Joy Takes Flight (18 page)

He started toward the sled when he saw Kate. She knelt over the grave and cleared away freshly fallen snow. His heart squeezed. After every snowfall, she made sure to brush away the snow. He'd be glad for spring, but even as the thought came to him, he knew she'd still tend their daughter's resting place, making sure it was clear of weeds and keeping fresh flowers on it. She wouldn't forget.

He cleaned off the sled, then unleashed the dogs. Buck seemed most anxious to go, so Paul placed him in front.

By the time he had all three dogs harnessed, Kate joined him. “I hope you have better luck today,” she said, watching the dogs pace and whine. “They're ready for a run.” She looked back at the cabin. “I wish Angel had been trained to pull a sled. I think she'd like it.”

Paul smiled. “Nah. I think she was meant to fly. I doubt she'd take to a harness.” He pulled his hood up. “I won't be gone long. With just one line and all three dogs we'll move along quickly. I'll be back in time for dinner.”

“Good. I'm cooking up a couple of grouse, along with spuds and peas. Thought maybe I'd make biscuits too. You'll be hungry by the time you get back.”

“You can count on it.” He kissed her. “I'll be thinking about you,” he said, wishing that when he returned they'd have something to talk about besides the mundane. They never discussed their future or the next run or Kate's job. Life felt aimless.

She rested a hand on his arm. “Be careful.”

“I will.” He stepped on the boards and called, “Hike up.”

The dogs lunged forward and headed down the trail leading southeast away from the cabin. He looked over his shoulder. Kate stood watching him. When they were first married, he'd longed for the thrill that came with each day. Back then, life had seemed like one grand adventure. How quickly it had changed.

He tried to keep his mind on the task at hand, reading the terrain and the depth of the snow and guiding the dogs. They'd had a heavy snowfall the last few days, which most likely buried his traps. The air was cold but not as frigid as it had been. He glanced at the sky where a patch of blue appeared in the cloud cover.

Buck, who was generally obedient and steady, wasn't listening to his commands. Paul had to correct him several times. He decided to place Nita up front. While he was moving Buck into the second position, the dog lunged toward Jackpot and tore into him. Jackpot responded and the two dogs ripped at each other.

“No! Enough!” Paul shouted, yanking the dogs apart. He dragged Buck back into position. “What's wrong with you today?” Paul asked, but he knew. Buck was the dog Paul felt closest to and when Paul was out of sorts so was Buck. “Sorry, boy. I know it's not your fault. Things will be better soon.”

With the dogs back in place, they set off. Paul had only a handful of traps left to check. He hadn't stopped to eat and he was hungry, so he hurried, knowing Kate was preparing dinner.

When he reached the next trap, he called the dogs to a halt. Getting down on his knees, he pulled the trap out from beneath spruce boughs. It was still set and had a chunk of meat in it. He removed the moose meat and tossed it to Nita, who gobbled it down. Taking a chunk of salmon, Paul set it in the trap and moved it back into place beneath the boughs. He pulled the jaws apart, but he was in too big a hurry, and when he tried to set the spring, the trap snapped shut on his hand, biting through his gloves and into the flesh of his hand.

“Ahhh!” Paul clenched his teeth. Pain radiated through his hand.

He pried the trap open and pulled its teeth out of his skin and his glove. He could feel blood flowing, so he quickly removed his glove and clamped his other hand down tightly on the wounds.

“Dang it.” He hurried to the sled and dug into his pack for a cloth. He took a quick look at the lacerations, but there was too much blood to see how bad the damage was. He wrapped the injury tightly and held it for several minutes. When he thought the bleeding might have stopped, he removed the wrapping, cleaned the hand with snow, then examined it. The teeth had bit deeply into the soft part of his palm. He wiggled his fingers and bent them. No broken bones. That was good. It had started bleeding again, so he rewrapped it. His hand pulsed with pain.

Paul looked up the trail and tried to decide whether to go on or return home. He wasn't of much use this way, so he headed back to the cabin.

When he pulled into the yard, Kate stepped onto the porch. “Do you need help with pelts?”

“No. I didn't catch anything, except my hand.” He lifted his bandaged, bloody appendage.

Kate hurried down the steps and ran across the yard. “Are you all right?” She gently took his hand in hers. “What happened?”

“Got careless and a trap bit me. I'll be fine, just need to get it cleaned and bandaged. Good thing it's my left hand.”

“I'll put the dogs up and feed them,” Kate said.

“You sure you're up to it?”

“I'm completely fit,” Kate said. “And a lot better off than you are.”

“Okay,” Paul agreed reluctantly and trudged toward the house. Once indoors, he hung up his coat and then moved to the sink. He washed both hands with soap and water, washing the wound thoroughly. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he scrubbed it until he was convinced it was clean. He took a closer look. The puncture wounds were deep and would likely become infected. No telling what kind of bacteria festered on the teeth of a leghold trap. He put cold water and soap in a bowl, then added hot water from the kettle, then moved to the table and sat with his hand soaking.

A few minutes later, Kate walked in and sat at the table beside him. “Is it bad?”

“Nah. It'll be fine.”

“Let me have a look.”

“So, you're the doctor now,” Paul teased.

Kate gave him a disgruntled look.

Paul held up the hand and allowed her to examine it. “It looks nasty. It'll need some antiseptic.”

“Yeah, I figured that out,” Paul said sarcastically. “Can you get my bag?”

Kate retrieved Paul's medical bag from the bedroom. He took out a bottle of Listerine. “Can you open it for me?”

Kate unscrewed the lid. “Hold out your hand,” she said.

Paul did as instructed, this time without any barbed remarks. Kate poured the liquid antiseptic slowly while Paul rotated his hand under the flow of medication.

“Okay. That's good,” he said. He dabbed at the moisture, then allowed Kate to bandage the injury. His hand throbbed, but he kept that to himself.

“Do you need anything else?” Kate asked, pouring the water down the drain while Paul returned the supplies to his bag and closed it.

“Dinner. That's what I need. I'm starved.”

The following day, Paul finished up the trapline, and returned with one fox and one marten. His hand ached, so when Kate volunteered to help him skin out the animals, he gladly accepted. Once indoors, with Kate's assistance, he changed the bandages. His hand was swollen and red. The pain was worse than the day before.

“It doesn't look too good,” Kate said.

“It's not unusual. But it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to wash it again with Listerine. I'm waiting on an order for more sulpha powder.”

Once the hand had been doctored and rebandaged, Paul moved to his chair in the front room. Kate offered him coffee.

“No thanks. Not tonight. I think I'll go to bed early.”

Kate sat on the sofa. “Thanksgiving is in another two weeks. I was wondering what you wanted to do.”

Paul shrugged. “Whatever you want is fine with me.”

“If I could, I'd go to my parents' place. Mom has a way of making every holiday special.” Kate let out a sigh. “But since we can't do that, I think I'd like to spend it here, just the two of us.”

“Sure. We'll have a nice meal together. I've got a goose out in the cache.” Paul rested his bad hand in the other and winced at the movement.

“Are you sure your hand is all right?”

“It's sore. But that's to be expected.” Paul didn't want to worry her. She had enough to think about. But if his hand was worse tomorrow, he could be in real trouble. “I think I'll hit the sack. I'm tired.” He moved across the room, kissed Kate good night, and walked into the bedroom. Since the baby, they seemed to go to bed separately most of the time.

When Paul woke the following morning, the first thing he was aware of was the throbbing in his hand. His head ached and he didn't feel well. Kate was still asleep, so he got up quietly and went into the kitchen. He sat at the table and unwrapped the bandage. His hand felt warm to the touch and was more swollen and red than the previous day. The punctures oozed pus.

Kate walked into the room and peered over his shoulder. “Oh Paul, that looks awful. You need to see a doctor.”

“I am a doctor.”

“You know what I mean. I think you need to go to the hospital.”

Paul blew out a sharp breath. “Yeah. It needs to be lanced and cleaned. I'd rather not have to do that to myself.”

They quickly packed up and headed for the plane. Once in the air, Kate seemed to perk up.

“You almost look happy,” Paul said.

“I feel better. I should have gotten off the ground sooner.” She leaned over and kissed him. “I'm sorry the reason we're flying is because of your injury, but I'm glad to be in the air again.”

Paul held up his hand. “If you feel better, it's worth it.”

After landing in Anchorage, Sidney gave Paul and Kate a ride to the house. “Good thing I was at the airfield. Don't think Jack would've left—too afraid of missing a trip.” Sidney grinned, then almost apologetically he added, “Money's tight for everyone.” He pulled up in front of the house.

Paul started to climb out.

“You stay put,” Kate said. “I'll take care of everything.” She carried the knapsack inside, closed Angel indoors, then hurried back to the car. “Let's get the doctor to a doctor,” she said and Sidney headed for the hospital.

Just as Paul had thought, the wound needed to be lanced and cleaned. The doctor on call was pretty sure it would be fine, but asked that Paul return in a few days to have it checked. “No reason to take any chances,” he said, cutting off the last piece of tape and pressing it down on the bandage.

Sidney dropped Paul and Kate at the house and drove away. Just as they stepped inside, the telephone rang. Kate answered it.

“Hello.” She listened, then said, “Just a moment,” and turned to Paul. “It's for you. From San Francisco.”

Paul moved to the telephone. Before he spoke, he took a deep breath. “Hello. This is Paul Anderson.”

“Paul, is that you?”

Paul recognized his brother's voice. “Robert. Yeah. It's me, all right.”

“How are you doing?”

“I'm fine. How'd you know to call me here?”

“I got the number from a fella at the general store. Said he thought you were out at the creek, but I figured it was worth a try to call anyway.”

“Is everything all right?”

Robert was silent for a long moment, then he said, “It's Mother. She's very ill.”

“What's wrong ?”

“Her heart is failing. She's been sick a long time. I didn't want to bother you with it, but now the doctor says she's dying—it could be days or weeks. I thought you'd want to know . . . maybe come home.”

The room felt like it had tilted. Paul grabbed ahold of the counter. “They're sure?”

“Yes. You know Mother. She's keeping a stiff upper lip and all, but she's not looking good.”

“I've got some things here—”

“It's been too long, Paul. Mother needs to see you. We all do.”

Paul didn't know what to do. He couldn't leave Kate, but how could he not go home? “I'll talk to Kate and get back to you.”

“Okay, but don't take too long.”

“I won't.” Paul hung up and turned to Kate.

“What do you need to talk to me about?”

“My mother's dying. Her heart is failing. But with everything that's happened . . .”

“Paul, you have to go. It's your mother.”

T
ucking his ticket into his coat pocket, Paul opened the door of the depot for Kate and followed her out. In an effort to keep an optimistic tone, he said, “Good thing we called right away. I got the last seat available. Seems everyone's heading south before winter.” His smile couldn't erase the heartache he felt. He hated to leave Kate. It was the worst time possible.

“Yeah, good thing,” Kate said, as a cutting burst of wind swirled bits of ice and snow inside the covered platform. She tucked an arm into Paul's and leaned against him.

Paul circled an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “I don't have to go.”

“Yes you do.” Kate met his eyes. “Once your mother is gone, you won't have another chance. I'll be here when you get home.”

“But—”

Kate pressed her gloved fingers against his lips. “I have Helen and Muriel here in town and Sassa and Lily at the homestead. I won't be alone.”

Paul nodded and tried to blink back his tears. He knew she was right, but leaving her felt wrong.

“Paul . . . maybe this is just what you need . . . to heal the hurt you carry inside.” She kissed him gently. “I think it's providence that the ship sails tomorrow. It would be terrible if you'd had to wait.” Kate watched the snow fall. “No telling how long this weather will keep planes on the ground.”

“Hope the tracks stay clear so I don't miss the boat,” Paul said, relenting to the inevitable, his mind turning to his mother.

“Maybe the weather will improve as you head south.”

“There's a good chance. My stomach will be happier. It doesn't appreciate rough seas.” He chuckled, but the sound of it was hollow. “I'll be glad to get into Seattle.”

“Does your train leave the same day?”

“The day after. I was told to be at the train depot by 7:00 a.m. on the eighteenth. I should make San Francisco late on the twentieth.”

Kate wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tightly. “I'll be thinking about you on Thanksgiving.” She couldn't disguise her melancholy.

“This was supposed to be our first Thanksgiving together.” Paul rested his chin on the top of her head. The idea of their being apart during the holiday made his stomach ache.

“I know. But it'll be nice for you to be with your family.”

“It's been a long time . . . with my mother so ill, I doubt anyone will be in a holiday mood.”

“Of course. But what a blessing that you'll have each other.” Kate's cheery voice sounded phony. She gave him another squeeze.

Paul knew better. He had run out on them. “I doubt Audrey will be happy to see me.”

“Audrey?”

“My youngest sister.” He let out a sigh. “She always says what she thinks and usually doesn't consider how it sounds.”

“Why wouldn't she be happy to see you?”

“I left when she needed me. She and Susan were very close.”

“Oh dear. But she must understand.”

“I hope so.” He forced a smile. “She's not so bad really. She has a good heart. But she'll give me a piece of her mind.”

“Certainly no one holds you responsible for Susan's death.”

“Guess I'll find out.”

“The only one who needs to forgive you is you. You're the one holding on to the guilt. Until you can let go, you'll be miserable.” Kate looked up at him. “I know all too well. Even when I understood that God had forgiven me for Alison's death, I wasn't able to forgive myself.”

Paul cleared his throat. “I know what you're saying. I appreciate it . . . but it's not just something a person decides to do. I can't seem to get it from my brain to my heart.”

“Paul, you have to let God in. He'll do it
for
you.” Another gust of wind and ice blew in under the roof. Kate shivered. “I wish I could have flown you down.”

“I'd have liked that. But there's no reason to take the risk. And I don't know how long I'll have to stay. I'd hate for you to fly back by yourself.”

Kate stepped in front of him and planted her hands on her hips. “I made my very first trip north by myself.”

“Yes, and if I remember correctly it was summer.” Paul grinned. “I expect the weather was a bit balmier.” He tweaked her nose. “I'd worry about you every moment. And to tell you the truth, I've got enough on my mind.” He stuck his hands in his pockets.

“I know. I wish life was easier.” Kate's eyes swamped with tears. “We've lost so much.” She rested her hands on his arms. “Sometimes it feels like everything is about pain and loss.”

Paul pulled Kate to him and held her against his chest. She pressed her forehead against his coat and clung to him.

For a long while neither of them spoke. Paul looked down the tracks. The train was late. “I pray I make it in time . . . before my mother dies. I have so much to tell her.” He took a ragged breath. “Today, six days on the ship and then another two on the train—it's a long time.”

The sharp blast of a train whistle carried on the wind. “That must be it,” Paul said.

Kate glanced up the track, then handed him a basket of food. “Don't forget this. You'll get hungry.” Her smile was tremulous. “Helen added some cookies and sweet bread.”

“Thank her for me.”

Kate stared at Paul, as if she were trying to memorize his face.

“The days will go quickly,” Paul reassured her. “I'll be back before you know it.”

Kate nodded, but Paul thought he saw doubt in her eyes. “Of course. It's just that you've never been so far away.”

Paul had not been home to California since Kate had known him. What if he fell into step with his old life? Would he want to stay? He'd had a life there—a home, a career, a family. Panic struck a rhythm in Kate's chest. What if he realized he'd made a mistake by leaving California? What if he decided San Francisco was home?

Paul looped an arm around Kate's waist and the two of them watched the train pull into the station amidst a cloud of steam and rasping steel as the wheels ground to a stop. The doors were opened and people disembarked. All of a sudden the station was crowded with passengers. People greeted one another while others said farewells.

“I'll be back as soon as I can.” Paul held Kate's face in his hands. “I promise.” He kissed her. “I'll be thinking of you every day.”

Kate placed her hands over his. “Me too.”

Paul pulled her into an embrace. “You'll be with me and . . . the baby too.” He pressed his cheek against hers.

Kate clung to him, then stepped away. “I'll be fine.”

“Promise me you won't spend Thanksgiving alone.”

“I promise. I have lots of friends.” She took his bandaged hand, and gently dropped a kiss on it. “You take care of this hand. Have the ship's doctor see to it.”

“I will.”

“Board! All aboard!” a porter shouted.

“I love you,” Paul said.

“I love you.” Kate kissed him. “Go. It's time.”

Paul walked to the train and climbed aboard. At the top of the steps he turned and looked back, then disappeared inside. Kate watched for him, and when he sat in a seat next to the window, she waved. He waved back at her, then the two gazed at each other. For reasons Kate didn't understand, this felt like a final good-bye. What was wrong with her?

When the train moved slowly south, Kate wanted to run after it, to stop it, to tell Paul to stay. She felt silly. It wouldn't be that long and she'd see him again.

The recent bout of cold weather had frozen the creek solid enough to land on, but the landing strip would need work. Kate made a pass over the frozen stream. It looked good, although there was some windblown snow. Angel stood on the seat and whined. She was glad to be home.

Kate brought the aircraft in cautiously, watching for small berms that might catch the tip of a ski. She made a clean landing.

Smoke rose from the cabin's chimney. Someone must have sent word that she was on her way. Her eyes misted. She'd been blessed with good friends. But just seeing the cabin brought back painful memories that snagged her frayed heart.

Kate climbed out of the plane, secured it, drained the oil, and then tarped it. The snow had stopped and the wind was quiet, but one thing she knew about Alaska was the weather changed like a drifting wind. The Pacemaker needed to be prepared for whatever came along.

Kate grabbed her pack and the mail she'd brought for Clint and Sassa, then trudged across the frozen creek and up the trail to the house. The dogs were barking. Angel took off ahead of Kate to say her hellos.

When Kate stepped into the yard, she gave the place a quick inspection. Everything seemed in order. She set her bag and the mail on the porch, then joined Angel and greeted the dogs. Their tails flew with excitement. Kate noticed the water in their dishes wasn't frozen, so someone must have recently fed and watered them. She smiled and again counted herself blessed. She gave each dog a warm hello, then let them off their leads. They ran and jumped and tousled in the snow. Kate watched, thinking they were like children. She'd let them have their freedom for a while and then return them to their leads.

She headed for the house, and when she lifted her bag and the mail, she heard a familiar cawing sound. “Jasper! You're back!” She wanted to reach out and stroke the raven's shiny black feathers but knew he wouldn't tolerate it. She'd have to write Paul and let him know the bird had returned. He'd be glad. “Welcome home, you rascal,” she said as she moved to the door. The bird looked at her with his small black eyes. Kate opened the door and stepped inside.

The first thing she noticed was the smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries. Tears sprang to her eyes. Tears were always close. No doubt Sassa and Lily were behind the goodies. A basket and a plate with bread and a block of cheese wrapped in waxed paper sat on the table. Beside it was a note. Kate picked it up. “Welcome home. Thought you might be hungry.” There was no signature. There was no need for one.

Kate lifted a plaid kitchen towel off the basket, which held fresh muffins—berry and apple. She draped the towel back over, then moved to the bedroom and set her bag on the bed. The room was quiet and cool—empty. How long would it be before Paul returned? And where was the cradle that belonged beside her bed?

Before her emotions overran her, she returned to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. It was good and strong, just what she needed. She sat at the table and gazed out the window. She was tired, too tired. Her eyes went to the glen where her baby lay. Tomorrow, she'd clear away the snow.

After finishing off the coffee, Kate moved to the door and headed for the cache to retrieve dried fish for each of the dogs. She dropped the food in their plates and then called them. The brush crackled, announcing their return, and a moment later they broke free of the forest. Buck was in the lead and he slammed into Kate.

“Hey, be careful,” Kate said, petting him.

Catching the smell of food, he pounced on his meal just as the other dogs trotted into the clearing, tongues lolling. They ignored Kate and went straight for their bowls. Angel held back, knowing better than to challenge any one of her canine friends over a meal.

Kate secured them to their leads, then moved to the house. Angel pranced along beside her, knowing her meal was waiting. Kate grabbed a chunk of fish off the edge of the porch and moved inside the cabin, where she placed it in Angel's bowl. The dog quickly went to work on the food.

Kate hung her parka on the hook inside the door, clicked on the radio, and moved to the overstuffed chair in the living room and dropped into it. She gazed around the room. It was too empty. She needed Paul. She needed her baby girl. Kate dropped her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes, trying to suppress the rising ache inside.

She didn't know how long she sat there, but soon dusk settled over the landscape and the house turned cool. Kate pushed out of the chair, lit the lanterns, and added wood to the stove. Her empty stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn't eaten since breakfast. After refilling her coffee cup, she took a plate down from the cupboard and a knife from a drawer and sat at the table. She sliced off a piece of bread and a wedge of cheese and ate. She'd thank Sassa and Lily in the morning.