Wings of Promise (23 page)

“I’m sorry about what happened. I liked him.”

For several minutes they worked without speaking. Kate liked the feel of the apples in her hands and soon fell into the rhythm of picking.

“I was thinking about taking my plane up this afternoon. Would you like to go? It’d be like old times.”

Kate had pushed her fear of flying from her mind. She’d known her father would invite her and had dreaded his asking. “No, I can’t. I’m going to help Mom with some canning.”

“Ah, come on. It’ll be fun.”

“I said no.” Kate swallowed hard before continuing. “I’m not flying anymore. Please don’t ask me again. I’m done with it.”

“Done with what?” came a voice from below.

Kate looked down to find Richard standing at the base of the tree. “Oh nothing.”

“Hi, Richard. Good to see you.” Bill removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

“I heard you might need some help.”

“You got that right.” Bill climbed down. “The apples are ready but the crew isn’t.” Hauling his ladder, Bill headed toward another tree. “Why don’t you finish this up with Kate and I’ll get started on the next one.”

“Sure. No problem.” Richard placed the ladder he’d brought along against the trunk and climbed up into the heart of the tree. He smiled at Kate. “How you doing?”

“I’m getting back into the swing of things.”

“I was thinking that when we get done we might go for a swim. It’s hot.”

“I thought you wanted to go fishing.”

“Yeah, well, it turned out hot today.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Kate didn’t want to rush this friendship thing between her and Richard.

The next couple of hours passed quickly. Kate and Richard talked about the old days and the pranks they’d pulled and the fun they’d had while in school. It was as if the romance they’d had never happened, and had been replaced by the camaraderie they’d shared before all of that. It felt good.

“I’m done here,” she said, climbing down her ladder, her sack full. Gently tumbling apples into a box, she looked up to see her father driving the tractor and trailer toward her.

He stopped. “Let’s get these boxes loaded and then have some lunch. I’m starved.” He looked down the row. “We’ve gotten a lot done for one morning.”

Kate set a box of apples on the trailer. “Well, you’ve been out here since dawn.”

“No other way to do it.” He chuckled. “If I know your mom, she’s already got lunch made for us.” He threw an arm over Kate’s shoulders as they headed toward the house. Richard walked on the other side of her. Angel padded along beside them, panting heavily.

Kate downed a glass of lemonade and held it out to be refilled. “Mmm. That’s good. Could I have a little more?”

Her mother refilled the glass. “How about you, Richard?”

“You bet.” He held up his glass. “You make the best lemonade in the valley.”

“Well, thank you.” Joan set the pitcher on a small table and sat in a chair beside Bill.

“Knew there was a reason I married you.” Bill winked at his wife, then took a bite of his ham sandwich. “I’ve got to work on the tractor after lunch. It’s running rough. And I’ll need it in good shape before the pickers arrive.”

“Oh,” Kate said. “Do you mind if I leave the boxed apples where they are or should I haul them to the end of the row?”

“Just leave them as they are. Maybe your mom could use some help.”

“I’ve got carrots in a water bath now. I was going to do some weeding when they’re done.”

“I’ll give you a hand.”

“No need. It’s my last batch today, and all you’ve done since you got home is work. Why don’t you and Richard go and do something fun?”

Kate didn’t know what to say. Was her mother matchmaking? It was out of character for her.

Before she could respond, Richard asked, “Maybe we could go for that swim?”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Bill stuffed the last of his sandwich in his mouth and followed it with a gulp of lemonade.

Kate felt trapped. How could she get out of the invitation without sounding rude? She didn’t mind working with Richard, but swimming was something else altogether. “I don’t know. I’d planned to help Mom.”

“I’m fine, really. You two go have a good time.”

Kate looked at Richard. “Well, okay. I guess a swim would feel good.” She glanced at her dog, panting in the shade of the porch. “Angel would like it. I think she’s overly hot.” She turned to her mother. “Do you know where my suit is?”

“Yes. I’ll get it.”

Kate followed her mother indoors. When she was certain they were out of earshot of her father and Richard, she said, “Mom. Wait.”

Her mother stopped and looked at her. “What is it, dear?”

Kate wasn’t sure how to express herself without sounding ungrateful. “I . . . Why are you pushing Richard and me together?”

Her mother’s eyes widened. “Oh. I didn’t mean to. I just want you to have a good time.” A look of regret flickered across her face. “I’m sorry for being insensitive.”

“It’s okay. But after this, please let me decide. Okay?”

“Of course.” Joan gave Kate a hug. “I’m sorry.”

With a shift covering her swimsuit and a towel rolled up under one arm, Kate headed for Richard’s pickup. Angel jumped into the back while Richard hurried to the door and opened it for Kate. She slid onto the seat. Maybe this would be fun.

Richard climbed in. “All set?”

“Yep.”

He backed out and headed down the driveway. Once they were on the road that followed the river, Kate leaned on the open window and gazed at the brown hillsides, covered with sunburnt grass and sagebrush. Clusters of bright yellow flowers speckled the landscape.

“Wonder if the rope swing is still intact,” Richard said.

“How long’s it been since you were at the swimming hole?”

“Not since you were here.”

Kate stared straight ahead. It seemed that a lot of things had come to a halt for Richard when she’d left. And now . . . what now?

She decided not to worry about it. It was a beautiful October day and she was going to enjoy herself. She leaned closer to the open window and allowed the wind to tousle her hair. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the fragrance of sage, dry grass, and hay. “It’s awfully warm for October.”

“Well, it just got started. And we can always do with an Indian summer. I’m not complaining.”

“It feels good,” Kate said as they passed an area of rangeland dotted with huge stacks of hay bales.

Richard turned onto a side road and drove toward the river. Bushes, small trees, and willows hugged the banks. “This is it.” He pulled to a stop. “Looks the same.”

Kate climbed out of the truck and her mind flooded with memories of picnics, laughter, and friends. She ran for the tree that hugged the bank and grabbed hold of the rope. “It’s still here.” She smiled and tugged on it.

“You swimming in that dress?”

Kate had nearly forgotten her shift. She suddenly felt embarrassed. Taking it off would feel like she was undressing in front of Richard. He grabbed the rope and swung out over the water. With a whoop, he let go and dropped into the river.

Kate lifted the shift over her head and tossed it to the base of the tree. “Here I come,” she called, grabbing hold of the rope and pushing off. With a squeal, she swung out and let go, falling into the pool beside Richard. The water sent shocks of cold through her. “It’s freezing.” She laughed.

Angel didn’t waste any time jumping in and following Kate out to the middle of the pool. She lapped up mouthfuls of water as she went.

Richard flattened his hand and pushed it across the water’s surface, splashing Kate. She reciprocated and soon they were in the midst of an all-out water fight.

“I give. I give,” Kate finally hollered and swam for shore. She stepped across the rock beach and climbed the bank. After wrapping her towel around her, she sat on a grassy spot. It felt good to laugh.

Angel exited the stream, looking soggy but cool. She shook off the excess water and trotted away to do some exploring. Kate gazed out over the water to the reeds on the far bank and the hills beyond.

Richard dropped down beside her. “I love it here.”

“Me too. I’d almost forgotten how much.”

“We’ve had some good times here.” He smiled at her, and his gaze turned tender. Kate knew he was remembering not just the fun, but also the embraces and the kisses they’d shared. She looked away and stared at the river.

Neither spoke. Kate allowed her thoughts to carry her further back to the fun-filled days of childhood. She and Richard had been buddies then. “Do you remember the day you convinced me to skip science class and come fishing?”

Richard chuckled. “Old Man Reynolds wasn’t one bit happy.”

“I can’t believe he actually got someone to take his class and came down here to haul us back to school.”

“Guess he was fed up. It’s not like it was the first time.” Richard grinned.

Memories cascaded over Kate. “Those were good days.”

“Glad to have you back,” Richard said, his tone gentle. “I’ve missed my fishing and swimming pal.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Kate said, realizing how much he meant to her. She needed a good friend. She’d lost too many.

Silence settled over the two. Richard leaned back on straightened arms and asked, “So, how was it up there?”

“Wonderful . . . and horrible.” Kate pulled her knees up against her chest. “I loved it. Alaska’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. There are powerful, endless mountain ranges that seem to reach right up to heaven. And the forests aren’t anything like what we have in the mountains here. Some of the spruce are huge, but most of the evergreens are small and sparse. There’s endless tundra covered with greenery that looks like burnished brass in the fall. And fields of flowers and berries are everywhere. In the summer it stays light nearly all night, and during the winter there are only a few hours of daylight. I didn’t like the bugs. Sometimes there were so many mosquitoes they’d look like a cloud. And the black flies were almost as bad.”

“Don’t figure I’d like that much. What about the winters? They as awful as I’ve heard?”

“Worse.” Kate laughed. “Well, sometimes. They can get really bad. And the cold is like nothing we ever see around here. If you’re not careful, the storms will do you in.”

“You have any close calls?”

“A couple.” Kate didn’t want to talk about that.

Silence descended again. Richard finally said, “Heard you’re not flying anymore.”

“Yeah. Enough’s enough.”

“Back before . . . before you left, I was unfair to you. I was thinking only about me and what I wanted. But I was proud of you, Kate. I just wanted to keep you to myself.”

“It doesn’t matter now. I’m not flying anymore.” Kate pushed to her feet. She didn’t want to talk about any of that. “I’m cold. Let’s go.”

P
aul peered down at the creek as Kenny Hicks set up for a landing. The forest blazed with autumn colors and smoke rose from a mound of brush behind Patrick’s house. He and the boys stood around the fire. They gazed up at the plane and waved. Paul returned the gesture, glad to be back. His mind moved to the list of chores he had to do to prepare for winter. Being away had cut into his work time.

His gaze moved to Klaus’s cabin and he thought it odd that there was no smoke rising from his chimney. It had been cold. He studied the German’s place, hoping to see the old-timer, but there was no sign of him. He’d probably made a trip to Susitna Station.

Kenny set down on the creek and motored toward Paul’s dock. He grabbed his medical bag and his pack, and then headed for the door. “Thanks for the ride. See you in about a week?”

“Sure thing.” A black curl flopped onto Kenny’s forehead and into his eyes. “If I’m out on a run, Jack’ll make sure someone picks you up. Alan maybe. See ya.”

Paul nodded and climbed out. He was glad to be free of the plane. It was more compact than the one Kate had flown, and uncomfortable. He pressed his hands against the small of his back. And Kenny’s flying made him nervous. He was at best a mediocre pilot, not nearly as vigilant or as gifted as Kate and Mike had been. Given enough time, he’d probably crack up. Paul hoped he wasn’t with him when it happened.

Paul waved to Kenny as the plane headed toward the middle of the creek, then he started up the trail toward his cabin. The dogs barked. He stopped to savor the homestead. The air was chilled and filled with the scent of ripening berries and cedar. He gazed at the pale blue sky, where whispers of white clouds reached from west to east.

Paul glanced up the creek toward Klaus’s place. He ought to go check on him. He’d see to the dogs and then go on over.

He set his bags on the porch steps and then went to greet the dogs. They whined and lunged against their leads. “Did you miss me?” he asked, giving Nita a pat.

She rubbed against his pant leg while he scratched behind her ears. When he unclasped her lead, she bounded away, her nose investigating every new smell. Jackpot barked at him, and when Paul released him, he sprinted after Nita. Buck strained against his rope. “You’re looking good, boy.” The dog jumped up on Paul, planting his paws on his chest. His tail wagged enthusiastically.

Paul wrapped his arms around the big malamute. “I’m glad to see you too.” Buck had recovered from his grizzly encounter. The only visible scar was on his side. The hair grew slightly out of its natural pattern and a fine bald line ran around the edges of the untidy patch of hair.

He headed toward Klaus’s cabin. The dogs loped along the trail ahead of him, and when he reached Patrick’s place, they tousled with the Warrens’ dogs.

“Howdy, neighbor,” Patrick called. “Good to have you back.”

“Good to be here. Did Klaus go up to Susitna Station?”

Patrick shoveled a batch of rotting brush onto a pitchfork and tossed it on the fire. He stuck the pitchfork in the ground and leaned on it. “Not that I know of. I was at his place last night and he didn’t mention anything about going. Why?”

“When I flew in, I noticed there’s no smoke coming from his chimney and it’s pretty chilly today.”

A crease of concern appeared on Patrick’s forehead. “We better have a look.”

When Patrick told Sassa he and Paul were headed for Klaus’s, she insisted on joining them. “He could be sick or injured,” she said. “And no one would know. I’ve been feeling uneasy about him. He’s not been looking so good lately.”

When they approached the cabin, there was no sign of their neighbor, and his boat was still moored at the dock. Paul climbed the steps and knocked on the door. Patrick and Sassa stood close behind him. There was no answer. Paul knocked again. Still nothing.

Paul opened the door and walked inside. He spotted Klaus immediately. He was sprawled facedown on the kitchen floor. Paul hurried to the old man and rolled him onto his back. He felt for a pulse but knew he wouldn’t find one. Klaus’s skin was a deathly shade of gray and there was no visible sign of breathing.

“Oh, dear Lord,” Sassa said. “Is he gone?”

“Yes.” Paul let out a desolate breath. He knew this would happen one day, but the realization of it was worse than imagining it.

Sassa pressed her hands to her chest. “How long has he been lying here?”

“Quite awhile, I’d say. He’s beginning to show signs of rigor mortis.” Paul felt sick inside. He’d seen too much of death, too many friends gone. He rested a hand on the old man’s chest. No one had been with him at the end. Is that what he would face one day?

“Anyone know if he had family?” Paul asked.

“He never talked about anyone,” Sassa said, dabbing at tears with the corner of her apron.

Patrick moved to the door and stared out. “I figure he’d want to be buried here on his place.”

Sassa and Lily prepared Klaus’s body while Patrick built a casket. Paul and Patrick’s two oldest sons dug a grave. The boys had picked a spot on a small rise. They thought it would be nice if Klaus could see the creek.

When everything was ready, Paul joined the Warrens at the gravesite. Sassa stood with her arms protectively around her three boys while Paul and Patrick lowered the casket into the grave. Lily stood several paces back, clutching a bouquet of yellow and white asters, the last of the season. Her eyes were red from crying.

Patrick removed his hat and cleared his throat. He looked at the small group. “Does anyone have anything they’d like to say?”

Douglas stepped forward. “I’m going to miss you . . . Klaus.” He swallowed hard. “You’re the best whittler I ever knew. Thanks for teaching me. I figure you might even teach Jesus now that you’re up in heaven.” He wiped away tears and stepped back.

Robert, who was barely seven, clung to his mother but said in a raspy voice, “Sometimes you were kind of cranky, but I knew it was because you were old and not feeling so good. I’m never gonna forget how we used to go fishing together.”

Silence settled over the small group. Paul thought he ought to speak but didn’t know what to say. All he could think about was that poor Klaus had died alone.

Patrick cleared his throat. “Well, Klaus, you were a good neighbor and friend. We’re gonna miss you, but I figure you’re a lot better off now. You loved God, so I know you’re with him. There’ll be no more sorrow and no more tears for you. Thanks for being a fine example to my children and to me and Sassa too.” He looked at the others, his eyes brimming with tears.

The boys sniffled and wiped their noses, Sassa cried into a handkerchief. Lily remained stoic, but stepped forward and dropped the flowers onto the casket. She stared at it, then turned and walked away.

Patrick pushed his hat back on his head. “Well, I guess we better get to it.” He gave Sassa a knowing look.

“Okay, boys. I need help cleaning out the chicken house.” She ushered them away.

Patrick picked up a shovel and scooped dirt onto the casket. His heart heavy, Paul used the other shovel and helped bury the old man. After Patrick pounded a wooden cross into the ground, Paul walked home, feeling empty. Life was a puzzle. A man was born, lived, and then died. What was the meaning of it all? Paul’s soul ached for an answer. Was doing good while one lived enough? He’d always believed in a God of mercy who loved his children. So great was his love that he offered his own Son. Paul had never doubted . . . and then Susan had died. Why?

That night, Paul had barely fallen asleep when a knock at his door startled him awake. Still mostly asleep, he stumbled to answer it. “Who’s there?”

“Me. Patrick.” He sounded agitated.

Paul opened the door. “Is everything all right? Has something happened?”

“It’s Lily. The baby’s coming.”

“Are you sure? I thought she wasn’t due for nearly a month.”

Patrick shrugged. “She’s acting just like Sassa did every time.”

“Come on in. It’ll only take me a minute to get dressed.” Paul hurried to his room and pulled pants and a shirt on over his long johns. He pushed his feet into his boots and laced them. If Lily’s doctor, in Seattle, had been correct, the baby was several weeks early. That could mean problems, especially for the baby. Panic tried to bully him.

He hadn’t delivered many babies. Since losing his own son, he’d done his best to steer clear of laboring mothers. He’d counted on Lily having an uncomplicated birth, which meant Sassa wouldn’t need him to help bring her grandchild into the world.

He grabbed his medical bag and followed Patrick into the night air. As they walked up the trail, the lantern cast shadows on the bushes. Paul’s mind was busy calculating what could go wrong. Babies born this early sometimes had difficulty breathing. Or they might not breathe at all. Premature infants sometimes didn’t have the suckling reflex. They were susceptible to illness and there was a whole list of other maladies they might face.

Carrying an air of confidence Paul didn’t feel, he followed Patrick into the house. It felt overly hot and smelled of cooked fish.

“She’s upstairs,” Patrick nodded toward the stairway.

Paul hurried up the steps. He glanced in the first door. The boys were huddled on their beds, looking anxious. “Hi, boys,” he said cheerfully.

“Hi,” Douglas said. “Is Lily going to die?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Is she going to heaven like Klaus?” Robert asked.

“No. She’s just having a baby. She’ll be fine, but it takes awhile and it hurts.”

“She was moaning real loud and crying.”

“That’s normal. Try not to worry.”

“Okay.” Robert sat more upright. “I’m not so scared with you here.”

Paul nodded. He’d do his best, but that might not be enough. He hurried down the hallway to the next door. A groan came from inside. Sassa sat on a chair beside a bed, holding Lily’s hand.

Paul moved to the bed and leaned over Lily. “Hi, neighbor.”

She looked at him. “I’m so glad you’re here. The baby’s not supposed to come yet.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s just fine.” Paul fought to keep a tone of assurance in his voice. “When did the contractions start?”

Before Lily could answer, Sassa said, “Just after we buried Klaus. But they weren’t bad, so I thought they were just those early pains a mother gets. But they didn’t go away. Then awhile ago she lost her water and the pains got real bad.” Sassa glanced at Lily, who had rolled onto her side and was holding her abdomen. She let out a whimper. “She’s so early we thought you should come.”

Paul checked Lily’s pulse. It was fast, understandably so. “How are you feeling?”

“How do you think?” Lily rolled onto her back and wiped damp hair off her face. “That was a bad one.”

“Let me check you over,” he said, placing a thermometer in Lily’s mouth. He took a stethoscope out of his bag and listened to her heartbeat, then the baby’s. “Sounds good and strong.” He took the thermometer out of her mouth. “No fever.”

He smiled down at her. “Everything seems fine.”

“But I’m not due until the end of the month.”

“Babies have a mind of their own, and sometimes they get here before we expect them to and they do just fine.” Paul didn’t see any reason to tell her about all the possible problems.

Lily closed her eyes.

“Try to relax and rest while you can.”

Lily took several deep breaths.

Paul placed his hand on her abdomen. He could feel the muscles tighten.

“Another one’s coming.” Her voice sounded panicked. She grabbed hold of her mother’s hand.

“Breathe slowly,” Paul said. “Don’t tighten up.”

Lily blew out a breath and took in a slow, deep one and then blew it out gradually. “It’s getting . . . worse,” she panted.

Paul left his hand on her abdomen. “Okay, it’s easing off. It’ll be over soon.” He looked at Sassa. “How often are they coming?”

“Every couple of minutes.”

“Paul, they’re getting worse. Really bad,” Lily said. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

He smiled. “You
can
do it. Remember, you’re the woman who can do anything.”

“Not this.”

Using a washcloth, Sassa patted the sheen off her daughter’s face. “You will do well. I know it.”

“Listen to your mother. You’re one of the strongest women I know.” He turned to Sassa. “I’ll need some hot water and washcloths. And do you have a birthing blanket?”

“Yes. I’ll get it.” She hurried out of the room.

Paul turned back to Lily. “Have you had any pressure on your bottom?”

“Yes, with the last two pains.”

“You feel like you need to push?”

Lily shook her head no, then she took a deep breath as another contraction hit.

“Probably won’t be long now.”

Lily grabbed his hand. “I’m afraid.”

“I know. But it’s going to be all right,” Paul said, his tone steady and calm.

Lily panted. “But the baby . . . it’s too soon.”

“All you need to think about right now is bringing this child into the world. I’ll take care of the rest,” he said, but couldn’t keep from wondering if he could. What if the baby wasn’t ready for the world? Did he know what to do if it was too premature? He hadn’t been able to save his own son or his wife. What made him think he was ready for this? He wanted to walk out and not come back.