The boy’s first throw missed. “Close,” Volta said. “Try again.” She handed him a second beanbag and turned to the girl. “Have you been to all the other stations yet?” Volta examined the girl’s card. “Looks like you still need to do the Hula-Hoops first. Mrs. McElfray said once you’ve tried every activity once, you can repeat your favorites.”
“Okay. I’ll be back.” She sprinted toward the Hula-Hoop area.
The boy sank his second throw. “I did it!”
“You sure did. You’ve got the hang of it now.” She passed another beanbag. “Let’s see you do it again.”
He managed to make one more but missed the next one. The last bag landed halfway through the target, balanced on the edge. He looked dejected. “Just two of five.”
Volta shook her head. “Are you kidding? You got a rim-bag. They’re the hardest of all. They count double.”
“Oh.” He grinned while she stamped his card. “Good.”
The next girl stepped up. “Are you Emma’s mom?”
“Yes, I am.” Volta tried to remember if she’d ever met this girl, but she couldn’t recall. She handed her a beanbag.
“Does Emma really ride horses?” the girl asked as she made a half-hearted attempt at a throw. The bag fell short.
“Yes, she’s learning to ride.” Volta handed her the next bag, wondering where this conversation was going.
“I’m learning to play chess. My daddy is teaching me. Is Emma’s daddy a cowboy?”
“No. Emma’s daddy died a long time ago.” Sometimes, when kids said things like this, Volta’s heart ached over what Emma was missing. She was grateful for Leith, and for Emma’s two grandfathers, but it wasn’t the same as having a dad. The girl flailed her bag forward again, this time at least hitting the backboard. Her dad should teach her to throw. “Who’s teaching Emma to ride? You?”
Volta passed another bag. “A friend of mine is teaching her. He knows a lot about horses.”
“Is he a cowboy?”
“He’s a doctor.”
The girl shook her head. “Doctors don’t ride horses. Cowboys ride horses.”
Volta laughed. “Well, this doctor does ride horses, although maybe he’s a little bit cowboy, too. You can be more than one thing. Like I happen to know your teacher, Mrs. McElfray, is also an excellent photographer. I saw her work at the Cabin Fever Festival last year. She won a ribbon.”
The girl pulled her eyebrows together. “What are you?”
“I,” Volta told her as she passed another bag, “am a flight paramedic, a mom, a volunteer, a gardener and lots of other things. What are you?”
“I’m just a kid.”
“Oh, you’re more than that. You’re a student, for one thing. And a chess player.”
“I guess.” The girl lifted the beanbag awkwardly behind her shoulder.
Volta stopped her. “Try throwing it underhanded, like this.” Volta demonstrated the motion.
The girl tried it, and the bag flew through the circle. “I did it!”
“You did. So you’re a beanbag thrower, too. That’s four things.”
“Yeah.” The girl tossed her final bag and it, too, went through the hole. She grinned. “I am.”
Volta stamped her card. “Okay, looks like you still need the hopscotch stamp. Go be a hopper.”
There was no one waiting, so Volta took a moment to drink from her water bottle before she collected the beanbags. When she turned around, Emma was there. “Were you talking to Livy?”
“I don’t know, which one’s Livy?”
Emma pointed at the girl who had asked all the questions. “She doesn’t believe I can ride a horse.”
“She asked me, and I told her you were taking riding lessons.”
“She says only cowboys ride horses. I’m not a cowboy but I can still ride a horse.” Emma thought a moment. “I have cowboy boots, though, so maybe I am a cowboy. Or a cowgirl, at least.”
Volta laughed. “I would think the defining criteria might be cows, but what do I know?”
“Cry-tear...?”
“Criteria. Never mind. Have you been to all the stations?”
“Yes, and I did the watermelon seed spitting contest twice.”
Volta silently thanked Mrs. McElfray for not assigning her to that station. “Want to throw beanbags again?”
“Sure.” Emma lined up to throw.
Volta watched her sink all five. Emma was a natural athlete. She inherited that from her dad. Volta made a point of working out and staying fit, but she’d never been particularly coordinated. Emma got a lot of good things from her dad’s genes. It was a shame he couldn’t be there to see her.
Emma surveyed the field. “Maddy’s at the Hula-Hoops. I’m gonna go do them again.” Emma didn’t wait for an answer before she darted away.
Volta watched her daughter wave at her friend and gallop across the field, her dark ponytail bouncing as she ran. Volta smiled.
* * *
AFTER SCHOOL, VOLTA stopped to fill the gas tank and pick up ground meat and a loaf of French bread. Once they got home, she drafted Emma to help her make meatballs. “Grammy Hannah and Grandpa Jim texted earlier and said they’re stopping in Anchorage tonight, so I thought we’d make spaghetti for dinner.”
“And garlic bread?”
“Of course, garlic bread. And a big salad.”
“Are they staying long?”
“Only tonight. They said something about driving north tomorrow.” And hopefully taking their daughter with them. Even though Stacy had been really sweet with Emma, Volta had had just about enough of her attitude.
Volta heard a car door slam outside, but since she was up to her elbows in ground meat, she didn’t bother to go look. A minute later, the kitchen door opened. Speak of the devil. Stacy looked over Emma’s shoulder. “Hey, guys, what are you doing?”
“We’re making meatballs,” Emma told her, plopping the ball she’d rolled onto the cookie sheet.
“Cool. You’re doing a good job.” She patted Emma on the shoulder, but Volta noticed she didn’t offer to help.
“Grammy and Grandpa are coming for supper.”
“Yeah, they texted me. They want me to go with them to Hatcher’s Pass.”
“Are you going?” Volta tried not to sound too eager.
“Probably.” Stacy yawned. “I’m going to take a shower. I hate washing my hair in that RV bathroom.”
“Good idea. They won’t be here for another two hours. You should have time to pack.” Volta held her breath, afraid Stacy would renege on her intention, but she wandered up the stairs.
“Does Aunt Stacy have a job anymore?” Emma asked.
“Not at the moment.”
“Maybe that’s why she’s sad.”
Volta looked at Emma. “Aunt Stacy is sad?”
Emma nodded. “One time, while you were gone, I woke up and was thirsty, so I came downstairs.” Volta knew about Emma’s occasional bedtime thirsts, which usually meant she just needed an extra hug and to be tucked in again. “I saw her looking at those pictures and she was crying.”
“Oh. I don’t think it’s a new sad. I think she just misses her brother.”
Emma got a thoughtful look on her face as she rolled another meatball. “I don’t remember Daddy, so I don’t miss him, but I wish I did, and sometimes I wish I could have a daddy.”
“I know, sweetie.” Volta leaned across to drop a kiss on top of her head. “Sometimes I wish you could, too.”
* * *
IT RAINED MOST of the night, but Thursday morning dawned clear and warm. Yesterday had been the last day of school. Summer might not officially start until June 21, but when school let out, summer was here as far as Volta was concerned. She sat on the stands at the arena and watched Scott and Emma work together. He was patient, but at the same time hi
s coaching encouraged steady progress. Volta knew nothing about horses, but she could see that Emma’s riding was smoother and more confident that it had been a week ago.
Scott had mentioned that he could only get an hour of horse time, so she wasn’t surprised when he started winding down. A woman sat on the bench next to her. “She’s doing very well. Is that your daughter?”
“Yes,” Volta said, pleased to have another person verify what she’d observed.
“Your husband is a great coach.”
“Oh, he’s not my husband.”
“Boyfriend, then. Is he available to take on more students?”
Volta decided her relationship to Scott was irrelevant to the conversation. “He’s only in Alaska for work. He’ll be gone next week.”
“That’s a shame. I was hoping Cait would be back after finals, but I hear she isn’t returning for another few weeks. My older son has been working with his brother since she pulled out, but I was hoping to find a coach with more experience. I’m Linda Garcia, by the way.”
“Volta Morgan.”
“Volta?”
Volta made a face. “My dad’s an electrician. Anyway, nice to meet you, Linda. Which one is your son?”
Linda pointed toward two boys and a spotted horse entering the arena. “There, coming through the gate.” The boy riding the horse looked to be a year or two older than Emma. His teenage brother walked beside him.
Emma and Scott passed them on their way out. The older boy said something, and Scott stopped to talk with him. Meanwhile Emma smiled at the boy on horseback, and he smiled back. After a few minutes, Scott and Emma continued on to the barn.
Volta excused herself and made her way to the barn to watch Scott and Emma unsaddle and brush the horse. Once they’d finished, Emma fed the horse a carrot. “Bye, Butternut. See you soon.”
Once they’d left the stall, Emma tugged on Scott’s hand. “When is the next lesson?”
“Emma, Scott came to Alaska to do a job,” Volta told her. “The job is almost over, so he’ll have to leave in a few days. He can’t keep giving you lessons.”
“But the show is in two weeks,” Emma protested. “And I have to practice.” Volta hoped she didn’t descend into whining. It didn’t happen too often, but Emma was a kid and like all kids, she could be self-centered.
“I know,” she told her daughter, “but Scott has other commitments. It’s been really nice of him to spend his time teaching you, but he can’t—”
“I’ll be here at least until Friday,” Scott interrupted. “Let me check with the office and see how much horse time we can get between now and then.”
“But—” Volta started.
“Yesterday was the last day of school,” Emma said.
“Emma—”
“Let’s go see when Butternut is available,” Scott said, and he and Emma strode off toward the office, leaving Volta to tag along. She should be annoyed at their high-handed tactics, but she was just happy that Emma would get a little more time with him. Happy that she would get a little more time with him. Which in itself was a warning sign, but she would deal with that later.
* * *
SCOTT REMOVED AN extraneous comma and pressed Save. It was done. Putting his recommendations into writing had taken him less than a week despite all the time he’d spent with Emma.
This morning, he’d done a final read and tweaked a word or two, but overall he was pleased with the result. The different people he’d talked to had given him a slew of ideas on how to improve prenatal care, but he’d been able to distill most of their suggestions down into a workable plan.
He called Ransom Goodman, the chairman of the Travert Foundation board. Ransom had started as a bush pilot with a single airplane service which, by the time he’d retired, he’d built into a prosperous aviation company. He and his wife were also experienced volunteers, both at the board level and hands-on.
They’d met once to talk about expectations before Scott started the study, and he’d been impressed at Leo Travert’s choice to direct the foundation. Ransom was enthusiastic while remaining levelheaded, and most importantly, he was more interested in learning from the people in the field than in his own preconceived ideas.
“Scott, good to hear from you.” Ransom’s deep voice boomed over the phone. “How is it coming?”
“I’ve gathered information from a selection of health providers across the state, and I have some recommendations ready for you. I can send you the report, but I’d like to go over it with you in person if it’s convenient.”
“I would love to hear your recommendations. In fact, it would be best to get the entire board together so you can talk to us all at once. I’ll schedule something ASAP, tomorrow or the next day, with any luck. We’re eager to get started.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“In the meantime, send me the report, and I’ll get it out to the board members.”
“I’ll do that. Talk with you soon.” Scott ended the call and checked his calendar. Today was Thursday. He had a one-hour lesson scheduled with Emma at eleven, and another tomorrow at twelve thirty. She was a competitor, focused like a laser on the upcoming show.
Scott halfway wished her instructor had never mentioned the show to her. Emma was coming along, but she wasn’t quite ready, even for a beginner class. Could he have her ready in two more lessons?
Even if he could, if she couldn’t ride for a week before the show, it would be difficult for her to keep the skills honed. The stable required supervision when a child Emma’s age rode, and Volta wasn’t qualified. Emma’s original instructor hadn’t returned. All she had was him.
Scott looked at his watch and did the mental arithmetic. If Hans was at headquarters, it would be around quitting time. If he was still in India, he might have gone to bed. Scott decided to take the chance. He dialed his boss’s number.
“Scott. How goes it?”
“It goes well. Hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, no. I’m back in London. I hope you’re calling to tell me you finished earlier than expected. I could use you in Peru next week, if you’re available.”
“Sorry, no. I’ve done the paperwork, but I still need to meet with the board in the next day or two. Actually, I was calling about the possibility of taking some vacation time.”
“Vacation? Who told you about vacation?” Hans laughed. Scott’s tendency to bank his vacation was a long-running joke between them. “Oh, I see here you already took off three days to spend in Houston last month, which means you’ve only got five and a half weeks left this year. Plus, whatever you’ve banked over the years. When did you want to schedule this vacation?”
“As soon as I’ve met with the board of the Travert Foundation and turned over the report. I have some personal business here, and I’ll need until after May 28.”
“Personal business in Alaska? Would that be salmon fishing? White-water rafting? Sea kayaking?” Hans chuckled. “Never mind. it’s none of my business as long as you come back in one piece. Yes, I’ll approve it. I was going to send Keenen to Guatemala, but I’ll send her to Peru instead and backfill.”
Backfill? Scott almost said he’d forgo his vacation and head for Peru, but then he thought of Emma’s face when he’d agreed to more lessons. There were always people in need of medical care, always more need than they could possibly fill. Hans and his staff were wizards at getting the right people to the right places at the right time, and he wasn’t worried. It was okay for Scott to take a little time off.
“Thanks, Hans. I’ll send you an email once I’ve finished the project and check in next week about where you’ll want me to fly next.”
“Sounds good. Enjoy.”
Scott slipped the phone into his pocket. Twenty more minutes before he needed to leave to pick up Emma and Volta.
He laughed to himself. Hans thought h
e was taking time off for some high-adrenaline adventure, when the thing he was most looking forward to was simply hanging out with his two Alaska girls.
* * *
AFTER WATCHING EMMA’S LESSON, Volta met her and Scott at the barn. Emma had decided Volta needed a closer relationship with the horse. “Butternut loves carrots,” Emma told her mom. “If you feed her one, she’ll like you. Hold your hand flat, like this.”
Up close, the horse was even bigger than Volta had realized. That nervous streak inside her raised its overprotective head. If something went wrong with an animal this big— Volta stopped herself. It was okay. Emma wore her helmet, and according to Scott, followed all the safety rules. People had been riding on horseback for thousands of years. Emma would be fine.
As though reassuring her, the horse ever-so-gently lipped the carrot off her palm and chewed. Volta ran her hand down the horse’s face, marveling at the soft hair. Butternut rubbed against her hand. What a sweetheart.
Scott loosened the saddle and lifted it off the horse. Emma picked up a brush and stepped on a stool so that she could brush the horse’s back where the saddle had been. Butternut nodded her head, obviously enjoying the sensation.
Scott’s phone chimed. He stepped outside the stall and looked at the screen. “Excuse me. I need to get this.” He picked up. “Scott Willingham.”
He stayed close by where he could keep an eye on Emma while he talked. “That’s good news. What time tomorrow? One? Could you hang on, please, while I check my calendar?”
Tomorrow was Scott’s last lesson with Emma, scheduled for twelve thirty. After seeing the schedule when they reserved the time, Volta knew the chances of rescheduling the lesson for a different time were slim. But Scott wasn’t in Alaska to give riding lessons. He was here on assignment. Emma was focused on grooming the horse, not listening to Scott’s conversation. She didn’t realize he was about to pull the rug out from under her.
But Scott surprised her. “No, I’m sorry, but that won’t work for me,” he was saying. “I have another appointment that runs until one thirty. I could be there by two.” He paused. “I understand. Sure, evening is fine. Seven. No problem. Thank you very much. I’ll look forward to it.”
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