by Ann Evans
Kari cleared her throat. “My mother passed away six months ago. I couldn’t have gone before then. She was pretty…frail…after Dad died. It would have upset her too much.”
Addy arched an eyebrow her way. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right out there? Even without a blizzard, the backcountry’s not a place to fool around, and Elk Creek Canyon is pretty remote. I guess you already know that, though, considering what your father went through.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Still…I don’t want to be flying this chopper for search and rescue when you fail to check in on your due back date.”
“I’ll only be out there a couple of days. I have an assignment waiting for me in New Zealand that I can’t miss.”
“I assume we’re the ones picking you up.”
Kari nodded. “If your brother has forgiven both of us by then. Tuesday. Nine o’clock. Sharp.”
They both laughed at her attempt to mimic Nick D’Angelo’s inflexible instructions. “Oh, he’ll rant and rave for a while,” Addy told her. “But he’ll come around eventually. He doesn’t hold grudges.”
“I’ll count on you, then,” Kari said. She glanced out the left side of the helicopter to see ominous dark clouds rolling over and around the mountain range like boiling ocean waves crashing around a ship.
It occurred to her that she should have checked the weather report for the area. But as usual, she’d been running late. “Should we be concerned about those clouds?”
“There’s rain behind them. The weather service didn’t indicate the storm was moving so fast.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No. But it might make the flight a little bumpy. We can withstand forty knots easily. I should have checked one last time before we left,” Addy admitted. “Hold on a minute.”
Addy pressed a switch on her cyclic stick, which allowed her to radio the nearest airport. Through her headset Kari could hear the low response between ground control and pilot. The news that a storm was quickly coming over the Front Range gave Kari an unpleasant moment, but Addy didn’t seem overly concerned.
In another few minutes rain started to hit the windscreen in a steady pattern, and Kari could feel the wind begin to buffet the aircraft. Addy turned on the overhead cabin light. She made corrections on the controls constantly, seeming to know how to react to the slightest shift in their position. It wasn’t until they started to see lightning in the clouds that she looked at all worried.
Kari glanced at the numerous dials spread across the cockpit console, but in spite of all the traveling she did, she didn’t know that much about helicopters or how they operated. Nothing looked like a radar screen, or anything that remotely seemed as if it could pinpoint their location.
She gave Addy a hopeful smile. “I suppose you have radar or something to tell you where we are exactly? Just in case.”
Addy shook her head. “Sorry. We rely on V.F.R.”
“V.F.R.?”
“Visual Flight References.” She pointed downward and smiled. “We check out the ground and see what looks familiar.” Kari’s reaction to that comment made the woman laugh. She added, “Don’t worry, we won’t get lost. I know every light on the mountain.”
But suppose she couldn’t see them because of the rain?
“Why don’t we head back?” Kari suggested. “If it’s raining this hard, I won’t be able to set up camp anyway.”
“We could set down and try to wait it out.”
Just then lightning strobed the sky, flashing eerily into the cabin. When the thunderclap followed it, Addy muttered a curse as Kari clutched the side of her seat. She said nothing, her mouth suddenly too dry to utter words. She should never have pushed for this. Never have taken advantage of this woman.
After a few moments Addy said, “It’s probably better if we do turn back. I’m sorry, Kari.”
“No, that’s fine. I shouldn’t have been so insistent.”
The woman swung the helicopter in a sharp turn. How dark it was outside, Kari thought. In spite of the landing lights cutting through the night, there seemed to be nothing beyond the front windscreen. Not a flicker of light anywhere.
Except for the lightning that glimmered sullenly within the clouds.
CHAPTER THREE
WITH THE FLICK of a finger on his control box, Sam D’Angelo moved his wheelchair out of his son’s way.
They were in one of the lodge’s downstairs suites, Nick’s and granddaughter Tessa’s temporary lodgings until their cabin was habitable again. The plumbing crisis had been dealt with—at least to Nick’s satisfaction—but Sam, who had once handled these kinds of little emergencies, couldn’t help feeling the need to make sure.
“You turned off all the valves in Number Ten?” he asked for the second time. “Just to be safe.”
He hated that he couldn’t get up the stairs in his own home, his own business. When he’d come back from the hospital, he should have insisted that they put in an elevator. He could have seen the damage upstairs for himself.
Nick was bent over the sink, washing his hands to remove the grease he’d encountered from taking a look at Rosa’s stove. “I did, Pop,” he said without turning around. “Tom Faraday’s on his way. I think a crack in the tank is the culprit, but he’ll be able to tell us for sure. Stop worrying.”
“You know what water can do to wood when it seeps through tiny crevices?”
Nick straightened, wiping his hands dry. “Gosh, no,” he said with a grin. “Not since the last time you put me through Plumbing 101 class.”
Sam narrowed his eyes. “Your mother is right. You are becoming a very disrespectful son.”
“And you’re turning into a bigger worrier than she is.”
Sam gave him a severe look.
Nick grabbed the edges of his shirt and pulled it over his head, then slipped on a fresh white T-shirt. From his wheelchair, Sam watched in silent admiration. Nick had inherited Sam’s build. His torso was tanned, broad and powerful. A man’s chest, the way a man’s chest should be. The way Sam’s had once been years ago.
He couldn’t help it, a little twist of envy jolted through him. Bad enough that age took its revenge so soon. That sickness could whittle you down until there was almost nothing left of the person you had been. Sam had cheated death. It had whispered in his ear, but he had refused to listen. He had lived, and for that, he thanked God. But he was only fifty-eight. He missed that lost energy, that effortless strength. He wondered if his son understood how lucky he was to have it.
Nick went to the closet, pulled out his sneakers and sat on the bed. He was halfway through knotting one shoe when the lace popped.
He held the broken piece in front of him, shaking his head. “Perfect,” he said. “Just perfect.”
Toeing off the sneaker, he kicked them both out of the way and went to the closet to root around for another pair. “I’m telling you,” he said as he scooped up his hiking boots. “I don’t care if a whole family of skunks have taken up residence in the cabin. Tomorrow, Tessa and I are moving back in.”
Sam cocked his head. “Why are you in such a black mood?”
“I’m not in a black mood. Brown, maybe. You wouldn’t believe—”
He broke off as they both became aware that Tessa stood in the open doorway. Sam’s granddaughter was a beauty even at fourteen. Glossy black hair like Rosa’s had been when he’d first met her. And the eyes—like dark fire. Unfortunately the fire lately had all been directed at Nick. Even now, as she addressed her father, her eyes were smoldering.
“Nonna Rosa said to tell you that we’re all eating sandwiches tonight ’cause of the stove. Everything else is for guests. She also says the kitchen is closing early and don’t either of you touch the zabiglione in the fridge.”
“Donnaccia! We live under the rule of a petty tyrant,” Sam said dramatically, hoping to get a reaction out of the girl. Tessa was his pet, his favorite companion. Surely he could make her smile.
The child
had no time for him. Tight lips declared her grievances against her father. She lowered her head, setting her chin. “Can I eat dinner in my room?” she asked Nick.
“I suppose.” Nick pulled on one hiking boot. “Still mad about the dress, huh?”
Now his darling grandchild’s eyes shot daggers. “I took it back like you told me. That doesn’t mean I think it’s fair.”
“Tessa…”
The girl flung herself away from the door and disappeared.
Nick sighed and looked at his father. “If I’m in a mood, would you really wonder why?”
“She’ll get over it. The young suffer a great deal, but their anger dies quickly.”
“Addy thinks I’m too hard on her.”
It was time, Sam decided, to say a few things that had been on his mind lately. “Sometimes you are. I think you need someone to make what you say to her more pal—” He stopped, trying to envision the right word in his mind. In spite of all the progress he’d made, sometimes the consequences of the stroke still plagued his speech, but Nick knew better than to help him.
The word wouldn’t come. After a frustrated moment he said, “To make what you say not such a bitter pill to swallow.”
“There are plenty of people around here sugarcoating every word I say to her.”
“You need more than that. You need a real mother for the girl. And a wife for yourself, Nick. A helpmate.”
There was a swift change in Nick’s expression. He stopped tightening the laces on his second boot and looked at his father as though he had suffered another stroke. “A wife! That’s the last thing I need.”
“Why? Look at your mother and me. So many happy years. Marriages are made in heaven.”
“So are thunder and lightning,” Nick said with a bark of laughter. He turned back to his boots, a touch of impatience in the set of his mouth. “I don’t think we need to have this discussion. Let’s go see if we can talk Mom out of some lasagna.”
Sam moved his wheelchair closer. “Don’t brush me aside. I’m serious. You think one bad marriage and it’s over? Just because you burn your mouth once does not mean you have to blow on your soup forever.”
Nick rose, raking a hand through his hair. “I don’t know where this is coming from,” he muttered. “I haven’t been this uncomfortable since our birds and the bees talk.”
“Your mother and I—we see you. You take on too much. You share nothing. Not even your thoughts anymore. This mountain is becoming your fortress. I know this is because of me.” Sam’s right arm was his strongest, and he let his fingers brush against the side of the wheelchair. “Because of this. You think we can’t manage without you.”
The discussion was sapping his energy. Sam could feel his head drooping a little. In a softer tone he said, “Well, perhaps you are right. Perhaps we can’t.”
Nick came to the chair and knelt in front of his father. He took his hand in his, massaging the long, bony fingers lightly. “I see improvement in you every day, Pop,” he said in a gentle voice. “You keep going, and I’ll be out of a job in no time. In the meantime, I enjoy looking after everyone here. I’d be bored without all this insanity.”
Sam looked his son in the eyes. “You are a healthy young man. Good Italian stock. You should date.”
Nick grinned. “I do. Didn’t I take Helen Grabowksi to Broken Yoke’s Fourth of July celebration?”
“Bah!” Sam said with a grimace. “That woman, she is…she has…” Again he struggled to find the word. When it failed to materialize, he settled on something easier. “Your grandfather would have said she has la malocchio!”
Nick’s Italian was pretty good, but he’d seldom heard that word. He straightened and placed his hands on his hips. “I don’t see how a woman who works at Becky’s House of Hair can have the evil eye.”
“She giggled all through the national anthem.” Sam didn’t bother to hide the acid in his tone.
“God help her if it had been the Italian national anthem. You’d have had her run out of town on a rail.”
“That woman is not your type.”
“Type!” Nick exclaimed with more laughter. “I was looking for fun and a little companionship. Not a blood transfusion.”
“Nicholas—”
“We can talk about my love life later. Much, much later. I have to get back to the hangar. I’m surprised Addy hasn’t called screaming bloody murder because I’ve been gone so long.”
He moved around to the back of Sam’s wheelchair, bending forward as he pushed his father out into the hallway. “If you and Mom want to work on finding someone a mate, start with Addy. Get her interested in a man and maybe she’ll stop bugging me about more flight time.”
ALL THE WAY DOWN the mountain in his Jeep, Nick couldn’t stop smiling.
Imagine his father and mother worried about his love life! What was that all about? Maybe he hadn’t been in the best of moods lately, but how did they figure getting involved with a woman was the answer? If anything, it would just make everything more…complicated.
He should have told his father not to bother. He was no damned good at the husband/wife game. Ask Denise, his ex. She’d have given Pop an earful, although Nick wasn’t sure she’d be completely impartial about where the blame lay. Some of the reasons their marriage had failed had been his fault. Okay, a lot of them. It probably didn’t matter now which ones. It was enough to say that their quarreling had corroded and eventually killed what they’d once had together.
A new relationship? These days he couldn’t find much reason to try. He was too tired. Too set in his ways. Too busy to blow the dust off the old male/female dance steps and find someone new to whirl out onto the floor.
Besides, who in these parts could even inspire him to try?
Pop was right about Helen Grabowski. Way too giddy. Ellie Hancock, the owner of Ellie’s Book Nook? Too timid. You had to work hard to get a single word out of her. Paulette Manzoni, the pretty ski instructor he’d met in Vail the last time he was there, had been a possibility. She had a great appreciation for the bed and was Italian, to boot, which would certainly please his parents. Only thing, she collected teddy bears, which was a nice little hobby—until Nick had discovered they took up every square inch of her house.
No. Definitely not.
Broken Yoke, the nearest town, didn’t offer much hope. The woman who’d shown up at Angel Air’s office today had been right. If something didn’t happen soon, the only inhabitants there would be ghosts.
Kari Churchill. Pretty name. Pretty lady, too, although she had one heck of a nerve expecting them to drop everything to fly her out to Elk Creek Canyon. He didn’t care for egotists who had so little respect for other people’s time. She’d put his back up right from the start with that attitude of hers, and Nick suspected the feeling was mutual.
Too bad, because they could have used the money. But if he was going to be tied up at the lodge, he hadn’t wanted Addy taking up that flight. Not in the last hour of good daylight. Not when his sister still didn’t know his birds like the back of her hand.
But he couldn’t say that in front of her. So he’d probably lost that booking and made an enemy of the Churchill woman for life. Sorry, Pop. Scratch that name off your list of potential mates.
Rain splattered the windshield of the Jeep. In the distance he heard the rumble of thunder. Those clouds he’d seen earlier hadn’t lied. He was getting pretty good at predicting storms. Soon he’d be like Great-Uncle Giovanni, forecasting weather with his big toes.
Addy was going to be furious. It took both of them to get the birds into the hangar, him pushing from the tail while she maneuvered the skid dolly. Now they might have to manage it in pouring rain.
He frowned as he pulled into the parking lot. The outside floodlights weren’t on and Kari Churchill’s vehicle was still sitting there. The lights in the office weren’t on, either, but what made Nick’s stomach drop right down to his toes was the chopper pad.
Raven One was gone.
> Ramming the key into the office lock, he flipped on the lights and strode back to the hangar in less than a dozen steps. It was dark, too. No copter. Nobody in sight.
He ran back into the office. Not possible. Addy wouldn’t. She wouldn’t have taken the copter up with a storm coming in. She knew better.
Didn’t she?
His mind stretched back, trying to recall if she’d been standing there when he and Dwayne Patterson had shared that awkward conversation about the weather.
We’ll get a thunderstorm later.
You really think so?
Where had Addy been? On the pad, right? On the pad right beside him. No. Not there. Checking on that little witch Hannah Patterson.
If she hadn’t known about the coming storm, then she might have gone up. When he’d pulled out of the parking lot, had there been anything but pretty blue sky overhead? He couldn’t remember. Would she really have let the Churchill woman talk her into something? No! She’d check the weather service. She knows the drill. She knows it…
His legs felt as though they were filled with water as he dropped behind his desk, knocked everything aside and pulled the base radio to his chest. He had to swallow hard.
Focus. Don’t lose control.
Oh, damn it, sis! Where are you?
“BASE TO Nine-Zero-One-Bravo. Where the hell are you?”
Ground radio transmissions were normally more difficult for a passenger to hear, nothing more than muffled signals, but Kari didn’t miss a word of the angry male communication that practically made her ears ring. And it wasn’t difficult to figure out just who was trying to reach them.
She and Addy exchanged a look.
Addy pressed the radio switch. “Nine-Zero-One-Bravo to Base. Who wants to know?”
“Damn it, Addy! Where are you?” Nick demanded again. At what had to be the top of his lungs. “I don’t think this is funny, Adriana. If you get down here in one piece I’m going to break every bone in your body.”
Kari threw Addy a worried glance, but the woman only grinned and gave her a look of mock terror. She pushed the radio button again. “Stop acting like a raving maniac. I’m not hurting your bird. We’re flying.”
