That's Our Baby!

by Pamela Browning

  “All right, Sam. You’re the pilot-in-command, and I know better than to buck orders.”

  “First we’re going to spread a tarpaulin in case anyone happens to fly over. It’ll draw attention to the downed plane,” Sam said. He brought a bright-orange tarp from the cockpit, and they spread it folded so that it pointed toward Silverthorne.

  “On the off chance that Search-and-Rescue would be flying over, this would be enough to alert them to the fact that they need to mount a search,” he told Kerry as he secured the corners of the tarp with several large rocks.

  “They’d already know that if you’d filed a flight plan,” she pointed out.

  “You don’t have to keep reminding me,” he said, but she only tightened her lips and turned away.

  The clouds grew more numerous and darker as they plowed their way back toward the cabin. They hardly spoke, although a couple of times Sam warned Kerry about a boulder beneath the snow or a slippery section of path. They were about a half mile from the cabin when they felt the first few spits of rain. Soon rain streamed down Sam’s face, stung his eyes and made it hard to see Kerry when he turned to check on her progress, but she was there, all right, trudging along like a trouper.

  “We’re going to have to hurry,” he urged. “The rain could get a lot worse.”

  “I’m walking as fast as I can,” she said, but her voice lacked oomph, if not conviction.

  Nevertheless, after that exchange he checked on her more frequently. Every time he glanced back, she appeared wetter and more forlorn; although she’d pulled the hood up, her bangs were soaked and stuck to her forehead. By the time they were a quarter of a mile from the cabin, he detected a thin white line around her lips, a sure sign of strain.

  Sam waited until she caught up with him and reached for her hand. “Come on,” he said encouragingly. “It’s only a little farther.”

  Kerry didn’t speak, which was a certain measure of how exhausted she must be. And she didn’t pull her hand away. He felt the coldness of her fingers right through her glove at first, but they warmed up as he propelled her along. As the lodge and the smaller cabin on this side of it came into view, the sky started to rain hail upon them, great big chunks of it rattling against the tree trunks, bouncing up among the rocks, burying themselves in the snow drifted around the cabin.

  “Good thing you left the key out. I’d hate to have to take time out to break in,” he shouted over the rising fury of the storm. He meant for this to be funny, but it fell flat.

  “Hurry,” she shouted back, slapping her arms against her chest to keep warm as he dug the key out from under its rock and fitted it into the lock.

  They both practically fell into the cabin. After she took off her boots and lined them up on the black rubber mat inside the vestibule, she steadied herself against the wall. When Sam offered to help her with her coat, she shook her head and started for the kitchen, unzipping it on the way. Sam removed his parka slowly, hearing the crackle of those papers he’d brought for her to sign and hoping she wouldn’t comment on it. Kerry didn’t seem to notice. She was putting on a pot of water to boil.

  “I’ll make tea,” she said. Her voice was heavy, tired.

  “That sounds great. And I’ll get a fire going. Amazing how warm it stayed in here, though, isn’t it?”

  “I—I—”

  He stared at her across the narrow room, taking in the way she was gripping the post between the kitchen area and the rest of the cabin.

  “Kerry? Are you okay?”

  But he’d barely said the words when a strange look came over her face and her hands slithered slowly down the post, and in slow motion she crumpled to the floor.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Exactly what Sam was mumbling when she regained consciousness, Kerry couldn’t quite figure out, since it was obscured by a furious buzzing in her ears. She thought she might have heard something about the foolishness of cheechakos.

  “Sam?” she said, but it came out so faintly that she had to repeat the word. “Sam?”

  “You gave me a scare, Kerry. You fainted.” His eyes were full of concern.

  She forced herself to sit up, bracing herself against the pillar. “I have never fainted in my life,” she said muzzily.

  “Well, you have now. Relax,” he said as she started to get up, “you’re not going anywhere.” He helped her out of her coat.

  Kerry prudently decided to be reasonable and settled back against the pillar. “How long was I out?”

  “A few minutes, that’s all. I thought you looked peaked all day. I think you’re getting the flu.”

  Not the flu, Kerry thought to herself. She had to admit she was worried about the way she felt. She had gone to a lot of trouble to get pregnant and she didn’t want to do anything that would cause her to miscarry. Even the thought brought tears to her eyes. She wanted this baby. Though it wasn’t technically Doug’s child that she carried in her womb, legally it was his baby. And this new little being was the only part of her life with him, the only human tie to him that she had left. She wanted this baby. She would have given her life to protect it.

  “I think I want to lie down on the couch,” she said, wishing her mouth didn’t feel as if it were full of cotton.

  “Okay, but don’t move. I’ll carry you,” Sam said, and he swooped her off the uneven plank floor as if she were a doll, depositing her on the couch and even settling the blanket over her feet.

  She barely had a chance to marvel—again—at this solicitous side of Sam before the whistle on the tea kettle sounded, startling both of them.

  “Don’t move,” Sam repeated sternly. He went to the stove and rattled around a bit while Kerry closed her eyes and took stock of herself. One broken finger. One stomach, always slightly queasy. One bruised hip, one bruised shoulder—and now she’d fainted.

  “I’ll bring you some tea,” Sam said, sparing her another watchful glance.

  “Okay. Tea’s in a canister on the shelf. Sugar, too. No lemon. Canned milk if you want it.” The words took such an effort that she rested her head on the couch back and caught her breath. She spread her hands protectively over her abdomen. She wanted the baby to know that she wouldn’t do anything to put it at risk. But walking to and from the plane today shouldn’t have been a risk, considering that she walked every day. Maybe it was the fact that she was so tired. So very tired. She thought she could sleep and sleep and sleep.

  In fact she dozed off for a moment before Sam brought the tea. “I found honey and put some in it. Instead of sugar,” he said. He was looking down at her with a mixture of puzzlement and anxiety, and she saw that he wanted her approval.

  She didn’t mind giving it. She was glad she wasn’t alone. By this time she didn’t feel like drinking anything, but she took a sip anyway. “It’s good,” she said.

  He seemed encouraged by this. “What I think you need is a little pick-me-up after being out in the cold,” he said. He wheeled and walked over to the long cabinet along one wall of the cabin and opened it. Kerry didn’t understand what he meant until he brought a bottle of brandy over and began to unscrew the top.

  “No!” Kerry exclaimed sharply.

  “It’ll bring the roses back to your cheeks, get your circulation going,” he explained, but Kerry knew that alcohol wouldn’t be good for the baby.

  “Please, Sam, I can’t. I mean, I don’t like brandy,” she said. She didn’t want to tell him about the baby. She didn’t want to feel the force of his disapproval when he found out that she had gone ahead with the artificial insemination even after Doug was dead. Sam would think she was nuts and would have no qualms about saying so.

  Slowly Sam withdrew the bottle, which had been poised over her cup, gave a light shrug and went to the kitchen, where he poured himself a hearty dose. He regarded her from across the room as he swirled the amber liquid around in a glass.

  “What’s the weather doing?” she asked, not only because she was curious, but because the weather held the key to whether t
hey’d get out of there or not.

  Sam went to the window. “It’s stopped hailing, but I saw some hailstones the size of chicken eggs. I’m glad we’re not out in this mess.” He sipped reflectively at the brandy, keeping his back to her.

  “Me too. It was smart of you to know when to leave the plane today, Sam.” She meant this to be a compliment, as sincere as she could make it.

  “I’ve had a lot of experience with Alaskan weather.” And a lot of experience period, he thought to himself. It was one of the things Doug used to tease him about, his penchant for beautiful women. And yet all that experience seemed unimportant when he was around this one woman. He couldn’t explain the phenomenon. He didn’t know why Kerry made him feel so protective, so confused and so hell-bent on pleasing her.

  At the same time he realized that she didn’t expect to be pleased. She expected to be treated as his equal. It was almost as if she wanted him to think of her as one of the boys, giving her no special consideration. Which was ridiculous. She had a broken finger, was clearly sick and she must weigh only a hundred pounds.

  When he ambled back over to where she lay, he saw that she had fallen asleep. Her hands were curled beneath her chin, her broken finger and the one next to it held separate from the others at an awkward angle. One of her braids had come out of its ribbon, and the damp hair spilled over her cheek. Her bangs had dried stiffly, and the spiky ends gave her a kind of a pixie look. She looked like a child, not a woman at all.

  He went to build up the fire, thinking about Doug and how he would feel if he knew that Sam and his wife were alone in the cabin. He thought Doug would be shocked if he knew that Sam was speculating about Kerry in a sexual way. But he also thought Doug would be grateful to know that Sam was taking care of her and would never hurt her, not in a million years.

  For some reason, he thought about the Dall rams they’d seen earlier in the day. He knew that the rams fought each other for dominance of the ewes. Sam wished it were that simple with Kerry. There was no one to fight for her favor but Kerry herself. And, of course, Doug’s ghost.

  IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL bright day at the beach in Santa Monica, and Doug raced across the wide sand ahead of Kerry into the water.

  “Can’t catch me!” he shouted over his shoulder as he struck out toward the horizon.

  “Wait!” Kerry called. She was a good swimmer, but not as good as Doug. They’d always joked that she couldn’t swim as fast as he did because her size-five feet were too small; she claimed that his big size elevens were more like flippers than feet.

  Today she swam hard, kicking with all her might, but it still wasn’t fast enough to catch her husband. Kerry could feel him in the water ahead of her, his feet stirring up bubbles that floated past her when she opened her eyes under water. And soon she didn’t feel like swimming anymore. She was tired, so tired. And Doug wouldn’t wait. He just kept on swimming.

  Soon she couldn’t even feel him ahead of her, and she lolled over on her back to stare up into the endless blue sky. She had left the beach with its scents of suntan lotion and hot sun on sand far behind, and she couldn’t even hear the clear high voices of children calling to each other as they tossed a Frisbee. All was calm and quiet, and she was floating in the middle of the ocean, suspended on the waves, the sun beating down on her in all its warmth. She felt happy, the way it had been those first years she and Doug were married.

  “Kerry?”

  She opened her eyes to see Doug treading water beside her. “I thought I’d better come back, see how you were doing,” he said.

  She stared at him. She hadn’t expected to find him there. She’d almost forgotten that he was ahead of her, swimming.

  For some reason her arms and legs wouldn’t move. She didn’t have to tread water to keep afloat. She was surrounded by blue sky, blue water and blue eyes. Doug’s eyes.

  “I’m okay,” she said, gazing deep into those eyes that she had loved so well.

  “That’s what I thought. I did some stupid things, Kerry.”

  She didn’t know what he meant at first, but it suddenly dawned on her that he must be referring to their ill-fated investment in the avocado farm.

  “It’s all right, Doug. I can earn more money. The lodge—”

  “The lodge will be a big success. Pay attention to what Sam says. If I’d listened to him before we invested in avocados, you’d be ahead right now. But I mean when I was flying. I got overconfident. I shouldn’t have flown into that mountain. I’m sorry, Kerry.”

  Her mouth seemed thick, and she couldn’t get the words out. “I—I—”

  “I love you, Kerry. Everything will be all right.”

  “The baby. Do you know about the baby?”

  “You did the right thing. Goodbye, Kerry.”

  She suddenly felt herself sinking, and she reached for Doug. Her hands touched his face, slid down to his chest, grappled for his arms but couldn’t find them. She wanted him to hold her up because she didn’t want to drown. But his eyes seemed to merge with the deep blue sea, and then she couldn’t see him at all….

  Salt water dripped down her face, and she heard Doug calling her name. She opened her eyes fully expecting to see him, to find herself warm and safe in his arms, but the blue eyes she saw weren’t Doug’s. They were Sam’s.

  “Kerry,” he said, shaking her slightly.

  She reached up and slid her arms around his neck. “Oh, Sam, Sam,” she said, not realizing that she was crying and that the salt water on her face was not the sea but tears.

  “You were dreaming,” he said. “I had to wake you up.” He looked so shaken that her heart went out to him. His arms were around her, too, holding her so close that she could hear his heartbeat.

  Her own heart was hammering, and she thought he must notice. Aghast at how needy she must seem to him, she pushed him away.

  “What happened?” Sam said. “I was rummaging in the bookcase looking for something to read when you cried out.”

  “I was dreaming,” she said helplessly. “Dreaming about Doug.”

  Sam still held both her hands firmly in his, but he let one go so he could dig in his pocket for a bandanna. He gently wiped her eyes with a corner of it. “Want to tell me about it?” His voice was gentle.

  As he stuffed the bandanna back in his pocket, Sam moved away slightly and eased himself down on the hassock. She wished he were still holding her in his arms. But then she didn’t, because she thought about Doug and how she had almost touched him; it seemed wrong to be wanting another man’s arms around her.

  Her voice was shaky. “Doug and I were swimming off Santa Monica, where he used to like to surf. Do you remember?”

  “I remember,” Sam said. It was one of the first places the two of them had gone together after mustering out of the Air Force on the same day all those years ago. They’d borrowed a couple of surfboards and had a great time that afternoon, surfing, lying on the beach and planning their future careers. They’d both grown up in Alaska, but Doug had a job with a commuter airline based in Seattle and dreamed of moving on to a larger airline. Sam was going back to Alaska and was determined to make something of his father’s flagging bush-flying business. That was the day that he and Doug had decided to take a vacation together every year so their friendship would never die.

  Kerry was talking, telling him about her dream. “Well, it was like Doug was really there. In the water, I mean. And he talked to me. It seemed so real, Sam.”

  She looked so devastated that all Sam could say was, “I’m sorry.”

  “I thought I was getting over it. Losing him, I mean.” She sounded heartbreakingly bewildered.

  Sam leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He stared into the flames in the fireplace.

  “You probably never will get over it, Kerry. It’s impossible to lose your husband and just forget that it happened.”

  She settled back against the pillow and pulled the blanket up higher. She looked delicate and fragile, though Sam knew she was neither. “I kno
w. They say time heals, but I wonder why it takes so long.”

  “I can’t begin to know what you feel about losing Doug. But he was my best friend. I—I miss him very much.”

  He thought she seemed surprised. “I guess I never realized that. I mean, I realized, but—” and she stopped talking. “I don’t know,” she said after a moment. “I probably didn’t think that your grief was anything like mine. Now I think they’re one and the same. Two different perspectives, but my grief isn’t any more real than yours. If that makes sense.” She stared mutely up at him, her eyes searching his face.

  “It makes sense, all right. One of the reasons I went to Vic’s place to be alone for a while was that I’d never quite come to terms with what life without Doug would be like.” He’d never told anyone this. He hadn’t wanted to.

  “And that’s one reason I’m here at Silverthorne. Not only to open it for tourists, but to be in a place that meant a lot to Doug and to see if I could feel him here.”

  “Do you?”

  “Sometimes. For instance, in the dream I had.”

  “I wish I could have a dream like that,” Sam said. He meant it. Somehow he would draw comfort from talking to Doug in a dream. He might even be able to reach a place of peace if he could only talk to Doug one last time.

  He stood abruptly and went into the kitchen. “I think I’ll make chowder out of the rest of that trout,” he said.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Let’s hope you will be. We both need to eat properly, keep our strength up.” He tried to make his voice jovial, but in his opinion he failed.

  While Kerry rested, he fried a couple of slices of salt pork with onions and put the mixture in a pot with the trout and the one potato he’d found in the cache under the kitchen floor. He added a generous dose of evaporated milk, and when the chowder was done he opened a can of stewed tomatoes to go with it. From time to time he glanced over at Kerry, who stared at the rafters and didn’t speak.