by K. A. Tucker
“Here. You’ll need that.” Jonah tosses a thin-knit black hoodie to me.
Agnes studies my face as I tug it on. “You look different today, Calla.”
“That’s because Jonah barely gave me time to pee, let alone put makeup on.” I feel naked and self-conscious. I can’t remember the last time I went out in public bare-faced. I don’t even go to the gym without my eyes done.
Agnes smiles warmly. “I like the barely-time-to-pee look. It suits you.”
I yank the zipper closed and roll up the long sleeves that reach an inch past my fingertips. It’s far too big for me, but I’m not drowning in it as badly as I’d expect, given it’s Jonah’s. And I can tell it’s Jonah’s because it smells like him, like woodsy soap and minty something. “Do you think I’ll get my clothes today?”
“Yes, definitely. Your dad is bringing your suitcases back with him.”
“Oh, thank God. I can’t wait to have my rubber boots.” I peer down at my dusty running shoes. Ruined.
“All set?” Jonah asks, looming beside me. There’s an odd energy about him that I haven’t felt before. Is he always like this when he’s about to fly?
I didn’t feel it yesterday.
“Where are we going, anyway?”
“Would it mean anything if I told you?”
“No,” I admit. “But is it in the mountains?” Because after my first experience, plus that story about Mabel’s father, I’m out if mountains are involved.
“Nope.” Jonah lifts his baseball cap to smooth his scraggly mop of hair back, before sliding the cap back on. “Hey, Aggie, did George leave for Holy Cross already?”
“Still waiting on a package. He’ll take off as soon as it shows up.”
“And the supply run to St. Mary’s?”
“Joe’s probably landing right about now.”
“Good. Finally. Those guys have been waiting weeks for that ammunition ahead of the coming hunt,” he murmurs.
Despite my annoyance with him, I can’t help but admire the guy, seeing firsthand how in-tune Jonah is to Wild’s day-to-day operations. I can see why my dad relies on him so much. And why he’d think Jonah would be a suitable fit to keep the family business—that’s been the Fletchers’ lifeblood for decades—alive. And how critical Jonah’s help is going to be in the coming months, and years.
“Okay, then. We’re set.”
Where my stomach was tight before, now it begins to twist and turn with an odd mix of dread and excitement as I watch Jonah climb into the plane and slide on his headset.
“Have fun, Calla!” Agnes begins backing away.
Sonny is waiting for me with one hand on the door, anxious to close it. Orange sticks dangle from his free fingers.
I climb into my seat. It’s not nearly as crammed in here as it was in the Super Cub, but it’s far from roomy, which means Jonah’s arm is pressed against mine from shoulder to elbow and will be for as long as we’re in here. There’s no way around that with a pilot his size, I accept, and so I try to focus my thoughts on the front of the plane instead. It’s nothing but a panel of dials and switches and levers, with carved-out space on either side for our legs. Jonah’s fingers smoothly flick and press and pull over the panel with the expertise of someone who has done this a thousand times over.
A low rumble erupts from the engine of the plane and the propeller rotates once . . . twice . . . before the individual blades blur.
Jonah wordlessly holds a headset out for me. I accept it, acutely aware of how our fingers graze in the process.
Even if I am not attracted to him.
Even if I still want to punch him in the face.
“Can you hear me?” His deep voice rumbles in my ear.
“Yes. How old is this plane?” Because it looks like one of those cars from the movie Grease, with the quilted sides and the big metal handles to wind down the window in the door.
“Older than both of us.”
“Oh, great.” Cars half my age fall apart on the road and I’m supposed to trust this hunk of metal in the air?
“Don’t touch the yoke.”
“The what?”
His muscular arm bumps me as he reaches out to tap the black thing in front of me that reminds me of an oversized arcade game controller. It’s identical to the one in front of him. “Or the pedals on the floor. Those control the rudders.”
I don’t even know what rudders are. More importantly, “Where’s the barf bag?”
“You won’t need it.”
“My one experience flying with you says otherwise.”
“You’re not gonna get sick.”
“You can’t just will me not to. Where is it?”
He shakes his head and sighs heavily. “Under your seat.”
While Jonah signals in to the airport’s air traffic controller, I reach below and search, until my fingertips catch the soft paper edge. I pull it out and tuck it into a narrow holder on the side of the door.
“Relax, there’s no need to be scared,” Jonah warns into my ear as the plane begins to roll forward.
I don’t bother answering, instead focusing on Sonny as he strolls alongside us, waving those orange sticks. The plane bumps and jolts over the cracks in the pavement, bringing back an odd and dreaded sense of déjà vu.
I tug on my seat belt to tighten it, peering around at the small army of my father’s planes, some being loaded by busy grounds crew workers, others awaiting small clusters of tourists. I can’t tell if the runway ahead of us seems narrow and short against the wide expanse of flat land that surrounds us, or if it’s because the runway is in fact narrow and short.
“I don’t know how you can be Wren’s daughter and freak out this much in a small plane.”
“Because my first time in a small plane was a horrendous experience with a horrible, mean pilot,” I throw back.
His chest heaves. “Look, it was a shitty thing for me to do and I’m sorry.”
We’ve reached the end of Wild’s runway. I turn to meet his icy blue eyes and find rare sincerity in them. “Why’d you do it, then?”
“I don’t know. I guess I wanted to see what Wren Fletcher’s daughter was made of.”
“What I’m made of?” I snort. “Well, you came close to seeing what my stomach contents were made of.”
“Yeah, that wasn’t part of my plan.” His brow furrows tightly. “I saw all those pictures of you and figured you were one of those uppity city chicks that I can’t stand.”
I frown. “What pictures?”
“I don’t know. The ones Mabel showed me on her phone.”
He must be talking about my Instagram account. “What’s wrong with those pictures?”
“Nothing. Just, when girls look like you do . . .” He shakes his head. “I guess I wanted to knock you down a few pegs from the get-go.”
Like I do. Like a Barbie doll, according to him. “So what? I’m not an uppity city chick that you can’t stand anymore?”
“You’re definitely uppity.” His lips twist with a wry smile. “But you’re alright.” He radios in to the air control tower while that strange mix of fear and thrill swirl inside.
We wait in silence for the approval to take off.
“So, I was your first time?” Jonah murmurs mildly.
“What?”
“That’s what you just said. I was your first time.”
It clicks and I roll my eyes, even as my cheeks flush. “Yes, and you were subpar. You should be embarrassed.”
His deep chuckle reverberates in my chest.
Air control calls in, giving him the all-clear message.
“If I die today, I’m going to kill you.” I clench my thighs against the sudden urge to pee.
“That would take talent,” he murmurs, his strong hands gripping the yoke.
“Seriously, t
hough, where are you taking me?”
He flicks a few more switches. “I’m going to show you that Wild is about a hell of a lot more than making a buck,” he says, echoing the bitter words I’d spoken only days ago, next to the Meyer’s cashier.
I hold my breath as the plane begins to accelerate.
Chapter 14
I gape at the expanse of deep blue and rich green below. “I’ve never seen so many lakes before!” Countless oddly shape bodies of water are scattered as far as I can see. So many that I can’t tell if the land is interspersed with water or if the water is interspersed with land.
And in the center of it all is a colony of rectangular buildings, their roofs a vibrant collection of reds, greens, and blues.
“This is all part of the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta. Ahead of us is the Bering Sea,” Jonah explains, his deep voice filling my ears.
I aim Simon’s Canon and attempt to capture a few pictures of the breathtaking landscape. The glare from the sun bouncing off the glass makes it challenging.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine. This is definitely a better plane. Am I yelling, though?”
He grins, flashing that perfect, white-toothed smile. “Nah, you’re good.” His hawkish eyes rove the skies around us. “It’s a great day for flying. Not as much wind as normal.”
“Plus you’re so much better than that last asshole pilot I had.” I struggle to keep a straight face as I snap pictures of the colorful town, feeling his gaze on my profile. Waiting for his clever response.
“That’s Kwigillingok, where we’re going,” he says instead.
“It feels like we just took off.”
“It’s only a thirteen-minute flight. Most of the trips to the villages are that short. Even getting all the way up to Barrow takes less than two hours from us and that’s Alaska’s northernmost point.” Jonah tips the plane to the right and I feel a surge of butterflies in my stomach.
Though, I’ll admit, it’s not nearly as terrifying as it once was.
While the view may be picturesque from above, the reality down below is another story.
I finally find my breath and my tongue again. “Are all the village airports like this?” If you can even call this place an airport. Because if they are, I have no interest in seeing more of Alaska.
“Nah. This is one of the most dangerous ones,” Jonah says casually, seemingly unfazed by the jerks and bumps of the plane as he steers us along a narrow, uneven gravel road with water on both sides. We basically just landed on a patch of an island.
“And you thought it’d be a great idea to bring me with you?”
“Baptism by fire.”
“I’ve already been baptized, thanks.” Not that I’ve been to church in two decades. I take a calming breath. “I thought we were going to skid into the water.”
Jonah smirks, pulling off his headset as we finally come to a stop not far from a windowless cerulean-blue shed where two people linger, an ATV beside them. He flicks a series of switches that brings the propeller to a slow halt and cuts the engine. “Maybe you would have with another pilot. But I’m that good.”
And that cocky.
Unfastening his seat belt, he stretches his body to reach behind my seat, his solid chest pressing against my shoulder as he wrestles to unsecure something. I can smell the mint on his breath. It makes me press my lips together with worry that my breath isn’t nearly as fresh.
The two people are walking toward our plane. They’re clad much like everyone else I’ve seen in Alaska so far—layers of casual flannel and cotton on top, jeans, and boots.
“Why are we here, again?”
“To drop off a portable ventilator.” Finally he heaves out the red case by one arm. I’m forced to shift away so as not to get knocked in the head by it. “Come on. Time to meet one of Wild’s customers.” Throwing open his door, he deftly slips out.
I’m not nearly as graceful in my descent, losing my footing and stumbling on my way down. By the time I round the plane, Jonah’s already handing over the case.
“. . . with all the sand kicking up in the wind, the past couple days,” the woman says. “At least today’s not so bad.” She’s a middle-aged Alaska Native woman with a kind face and sooty-black hair tied in a ponytail. She has a slight accent that is similar to my dad’s, and Agnes’s and Michael’s, and pretty much every other person I’ve met who has lived in Alaska their whole life. It reminds me of a girl from university, who grew up almost eight hours away in Sault Ste. Marie. She had a distinctive way of saying things. Vowels sounded longer, certain consonants were left off. In general, she didn’t rush her words. Even though the dialects aren’t the same, there’s a distinctively “northern” sound.
“This should help her out. I’m sorry it took so long to get here.” Jonah does his hair-hat-smoothing thing. I wonder if his hat actually needs adjusting, or if it’s an unconscious move.
“These new ones are so much smaller.” The woman marvels at the case in her hand. “Evelyn said you harassed Anchorage until they gave it up?”
“They were telling her next week and that’s bullshit. They had this one sitting in a storeroom, just in case.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Jonah.” The woman’s curious gaze shifts to me.
“Enid, this is Calla, Wren’s daughter. She’s visiting from Toronto. I’m showing her what we do.”
The woman’s face melts with a smile. “Everyone around here knows your dad. And Jonah.” She nods at him. “They always help. It costs, but they help.”
“Keeping planes in the air isn’t cheap,” Jonah says in a lecturing tone.
She waves it away with a gentle chuckle. “I know, I know. I’m teasing. You guys are the best, though. I can always count on you.”
“We’re gonna head out. You get that ventilator to the little girl right away and call the office if you need anything else,” Jonah says, already taking steps backward.
“Tell Wren to visit soon. I’ll have some red seaweed for him,” Enid calls out.
I smile and, with a small wave, we begin our trek back to our plane.
“Red seaweed?”
“They eat a lot of it here.”
“Does my dad—”
“Hates it, but you never turn down food from a villager. They hunt and gather everything they eat. It’s a lot of work, and it’s a big deal when they offer it to you.”
“Is Enid the doctor?”
“Nah. She’s kind of like a nurse. She’s been trained to give basic care and she reports in to the doctors in Bangor regularly. Sometimes we’ll fly a doctor out to run a clinic and see the villagers.”
“So if someone needs to get to the hospital—”
“Medevac for emergencies, otherwise they call us. We’ve picked up people in some serious pain before.” His tone turns somber. “Those flights always feel five times as long.”
But I’ll bet Jonah never balks at doing them. He may be an ass, but he seems to be an ass with a drive for helping others.
“What’s wrong with the little girl?”
“Severe asthma, and her inhaler hasn’t been helping much lately. She needs the ventilator and the one they had—a dinosaur, from the sounds of it—quit last week. Now, at least the poor kid will be able to breathe again.” He sighs, and in that simple sound I sense great relief.
“Why would her family live all the way out here if she’s got medical problems? If I were them, I’d move to Bangor.”
He steals a glance my way, the frown on his forehead deep. “Because her family has lived here for hundreds of years. This is their home. This is what they know. This is how they want to live.” He says it so matter-of-factly, as if there’s no other explanation and there’s no need to elaborate.
“I don’t get it.”
“You don’t have to; you just have to respect it.”
“Do you mean, was this little girl’s ability to breathe more important than your vanity?”
I roll my eyes, taking that as confirmation. “You could have told me. Then I wouldn’t have assumed you were just being your usual dick self.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He opens my door and holds it for me.
“So you do have manners,” I murmur, climbing into my seat.
“I usually reserve them for ladies, but I’ll make an exception in this case,” he throws back without missing a beat, slamming my door shut before I have a chance to retort.
“Bastard,” I mutter, biting my bottom lip against the smile that threatens to form. His cutting quips don’t come with the same sting they did in the beginning, though.
I actually think I’m beginning to enjoy this banter.
I wait for him as he does two slow circles around the plane, his callused fingers smoothing over the metal body, his brow furrowed in intense scrutiny. Finally, he climbs in.
“Is there something wrong with the plane?”
“No cracks, no leaks. We’re good.”
“So . . . Where to next?” I ask, as he starts flicking switches again.
“You mean you’re not bailing on me yet?” He says it in a joking tone, but I sense a degree of doubt.
“Do you want me to bail?” Has he reached his limit of having me for a passenger?
There’s a long pause. “No. I don’t.”
“Well, good then. Just don’t go into the water, okay?”
He grins, sliding on his headset. “If you thought landing here was exciting, wait till we take off.”
Jonah cuts the engine. After a day of listening to its near-constant roar, the ensuing silence is all the more serene.
Pushing off my headset, I sink back into my seat and gaze over the Alaska Wild buildings. The sun is still high in the sky, even though it’s after eight at night. My head throbs from weariness and overstimulation, and lack of food. All I’ve had today is an apple, a banana, and a handful of crackers that Agnes offered me during one of our returns to base.
