From Out of the Blue

by Nadia Nichols

  “C’mon, Wally, cut me some slack,” Mitch said. “I need your advice.”

  “Campy, you’re missing out. Mitchell McCray is asking for my input on a romantic matter.”

  The warming hut door opened and Campy reemerged, dressed in tight hip-hugger jeans and a stretch Lycra top that barely concealed Wally’s two best friends. She slouched against the doorway with a frown. “Mitchell,” she drawled, “if you’re desperate enough to take advice from Wally about matters of the heart, I feel real sorry for whoever your latest girlfriend is.”

  “It’s that hot Navy pilot who was written up in that air force magazine last fall,” Wally said. “Mitch showed it to us. Remember? She’s out at his place even as we speak.”

  “No kidding?” Campy tossed her long blond hair back and took a drag of her cigarette, regarding Mitch through narrowed eyes. “If she looks as good in real life as she did on the cover of that magazine, you don’t want to be making any mistakes with her.”

  “I just want to know why the hell she’s here,” he said. “Not a word of warning, she just lands on my doorstep. She must want something. I just don’t know what.”

  “She wants you, Mitch,” Wally guffawed. “A career bachelor like you should know all the signals by now.”

  “One thing’s for sure. It’s not your money she’s after.” Campy flicked the cigarette down and ground it out beneath one of her fancy, hand-tooled, black Tony Llama cowboy boots. “Tell you what. The two of you get that plane fixed and back in the air so we can all keep eating, and I’ll take Thor back to your cabin. That woman shouldn’t be there without a dog, not when the salmon are getting ready to run and the bears are walking that creek.”

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Mitch said.

  “Campy’s got a point,” Wally said. “Might be good if she took the dog back to your place. They can meet each other and have some girl talk.”

  “Girl talk?”

  “Trust me, they thrive on that stuff, and Campy’ll find out more about where that woman’s coming from than you could in a whole year of beating around the bush.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “Look, you wanna know why this chick showed up on your doorstep or not? Send Campy over. You’ll get the lowdown without all the dancing around.”

  Campy gave Mitch’s arm a squeeze. “Hon, I hate more than you’ll ever know to say this, but this one time, Wally’s right. I’ll go scope things out.”

  “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Campy, but…”

  “Hey, what are friends for? Keys in the truck?”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “You like this gal, or don’t you?”

  Mitch ran his fingers through his hair. “I like lots of girls. I just don’t know why this one’s here, and I don’t want you playing matchmaker on my behalf.”

  Campy gave him an innocent look. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re always trying to pair me off, but I like bachelorhood just fine.”

  “That’s only because you haven’t gotten to know the right woman yet.” Campy turned and walked away. When she reached the driver’s side door, she glanced back over her shoulder before hoisting herself into the cab. “Don’t look so worried, Mitch. I promise I’ll behave.”

  KATE SPENT a half an hour just browsing through Mitch’s books after touring the comfortable, homey interior of the main cabin, which wasn’t nearly as messy as he’d warned her it would be. Aside from some clothing tossed over various pieces of rustic furniture, it was quite neat. His kitchen sink was empty of dishes, the counters were wiped down and the floor swept. His bedroom was in the loft and consisted of a double mattress laid on the bare wood floor with a down comforter over the top and a window that was opened wide to the outside air. The downstairs was one large room, the kitchen and living area divided by a big brick chimney that hosted a woodstove on one side and a fireplace on the other. The cavernous fireplace was on the living-room side, where the bookcase was located. Most of the books were paperbacks, some were hardcovers, and there was one magazine lying flat on the shelf: the Air Force magazine that featured her as the cover girl. She wondered at the man who had tucked that magazine among all those books by authors as diverse as Albert Einstein, Jack London and Thor Heyerdahl.

  She ran her fingers over the gilt letters embossed into an old leather bound volume of poetry printed in 1876 and carried it with her onto the porch, where the sound of rushing water lulled her senses. She lowered herself into one of the comfortable Adirondack-style chairs and sat for a few moments, wondering if this was wise. She might very well fall asleep with that beautiful creek calming her and the sun’s warmth soaking into her. But what harm would a short nap do? Mitch wouldn’t be back for at least an hour, and it was so peaceful here.

  She could easily imagine Hayden clattering down the porch steps with his fishing rod and his dog. This place was made for little boys to grow up in, and for dogs to keep them company while they did. She sighed and opened the book to a random page, trying but not quite able to imagine Mitch reading poetry. She scanned the first line of the chosen poem and before she could finish the second, a curious lethargy soaked through her bones. On impulse she removed her wig, relishing the feel of cool air and warm sun against her scalp.

  She’d worn the wig in public since she was first discharged from the hospital after losing her hair. Her mother had handed her the box and said, “I thought you might want the option of wearing this until your own grows back. The hair’s real.”

  Kate had opened the box, sure she’d be repulsed, but to please her mother she’d taken it out and put it on. Studying herself in the bathroom mirror she’d thought, Yes, this is much better. I like me much better this way. With the addition of the false eyelashes and a little eyebrow pencil, she looked almost normal. Healthy.

  But she was all alone here, so she dropped the wig in her lap, tipped her head back, closed her eyes and let herself drift off to the sound of the water, wondering what her little boy would look like in ten years’ time….

  Seconds later, it seemed, she was awakened by the sound of a truck door slamming. Kate sat bolt upright, blinking sleep from her eyes, and was still smoothing the wig into place when the stranger topped the porch steps. She’d expected Mitch and was shocked to see a very buxom bleached blonde dressed in clothes that left little to the imagination.

  “Well, hey, hon,” the woman said in a smoky southern drawl. “I’m real sorry to startle you. Were you sleepin’?”

  “Who…?”

  “I’m Campy, a friend of Mitch’s, and I sure didn’t mean to wake you. I brought Thor back because he chases planes down the runway and Mitch was busy helping Wally fix the plane, that’s all. You just sit right where you are, all nice and relaxed, and I’ll be right back.” She retreated into the cabin and reappeared holding two bottles of Guinness Stout. She handed one to Kate and then dropped into the second chair. “Hope you like a bitter brew. That’s all Mitch ever drinks,” she said. “And I hope I didn’t startle you too bad. Sorry about that.”

  “That’s okay,” Kate said, holding the cold bottle. “I must have dozed off. It’s so peaceful here.”

  “Boring, I’d call it, but I guess it all depends on what you like. So, you’re the one Mitch calls K. C. Jones.”

  Good God. Kate closed her eyes on the world for a few moments, wishing she could just disappear. Mitch had talked about her to this woman? “Is that what he calls me?”

  She heard Campy settle herself more deeply in her chair, followed by the sharp snick of a lighter, and then smelled the acrid smoke of a cigarette. “Honey, you may not know this and I doubt he’ll ever tell you, but Mitch has a real soft spot for you.”

  Kate opened her eyes and stared cynically at the other woman, whom she decided couldn’t be one of Mitch’s girlfriends if she was talking like that. She eased back in her chair and set the bottle of beer on the broad armrest. “That’s a little hard to believe, considering we haven’t seen
each other in years.”

  “Oh, Mitch would never admit to it. Tough guys don’t like gals to think they’re so easily roped and tied, but I used to be a bartender at the Mad Dog Saloon, which was a mile or so from the base. I served up a lot of brew to Mitch while he was stationed there, and hon, nobody hears more stories told from the heart than a bartender does. He talked about you a lot.”

  “I can’t imagine what he talked about,” Kate said drily.

  “Oh, he thought you were pretty special,” Campy said. “He’s a hard worker and a great pilot. I don’t know what Wally’d do without him. Wally owned the Mad Dog ’til it burned down, then he used the insurance money to buy a six-passenger plane and start the charter service. He’s a great mechanic but he can’t fly so good, so he hired Mitch to do most of that. My guy Wally is your guy’s boss.”

  “He’s not my guy.”

  “Well, if he isn’t, he oughta be. My opinion, of course. Mitchell’s always been a favorite of mine. If I didn’t have Wally, I’d go after Mitch myself, even though I’m a little too old for him. But he’s one in a million. I guess you know that, too, hon, or you wouldn’t be here, would you?”

  “Oh, I’m sure he has a girlfriend. I didn’t come here thinking he’d been saving himself for me all these years.”

  “I think he always hoped you’d show up here one day. Mitch has lots of friends, but none have come close to being serious relationships.”

  “I’m surprised he even remembered me.”

  “Remembered you? Hon, how else would I know he called you K. C. Jones?”

  Kate gave her another skeptical look. “My real name’s Katherine Carolyn Jones.”

  “Camilla Clarke,” she said, giving her a crooked smile. “Everyone around here calls me Campy. You like Alaska?”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s boring,” she said. “I’d go back east in a minute, but Wally likes the flying here. Pilots are a crazy-ass bunch, no offense intended.”

  “None taken.”

  “I mean, I think it’s pretty cool, you being a Navy pilot and all. Mitch said you were an instructor at that dogfighting school the Navy has—like in Top Gun. Pretty wild stuff.”

  “That was a good assignment. I got to be home every night with my son.”

  Two carefully plucked and penciled eyebrows shot up. “You have a kid? Huh. He never told us that.” Campy studied her through a haze of cigarette smoke. “You married?”

  “No.”

  “How old’s your kid?”

  “He’ll be four next month.”

  “Hmm. Interesting.” Campy squinted her eyes and stared off across the river for a few moments, then glanced back at Kate with a knowing expression. “How long are you staying?”

  “A week or so.”

  “If I’d been smarter, that’s all I’d have stayed.” Campy drained the last of her beer and, pushing to her feet, she dropped her cigarette into the bottle and tossed the hair out of her eyes. “Mitch means a lot to me ’n’ Wally. I sure hope the two of you can work things out.”

  BY THE TIME Campy drove his pickup back to the airfield, Mitch was pacing around the plane amidst mechanical noises and cuss words from beneath the plane’s cowling, while Wally growled for various tools to be passed to him.

  Campy’d been gone a long time. What the hell could the two of them have been talking about? They had nothing in common. Campy was a fortysomething professional bartender who hadn’t graduated high school, couldn’t spell and liked to smoke, drink and ride on Wally’s Harley. Her one ambition in life was to train circus ponies. What kind of conversation could she have possibly been having with a career captain in the United States Navy? And finally, here she was, driving up to the warming hut with Thor in the back, his front feet braced on the diamond-plate toolbox cover and wearing his sly, wolfish grin.

  Campy jumped out of the cab and turned to see what Mitch was gesturing at. “Damn you, Thor! I swear, Mitch, he was standing on the porch when I left. He must’ve chased after the truck and jumped in.” She approached the plane and tossed her hair out of her eyes. “Relax, hon, everything’s cool at your place. She’s reading poetry on your porch. My advice? Grill her a thick bloody steak for supper and serve it to her with red wine and hot kisses.” She ducked her head under the cowling. “Hey, lover, I’m headin’ to town to do a load of laundry. Can you manage here without me?”

  “I’ll do my best,” Wally grunted.

  “Hang on,” Mitch said. “She told you she was staying for supper and she wanted a thick steak?”

  “Don’t forget the red wine and hot kisses. She’s nice, Mitch. I like her. How ’bout you, Wally—what’s your preference tonight?”

  “Beer and burgers,” came the gruff reply.

  “I’m on it, sweetie. See you soon.”

  “Wait a sec,” Mitch said. “Did you find out why she’s here?”

  Campy took one last fierce drag on her cigarette, tossed it down and ground it out. “She’s here to see you, you imbecile. She’s been missing you. How long’s it been?”

  “Almost five years without so much as a phone call or a letter. That’s why her surprise appearance is so strange.”

  “Maybe not as strange as you think.” Campy gave him a long, calculating stare. “Make sure that red wine comes in a bottle with a cork.”

  Wally peered out from under the cowling as she walked toward her rusted-out Subaru. “What’d I tell you,” he said. “Girl talk. They love that stuff. Better pick up that steak at Yudy’s. They have the best beef and he’ll cut it nice and thick for you.” He waited a few moments, then scowled. “Well, what the hell you stallin’ for? Haven’t you kept her waiting long enough?”

  “I don’t believe that’s why she’s here. I think there’s something else going on.”

  “So what if there is? You gonna pass up the chance to get cozy with her? Go fix her that steak like Campy said.”

  “I spent all my cash on the fuel filter.”

  “Ah, shit.” Wally dug in his wallet, peeled out two twenty-dollar bills and handed them to Mitch. “That’s the last of mine. Make it count. Women are scarce in Alaska and hot ones like that are even scarcer.”

  YUDY’S GENERAL STORE carried everything from self-tapping sheet metal screws to wedding gowns, and had the best meat counter in the state. It also had a fairly good wine selection and a huge block of select sharp cheddar, the kind that crumbled when it was cut, and with what Mitch had left over he was able to buy half a pound along with some fancy crackers. Forty bucks didn’t stretch very far at Yudy’s, but the groceries were worth it and tonight he wasn’t about to serve up boxed macaroni and cheese with a side of canned beans and a bottle of beer, the mainstays of his usual diet. No, tonight called for a special meal, a properly seductive prelude for what was sure to come after…otherwise she wouldn’t have told Campy she was staying for supper and that she’d been missing him.

  He was still kind of puzzled about the real reason she was here, but Wally was right. He’d be a fool to pass up this opportunity, and the prospect of spending another night with the sexiest pilot in the Navy was enough to send his heart rate right off the scale. It didn’t matter anymore that she hadn’t read his letter. The hell with it. Seize the moment and run with it.

  By the time he got back to the cabin, he’d figured out just how the night should proceed. He’d light the grill first, because it took awhile for the charcoal to get just right, then he’d open the wine and get the cheese-and-cracker thing going while the meat marinaded and he fixed the vegetables. Yudy had prepped him on that. “You’ll wanna grill your veggies. Ladies like that kind of stuff. Cut ’em however you like. Me, I like my peppers in quarters, some like ’em in halves. Onions the same way. Eggplant, mushrooms, potatoes, tomatoes, whatever trips your trigger. Coat ’em with olive oil and a pinch of herbs and grill ’em.”

  Well, scratch the eggplant and mushrooms, he hated the things, but he bought a few nice fat tomatoes and brightly colored bell p
eppers to supplement the vegetables he knew he already had, and he could make a salad, too, and then…?

  Then they’d eat. And whatever happened after that was up to the gods and the mountain, because the mountain played a big role in his life here. He might have to fly out at the drop of a hat to pick up climbers who were calling it quits or were sick or injured. Those calls happened frequently this time of year and they certainly could use the business. But barring the climbers, who knows where the night might end? Maybe she wouldn’t want to go back to the Moosewood. Maybe she’d opt to stay.

  Maybe? Of course she would. That’s why she was here, wasn’t it? She’d spend two weeks’ worth of fabulous nights with him before flying away again, back to her Navy career. What could be better than a short-term relationship with a gorgeous, sexy woman, no strings attached?

  As he parked the truck, Thor jumped out of the back and Mitch heard her greeting the useless beast. He grabbed the bags of groceries and climbed the porch steps after the dog. Kate was sitting in the late afternoon sunshine, book of poetry lying open in her lap, and she smiled when she saw him. Right then and there he forgot all about how great a two-week-long, no-strings-attached affair would be because she looked like she belonged, and she looked beautiful.

  “Hey,” he said, caught off balance by his own reaction.

  “Hey, yourself. How’d it go at the airfield?”

  “Great. Got the plane fixed. What about you?”

  “I didn’t do a thing. I sat on this porch and read poetry and then I had a nap.”

  “That’s what a vacation’s all about. You hungry?”

  “Getting there.” She folded the book shut and stood. “What can I do to help?”

  “You can supervise.”

  She followed him into the kitchen and leaned over the counter while he unpacked the bags of groceries. “It’s so peaceful here. I can see why you love it.”

  He uncorked the bottle of wine, rummaged in the cupboard for the two wineglasses left behind by the lonesome musher and poured. “Hope you like red. It goes well with meat, or so I’m told. I’m mostly a beer drinker myself, and beer goes with everything.” He handed her the glass and she smiled at him again. His heart did something that made him lose his breath and remember the night they’d had together, the night he’d spent years trying to forget.