From Out of the Blue

by Nadia Nichols

  “Easy, take it easy,” Mitch said, his hand on her shoulder. “Campy, get a doctor? Kate’s sick.”

  “I’m just tired, that’s all,” Kate muttered, wrapping her arms around herself.

  “No doubt. I had to get checked out, now it’s your turn. Afterward, we’ll go home. Don’t waste energy arguing with me, K.C., you won’t win this one.”

  Campy led a doctor and nurse, complete with wheelchair, back to the waiting area.

  “Kate has leukemia and she’s not feeling well,” Mitch told them. “She was being treated at the cancer research hospital in Seattle. Can you check her out?”

  “Leukemia?” Campy’s expression betrayed her shock.

  “I’m fine,” Kate said, irritated that Mitch would mention her illness. “Just a little tired…as anyone would be.”

  The E.R. doctor backed Mitch. “We’ll run some tests, just to make sure,” he said.

  Mitch helped Kate into the wheelchair and she was whisked into the E.R., where they took her temperature, blood pressure and pulse. After several painful needle pricks in an arm already scarred and bruised from chemotherapy treatments, enough blood was drawn to satisfy the doctor. “The lab’ll call with the results in a little while,” he said. “Meanwhile, I’ll touch base with the Seattle hospital.”

  The E.R. doctor left the cubicle and Mitch dropped into a chair. He cast her a weary look. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  Bad? It was awful. Kate felt sick all over, but it wasn’t from the leukemia. She was shaky and weak and wrung out and she wanted nothing more than to tell Hayden his father was okay and weep her relief in a private place.

  Campy ducked through the curtain, handed Kate the bottle of water and Mitch the cup of coffee they’d each requested, then gave Kate the same kind of sisterly hug she’d given Mitch. “You poor thing, being so sick and doing all that tough flying. No wonder you’re done in. I made reservations at the hotel near the airport. No way are we going back to Pike’s Creek tonight. I called Wally, too. He’s been sitting by the phone at the airstrip since we last called in. He said to tell you he’d fed Thor and the dog won’t get out of the back of your truck. I asked him to call the Moosewood and tell your nanny everything is okay.”

  “Thank you. They’ll be worried.” She should have done that herself, an hour ago. Kate uncapped her water and drank half the bottle. It was the fourth she’d drunk since arriving at the hospital and she was still thirsty, but feeling a little better. She glanced at Mitch, who was watching her carefully. “What happened after you left the climbers at the base camp?” she asked.

  “The weather closed in. The winds got squirrelly and the downdrafts were strong, but then it started to hail. The hail blew out the windshield and pushed the plane down. Beat it right into the side of the mountain. I found the best landing strip I could. End of story.”

  Kate guessed there was a lot more to it than that. Somehow he’d managed to set that plane down on the only patch of reasonably level snowfield within miles. Not all of it was pure luck, though luck had surely worked in his favor.

  Twenty minutes later, the doctor ducked back into the cubicle. “Your blood work looks okay. The values aren’t what I’d like to see, but according to the doctor I spoke with at the Seattle hospital, they’re in the ballpark for what you’re going through. He asked if you were having any stomach pains.”

  Kate hesitated. “A few. Not too bad.”

  “If they get worse, he wants you to come back for more tests. Meanwhile, I think you’re long overdue for some rest and relaxation. No more search-and-rescue missions while you’re in Alaska.”

  “No camping trips, either, I suppose?” Mitch asked.

  “She’s a very sick young woman, and you’re lucky I didn’t make you stay overnight for observation. You were banged up pretty good. I’d advise complete bed rest for both of you for the next couple of days, and no flying for either one of you for the next week. You’re both officially grounded.”

  Campy stood. “Come on, hon,” she said, slipping her arm around Kate, “there’s a taxi waiting outside to take us to the hotel. I think we could all use some shut-eye.”

  CAMPY DREW Kate a hot bath after they checked into the two rooms she’d reserved. “Trust me, you’ll sleep better after a long soak,” she said. “I told Mitch to do the same, but being as he’s a man I doubt he’ll take my advice.” Kate was too weary to put up much of a protest. Besides, a hot bath sounded good, even if it was nearly 3:00 a.m. She soaked in the tub of hot water, immersed to her chin, eyes closed, trying to push away all the what-ifs.

  What if Mitch had been killed?

  What if she’d had to tell Hayden that his father really had been killed in a plane crash?

  What if Mitch had been killed and she didn’t get a bone marrow donor and she died, too?

  What if…?

  The dark thoughts were overpowering. Once upon a time, Navy Captain K. C. Jones had been invincible, but now she struggled through a quagmire of fears and doubts, fueled by Mitch’s close brush with death and Hayden’s increased vulnerability. She should never have told Hayden about Mitch. She should never have told Mitch about Hayden. She should never have come here in the first place, foolishly trying to undo all the mistakes she’d made. In the end, all she’d done was create more opportunities for heartbreak for Hayden.

  Kate left the tub when the water cooled, dried herself off, pulled on her underwear and the T-shirt she’d worn under her sweater and, leaving the wig on the bathroom counter, she crawled into the bed Campy wasn’t already sound asleep in. She turned out the bedside lamp and finally allowed herself the private release of all her emotions. Drained, she fell asleep with her cheek pressed against the wet pillow.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MITCH LAY on his back in his hotel bed and stared up into the dark and kept seeing that plane, that white-and-black Porter, side-slipping through the mountain pass with inches to spare and skimming right above the three of them, who were huddled down in the rocks to escape the brunt of the bitter winds. He kept thinking about the fact that Kate had been flying that plane, that the flying conditions had been terrible, that she might have been killed trying to locate him, that they might both have died and left Hayden without any parents at all.

  He kept thinking about those last few airborne minutes of that vicious hailstorm, when the plane’s windshield blew out and he knew, he knew they weren’t going to make it out of the mountains, that they were going to crash and burn and become yet another of McKinley’s statistics. Three more names added to the already lengthy fatalities list.

  He thought about the reporter and cameraman from Seattle, Mike and John, good enough guys who’d been looking for a story and had become part of a whopper. They were going to do a documentary, they’d told him that morning when they first boarded the Stationair. A story about bush pilots and mountain climbers and mountain flying and how hazardous it all was. They’d gotten their story and their film footage. They had everything they needed to rivet their television audience, and then some. John even got footage of Kate flying overhead, finding them, and the park service chopper that hauled their sorry asses out of the mountains.

  Kate would be a part of Mike and John’s story. A big part, since both reporters were in shock and becoming seriously hypothermic by the time they’d been rescued. They wouldn’t have survived the night out on that glacier in the shape they were in, so it was safe to say they owed their lives to Kate’s superb flying and Campy’s sharp eyesight.

  Helluva story.

  At 4:00 a.m., Mitch got up and made a pot of coffee in the little in-room pot. He hurt all over. The stitches across his cheekbone burned, his head ached, his gut was sore and his hands and face were bruised and covered with cuts from the hail that had slashed through the open cockpit. He’d never seen hail that size before. Incredible. He drank his coffee and pondered the fact that he was still alive when by all rights he shouldn’t be standing here at the window of a Fairbanks hotel room, watch
ing the sunrise over the city.

  By 7:00 a.m. he’d showered and dressed. He tapped lightly on the door to Kate and Campy’s room just across the hall from his own. After a few moments the door swung inward and a sleepy-eyed Campy peered around it and blinked at him. “Damn. I was hoping it was room service with steak and eggs and a gallon of coffee,” she muttered. “I could eat a horse. We never did get any supper last night.”

  “Kate awake?”

  Campy shook her head. “Not yet, but if she’s half as hungry as me, the smell of food might do it. I saw a McDonald’s on the corner.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Mitch? She mentioned yogurt last night. She said it helps her stomach. Can you get her some?”

  He walked two blocks and cleaned out his wallet on a big bag of breakfast food, including two fruit-and-yogurt parfaits. By the time he returned, Kate was up and dressed. When their eyes met across the room he felt a swift, sudden stab of fear. She looked terrible.

  “You look a lot better,” he lied.

  She gave him a wry smile. “So do you.”

  “We’re all extremely beautiful,” Campy said. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

  He emptied the fast-food breakfast onto the desk and handed Kate a large orange juice and one of the yogurts. They sat together on one bed and devoured the food. Kate finished her first yogurt, half of the second and one of Mitch’s four hash browns.

  “Delicious,” she proclaimed after draining the last of her orange juice.

  “Ditto,” Campy agreed.

  Mitch crumpled all the wrappers back into the bag and tossed it into the trash. “In an hour we’ll probably be paying for that greasy meal for a second time.”

  “Speak for yourself. I thrive on the stuff,” Campy retorted. “By the way, I called the hospital while you were picking up breakfast. Mike and John are doing fine. They’ll be released later today and they’d like us to stop by before leaving. I told them we’d be by around eight-thirty.” Campy gave him a long, significant look and Mitch guessed that Mike and John had taken Campy into their confidence about wanting to interview Kate for their story.

  “You two go ahead,” Kate said as if reading his mind. “I’ll head out to the airport, get the plane gassed up and file our flight plan.”

  “Hon, it’s you they want to meet,” Campy said. “You’re the gal who saved their asses.”

  “You’re the one who spotted the smoke,” Kate reminded her. “Besides, I’ve spent way too much time in hospitals lately. I’ll pass.”

  “I promised them last night I’d introduce you,” Mitch said. “They want to ask you a few questions for their story. It won’t take long.”

  “I’ll go check us out of the hotel and have them call a taxi.” Campy picked up her purse and left the room to avoid the wrangling and move things along in the proper direction. As soon as the door closed behind her, Kate shook her head.

  “I’m serious, Mitch. A hospital’s the last place I want to be right now, and I don’t want to be interviewed.”

  “Did you see the sunrise this morning?”

  Kate hesitated, then said, “No.”

  “It was beautiful, but I wouldn’t have seen it if it weren’t for you.”

  “You could have been killed yesterday,” Kate said.

  “So could you. Where would that have left Hayden?”

  “I told him about you just before Wally called to say your plane had gone missing. I told him you were alive, that you hadn’t died in a plane crash, and then you go and nearly get yourself killed in one.”

  “I didn’t plan it that way.”

  “What if you had died?” She was staring at him as if he’d just committed cold-blooded murder, or was thinking about it.

  “I didn’t, and I can’t stop living just because you’re afraid you might. Not even for Hayden’s sake. I am what I am, and I do what I do. I’m not going to stop. Now let’s go.”

  “I am not going to the hospital. I’ll meet them later, somewhere else. Anywhere else.”

  Mitch decided to drop it for the moment and ask about the other thing bothering him.

  “Tell me about the blood test last night and the stomach pains the doctor mentioned,” he said. “What was that all about?”

  “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  She sighed impatiently and paced to the window. “My blood has to be checked regularly to make sure my immune system is holding up and the leukemia’s still in remission. As for my stomach, chemotherapy is hard on the intestines. The pains come and go. They were pretty bad during my last chemo treatment. They ran all kinds of tests to check for perforation or hemorrhaging but couldn’t find anything. The ones I had last night were probably due to stress. No big deal.”

  “Right. No big deal.” The bedside phone rang and Mitch picked it up. It was Campy.

  “The cab’s waiting,” she said.

  “We’re on our way.” He hung up the phone.

  “I’m not going,” Kate repeated. “I only went last night because that’s where they brought you and we didn’t know what shape you were in.”

  “Dammit all, Kate, they’re nice guys. I told them all about you on the chopper flight to Fairbanks. Come on. Just say hello. You saved their lives. They want to meet you and ask you a few questions, that’s all. Ten minutes and it’s over and we’re out of there.”

  She looked at him and he was sure she was going to say no for the fourth time, but to his relief she gave a reluctant nod. “Okay. Ten minutes.”

  KATE DIDN’T WANT to go to the hospital. She wanted to go back to the Moosewood and wrap her arms around her sweet little boy and kiss his soft warm cheek and breathe his youthful innocence. Yet she was in the backseat of a taxi, Mitch on one side, Campy on the other. Campy had said nothing when she’d seen Kate emerge from the bathroom without her wig that morning and had given her a sisterly hug that somehow had made Kate feel better.

  It was a short trip to the hospital.

  Then they were out of the cab, Campy was paying the driver and Mitch was escorting her through the hospital doors. Down the corridor. Down another corridor. Gleaming corridors, clean and polished, awash with fluorescent lights, still quiet in the early hour with the big metal breakfast carts still making the rounds.

  Kate had a flashback to her first days at the cancer research center in Seattle, undergoing the first round of chemo, opening her eyes to see a human figure in full Hazmat gear adding more of the chemical cocktail to her IV bag. “Now that’s a reassuring sight,” she’d said.

  “We have to wear this suit because these chemicals will burn right through our skin if we accidentally spill any,” the man apologized.

  She still had nightmares about that technician in the Hazmat suit.

  And then the second hospital stay. By then she knew the ropes. She’d lost her hair and could recognize the different stages of hell other cancer patients were going through: the new arrivals with their full heads of hair, scared and apprehensive and surrounded by stunned family members trying to be cheerful; the ones who’d already lost their hair along with their eyelashes and eyebrows and wore that same introverted expression that she did; the ones who were getting ready to go back home…and the ones who went upstairs into intensive care and never came back down again.

  She became immersed in the study of hematology, spending long, bedridden hours researching her disease and questioning the teams of doctors so intensively when they came into her room that, after a while, they started holding previsitation huddles outside the door to prepare themselves for her cross-examination. Knowledge was power, but it came at a price. The dark uncertainties she’d learned about loomed alongside the cautious optimism voiced by the medical personnel, and all of it came rushing back while Mitch escorted her down the hospital corridor. She wanted to turn and flee, but instead lifted her chin and drew calming breaths.

  Ten minutes and counting.

  Kate put the brakes on and ve
ry nearly turned around when Mitch guided her into the nurses’ station on the second floor. The first thing she saw was the group of reporters surrounding the two patients in wheelchairs. Big video cameras with their red recording lights flashing; pens scribbling notes onto little flip pads; doctors, nurses and patients alike answering questions into microphones and tape recorders. All activity paused when they arrived. All eyes and camera lenses turned toward them. Kate felt Mitch’s hand in the small of her back as he guided her toward the men in the wheelchairs.

  “Kate, Campy, I’d like you to meet John Kelly and Mike Lane, two wounded warriors from Seattle. Gentlemen, these are the ladies who spotted us yesterday and got us rescued.”

  Both men looked a little worse for wear, but they grinned and shook Kate’s and Campy’s hands and voiced their thanks repeatedly while the reporters and news crews took footage of the introductions.

  “You boys are lucky Kate played a hunch and searched that area again,” Campy told them in her smoky drawl, tossing her hair out of her eyes. “Otherwise you might still be up there. We’re heading back to Pike’s Creek and if the hospital plans to spring you this morning, you’re more than welcome to fly back with us.”

  “Oh, no thanks,” Mike said with a chuckle. “Right now we’re a little leery of anything with wings. Matter of fact, we’ve been talking about driving or taking the boat back to Seattle.”

  “Mitch told us all about the two of you yesterday, on the flight to Fairbanks. I hope you don’t mind if we ask you ladies a few questions.” John said. “Mitch saved us twice over when he somehow managed a landing that didn’t kill us outright, then pulled both of us out of the burning wreckage, but you found us before we froze to death, so that makes you a big part of this whole story.”