Wings of Promise

by Bonnie Leon

  Three youngsters barreled into Kate and hugged her. The littlest one, a girl, clung to Kate’s legs. Paul wasn’t sure he’d ever seen more beautiful children. Straight black hair framed tanned round faces.

  Kate hugged the youngsters all at once. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

  Angel pushed her way in. The children buried their hands in her fur, and the smaller of the two boys wrapped his arms around the dog’s neck. “Hi, Angel. You’re the best dog ever.”

  The taller boy smiled up at Kate. “We’re happy you came.”

  “Me too.” Kate gave him an extra hug.

  The youngster hanging on to Angel said, “I have something for you.” He hurried to a table, picked up a piece of paper, and ran back to Kate. “It’s a picture of the flowers and mountains—the way they look in summer.” He held out his artwork and pointed at the drawing. “And that is the sun.”

  “What fine work, Nick.” Kate took the gift. “It’s nice to be reminded how beautiful it is here when the sun is warm.”

  He smiled broadly. “We have a lot of sunshine in the summer.”

  The little girl lifted her arms, demanding to be picked up. Kate hefted her and rested the child on one hip. “Mary, I swear you’ve put on ten pounds since I last saw you.”

  “The way she eats, she’ll soon outgrow her brothers,” said Nena, who looked like an older version of the little girl.

  “She has a way to go to do that.” Kate rested a hand on the older boy’s head. “Peter, you’re getting tall.” He straightened, as if trying to add more height to his stocky frame.

  Kate looked around the room. Even though it was packed with store goods, Nena had managed to give it a homey feel. “It’s good to be here.”

  Nena wrapped Kate and Mary in a hug. “We are thankful for you.” She turned to Paul with a smile. “And it’s good to see you again.”

  “You’re looking well.” Paul gazed at her healthy brown face as he tugged off his gloves. “How are you feeling?”

  “Good.”

  “No headaches, dizziness?”

  “No. None. My balance isn’t always just right, but it’s getting better.” She smiled, showing off-white teeth. “Thank you for coming. There are many villagers who wish to see you.”

  “Good. And I’m glad you’re feeling fit. For a while there, the doctors weren’t sure you’d pull through.” Paul felt a knot in his gut at the memory of Joe’s vigil at Nena’s bedside. Not so different from the one he’d once held, only Joe and Nena had been given a happy ending.

  “I have God and good doctors to thank.” Nena glanced upward. “He was with me and so was Kate. I’d never have made it if she hadn’t dragged me out of that plane and then watched over me.” She gave Kate an extra hug.

  “I could never desert you,” Kate said. “We had quite an adventure.” She gave Nena a one-armed hug.

  “We are grateful,” Joe said, then turning to Paul added, “and the people of Kotzebue are very happy to have a doctor here.”

  “I hope I can be of help.” Fear niggled at Paul. What if he let them down?

  “These are my children.” Joe nodded at one of the boys. “Nick is five.” He smiled at Paul. The tallest of the three stood beside his father. Joe rested a hand on his shoulder. “Peter is seven.” He turned to Kate and the little girl in her arms. “And Mary is two.”

  Nena moved to a small kitchen range. “I made caribou stew. I hope you like it.” She lifted a lid from a pan on the stove and steam billowed into the air. Using a wooden spoon, she stirred the meal.

  Joe moved to the front room and dropped into a chair. “Paul, sit.” He picked up a pipe and tobacco from a table made out of an empty barrel. He offered them to Paul.

  “Thanks.” Paul took the pipe and dumped tobacco into its bowl, pressing it down with his thumb. Joe lit it and Paul drew on the pipe until smoke drifted into the air. He took several puffs, and then held up the pipe. “Good,” he said, although it tasted of cheap tobacco.

  “Not so good,” Joe said. “But it will do.” He filled another pipe, clamped his teeth on the bit, and sucked air through the stem. “You been to Kotzebue before?” He settled back in his chair.

  “No. It’s a lot different from where I live on Bear Creek. But it looks like a nice little town.” That wasn’t exactly true. There didn’t seem to be much commerce, and the homes and businesses were tiny and in need of repair, but Paul wasn’t about to hold back a compliment. He understood how important a person’s community could be to them.

  “Most people never been here.” Joe crossed one leg over the other. “You like it on Bear Creek?”

  “Yes. There’s lots of timber, and I’ve got a snug cabin and fine neighbors. The fishing and hunting are good too.”

  Joe nodded and then concentrated on smoking.

  Paul rummaged around his mind for something more to say. “You do much hunting?”

  “Sure. Seals and bear. Sometimes caribou or moose. And fish fill the rivers in the summer.” He drew deeply on his pipe and, without looking at Paul, asked, “You want to catch some cod?”

  “This time of year? Up here?”

  “They’re under the ice. Just cut a hole in it and you can get ’em.” He smiled. “I’ll teach you if you want.”

  “I’d like that.”

  The sound of giggles carried out from the kitchen where Kate and Nena stood side by side finishing preparations for the evening meal. A memory of Susan and his sister ambushed Paul. They’d been standing just like that, cooking together and chatting. An ache rose from his chest and into his throat. Would he ever stop missing her?

  “I think there will be many people here to see you tomorrow.” Joe’s words cut into Paul’s thoughts.

  “Oh? How many do you expect?”

  Joe shrugged. “Most of the town. Even if they’re not sick, they will come to meet you and to see if you are a good doctor.” His eyes smiled.

  “I look forward to meeting them.”

  “Some don’t trust people from the outside.” Joe removed the pipe from his mouth. “They’re used to Alex Toognak, our medicine man. He’s wise and able.”

  “Maybe you can introduce us.” Paul respected traditional practices, believing there was room for both modern medicine and the old ways. He knew if his views got out to other physicians he’d be ridiculed, but he couldn’t deny the power of natural healing. “Joe, it might help if you let people know I’m not from the outside. I’ve been living in Alaska nearly five years now.”

  Joe grinned. “Anyone who does not live in the Arctic is from the outside.”

  Paul chuckled. It does feel like the end of the world.

  After dinner, the family gathered in the front room. Joe had promised to tell the children a story.

  Kate sat on the floor beside Paul’s chair. He noticed a glance between the women, and Nena held back a giggle. Kate must have told her about them. Contentment warmed his insides and he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. She leaned against his leg. He liked that.

  Lanterns and candles flickered, creating wavering shadows on the walls. The children waited, their eyes alight.

  “Tell us the one about the great whale,” Peter said.

  “No. I want to hear about the bear that hides in the snow,” said Nick.

  Joe sat on the floor with the boys. He was quiet for a few moments, and then he said, “Tonight I will tell you a new story. It is about birds that saved a man’s life.”

  “Birds saved a man?” Peter asked. “How can that be?”

  “With God all things are possible.” Joe smiled.

  “Tell us,” Nick nearly shouted.

  “The Bible says that long ago there was a man named Elijah. He was a prophet of the one true God.”

  The boys’ eyes didn’t move from their father. Resting in her mother’s arms, Mary looked sleepy.

  Paul had been enchanted by the idea of storytelling, but he wasn’t interested in a Bible story. He wished there were a polite way to excuse himself.
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br />   “In the land where Elijah lived, there was no rain for a very long time. Elijah had told the people that would happen.”

  “Why would he stop the rain?” Peter asked.

  “He didn’t stop it, God did. But Elijah told the king that a drought was coming.”

  Peter nodded but looked perplexed.

  “We don’t always understand why God does a thing, only that he is always right.”

  When Joe finished the story, Peter asked, “Why would a bird feed a man?”

  “It was the power of God, who can do all things.” He smiled at his son, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

  Paul forced himself not to grimace at his answer. What was right about taking my wife and son? Why would you do such a thing?

  Nena stood. “It is time for sleeping.”

  The children gave hugs all around, and then Nena bundled them off to their room in the back of the house. She returned a few minutes later, her arms full of blankets. “Kate, we have a bed for you with the children. I hope you don’t mind sharing with them.”

  “Not at all.”

  “We have a tick mattress you can use,” she told Paul. “Joe will bring it out.”

  “That suits me fine.” Paul stood. “I’d better get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

  Accompanied by the children’s quiet snores, Kate snuggled beneath her blankets. Her mind wandered back over the last several days. Working with Paul had been gratifying. The more she watched him, the more her admiration grew. He was highly skilled. And she didn’t mind assisting, at least most of the time.

  The bond between them had grown stronger. Yet she felt as if Paul were holding back part of himself. He didn’t speak about his life before Alaska, and each time it came up he’d deflect the conversation. What was he hiding? It must be something really bad, because it seemed to have stolen his faith. He was angry at God.

  She rolled onto her side. Whatever it was, Kate couldn’t pry it from him. He would have to tell her in his own time. She whispered a prayer for Paul as she fell asleep.

  Kate opened her eyes and looked around the dimly lit room. With a yawn, she stretched her arms over her head and looked about. The children were gone. Then she remembered that soon people would be arriving to see Paul. They might already be here. She flung back her blankets and sat up. She’d be needed.

  By the time she made her way to the kitchen, Nena had a meal of flapjacks and eggs prepared. Paul was already eating.

  Someone had placed a cabinet between the kitchen area and the front room. Kate guessed it was there to serve as a privacy wall.

  “You like some coffee?” Nena asked.

  “Thank you.” Kate sat across from Paul. “So, you ready?”

  “Absolutely,” Paul said, a little too emphatically.

  Kate wondered if he was nervous. She was sure it had been awhile since he’d seen patients regularly.

  Nena set a cup of coffee in front of her. “No milk. Sorry.”

  “This is fine.” Kate took a sip. “Where’s Joe?”

  “He’s helping a friend fix a sled. You hungry?”

  “Starved. Breakfast smells delicious.” Kate looked up and found Paul watching her. Feeling as if she ought to say something, she asked, “Did you sleep well?”

  “I did.” He leaned back in his chair. “You?”

  “Like a log.” Paul continued to gaze at her, his expression a mix of humor and adoration. A shiver of pleasure moved through Kate.

  Nena set a plate of flapjacks and eggs in front of her.

  “Thanks, Nena. You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.”

  “Yes I do. You will work hard today. You need good food.”

  “It smells good.” Kate spread butter on the pancakes. “Since I didn’t help with breakfast, I’ll do the dishes.”

  “No. You are a guest, and you and Paul will need your strength. He said that you help him.”

  Kate looked across the table at him. “So, I’m to be a nurse again?”

  He speared the last bite of pancake, dipped it in a puddle of syrup, and forked it into his mouth. “Hope you don’t mind. You’re good at it.”

  A knock sounded at the door. “People are already here.” Nena hurried to open it.

  A woman and two children stood on the stoop, huddling against the cold. “We heard the doctor is here?”

  “Yes. Come in.” Nena opened the door wide and stepped back. She had the look of a child on Christmas morning. “Paul, your first patient.”

  Paul stood. “Give me one minute. I’ll get my bag.” He carried his plate into the kitchen and set it in the sink, then hurried into the front room and grabbed his medical bag.

  Nena cleared the table. “Sorry, Kate, you’ll have to finish your meal standing.”

  “I don’t mind.” Kate picked up her plate and cup and stood at the sink, where she ate the last of her eggs, took a final drink of coffee, and set the mug on the counter, then looked around, wondering what to do.

  Paul placed his bag on the table, opened it, and then turned his attention to the woman and children. “Good morning. Have a seat,” he said, nodding at the chair.

  There was another knock at the door. Nena rushed to answer it, her mukluks scuffing across the floor. Kate hovered near Paul, just in case he needed her for something.

  It wasn’t long before the entire front room was crowded with patients. Some looked well and others seemed quite ill. Kate wondered if they’d manage to see everyone in a single day. She kept herself busy writing down people’s names and recording their reason for seeing the doctor. Those who were especially ill were moved to the front of the line. Occasionally Paul needed her help to calm a child, or to hold a compress, or to assist while he sutured a wound.

  As a teenage boy moved out of the examining chair, Paul turned to a white-haired man shuffling across the room toward him. “Good morning,” Paul said. “What can I do for you?”

  His eyes suspicious, the man studied Paul. “I always go to Alex Toognak. He knows the old ways.”

  “I’m sure he’s very good,” Paul said. “You may go to him if you like.”

  The man glanced at his hands. “I did. He said I should come here.” He lowered himself onto the chair.

  Paul pulled up another chair and sat across from the elderly man. “I’m Paul Anderson. It’s a pleasure to meet you . . .”

  “George Chilligan.”

  “What can I do for you, George?”

  “Well, I got a lot of . . .” He glanced toward the front room. Lowering his voice, George said, “My nose runs all the time. I go through two or three snot rags a day. Can’t stop it.”

  Paul reached into his bag and took out a flashlight. “Guess I better have a look.” He tilted the man’s head back and, using the light, he checked the inside of his nose, and then using a tongue depressor, he examined his mouth and throat, and finally palpated his neck. “No sign of infection.” He thought a moment. “What do you use to light your house?”

  “Oil lamp.”

  “Whale oil?”

  George nodded.

  “Does it smoke a lot?”

  “Sometimes. They all do.”

  “That might be what’s causing your trouble. If you keep plenty of oil in it and cut the wick short, there should be less smoke. Also, I’d like you to try using a saltwater rinse. That should help.”

  George stared at him for a long moment, and then asked, “How do I do that?”

  After Paul explained the procedure, George went on his way, without a thank you.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Nena said. “He’s always cranky.”

  “I’m not worried,” Paul said with a grin. “Actually I like people who are a little rough around the edges. They make life interesting.”

  All day people kept coming. Paul treated bronchial infections, stomach ailments, sore throats, and skin infections, and he pulled bad teeth, something Kate remembered all too well. Although the villagers usually went to Alex Toognak, they seemed gl
ad to have a real doctor. Most thanked Paul before leaving. He was paid with coins, furs, and tobacco, and one woman gave him a jar of crowberry jam.

  As Kate witnessed Paul’s generosity and genuine concern for his patients, her love grew. Why had God given her such a fine man, and why did Paul love her? She didn’t know the answer, but she was grateful.

  The last patient left just as Nena finished preparing dinner. Paul and Kate hadn’t eaten since breakfast. There hadn’t been time. Kate suddenly realized she was ravenously hungry.

  “You like some soup and biscuits?” Nena asked.

  “I’d love some,” Kate and Paul said at the same time. They looked at each other and laughed.

  Everyone except Peter sat down at the table.

  “Where’s Peter?” Kate asked.

  “He said he’s not hungry, that his belly hurts.” Nena looked at Paul. “I didn’t want to bother you over a stomachache.”

  “No trouble. I’ll take a look at him.” Paul stood. “Where is he?”

  “In his bed.” Nena led the way to the children’s room.

  The boy lay on his side, pale and fevered. Alarm thumped through Kate. He’d seemed fine earlier.

  Paul kneeled beside the bed. “So, you’re not feeling so good, huh?”

  Holding his stomach, Peter shook his head.

  “Can you tell me where it hurts?”

  The boy touched his upper abdomen.

  Paul nodded and rested a hand on Peter’s forehead. He glanced over his shoulder at Nena. “He’s running a fever. Probably just a bug of some kind. I doubt it’s anything to worry about.”

  Nena’s brow furrowed with worry. “After lunch, he said he wasn’t feeling good. And he seems worse now.”

  Paul turned back to his young patient. “Peter, can you roll onto your back?”

  With a quiet groan Peter managed to do as he was asked. He looked at his mother, eyes fearful.

  Paul gently probed his stomach. “Does this hurt?” Peter shook his head no. “How about this?” Paul pressed two fingers gently into the right side of the boy’s abdomen.

  Peter winced. “Ouch!”