From Out of the Blue

by Nadia Nichols

  She slowed as they approached a long, low log building off to the right with a big sign out front that pronounced it to be Brock’s Bar and Grill, with lots of vehicles in the parking area. Campy pulled in and parked. “C’mon, hon, I’m buying, seeing as you just spent half a mil.” She had a cigarette lit before her feet touched the ground and it was half smoked by the time they entered the building and managed to find an unoccupied table in the bustling establishment. “You set yourself down and I’ll be right back,” she said and sauntered off toward the bar.

  Kate didn’t think there could be that many people in the entire town. The interior of the bar was dimly lit and smoky. Most of the patrons were men but there were a few women. A jukebox belted out tunes and the noise level was high since people had to raise their voices to be heard over it. At the pool table, two guys played while half a dozen others coached. The smoke made the air quality terrible and knowing she shouldn’t be exposing herself to it, Kate hoped this champagne celebration of Campy’s didn’t take too long.

  Campy returned to the table triumphantly, bearing a galvanized metal pail full of ice that contained a bottle of cheap champagne and several bottles of beer. In her other hand she had a basket of mixed nuts and two tall beer glasses. She plunked all of it down in the middle of the table and pushed the hair out of her eyes. “Brock says it’s on the house. Half his business comes from Mitch and he’s glad the Stationair became history before Mitch did.”

  “Mitch must drink an awful lot,” Kate commented uneasily as Campy popped the cork.

  “Nope. He’s the best damned pool player in the state. Folks come from Anchorage and Fairbanks and Dutch Harbor to play against him. Once, a whole slew of ’em flew in from Seattle. The women come in by the score just to watch him play. He’s one sexy guy, in case you haven’t noticed. He brings a lot of business to this little backwater bar.” She poured the champagne into the beer glasses and stuffed the bottle back into the bucket of ice. “Brock didn’t have any champagne flutes, so these’ll have to do.”

  Kate picked up her glass. “To a successful charter enterprise for Arctic Air,” she said.

  “Amen,” Campy replied as they touched rims. “I’m glad you pulled it off. Must be nice having such a financially smart dad. Mine’s a dairy farmer. He’s smart, too, but in a different way. He told me when I moved way out here that I’d miss the farm. I laughed at him then, but now, you know, I really do miss that place. I miss the horses the most. We had two draft horses. Daddy worked ’em in the fields and he hauled logs with them in winter. Ben and Buddy. They were great.”

  “Why don’t you get one? They have horses in Alaska.”

  “I’d love to have a horse here, but Wally says the winters’d kill ’em if a hungry bear didn’t get ’em first, and besides, Wally doesn’t trust anything that doesn’t leak oil. But my lifelong dream has been to train ponies for the circus. I just think that would be the neatest thing.”

  “I like horses, too,” Kate said, trying to envision Campy training circus ponies and deciding she’d probably be pretty good at it. She was a straight shooter, and animals liked honesty. “I grew up with them in Montana.” Just as she was about to take a sip of her champagne, she saw Mitch walk through the door and head for the bar. She froze, and Campy followed her gaze.

  “Hey, talk about good timing,” she said, starting to rise out of her chair. “I’ll go invite him to join us.”

  Kate’s hand shot out and closed on Campy’s forearm. “Not such a good idea. He’s still pretty upset that I didn’t tell him about Hayden. I think he’d rather avoid my company right now.”

  “Too late. He’s heading this way. Brock must’ve told him we’re here.” Campy sat back down and Kate tried to read Mitch’s expression as he approached the table but she couldn’t. He grabbed a chair, spun it around and dropped into it, leaning his forearms over the backrest.

  “Evening, ladies. I see you’re celebrating.”

  “We had a very successful shopping spree,” Kate said. “Would you care for some champagne?”

  “No, thanks. I’m not exactly in a partying mood.” He said this looking directly at Kate, who dropped her eyes and studied the golden bubbles in her glass. “Hayden got sick on the ride back to the Moosewood,” he added, and her eyes shot back to his face. “I guess that lunch didn’t agree with him. He’s okay. Rosa put him to bed. So what did you buy that warrants a bottle of Brock’s bubbly?”

  “A plane,” Kate said.

  “A plane,” he echoed in a flat voice.

  “The Porter,” Campy said. “The plane of your dreams. C’mon Mitch, join us for the celebration.”

  “You’re telling me you bought Raider’s plane.” He was speaking far too carefully, and Kate felt herself tightening up.

  “Yes.”

  “The Navy planes aren’t hot enough for you, K.C.?”

  “I didn’t want you flying the Stationair anymore, and you couldn’t afford to buy it right now.”

  “So you went out and bought a six-hundred-thousand-dollar plane for me.”

  “She got it for five,” Campy interjected. “Kate’s pretty good at wheeling and dealing.”

  “I just bet she is.”

  He pushed to his feet, spun the chair back to its original position and walked to the bar without another word. Within moments he was fraternizing with a good-looking woman and pulling on a beer. Kate released a pent-up breath and took a big swallow of champagne. The fizz burned her nose and made her eyes water. Champagne was terrible stuff. Why was she drinking it? Besides, she felt more like crying than partying.

  “Wow, I sure didn’t expect that reaction,” Campy said. “Don’t worry, hon. I’ll be right back.” She pushed out of her chair, walked up to the bar and wriggled in right between Mitch and the other woman, where no doubt she’d do her best to smooth things over and make the world right again. Kate groaned and took another swallow of champagne. She was beyond ready for this day to end. While she waited for Campy to return, a man broke away from the huddle around the pool table and approached her table, beer bottle in hand.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he said. “Mind if I join you?”

  “I’m with someone.”

  “Yeah, I know. I saw you come in with Campy.” He dropped into the seat Mitch had vacated. “You’re new around here, aren’t you? I’m Bud Wilson and I’m the man you need if you’re looking for a good time.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Of course you are. Every woman is.” He leaned toward her, gave her a long, knowing leer and the tone of his voice became way too intimate. “My guess is your flavor is strawberry.”

  For a moment Kate was too shocked to respond. Had he just made a crude sexual remark to her? Anger flooded through her and without further thought, she picked up her glass and flung the rest of her champagne into Bud Wilson’s face. “Wrong,” she snapped, pushing out of her chair, snatching up her purse and making for the door.

  She heard Bud call her a very bad name as he jumped out of his own chair, but she didn’t look back until a commotion stopped her. Through the milling crowd she could see that Mitch had Bud pinned up against the wall. Campy was two steps behind, apparently trying to thwart a beating. Kate watched for a moment more, long enough to see Campy grab Mitch’s arm, Mitch reluctantly let go of Bud, and Bud breathe a sigh of relief.

  She turned and pushed her way through the onlookers toward the door, feeling sick at heart and wanting nothing more than to go home. But where was home? Montana? California? An aircraft carrier cruising the Gulf? The truth was she didn’t have a home anymore, and might never need another one. She started walking swiftly down the road, needing to move, needing to get away, to be anywhere but here. When she heard Campy call her name, she waited for her to catch up.

  “Hey, hon, I’m real sorry about that,” she said, breathless, as she came to a stop beside Kate. “Bud’s a jerk. He runs the seasonal ice-cream shop here in town and thinks he can guess everyone’s favorite flavor by looking at
’em. He says he’s sorry you misunderstood. Mitch heard what he called you and was ready to kill him. Maybe I should’ve let him.” She reached out and touched Kate’s arm in apology. “Listen, hon, Mitch is sore because he thinks you should’ve told him you were planning to buy the plane.”

  “Why? We’re not married. Not even dating. I don’t have to report my activities to him, or ask him how to spend my own money.”

  “He was just taken by surprise, that’s all. That’s why he’s so grumpy.” She glanced over Kate’s shoulder. “Here he comes. Doesn’t look like his mood’s improved any.”

  Mitch came to a stop beside them and Kate could feel the tension crackling in the air.

  “You okay?” he asked her in a cool, detached way.

  “Fine,” Kate replied in the same tone of voice. “You shouldn’t have attacked that man. I can take care of myself.”

  “I’m taking you back to the Moosewood,” he said. “Thanks for everything, Campy.”

  Campy took his curt dismissal with an easy nod and sauntered back toward her car. Kate felt a flush of anger.

  “That was rude and presumptuous. What if I don’t want to go back just yet?”

  He gave her a flinty stare. “I suppose you could hang out here for a while. Drink some beer. Shoot some pool. Flirt with Bud Wilson, if that’s what you’d rather do.”

  She turned away abruptly and walked back toward his truck, climbed into the passenger’s seat and slammed the door as hard as she could, hoping it would fall off in a shower of rust. She felt instantly better and thought about doing it again for good measure, but he was already climbing into the cab. They drove the short distance to the Moosewood in silence. As he cut the engine, hot metal ticked and antifreeze gurgled through the ancient hoses. A cool gust of wind blew through the open windows. Kate reached for the door handle but kept her eyes carefully averted.

  “Thanks for the lift, I think.”

  “You shouldn’t have bought that plane. I could’ve managed it myself.”

  She slammed the truck door again and didn’t look back as she headed around the corner of the cabin. It wasn’t until she reached the porch that she realized she’d forgotten to ask him when his first flight was in the morning, but by the time she ran back around the corner, he was gone.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MITCH COULDN’T EAT AND he couldn’t sleep. All night long he lay in the cabin loft, listening to the wind blow in big gusts across the mountain valley and thinking about Hayden and Kate and that damn Raider selling the plane to her instead of him. Thinking about that lousy, foul-mouthed creep Bud Wilson and what he’d called Kate. He should’ve flattened the bastard. Would’ve, if Campy hadn’t grabbed his arm. Thinking about how Kate had glared at him and slammed the door of the truck when she left him at the Moosewood. Thinking about the big silence that was building between them, the little boy that was their son and the gourmet dinner he hadn’t prepared for a seduction that would never happen.

  He laced his hands behind his head and thought about the camping trip Hayden wanted to take. Hayden. Where did she come up with a name like that? She’d said it was an old family name. He thought and tossed and turned and got up at 3:00 a.m. to make a pot of coffee and drank it black, sitting on the porch in the cool duskiness of the hour, watching the sky in the east turn the snowfields the color of melted butter and wondering if she’d told Hayden yet that he was his father.

  By the time he got to the airstrip the sun was well up and so was Wally, already tinkering on the Stationair. The first batch of clients hadn’t arrived yet. Mitch tossed his pack into the rear compartment and drank a second cup of coffee inside the warming shack, exchanging surly grunts with his equally surly boss. He looked over the log book. There were two flights listed. One departing at 9:00 a.m. with three climbers to be flown to base camp, and another with a group of four at 2:00 p.m., ditto. Too bad they weren’t busy enough to be flying one load in and another out in the same trip. It would save a ton of gas and generate twice the money.

  “Raider sold the Porter yesterday,” Mitch told Wally when his boss came inside. “That should make you happy.”

  “It should make you happy, too.” Wally poured himself a cup. “Think of the half-million bucks we don’t have that we just saved.”

  “Kate bought it.”

  “I know. She stopped here afterward. She’s leasing it back to the charter for five percent of the profit.”

  “That’s charity,” Mitch said curtly. “I won’t accept charity, especially from her. We’ll find another plane, and in the meantime we’ll make do with the Stationair.”

  Wally raised bushy eyebrows in question, but decided to leave this one alone.

  Thirty minutes later the clients arrived. There were two more passengers than were logged in the book. “Got another call yesterday,” Wally explained as Mitch looked out the warming shack’s window and did verbal head count. “Those reporters from the Seattle TV station that wanted to interview you are riding along on this trip.”

  “No way,” Mitch said. “You really want them to see that plane in action?”

  “Babe’s good to go. I got here at 4:00 a.m. to make sure of it. You dump the climbers off at base camp and they can interview you on the way back.”

  “How? There’s only one headset and I don’t know sign language.”

  “Then talk to ’em when you get back. They wanted to get a feel for what you do and they’re paying full freight. Quit arguing and go weigh their gear. You don’t want to be overloaded on this flight. It wouldn’t look too good on the evening news if you didn’t even make it off the ground.”

  KATE’S MORNING JOG was more of a long walk, which was all she felt up to after a troubled night plagued with nightmares. She’d fully intended to talk to Hayden about Mitch the evening before, but he was cranky and feverish and in the end she let him spend one more night as a fatherless child. She’d tell him this morning, after her shower.

  Better yet, after breakfast.

  Or maybe she should wait until after calling the insurance company about getting commercial coverage on the new plane….

  Sooner or later she’d have to tell him. She’d put it off for a little while longer and deal with it after calling the insurance company. She’d sit Hayden down out on the porch and tell him the truth, and handle whatever consequences came of it. And then, finally, it would be done. Hayden would have some time to get to know his father, and then he could spend the next few months getting to know his grandparents in Montana.

  That plan firmly in place, she finished her walk, took her shower, ate breakfast with Rosa and Hayden, who was completely recovered from his upset stomach of the day before, then called the insurance company at exactly 9:00 a.m. That’s when she hit the first big glitch.

  “Commercial coverage?” the woman’s voice said. “We’ll need a copy of the most recent FAA inspection reports on the plane. Who’s insuring the plane now? I can’t seem to find that registration number in our files.”

  “I’m not sure but I can find out from the previous owner. What’s your fax number?” Kate jotted it down, hoping the Moosewood had a fax machine. She then called Raider. The phone rang and rang until his answering machine picked up. Kate left a brief message after the beep but was fuming with impatience when she hung up. Then she dialed Wally’s Air Charter, and Wally himself answered.

  “Do you know who Raider insured the Porter with?” she asked.

  “Nope. I assumed he used the same carrier we did.”

  “He doesn’t, he’s not answering his phone, and without all the background info on the plane this could take some time. I wanted to get the insurance taken care of as soon as possible so Mitch wouldn’t have to fly the Stationair today. What time is his first flight?”

  “You’re too late. He just left with a batch of climbers for base camp, but maybe you can get the plane insured in time for his afternoon trip.”

  “I’ll do my best, but there are a lot of insurance agencies in Anch
orage.” Kate hung up, doubly frustrated, and pulled the phone book toward her. This might take a while, but it gave her yet another good excuse to put off her talk with Hayden.

  Twenty minutes and four phone calls later, after finding Raider’s carrier and getting the plane’s insurance straightened out, she decided she’d better ferry the newly insured purchase to Wally’s airstrip before Mitch got back, and then the deed would be done.

  Then she’d talk to Hayden.

  Kate gave Rosa the directions to Wally’s Air Charter when they arrived at Raider’s airstrip. Raider had just returned from flying some clients to Fairbanks in his Cessna 185 and Hayden was excited about the prospect of going aloft. “Can I go with you, Mumma?” he begged when everything was all set to go.

  “Not this time. You and Rosa are going to meet me at Wally’s airstrip. But maybe later we can take it for a spin. Okay?”

  Hayden’s face fell but he nodded and let Kate buckle him back into his car seat. She watched until Rosa had driven the sedan out of sight at her usual sedate pace, then climbed aboard the Porter, did a quick preflight check and five minutes later was airborne.

  It didn’t take long to cover the distance between the two airstrips in this speedy bird, and she touched down and taxied the plane right up to the warming hut where the Stationair had been parked. Wally was all over the plane before she could even disembark. His prior disapproval over the lease agreement and new charter name was replaced by sheer admiration for the aircraft.