Joy Takes Flight (19 page)

Angel lay with her head over Kate's feet, seeming to know her mistress needed to feel her closeness. The clock hanging from the wall whispered the time with each pass of the pendulum. The fire crackled.

Paul should have made it to Seward by now, if there hadn't been a delay. The ship was scheduled to leave at 8:00 a.m. the next morning. The thought of him sailing off made her long for him more. Maybe she should have gone with him.
No. His first meeting with his family, after all this time, should be between them alone. I don't belong there.
They needed time to reconnect and to settle questions and grievances. And of course his mother needed him. Kate would only be in the way.

She finished her dinner, then washed the knife and plate, dried them, and returned the dishes to the cupboard and the knife to its place in the drawer. With that done, she turned and looked at the empty room. If only Lily or Sassa would stop by. She glanced at the dark window. Of course they wouldn't. It was late and they'd want her to rest. She considered reading but doubted she had enough energy even for something that simple. Bed was where she needed to be.

The radio crackled and Jack's voice came at her out of the stillness. “This is Anchorage Airport. Come in, Kate. Over.”

Kate hurried to the table and sat down in front of the radio, clicking on the speaker. “This is Kate. What can I do for you, Jack? Over.”

“We have an emergency. A couple of fellas didn't return from a moose hunt. We're sending out search planes first thing in the morning. We'll need as many eyes as we can get. Over.”

“I'll be there. Over.”

“Good. See you tomorrow. Over and out.”

Kate clicked off the radio. She felt better, knowing she had something to do with the next day. She'd dreaded having too much time to fill.

A quick trip to the Warrens' and she'd arranged for the care of the dogs. There was little time for chatting, so she was soon home again where she packed a bag for the morning, set the oil pot beside the stove, and headed for bed.

Kate lay in the dark, her mind unwilling to rest. All she could think of was Paul. She prayed for him. She knew he was still grieving for their little girl and now . . . his mother. It was too much, even for a resilient man like Paul. Sorrow sat heavy in the pit of her stomach and kept her awake most of the night. She was thankful when it was time to get up.

She climbed out of bed and put the pail of oil on the stove, along with the coffeepot. After dressing, she made herself some toast and drank warm, weak coffee, then using a flashlight to find her way, she headed for the plane. Angel trotted alongside her, seeming eager to be on the move.

The air was chill and a sharp breeze whisked Kate's hair into a frenzy as she readied the plane in the dark. She cranked the flywheel and climbed aboard, thankful to shut out the wind. She wanted to get in the air. Angel took her place in the front passenger seat, and Kate settled behind the control wheel and fired up the engine. Just as she spotted a crease of light along the horizon, she taxied down the airfield and lifted off.

When she reached Anchorage, Kate could see that an all-out search was in process. The airfield was empty of planes, all except Alan's. Cars were lined up in front of the shop. Leaving the engine running and Angel in her seat, Kate ran across the field to the office.

“I got here as fast as I could,” she blurted when she stepped inside.

Alan stood at the workbench, a young man beside him. He looked like your average Joe, nothing to write home about—medium build with a mop of unruly brown hair that fell into his eyes. He brushed it aside, revealing eyes that held humor and expectation.

Alan straightened. “I'm just about ready to head out. I'd like you to meet my friend, Donald Harrison. He's a pilot too.”

“Nice to meet you, Donald.” Kate held out her hand and shook his.

“Good to meet you.”

“Hey Jack,” Alan said. “Since we're in need of pilots right now, how about giving Donald a chance. He's just up from Sacramento.”

Jack eyed the young man suspiciously. “You got your own plane?”

“Yes sir. I sure do.” Donald smiled, revealing overly large teeth that stuck out slightly in front.

“What kind of experience you got?”

“Well, sir, I've been flying for a few years. About five years ago, I took lessons and went out and got myself a plane. Since then I've had odd jobs, but mostly I've been hauling passengers and cargo between Sacramento and Los Angeles.”

“What makes you think you can fly in Alaska? It's nothing like the namby-pamby kind of stuff you've been doing.”

Donald looked at the floor and stuck his thumbs into his front pants pockets. He glanced at Alan and then Kate and finally settled his gaze on Jack. “Figure it'll take me awhile to get the hang of things up here, but I'm a good pilot. You'll see, if you'll just give me a chance to prove myself. I'll take any runs you got, not passengers, just freight. And when you think I'm ready, I'll do any kind of flying you want.”

Jack mumbled something about greenhorns, then picked a dead stogie out of the ashtray and stuck it between his lips. The room was silent. Jack lit the cigar and took several quick, small puffs. When the end of the cigar glowed red, he removed it from his mouth and studied it for a moment. “You on the level?”

Donald's skin turned slightly pink. “Yes sir,” he said.

“Don't ever show up here half-swacked. You do and you're out.”

Donald lifted his hands up. “No sir. I won't. I swear. I never touch liquor.”

Jack pushed to his feet. “All right. I'll give you a chance. But don't disappoint me.”

Donald smiled broadly. He stepped toward Jack with his hand extended.

Jack shook it. “Well, get out there. We have missing men.”

“I was thinking he'd fly with me today, since he doesn't know the territory,” Alan said. “And I can use an extra pair of eyes.”

“Okay. Sure.”

The two pilots headed out, the wind breezing in as they opened the door.

He looked up from a graph on his desk. “Glad to see you,” he said, surprising Kate with his respectful tone. “Sidney and Kenny are already out lookin' and now Alan and what's his name. There's a pilot from Merrill Field too.” He leaned over the graph. “There are two men out there. They were hunting in the Copper River Basin and were last seen ten days ago. They were supposed to return three days ago, but there's been no sign of them and no word. The families are in a tailspin.” He turned to the map. “Right now I have pilots searching these areas.” He pointed at sections on the map. “I need you to take the south end.”

Kate leaned over and studied the map. Paul's ship should be leaving port about now. She tried to focus and felt guilty that her mind was on him instead of the missing hunters. “Okay. I'm on it.” She took the charted map and headed for the door. “I'll radio in if I see anything.”

Jack studied Kate. There was no hint of his usual antagonism or frustration. Finally, with a nod, he turned his attention back to the charts spread across his desk.

Kate and the other pilots searched for five days, but finally bad weather grounded them. There was little to no hope that the men had survived. Most likely the families would have to wait until spring thaw to discover what had become of them. Or they might never know.

While Kate signed out and prepared to catch a ride to her house with Sidney, Jack leaned back in his chair. “Good work, Kate.”

Had she heard him right? Jack had never thanked her or offered encouragement of any kind. What was he up to? “I wish we'd found those guys. I hate to think of them out there, maybe still alive and suffering.”

“They're not suffering. By now, they're long gone.” Jack's jaw was tightly squared. Then he looked at Kate. “I've been hard on you. 'Course a lot of it you deserved.” He tried to smile, but couldn't quite pull it off. “I just want to say that I'm . . . well, I'm sorry about what happened . . . with the baby.” He folded his arms over his chest, clearly uncomfortable in the role of comforter.

Kate wasn't sure how to respond. This was so unlike Jack. She managed to say, “I appreciate that.”

“Yeah. I can't imagine how it would be.” A gust of wind blew down the chimney and smoke roiled out of the stove. “Dang it! Need to replace that piece of rust. Barely keeps this place warm.” He pushed out of his chair and strode toward the stove.

The rare moment had passed. “I'll see ya,” Kate said and stepped outside.

The temperatures had held steadily in the teens and wind blew snow sideways. Kate bundled inside her coat and ran toward Sidney's car.

Sliding in, she said, “Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem.” Looking weary, he scrubbed at several days' growth of beard. “Hate to think that those fellas are still out there. I pray they stumbled onto a cabin. Maybe we'll have a nice surprise one of these days and find out they survived.”

He leaned over the steering wheel and scraped ice from the inside of the windshield. “The heater in this old rig barely keeps ya warm.” He glanced at Kate. “You hear from Paul?”

“No. The ship's probably a day out of Seattle, so I doubt I'll hear anything until he makes San Francisco.”

“Hope the trip wasn't too rough.”

“Me too. And I hope his mother doesn't pass away before he gets there. It's been a long time since he was home.”

“A shame. A pure shame. Man's gotta stay connected with family. Learned that the hard way.” Sidney pulled onto the street. “Wish I'd had more time with my father before his stroke.”

“You're out in Kenai all the time these days.”

“Yeah. Now that he's gone. But I've got a lot of family out there.” He shrugged. “So, how bad is Paul's mother?”

“Bad. Robert, Paul's brother, said she won't survive for long. I was hoping to meet her one day.”

Sidney settled compassionate eyes on Kate. “And how are you?”

“Okay. Work has been good for me. Gives me less time to think.”

“Good.” Sidney nodded, looking as if he was fishing around in his mind for something more to say. Finally, he asked, “So, do you have plans for Thanksgiving?”

Kate hadn't given the holiday any thought. “I don't know. I'll be on the homestead. The Warrens will probably invite me over.”

“Nice folks.” He grinned. “That Sassa, she's full of sass.” He laughed.

“She is,” Kate said, trying to sound cheerful. But the idea of spending Thanksgiving with Sassa wasn't appealing at the moment. In truth, she didn't feel like celebrating anything. And she didn't feel thankful.

She and Paul had planned an intimate celebration, just the two of them and their unborn child. It would have been their first Thanksgiving as husband and wife. She rested a hand on her flat stomach. Paul was gone. She was lonely. And her womb was empty.

P
aul gazed at the fog-shrouded bay as the train clacked its way across the lower deck of the Bay Bridge. He'd never been across the immense bridge before. It hadn't been built when he left San Francisco. In the distance skyscrapers, like tall, sturdy trees, stood amidst an eddy of fog.

His stomach twisted at the realization that he'd soon be greeting his family—people he'd cut out of his life seven years ago. Robert had promised to meet him, but Paul didn't know if any of the others would be with him. He expected a difficult reunion.

As the train moved into the city, memories bombarded him. This had once been home. As a youngster, life had been one big adventure. There was always something to do, somewhere to go. And after he'd married Susan, they'd explored the city together, enjoying the wide array of distractions. It had seemed an idyllic life . . . until the day Paul was reminded how unstable and treacherous even a perfect life could be.

A longing for his cabin and its solitude filled him like a hunger that could not be satisfied. He needed to be there, not in this place filled with pictures that glinted at him from the past.

The blast of the train whistle startled him and dragged Paul back to the present. He felt as if a weight had been placed on his chest, and he was sweating. He took a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped his brow. His hand still ached, but only slightly, thanks to the ship's doctor.

With a detached heart, he tried to concentrate on the city. It was just the place he'd come from, bigger and more congested than he remembered.

“Third and Townsend Depot. Five minutes,” called a porter.

Paul's heart raced. He should have stayed in touch with his family. Guilt like a bore tide swept over him. How could his family forgive seven years?

He buttoned up his overcoat and put on his hat. It would be cold and miserably wet outdoors.

Was Robert waiting? Through the tragedy, Paul's departure, and the years that followed, his older brother had remained a steady presence, if only by the written word. He'd offered encouragement and grace. He'd asked for nothing. Paul was certain that wouldn't change now, but as to the rest of the family . . . If his youngest sister, Audrey, was with Robert today, she'd give Paul a tongue-lashing. Carolyn would be more reserved, but unable to disguise her hurt and disappointment. She and Susan had been fast friends. His brother Sean had been young, with his mind on girls and his new life as a student at San Francisco State College when Paul had left. Paul doubted he had cared.

His mind drifted to his mother. She'd always been strong as steel. When Susan died, she was the one who'd held the family together. Her faith never wavered. Paul wondered how she was holding up under her present difficult circumstances. He'd known that she'd eventually die, but not yet. He couldn't imagine the world without her in it.

As a doctor, he'd seen people in the final stages of heart failure. It was not an easy death. Someone as good as his mother shouldn't suffer. He didn't know how he'd react when he saw her. Would he be able to put on a brave front?

He feared he'd see disappointment in her eyes. She hadn't deserved his long absence. All those years ago, it had seemed the only thing for him to do, and over time he'd never been able to confront his failure. He hadn't been thinking of anything but his own needs.

The train slowed as it approached the station, couplers chattering and steam hissing. Paul searched the platform for Robert. He spotted him right off. Robert was taller than most everyone else, and he stood erect with his shoulders back, watching the cars roll past. He looked a good deal like Paul, except he was larger in girth and height. Paul barely managed to suppress a groan when he saw Audrey standing beside him. She wore a smart white hat with a red bow that matched the color of her dress, which peeked out from the bottom of her belted trench coat. Blonde curls framed her face and her blue eyes searched the train. Paul stepped away from the window. He didn't want her to see him, not yet.

He waited until all the passengers had disembarked, then made his way down the narrow aisle to the door. Robert and Audrey were standing alongside the train, searching for him in the crowd of people. When Robert spotted him, his face lit up and he waved. Taking long strides, he headed straight for Paul.

Robert grasped Paul's hand and pulled him into a tight embrace. Emotions of love and gratitude sprang to life inside Paul. The two men held on to one another, then stepped back.

“Well, it's about time. I was beginning to think I'd never see you again.” Robert clapped Paul on the upper arm. “You look good.” His brown eyes shimmered with pleasure. “Oh Lord, it's good to see you.” His eyes wandered to Paul's bandaged left hand. “What'd you do to yourself?”

“I tangled with a trap, but it's fine now.” Paul gazed at Robert. “You look in top shape.” He felt a swell of love for his brother. With less enthusiasm, he turned to Audrey.

She smiled up at him from beneath the brim of her stylish hat, and then threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. “Oh, I've missed you.” She held on tight for a few moments, then stepped back. The smile had been replaced by pursed lips. “Why in heaven's name have you been up in that godforsaken wilderness all this time? You went off with barely a word and left us wondering and praying.” She folded her arms over her chest. “And Mother. She never said an unkind word, but we all knew she was worried sick about you. And she needed you. She loved Susan too.”

“I know. I'm sorry. I have no excuses.”

“I'll be candid, I had a hard time forgiving you, mostly because of Mother.” Audrey continued to glare at him for another moment, then her expression softened. “Well, you're home now.” She hugged him again. “I'm glad you're here.”

Robert rested a hand on Paul's back and looked back toward the train. “No Kate? We hoped we'd get to meet her.”

“Not this trip.”

“Of course, not in her condition,” Robert said.

“Actually . . . Kate lost the baby a few weeks ago.”

“Oh.” Audrey's exclamation slipped from her lips. The brightness in her blue eyes dimmed. “I'm so sorry. How awful.”

Paul didn't want to talk about the baby. It only reminded him that Kate was home, facing the loss on her own. If not for his foolhardiness, she'd still be eagerly awaiting the arrival of their little girl.

“Well, brother, Mother's waiting. Let's get your bags.”

“How is she?”

“Looking forward to seeing you.”

“No. I mean—”

“You know Mother. She's strong as steel . . . but with each day that passes she becomes physically weaker. She spends most days in bed. She could go at any time.” Robert's eyes dimmed. “I think she's been waiting for you.”

The trip home felt as if Paul was walking through memories. As they moved through the Financial District with its impressive French Renaissance architecture, he remembered trips into that part of town to do business with his father or with Robert. Union Square, with its Dewey Monument, was a place he'd spent a good deal of time. Susan had a penchant for fashion and one of her favorite places to shop was at O'Connor, Moffatt & Co. Sometimes he'd join her, and while she did her shopping, he'd visit with other men in the courtyard who were also waiting for their wives. Often, after Susan had completed her shopping, the two of them would share a picnic lunch on the lawns outside the plaza. It was fun to sit and chat outdoors and watch people come and go. His heart squeezed at the memory.

When his brother turned onto Franklin Street, Paul's mouth went dry. Was the entire family waiting for him? The car passed a parade of Victorian homes and then they reached the one where he'd grown up. It was a three-story house with a basement. He suddenly recalled a joke he and his brothers had pulled on his sisters. They'd convinced them that monsters lived in the basement. He smiled. Audrey had refused to set foot in the basement for two years, until their father insisted she face her fears.

He studied the house. It looked bigger than he remembered, perhaps because the cabin he'd grown accustomed to was so small. The house was painted an olive green and had rows of narrow windows with white panes that gazed down on the street. Bay windows with lace curtains rounded out the southwest corner of the house on all three floors. The yard was well tended, shrubs neatly trimmed and the gardens free of weeds. The trees were bare and smartly pruned. Broad brick steps led to a landing and windowed front doors. Paul's stomach tightened.

Robert pulled to the side of the street. Before he could get out and open Audrey's door, she'd climbed out on her own and was hurrying up the front steps.

Robert grabbed Paul's bag out of the trunk. “Figured you'd want to stay with Mother.”

“Of course.” Paul headed up the steps and walked into a tiled vestibule. A large crystal chandelier lit the interior entrance and a mahogany table with a mirror over it stood along one wall. Paul glanced in the mirror as he moved past to hang his coat on the coatrack.

Audrey waited at the foot of the stairs. “Mother's in her room.”

Paul gave a nod. His stomach felt queasy.

Robert followed Paul inside. “I'll put these in your room.” He hefted the suitcases slightly.

“I can do that.”

“No need,” Robert said.

Paul removed his coat and hung it on the rack. The house felt overly warm. With the cool damp weather, he was certain fires burned in the hearths in the parlor and the front room, as well as the kitchen and the occupied bedrooms. “Warm,” he said.

“You can't be serious.” Audrey hugged herself. “It's freezing. You're simply used to the Arctic cold.”

“I don't live in the Arctic.”

“Well, wherever it is you live. I know it's much colder there than here and it's buried in snow.”

She was still peeved with him and rightly so. Paul made no mention of her snippy tone. “True. It is cold and we do have snow, but the summers are warm. It's beautiful there. I'd like to show it to you.” He stared at her and felt a challenge coming from her. It reminded him of when they were children. “You're mad at me for not coming home and I understand that, but you never came north either.”

Audrey puckered out her lower lip. “My understanding was that you didn't want visitors.” She looked at Robert. “Isn't that right?”

Robert cleared his throat. “Perhaps it would be better if we didn't discuss this right now.”

“Fine. But I am right.” Audrey removed a hat pin, lifted off her trendy hat, and placed it on a shelf above the coatrack. “I doubt I'd like it. I'm not fond of the country.”

Although Paul wanted to defend his home, he bit his tongue. An argument would serve no good purpose. And one rarely won a disagreement with Audrey.

He moved to the stairway and placed a hand on the mahogany banister. “Mother's still in the same room?”

“Yes. Go on up. I'm sure she's waiting for you.” Robert took the steps, a bag in each hand.

Paul sucked in a breath of courage and headed up, afraid of what he'd find. His mother had always been vigorous. He didn't want to see her sickly and dying. He took each step with resolve. When he reached the top of the stairway, he stopped. Everything looked just as it had. The occasional table with a crystal vase brimming with flowers stood in the alcove at the top of the staircase. His mother had always kept flowers in the house. He headed down the hallway adorned with a vividly colored Oriental rug.

When he reached her room, which was the last one at the end of the corridor, he stopped and stared at her bedroom door. He remembered how she'd insisted on this particular room because it offered the best view of San Francisco Bay. He opened the door, doing his best to be quiet in case she was asleep. The room was furnished with dark mahogany and a four-poster canopy bed sat like a centerpiece. His mother had always loved the bed. It had been a gift from his father. She sat among plump pillows, her gray hair braided and draped over one shoulder. Her white dressing gown looked as if it had been starched. She'd always been a small woman, but now she looked tiny in the large bed.

Her bright blue eyes had dimmed and her complexion was pallid. She smiled and held out a hand to him. “I can barely believe what I see. Come here and give me a kiss.”

Paul obeyed and bent and kissed his mother's cheek. Her skin felt dry and paper thin. Shaking slightly, she placed her hands on his face, and then kissed both of his cheeks. “God has blessed me.”

Although frail, she retained her inner strength and beauty. He sat on the bed and gently grasped her hand. “It's good to be here.”

“It took you long enough,” she said, her speech sounding as if it were barely managing to squeeze past her voice box. “I was beginning to think you'd never come home and I'd have to die without you.” She gave him a playful smile. “Stand up and let me have a look at you.”

Paul stood and held his arms away from his sides. Being scrutinized made him feel uncomfortable.

“Dear me. What's happened to your hand?”

“It's nothing. A little cut that's healing well.”

She studied him, her eyes touched by pleasure. “You've become a strapping young man. Nearly as big as Robert.” She pressed her palms together. “It would seem Alaska has been good for you.” She narrowed her eyes. “But you should have come home sooner and more often.”

“You're right. I should have. I'm sorry, but I thought you understood . . . the why.”

She puffed out a breath between shriveled lips. “I suppose I do. But the time comes when we must move on. It should not take something as drastic as my death to bring you home.”

“I'm truly sorry. I see now how wrong I've been. But I did think about you and the rest of the family often. I missed you. I just couldn't come back and face what had happened.”