Touching the Clouds (28 page)

“At least I can help you carry these out to the plane.” He picked up two mailbags.

Kate slung another one over her shoulder and headed for the door. “See you later, Sidney,” she called stepping outside.

Mike closed the door behind them.

Angel galloped ahead, beating Kate and Mike to the dock where her plane was moored. She was still a little nervous about water landings, but with each run she gained confidence.

Mike opened the door and Angel leaped in. He set the mailbags inside, then took the one Kate carried and placed it with the others. He moved to the front of the plane and grabbed the flywheel lever. As he made his way to the back toward the door, he and Kate met. He placed a hand on her arm, pulling her closer.

Kate could smell his spicy aftershave. When he kissed her, she made sure it was brief. Apprehension niggled at her thoughts. She liked Mike, but he was moving too quickly.

“Figured I’d crank her for you,” he said, holding up the lever. His blue eyes held a mix of mischief and tenderness.

Kate squeezed past him. “I better get moving.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah. Later.” Still feeling the touch of his lips, Kate made her way to the front of the plane.

Thoughts of Mike popped into Kate’s mind throughout the day. She couldn’t decide how she felt about him. One moment she thought he could be the one for her and the next he felt more like a pal. And there was Paul. She’d felt something between them, but just what, she didn’t know. In any case, he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in a relationship.

Most people she met along her route were busy with their gardens or hauling in the early run of salmon. She tried to imagine Mike and herself sharing that kind of life but couldn’t see either of them being content living mundane lives. She replaced Mike’s image with Paul’s. He didn’t seem right either, maybe because he acted as if there was no room for anyone in his life.

There were no answers right now, so Kate tried to focus on work.

At one stop, she had a good view of the Ninilchik River, which was inundated with spawning salmon. There were so many, it looked as if someone could just reach in and grab one.

With fishing season under way, drying racks were full, and the tantalizing aroma of smoldering wood chips wafted from smokehouses. Gulls flocked riverbanks, feeding on leftovers from fishermen and bears. From the safety of her plane, Kate thought the bears were fascinating and beautiful.

When she put down on Bear Creek, she expected to see the Warrens and Paul on the bar. It was empty. She motored to Paul’s dock and waited, but no one showed up. She had mail for Paul so decided to leave it at his place. With Angel at her side, she followed the trail up from the creek that led to his cabin. Willow branches caught at her hair and clothing. The air was heavy with the scent of damp vegetation.

Paul’s dogs barked, greeting Kate before she could see them. Angel charged up the trail ahead of her. When Kate reached the cabin, the dogs were busy getting reacquainted and barely noticed her.

She walked up the steps to the back porch and knocked on the door. Jasper flew from a tree near the house and settled on his perch on the porch. He cawed, sounding as if he were trying to shoo away an intruder. Kate tried to touch him, but he pecked at her hand and then hopped to a woodpile.

“Fine, be that way,” she teased and turned back to the door and knocked again. Still no answer.

Wondering if Paul might be working in the garden, Kate walked around to the side of the house. His large plot was crowded with young vegetables, but Paul wasn’t there. Kate strolled along a row of carrots, stopped, and pulled one. Wiping away dirt, she took a bite of the crisp young tuber. She took another bite and thought about how one day she’d have her own garden. Would she share it with Mike? Glancing at Paul’s house, the idea gave her a sense of discontent. She shrugged off the feeling.

After having a look around, Kate returned to the cabin, figuring she’d leave the mail inside. She knocked once more just to make sure he wasn’t there, and when he didn’t come to the door, she stepped inside and set the envelope on the table.

The room was in disarray, which was unusual. Paul usually kept the house tidy and scrubbed. A cup half filled with coffee sat on the table and dishes were piled in the sink. Something was wrong.

A raspy cough carried from the back room. “Paul?” Kate hurried to the bedroom door. “Paul?” Another cough answered her.

She stepped into the room. He lay on the bed, wearing only the bottom half of his long johns. He quickly pulled a sheet up over himself. He looked fevered and pallid.

Kate crossed to him. “Are you all right?”

“I will be,” he croaked. “In a few days.”

“You sound and look awful.”

“I feel awful.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Septic sore throat,” he whispered, pushing up on one elbow and picking up a cup of water from the bedstead. He grimaced as he sipped. “Feels like swallowing glass.” He set the water back on the table.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No. I’ll be fine,” he rasped.

“I can’t leave you here alone. Are the Warrens home?”

He shrugged.

“You need help. I can stay.”

“No. You’ll end up sick too.”

“I’m healthy as a horse. I’ll see if Patrick can send word to Sidney.”
And to Mike,
she thought, sorry she’d miss their date.

Kate looked around the room and wrinkled her nose. “This place is a mess.” She walked to the door. “After I get you something to eat and drink, I’ll tidy things up.”

“Can’t eat.”

“If you can swallow water, you can get down some broth. I’ll make you some.” She headed for the door, picking up dirty clothes as she went.

Paul tried to sit up, but sank back into his pillows. “I’m warning you, this is contagious.”

“I’ll be fine.” She dropped the clothes into a basket.

He stared at her with an amused expression. “Stubborn. You’re pure stubborn.”

“I’ve been told that.” She picked up the basket. “What else can I do?”

“I need some aspirin. It’s on the bureau.”

Kate picked up the bottle of aspirin. A photo caught her attention. It was a younger version of Paul with a man and woman she guessed were his parents. Three young men and three women were also in the photo. “Is this your family?” She picked up the photograph.

Paul’s expression closed. He nodded.

Kate returned it to the bureau, wondering why it troubled him.

“Can you bring me a cloth and a bowl of cool water?” he whispered.

“Sure.” Kate took his glass, filled it with water, and returned to his bedside. “How many tablets do you need?”

“Four.”

She looked at the label. “It says one or two.”

“Four,” he croaked.

“You’re sure?”

He nodded.

Kate unscrewed the lid and dumped the pills into her palm, then gave them to him along with the water. She watched while he swallowed one at a time, closing his eyes and grimacing each time. “Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?”

“Nothing they can do.” He handed her the glass and sank back on his pillows. “Fever’s high. Can you get the pan of water?”

“Sure.” Kate studied him. His eyes were only partially open and his breathing seemed rapid and shallow. Her mind flashed to the man who had died on her plane and panic coursed through her.
I don’t know what to do. What if Paul
dies?

Wearing a pretense of confidence, she filled a bowl with water and found a washcloth, which she dropped into the basin. She returned to his bedside, setting the bowl on the bedstead.

“I’ll take care of this.”

“You’re too sick. I can do it.”

Paul didn’t argue. He pushed himself upright and pulled the sheet down to his waist.

Kate tried to ignore his well-muscled chest and arms.

He rolled onto his stomach. “Wipe my arms and back with the moistened towel. It’ll cool my skin.”

Acting as nonchalant as she could manage, Kate dipped the towel in the water, wrung it out, and then sponged his heated skin. “You’re awfully hot. You should see a doctor.”

“There aren’t any.”

When the water turned lukewarm, Kate replaced it with fresh. Paul rolled onto his back, exposing his broad chest and handsome face. Kate tried to focus on his well-being and not his looks. Still, she was glad his eyes were closed so she could study his face.

She gently ran the cloth across his broad brow, allowing her index finger to smooth furrowed skin. She brought the cloth down along his cheekbone and across his strong jaw, then down to his neck. He looked like he was sleeping. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Her skin prickled at the unexpected thought.

After she’d cooled his face, she moved to his chest, then lifted one arm and bathed it and did the same with the other. She didn’t wash his abdomen. That was too intimate. When she finished, she set the bowl and cloth on the bedstead and pulled up the bed covers.

“Leave them off.”

“But you’ll get chilled.”

“It’s better for the fever.”

“For a homesteader, you know an awful lot about doctoring.”

He didn’t respond.

Kate returned to the kitchen and set the bowl and cloth in the sink, then filled a pan with water and set it on the stove. She found canned meat in the shed and added it to the simmering water. In the garden, she pulled fresh carrots and green onions and added them to the meat and broth.

Paul slept while Kate cleaned the cabin and washed his clothing. She heated a kettle of water and dumped it into a tub. Using a washboard and a bar of soap, she scrubbed Paul’s shirts. Soon her arms and back ached, and she was more thankful than ever for Helen’s Windsor washing machine.

Once she had his clothes clean, she hung them on a line strung between the shop and a birch tree. She’d never been the domestic type, but doing all this for Paul felt good.

When she checked on him, he was still asleep, so she walked to the Warrens’ place. She needed to let Sydney know she wouldn’t be back today. Angel loped ahead of her. She was less familiar with Patrick’s dogs, so when Kate caught up, the dogs were going through the ritual of raised hackles and sniffing.

Patrick met her on the porch. “I heard the plane a while ago. Figured you’d be long gone by now.”

“Paul’s sick so I stayed.”

“Bad sick?”

“Yeah. He’ll probably be all right, but he needs someone to help him.”

“What’s he got?”

“A throat infection with a fever and a cough. I’ll stay the rest of the day and tonight, but I’ve got to get back to work. I was wondering if Sassa would mind helping out tomorrow.”

“She and the kids are at her sister’s. Won’t be back for two more days.” He scratched his head. “I can come over.”

Kate knew Patrick meant well, but she wasn’t sure she trusted a man to properly care for Paul. “That’s all right. I can stay until she returns.”

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Could you radio Sidney to let him know I’m safe and that I’ll be here a couple of days?”

“Sure thing. Anything else?”

“I was supposed to meet Mike Conlin. Could you make sure Sidney tells him where I am?”

Patrick raised an eyebrow. “You have a date tonight?”

“No. Nothing like that,” Kate lied, not certain why she felt the need to cover up.

She headed back to the cabin. Paul was awake and his fever was up. She gave him more aspirin and another sponge bath.

That night while he spooned small amounts of broth into his mouth, Kate sat on the chair beside his bed. “How come you know what to do for fevers and all that?”

He swallowed a spoonful of broth and winced, then whispered, “Had a mother who knew everything. And, I’ve had this before.”

It took a while, but Paul managed to get down most of the broth. He looked at her and swallowed with a grimace, then asked, “Can you feed the dogs for me?”

“Sure.”

“There’s dried fish in the cache.” He closed his eyes.

Kate left him to sleep, made sure the dogs were fed, and checked on him periodically to make sure he was all right.

Exhausted, she took a quilt from a shelf and lay on the small sofa in the front room. Angel curled up on the floor beside her. Resting a hand on her companion’s head, she quickly fell asleep. She wondered how Mike felt about her missing their date. It would have been fun, but she didn’t mind lying here on Paul’s sofa.

The following morning, Paul showed no signs of improvement. Kate gave him broth and made sure he drank water and took his aspirin. She cooled his body with another sponge bath. While he slept, she went to work pulling weeds in the garden. That afternoon, he managed to eat a more substantial soup and then slept some more.

Kate woke the next morning to sunlight and warbling birds. She let Angel out, made a trip to the outhouse, and then checked on Paul. He was awake. She rested a hand on his brow. “Fever’s down. How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“Do you need anything?”

“I need to get out of this bed.” He sat up and dropped his feet to the floor. He remained like that for a few moments, tottering slightly. “I’d like to change into clean clothes.”

“Oh, sure.” Kate grabbed clean underclothes, a shirt, and pants and set them on the bed beside him. Then she got his slippers and set them on the floor beside the bed.

Kate hovered, wondering just how to help the big man.

“I can dress myself,” he said gruffly.

“Okay. I’ll be right out here.” Kate hurried from the room and stood just outside the door.

Several minutes later, Paul called weakly, “I could use a hand.”

When Kate stepped into the room, Paul had managed to dress himself, but he sat on the edge of the bed, looking weak. He glanced at her, humiliation on his face. He pushed to his feet but was so unsteady Kate rushed to his side and offered him a shoulder to lean on. They shuffled to the front of the house. He stood at the door, resting against the frame.

“You all right?”

“Just a little dizzy.”

“Maybe you should sit down?”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

Kate watched him, staying close just in case she was needed.