceptible smile touched her lips.

Patrick patted his stomach. “How ’bout you and I take a walk?” he asked Paul.

“Good idea.”

The men followed a trail along the creek. The sound of buzzing insects and the smell of highbush cranberries were in the air. Paul told Patrick about the moose he’d seen.

“I saw him too, couple of days ago. What a brute.”

They ended up at a place where the trail sloped down to the creek. In the cool of evening, flies and mosquitoes danced across the top of calm waters. Occasionally a fish broke the surface to feed, leaving a circle of ripples.