From Out of the Blue

by Nadia Nichols

  “Not yet.”

  “You’d better. They’re giving Wally holy old hell because they can’t get in touch with you. They’re hot to trot for this flying story, and it’ll only help us out. Free advertising is the best advertising, especially when you don’t have any advertising budget.”

  “I’ll call them this afternoon,” he promised before driving off.

  Kate watched the battered old pickup truck bounce down the airstrip road, Thor riding in the back, and felt an ache of loneliness deep inside. The ride to the airstrip had been made in complete silence, and she’d felt the tension and hostility radiating from him. She just hoped none of it trickled down to Hayden. Tonight, somehow, she’d find the words to tell her son that his father hadn’t died in a plane crash after all. Meanwhile, she’d look at that fancy plane and if it was halfway decent, she’d buy it to make sure Mitch wouldn’t suffer that fate. Whatever the cost, it was a small price to pay to ensure Hayden’s security in the event she didn’t survive her illness.

  “You sure you’re up for this, hon? You look tuckered out,” Campy said, coming up beside her.

  “It’s been a rough morning.” Kate glanced at the other woman. “I told Mitch about Hayden. I’d hoped he’d figure it out himself, but he didn’t.”

  “He’s a man.” Campy shrugged. “Sometimes you gotta hit ’em over the head with a baseball bat to get ’em to clue in. So, how’d he take it?”

  “Not all that well, but I can’t blame him for that.”

  Campy led Kate to the old Subaru. “So. You sure you want to buy this plane?”

  “It’s a good plane, right?”

  Campy shrugged again. “I guess so. I’m no expert, but if Wally looked it over and says it is, and Mitch flew it and says it is, then I guess it is.”

  “It has to be better than the Stationair.”

  “How do you want to play this scene? Raider’s a shark. He gets the scent of blood, he closes in for the kill. But since we know Raider needs the money to settle things in this divorce he’s going through, I’m thinking he’ll take less than what he’s asking if we catch him at the right moment…and if you play your cards right.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Raider likes pretty women, and hon, you’re not only gorgeous, you’re also a top gun pilot. He’ll think he’s died and gone to heaven the minute he sets eyes on you. If you promised to go out with him, he might even give you the plane.”

  Kate uttered an abrupt laugh. “I’ll pay full freight and be glad to do so. It’ll be a whole lot cheaper in the long run, not to mention easier.”

  MITCH STOPPED BY the general store on his way back to the Moosewood. It wasn’t exactly on the way back. In fact, it was six miles out of his way, but he needed a few essentials. “Okay, pard,” he said, parking in front of Yudy’s, which looked as if it still catered to patrons driving buckboards hauled by swaybacked horses. “C’mon inside with me and meet Yudy.”

  “I don’t feel so good,” Hayden said in a subdued voice.

  “This won’t take long, then we’ll get you home. I need a bag of dog food. Can’t let Thor go hungry, can we?” He unbuckled Hayden’s seat belt as he talked and helped him out of the truck. Hayden grudgingly tagged along. Inside the store, Yudy and a handful of locals were seated around the barrel stove shooting the breeze. They seemed to do nothing else but hang out there most of the day, chewing over every bit of news long after it was news. The men eyeballed Hayden with considerable interest.

  “Wal, howdy, son. You must be Hayden,” Yudy said, pushing out of his chair. “I bet you’d like some penny candy.”

  “I don’t feel good,” Hayden repeated.

  “No?” Yudy frowned. “Well, now, that’s too bad. I got just the thing for a kid that doesn’t feel too good. How ’bout I fix you a little soda water and bitters?”

  “I dunno about that treatment, Yudy,” Mitch said. “My mom used to give me ginger ale and dry salty crackers.”

  “Naw. Soda water and bitters’ll do the trick. I’ll get it. You set here, son, right here by the stove where it’s nice and warm, but don’t let these old fools talk your ear off. They will, you know,” he said as he departed for the rear of the store in his leisurely shuffle.

  The old-timers studied Hayden somberly as the boy took Yudy’s chair. “So,” one of them said. “You like Alaska?”

  Hayden nodded.

  “You like to fish?” another asked.

  Hayden nodded.

  “You like Mitch?” a third asked.

  Hayden paused and looked up at Mitch. “I like Thor,” he said.

  They all guffawed and slapped their knees. One of them got up and stuffed another stick of wood into the stove even though the store had to be ninety degrees and rising. “Well, that’s a start, huh, Mitch?”

  Seeing Hayden was fine on his own, Mitch left him to his own devices and found Yudy at the back of the store, rummaging through some boxes of dry goods. “I know I got some bitters in here,” he muttered as Mitch approached. “This is my odds-and-ends box. I keep meaning to put this stuff out on the shelf, but…” He paused, then lifted a small bottle. “Bitters!”

  “Yudy, you know that steak you sold me yesterday?”

  “It was good, wasn’t it? Damn, didn’t I tell you? Feed ’em right and you can go anywhere and get anything.”

  “Thor ate it and I need to buy another one.”

  Yudy’s pleased expression vanished. “No! That damned useless dog.”

  “I had to leave just as supper was ready. There was this bunch of mountain climbers that had to be flown off the mountain, and…”

  “Jeez, yeah, I saw that on the news! The wife watches that interview this morning and says to me, ‘Yudy, did you see that? That was our Mitch,’ like she was personally responsible for creating you and teaching you good from evil. Too bad about that steak! I’ll fix you up with another good cut of meat. First, though, I’m gonna fix the kid a bitters and tonic to settle his stomach.”

  Yudy proceeded to mix up a vile-looking fizzy concoction in a stained coffee mug and carried it back to the barrel stove while Mitch followed and watched, frowning. Hayden took the proffered cure and drank about half of it obediently. “Good boy. You’ll feel better soon,” Yudy said. “C’mon, Mitch. Let’s round you up some gourmet ingredients so you can do the Emeril thing tonight and wow the pretty lady’s socks off.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE PORTER WAS A bold and beautiful plane and Kate understood instantly why Mitch wanted it. It was the kind of aircraft a bush pilot could rely on come hell or high water and enjoy flying at the same time, the ultimate performance plane for a rugged wilderness like Alaska. Raider, on the other hand, was forty-nine going on seventeen, smiled way too much and talked even more, but in spite of his raging hormones, Kate could find no fault whatsoever with the plane, especially after the rigorous test flight. The maintenance records were faultless, the flight hours dutifully logged and the asking price more than fair.

  “I’ll give you five for it,” she said, stone-faced.

  “Five?” Raider tipped his head back and uttered an incredulous laugh. “Get real. It’s worth every cent I’m asking, and then some. This was Fairchild’s demonstrator model for years. Its got all the add-ons, has low time and has been well taken care of. Even Mitch said the price was fair.”

  “Mitch might have said that, but he doesn’t have the money,” Campy interjected. “Yance won’t lend it to him and Wally won’t back him. He thinks you’re asking too much.”

  “Well, no way in hell am I giving that plane away for five hundred grand.” He puffed his chest out and crossed his arms.

  “That’s your prerogative,” Kate said. “I have a few more planes to look at. The Porter’s nice, but it’s overpriced and I didn’t like that rotational vibration in the engine. Thanks, anyway.” She was halfway to the car before Raider rose to the bait.

  “Rotational vibration? That plane is mint!”

  “Where’d you say our n
ext stop was, Campy?” Kate said.

  Campy never batted an eyelash. “Lake Hood. That’s down in Anchorage. There’s a real beauty of a one-eight-five with all the trimmings that’s a whole lot cheaper than Raider’s Concorde jet.”

  “Now hold on a minute, ladies. Let me think about this before you do something you might regret.” Raider tugged on the earlobe with the diamond stud, eyed Kate lustfully up and down for the tenth time and said, “Ah, what the hell. Either I sell it to you right now and save Mitch’s sorry ass from crashing in that Stationair, or my soon-to-be ex-wife gets her claws into it and takes me all the way to the cleaners. I’ll take five for her, but I want a certified bank check or money order or cash. I don’t take personal checks or credit cards.”

  “Is there a bank handy?”

  “Alaska Federal Credit Union in Talkeetna,” Campy said. “We can be there and back in less than an hour.”

  “I’ll have the bill of sale ready and waiting. You’ll need to get the insurance transferred from the Stationair before anyone flies it, and by the time you get back here with the money and we get the papers signed, the insurance office’ll be closed.”

  “That doesn’t work for me,” Kate said. “Mitch has three flights tomorrow.”

  “If they’re after 9:00 a.m., he’ll be all set. You can call first thing in the morning and get the coverage he needs. Otherwise he’ll have to take the Stationair. What the hell. He’s been lucky so far,” Raider shrugged. “Nobody else could’ve kept that damn thing in the air so long. Hey, did you see him on TV this morning?”

  “He was good, wasn’t he?” Campy said.

  “He was great, but don’t tell the arrogant bastard I said that.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, Raider, we won’t,” Campy said, tossing her hair out of her eyes. “Come on, Kate. Let’s go rob that bank before it closes.”

  Campy hadn’t driven a hundred yards down the road before she let out an earsplitting rebel whoop. “Hon, you just got the bargain of the century!” she burst out, ebullient. “Five hundred grand for that plane? Wally’ll be floored. In his wildest dreams he never envisioned having a plane as fancy as that. Is that rotational vibration serious?”

  “It’s not Wally’s plane,” Kate reminded her. “And there was no vibration. I made that up. I’d like an official name painted on it. The new name of the flying service.”

  Campy cast her a puzzled look. “New name?”

  “I’d like Arctic Air painted on it in big blue letters.”

  “Arctic Air,” Campy echoed. She thought about it for a while, then nodded with a perplexed smile. “I like it, hon, but Wally sure as hell won’t.”

  HAYDEN THREW UP not a mile from the Moosewood. He didn’t say much before doing it. Never gave Mitch a chance to pull over and get him out. He just leaned forward and upchucked onto the floor at his feet, and since Mitch had a weak stomach for stuff like that, it was a wonder he didn’t immediately follow suit. Instead, he stuck his head out the driver’s side window to avoid breathing the curdled air and said, keeping his eyes averted, “You okay?”

  The boy wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve and nodded.

  “You sure?”

  Hayden nodded again.

  “Okay then, we’re almost there. Hang tight.”

  Five minutes later, he braked to a stop beside Kate’s rental and jumped out of the truck, taking great lungfuls of fresh air. What if Rosa wasn’t there? What if he had to take care of a sick kid? He couldn’t do it. No way. He wasn’t even sure how he’d clean up the truck. Hayden dropped to the ground on the passenger’s side and plodded toward the cabin. As they rounded the corner, Mitch was relieved to see Rosa sitting on the porch, reading. She stood at their approach, her broad maternal face radiating concern.

  “Ay, what is wrong with you, little one!” she said, closing the distance between her and Hayden more rapidly than Mitch would have thought possible for such a large woman. She felt the boy’s forehead. “You have a fever. You must get to bed at once,” she said to him. Then she raised her dark eyes to Mitch and they transformed instantly from pity to suspicion. “Where is the señora?”

  “Kate went shopping with a friend of mine to pick up some warm clothes for our camping trip,” Mitch explained. “Hayden threw up on the way back here.”

  “I’m okay,” Hayden said.

  “You are sick. Go and get into bed,” Rosa said in a stern but compassionate voice. When Hayden didn’t comply, her brow furrowed in an indignant scowl. “Did you not hear me?”

  But Hayden was looking at Mitch with those disturbingly somber eyes. “When are we going camping?”

  “Just as soon as I can get some time off from work,” Mitch said.

  “Promise?”

  “I’ll start packing our gear this afternoon.”

  “Young man, you go to bed, right now,” Rosa said.

  But at that moment Mitch heard something else and so did Hayden; out of the blue Thor leapt onto the porch. “Thor!” Hayden said, wrapping his arms around the big black dog. “Can he stay?”

  “Nope,” Mitch said. “But he can go camping with us once you’re better, so you better listen to Rosa and get to bed.” There it was again; his own father’s stern voice coming back to haunt him. And what the hell was he doing, promising a camping trip to this kid? That was the last thing he wanted to do.

  Mitch dragged the reluctant Thor back to the truck, drove down the old dirt road that led to the abandoned mining town until he came to a small creek, where he pulled over and spent ten minutes alternately cleaning Hayden’s mess out of the cab of the truck and gagging with dry heaves. Task accomplished, he washed his face and hands in the creek, squatted on his heels for a few moments at the water’s edge debating his next move, then decided to talk to Raider one more time about the plane. Wally wasn’t going to do anything. It was up to him to get the ball rolling. If they were going to buy the Porter, he’d have to first get Raider to accept his offer, then convince Yance to lend them the money. Most might do it in the opposite order, go the pre-approval route, but why bother haggling with Yance over the loan if Raider wasn’t going to sell at a price they could afford? One way or the other, it was more important than ever for them to get that plane, get serious and start making some real money. He might very well have a son to support.

  What the hell. He did have a son to support! If Kate lived to be ninety-nine and counting, Hayden was still going to be his son, too. And there was college, and dentists, and doctors, and sports and stuff, and clothes….

  His stomach was still roiling as he climbed back into the cab, but it wasn’t just because of cleaning up Hayden’s mess. He was a father now, and that changed everything in a big way. Huge. Was he up to the challenge? Could he handle all that responsibility? He wasn’t sure. Did he have any choice in the matter? No. The first stages of panic began to take hold. The cold sweat had passed but his heart was still pounding when he arrived at Raider’s place. The big white-and-black plane was parked on the tarmac, waiting for him. Damn, that plane was hot.

  He fed some coins into the soda machine outside the hut then downed the entire can of iced tea to chase the dryness from his mouth so he could talk. He had to be clever about this. Whittle the price down somehow. They couldn’t afford six hundred grand. Five hundred? That was a stretch, but it was a little easier to swallow. And the Porter was easily worth that and more.

  Raider was inside, schmoozing some potential clients and signing them up for a sightseeing tour of Denali as soon as the wind died. He caught Mitch’s eye and excused himself from the two older women.

  “If you’re here about the plane, you’re twenty minutes too late. I just sold it.”

  Mitch felt his heart skip a few important beats and his knees went a little weak. “What?”

  “Sorry, Mitch. I know you wanted it, but you were a tad too late. Hey, that was a pretty good interview you gave them Anchorage reporters, by the way. Must’ve boosted your business, huh? Hey, where’re you goin’…?”


  Back in his truck Mitch started the engine, spun his tires and headed for Brock’s Bar and Grill because he suddenly felt the need for something a little stronger than iced tea.

  KATE AND CAMPY had made it to the bank in time, and by five-thirty they were back at Raider’s place, where Kate signed all the proper papers, handed over the bank check and became the owner of a Pilatus/Fairchild Porter, registration number N352F.

  An hour later, they were back in Pike’s Creek at Wally’s airstrip, making out all the lease papers. Wally was excited about the plane but less so about the lease agreement. He was also quite put out at the idea of painting a different name on the fuselage, but Kate held firm.

  “It’s my plane. I could have purple flowers painted all over it if I wanted,” she told him. “No offense intended, but Arctic Air is a better name than Wally’s Air Charter. The phone book listings are alphabetical. You’ll get more business.”

  Wally also didn’t like the terms of the lease, which specified Kate would get a percentage of the profits as her lease payment.

  “Five percent is peanuts,” Campy pointed out. “Out of the goodness of her heart she’s basically giving you and Mitch the use of that plane ’cause she knows you can’t afford anything more than that right now. Quit your grumbling and sign the papers before she changes her mind. She could very well be saving your lives, getting you out of that Stationair. I’m taking Kate out for a bottle of champagne to celebrate.”

  Scowling and red-faced, Wally reluctantly bent over his desk and signed. Campy patted his shoulder consolingly. “Thank you, sweetie. I’ll be home when I get there. Keep the light on for me.” She kissed his cheek and five minutes later she and Kate were back on the road, heading for a bar called Brock’s. “I work there,” Campy explained. “It’s a real redneck kind of place, serves up beer and burgers, has a couple of pool tables and lots of fights.”

  “Sounds great,” Kate said, glad that Hayden was back at the Moosewood.

  “Truckers love it. On Saturdays we have a live band. That’s when most of the fights are. It should be kinda quiet, now, being as it’s midweek.” Kate tried to hide her relief. “You know, Wally never would’ve bought that plane, no way could he afford it, and honey, you don’t know how many sleepless nights I’ve passed, worrying about him if he was out flying. Oh, I worried about Mitch, too, but Mitch, he’s a phenomenal pilot. Wally…?” She shook her head. “He never flies clients, just gear. That’s the arrangement they have. But lately, Mitch wouldn’t even let him do that. Said the plane had developed too many quirks.”