Touching the Clouds (8 page)

“I’m sorry.” Kate grasped Helen’s upper arms to steady her. “I’m a little keyed up and hurrying.”

“That’s understandable.” Helen smiled. “The first day on a job is always the toughest.” She gave Kate a quick hug. “You’ll do fine.”

“I hope so.” Kate glanced toward the door. “I better go. I don’t want to be late.”

“Just one moment. I have something for you.” Helen hurried to the storeroom and took a small container down from a shelf. “I baked these for you last night.” She held out a canister.

Kate peeked inside. The sweet fragrance of cinnamon drifted from the tin. “Cookies. Thank you.”

“Oatmeal raisin. It’s my mother’s recipe.”

“They smell delicious.” Kate pushed the lid closed. “I love oatmeal cookies.”

Helen pressed her palms together. “Well, you better get moving.”

Kate hurried through the store. Albert stood at the front door, a duster in hand.

“Your big day. After this, you’ll be a full-fledged pilot.”

“I’m only working part-time.”

“That’s enough.” He smiled. “You’ll still be able to work for us on your days off.” He opened the door. “See you tomorrow.”

Kate took long strides, swinging her arms freely at her sides. She could barely contain her excitement. The airfield was closer than Merrill Field, which on most days would be a good thing, but this morning she’d have liked more time to work out her nervousness.

It was a perfect morning, cool and clear. The air smelled clean, and fresh snow glistened on the mountains, foretelling of approaching winter. The sourdoughs who came into the store predicted it would arrive early. She wondered what an Alaskan winter would be like. All she knew were the stories she’d heard. It sounded exciting, but she wondered how bad the weather had to be to ground flights. And what if a storm came up and caught her off guard?
Stop worrying. You’ve
flown in snow before. You’ll know what to do when the
time comes.

As a child, she’d read books that talked of ice houses and Eskimos. She smiled at her childish naïveté. Of course none of it was true anymore. Anchorage was like other towns, except that a lot of the men who came in from the bush reminded her of grizzly bears. Most sported beards, chewed tobacco, and held with coarse language that they cleaned up only mildly in the presence of women. Most smelled like they could use a bath.

The man from Bear Creek, Paul—he didn’t seem like the rest. He was more refined and he’d smelled of soap, not sweat. She wondered how he’d come to live in Alaska.
Next time I
see him, I’ll ask.
Even as she considered their next meeting, she knew better than to ask about his background. It wasn’t done. Early on, she’d learned not to ask questions. Some Alaskans had left the states to lose themselves and didn’t want their pasts dug up.

Since arriving in the territory, she’d met a number of remarkable people. Kate figured the ones who moved to Alaska were likely adventure seekers, which made them different right from the start. And the ones who stayed had to be the hardiest of all. She was determined to be one of those.

The airfield came into sight and her stomach did a little flip. She stopped and pushed down her nerves.
I can do this.

When Kate stepped into the shop, Sidney stood beside a bench laden with tools and airplane parts. He straightened and glanced at the clock. “You’re early.” He smiled, which made his boyish face look even younger.

“Better than being late.”

“Got that right.” He wiped his hands on a rag. “Work never ends. You know anything about plane engines?”

“Just enough to get me back in the air when I’m stuck on the ground, at least most of the time.”

The door opened and a thickset man with short black hair stepped into the room. He flung the door shut with a bang. Full lips clamped themselves around a cigar. In spite of the stogie, the man managed to scowl.

I hope he’s not Mike.

“Hey, Jack, I’d like you to meet our new pilot, Kate Evans. She’s going to take the inlet run.”

“Heard you’d hired a dame.” The cigar bounced as he talked.

Wearing a frown, Sidney said, “Kate, this is Jack Rydell, one of my pilots.”

“Your best pilot.” Jack pressed his backside against the workbench, crossed his legs at the ankles, and folded his arms over his chest. “Been flying Alaska for eight years, and I’m the best aviator you’ll find in the territory.”

Sidney shook his head. “And the most modest.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Kate said, extending a hand, thankful the ill-mannered man wasn’t Mike.

Jack grasped it halfheartedly, then turned to Sidney. “Thought I had a trip this morning.”

“You do.”

“Where’re my riders?”

“Simmer down. They called in and they’re running late. They’ll get here.”

“I don’t have time to laze around while a bunch of trigger-happy hunters try to get their . . .” He looked at Kate, then continued, “Get their stuff together. It’s just a scouting trip.” He moved toward the door. “Guess I’ll give my plane a once-over while I wait.” He walked out of the building, slamming the door behind him.

Sidney shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder why I keep him around.”

“Why do you?” Kate asked without thinking, then wondered if she was being too forward. After all, this was her first day.

He looked at Kate with resignation. “He’s a good pilot.”

The door opened again and Kate prepared for another onslaught from Jack. Instead, it was a young man who looked as if he’d never seen a stressful day in his life. He stepped into the doorway. Fingers tucked into his pants pockets, he leaned his slender frame against the doorjamb. A quiet smile rested on his lips as his pale blue eyes sized up Kate. “So, you’re my student?” He lifted off his cap, revealing unruly brown hair.

Kate felt her skin prickle. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but he wasn’t it—he was much too good looking. Propelling herself forward, she held out a hand. “I’m Kate Evans.”

“Mike Conlin.” He snapped a piece of gum he was chewing and winked, but his grip was firm. “Nice to meet you.” He turned his attention to Sidney. “So, how much mail we got today?”

“Plenty. Be glad for good weather.”

“Better get to it, then.” Mike stuffed his cap in his back pocket.

“Already packed it for you,” Sidney said.

“Thanks.” Mike looked at Kate. “So, you ready?”

“I am.” Kate tried to sound confident, but felt anything but. So much was riding on her doing a good job. If she botched this, there’d be no other chances.

Hauling two canvas bags, Mike led the way to the airfield. Kate followed, a box tucked under one arm and a heavy sack draped over her shoulder. She wondered just how big a route she’d be covering. There was a lot of mail.

“So, yours is the Bellanca?”

“Uh-huh.”

Mike headed for it and Kate followed, her stomach doing a dance.

Mike stopped beside the craft and set the bags on the ground. He stood back and studied the name on the side. “Fearless Kate?”

Embarrassed, Kate silently vowed that at the first opportunity she’d paint over the name. “That’s what I call her.” She added her mail to the pile beside the Pacemaker.

“Good name.”

“I’m going to change it, just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“Why? Aren’t you fearless? Isn’t that why you’re here?” He winked and then opened the rear door.

Kate hated being made fun of. “I was young when I first got the plane.”

Mike didn’t respond, but hefted in the mail and arranged it carefully. “When you’ve got a lot of weight, make sure you distribute it evenly so your tail end isn’t too heavy. Otherwise you’ll have a heck of a time coming out of a stall.”

Kate knew that, but didn’t say anything.

“I’ll crank her.”

Mike moved to the side of the plane while Kate climbed into the pilot’s seat.

Once in the air, Mike took out a map and pointed to the area they’d be flying through. “We’ll head down the peninsula and then cut across the inlet and back to Anchorage. We’ve got mail drops all the way—small towns, villages, homesteads.” Kate tried to relax, but her muscles felt like they were bunched up. She took a couple of slow, deep breaths.

Mike settled back in his seat. “I’ll be glad to get this route off my hands.”

“Why? Is there something wrong with it?”

“No. It’s just that I make more money working for myself. I split the take with Sidney.”

“Why do you split with him?”

“He maintains the airport and helps bring in business. He’s got to make a living too.”

“Sure. Of course.” Kate hoped it wasn’t too long before she could make trips of her own. She wondered how much this mail run paid. She’d been so excited to have the job she hadn’t even thought to ask.

They flew along the Kenai Peninsula, making several stops, many of them on beaches. Some were soft and sandy, others rocky. There were a few grass airstrips, which Kate was more familiar with, but each stop required careful piloting. Mike was helpful but gave instruction only when needed. Kate appreciated that.

As the morning progressed, she felt more competent but also understood that flying in Alaska meant nothing was ordinary. She was getting a glimpse at how naïve she’d been when she thought she could easily step into piloting in the territory. A mail run had sounded simple. It wasn’t. She was grateful Sidney hadn’t cut her loose. Delivering mail would be a good jumping-off place, providing much-needed experience.

They stopped at places like Nikiski, Seldovia, and Ninil-chik. Although a bit overwhelmed by the unusual names and nonstop itinerary, Kate didn’t feel fatigued. The challenges and new discoveries kept up her interest. And Mike’s company wasn’t bad either. She liked the laid-back pilot.

At first, Kate was nervous about how she’d be accepted, but she had nothing to worry about. Most people didn’t seem at all put off by a woman pilot, and only a handful were even curious.

In Homer, Mike announced it was time for a break. They sat on a large sun-bleached log and shared lunch. A breeze touched Kate’s skin and ruffled her short hair. The sun felt almost warm. Some tide pools glistened like glass and others housed sea creatures whose bubbles gave away hiding places.

Kate took in a deep breath, savoring the ocean’s sharp fragrance. “I like it here.” She unwrapped a sandwich and took a bite.

“The beach has a way of getting the knots out, all right.”

Kate couldn’t imagine that Mike had any knots. “How long have you been a pilot?”

“Long enough to know better than to fly planes in Alaska.” He grinned.

“Do you really mean that?”

“I do.” He took two bites out of a peanut butter sandwich. His cheek bulging, he said, “No one should fly in this territory. It’s killing work. You’d be smart to turn around and go back where you came from.”

Kate stared at her sandwich, her throat tightening. “Why me?” she asked, thinking it must have to do with her being female.

He blew out a breath. “It’s not just you. We should all go home.” His expression turned somber. “I’m serious, Kate. It’s no place for a woman.”

Irritation flared and Kate shot back, “Why not a woman?”

Mike shook his head. “I don’t mean just women. Anyone in their right mind ought to go home.”

She’d known flying here was dangerous, but she hadn’t expected to hear such a negative viewpoint from an Alaskan pilot. She folded the remainder of her sandwich in the waxed paper and put it in her pack. Taking out the tin of cookies, she opened it and halfheartedly offered one to Mike. “Mrs. Towns made these.”

“Heard she’s a good cook.” He accepted the cookie.

“She is.” Kate selected one and took a bite, barely tasting the mix of spices and raisins. Confused and frustrated, she wanted to ask Mike more about why he felt the way he did about flying in Alaska, but decided it wouldn’t be prudent, not on her first day. She chewed and tried to think of something else to talk about. Finally she said, “I can’t believe how many people live in the bush. How do they find these remote places?”

“The natives have always been here. Others came looking for gold clear back in the last century and then stayed. And there are some who are still searching for it.” He grinned. “Most just want a solitary life and like the idea of living off the land.” He squinted as he studied a seagull hopping along the beach. “Some are hiding . . . from something or someone.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“Not really. There’s all kinds of things people want to leave behind.” Mike popped the last of his cookie in his mouth. “These remind me of my mother’s. She was a great cook.” His voice had taken on a wistful tenor.

“Where did you live before moving here?” Kate set the open tin between them on the log.

“Chicago. When my mother died, I figured it was time to make the move.”

“What about your father?”

His eyes hardened. “Haven’t seen him since he walked out on us. I was ten.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Mike waved off her regret. “He wasn’t any good, anyway.”

“How did you end up here?”

He gazed at the ocean. “A friend taught me to fly when I was still in school. He came up several years ago and convinced me it was a good move. So here I am.”

“Why do you stay?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“I figure I ought to know something about my teacher.” She grinned.

“I stay because I can’t leave. Winter nearly runs me out every year, though.” Bracing his hands against the log, he leaned back. “Something about this place . . . almost feels like a part of me.” He took another cookie. “And I like the people. You can count on them.”

“I’ve seen that. And I like it too. ’Course I haven’t been through a winter yet.”

Mike rested his quiet blue eyes on Kate, unsettling her. “How’d you end up here?” he asked.

“I love to fly and I heard there were jobs for pilots. There’s not a lot of work in the Yakima area right now. Well, not much anywhere right now.”

“That’s it? You’re here out of practicality?” He shook his head. “It’ll take more than that to keep you here.”

“It’s not all about being practical.” Kate brushed cookie crumbs off her shirt. “I want to challenge myself, to try something I’ve never done—”