The Way of Women (8 page)

“Soon.” Jenn gripped his hand. “Very soon.”

Frank and Jenn dove for the Blazer, both of them laughing as they ducked their heads against the squall that tried to wrest the car door from Frank’s grasp. Jenn threw herself up to the seat just as Sig leaped into the back, his tail brushing across her face. She sputtered, wiping both dog hair and raindrops off her chin, then honked the horn at Harry when she realized the fogged windshield prevented him from seeing her wave.

Frank honked again as he backed the truck and turned to head down the loopy road. Beautiful it was any time of year, but treacherous would be more likely today. Good thing he had four-wheel drive. They might need it.

His concern proved unfounded when they pulled into the Toutle parking lot, an hour and a half later. The river had nearly crested the road in a couple of places, but Highway 504 was holding its own. Both Frank and Jenn had retreated to their inner dungeons as they returned to civilization, neither of them speaking for the final twenty-five miles.

“Thanks for the ride.” Jenn picked up her pack, prepared to step out. Her teeth clenched on some of the choice words she’d been rehearsing to deliver. Instead she went with her heart. “If you ever want, I mean, need to talk about what happened, I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
Besides, I’m your friend from those eons ago
.

“You get some rest,” he ordered, eyes straight ahead. “And for heaven’s sake, eat.”

“Who do you think you are?” She bit off each word precisely. “My keeper?”

“By the looks of you, somebody’d better be.”

She let the slam of the door answer for her.
And see if I offer again. Ha!
her inner voice added. Sometimes only the wounded recognized each other.

B
ut, Daddy. I don’t want you to go.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Harvey Sedor swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I have no choice.” He hugged five-year-old Lissa to his chest. With callused fingers, the tip on the index finger lost to a saw blade on a past job, he brushed the limp strands of blond hair from her pale face. Her skin had become thin and transparent, like cellophane covering blue veins. The treatments had done that to her. But the poisons the doctors had dripped and injected into her innocent body weren’t doing their job. The cancer seemed to feed on them instead. And now they were down to experimental procedures, a bone marrow transplant followed by months of isolation. They also had no money and no more insurance.

When Harvey allowed himself to think of the mounting medical bills, despair settled on him like oily smoke from burning tires. That kind of smoke seeped into every pore, coated throat linings, and reddened eyes. The smell of it clung to one’s hands for days. Despair was like that.

He rocked her gently, knowing how easily she bruised. Her thin
arms clung to his neck as if she knew something he was unwilling, no, unable to tell her. He thought she had fallen asleep until she lifted her gaze to his.

The purple bruises under her eyes tore at him. “Daddy?”

“Yes.”

“Am I going to die?”

“No!” The denial was an explosion tearing out his heart.
Not if I have anything to say about it!
A taunt. A scream. A prayer. He flung his challenge at the heavens. “No,” he whispered against her hair.

“ ’Cause Suzie said dying’s not a bad thing except …”

“Except what?”

“I don’t want to leave you and Mommy.” She took his face in her soft hands and looked deep into his eyes. “That’s why I don’t want you to go away now.”

“But I’ve gone away on jobs before. Daddies have to work.”

“I know.” She settled back under his chin. She was quiet, absorbed in her thoughts.

He could feel her thinking, as if her mind reached into his and ferreted out the secret plans. He was being fanciful. No matter how close they had become in the hours of transport and treatment, mind reading was impossible. Wasn’t it?

“Suzie said that when you’re dead, you don’t hurt no more.”

God! Let her live! Take me! Let her live!
He’d pleaded those prayers before, for whatever good it did. God must be sitting on His hands, for He certainly wasn’t healing this precious child.

“Guess I’ll go to sleep now.” She hugged him again.

He wanted to crush her to him, hold her safe from the invisible marauder, but instead he laid her gently in her bed and kissed her frail
cheek. “Goodnight, baby. Sweet dreams. God loves you, and so do I.” He choked on the nightly ritual and shut out the light.

Harvey leaned against the archway into the living room, reliving each syllable of their talk. If he’d had any doubts as to his actions, they’d evaporated in the heat of his despair. The doctor had said “no treatment, no life.” This was their last chance.

He strode into the bedroom, hoisted his suitcase, and entered the kitchen to pick up his red-and-white cooler, packed and ready. Mellie tightened the Thermos lid as he put both arms around her from behind and kissed her on the neck.

“Harv, I don’t want you to go.” Her shoulder-length hair, slightly darker than her daughter’s, swung forward and hid the quiver in her determined chin.

“You sound like your daughter.”

“We need you here. I know you said you’d be back for the preops but …”

“It’s the only job I could find. And you know how good the Teamsters insurance plan is. We’ll get the help we need.” He tightened his arms, so she leaned back against him. “Mellie, I don’t know anything else to do.” The fridge hummed loud in the silence. He could feel her heart thumping against her narrow rib cage.
Wiry
was a description she hated, but it suited her. She’d manage. “Now, you know where all the papers are if anything should happen to me?”

She nodded.

“And I’ll call you with a phone number as soon as I’ve got a place to stay.” Her silence made him want to blurt out his carefully contrived plans. They’d never kept secrets from each other. He took a deep breath.
“I’ll only be about two hours away. Chehalis isn’t the end of the world, you know.” His attempt at being lighthearted failed for both of them.

“Those logging trucks go right up on the mountain, and Dixie Lee ordered everyone out of there. I don’t care about the insurance. We’ll find another way to—”

“No. We won’t.” His voice fell flat. A period. Final.

Mellie scrubbed the tears from her eyes, bit her lip until she could taste blood, and drew a ragged breath. “I’ll talk to you later then.”

Harvey nodded.

He waved to her as he climbed into the cab of their well-used pickup.
Goodbye, my love. I know this is our only way, so please forgive me once you understand
. He backed out of the driveway of their east Tacoma home, blinked his headlights at the slim figure standing in the door, and fought down the urge to cancel his plans. The freeway beckoned.

Once through the Tacoma interchanges, he allowed thoughts to surface of the insurance policy that he’d tucked away among the papers in his file box: $500,000 and double indemnity for an accidental death times two. There had always been accidents for logging trucks. One more wouldn’t even make a ripple in the lake of life. And his family would be taken care of. The house, the car, the credit cards, all paid for because of those small premiums. But the biggie. Lissa’s chance for life. His throat clenched with a sober awareness of his intention. A life for a life. A fair exchange.

He turned the radio up loud and forced himself to listen to the blaring rock-and-roll. “No turning back, no turning back.” He pulled off the freeway at State Highway 504 and, a mile later, turned into the truck yard. Harvey Sedor reported to the office. God had given him this job, but would He sanction the plan that Harv had built around such provision?

N
ever one to wait for help, J. E. Stockton took matters into her own capable hands when the weather cleared. According to the
Columbian
, southwest Washington’s largest daily newspaper, Pearson Airpark off Highway 14 had become the nerve center for small aircraft.

Monday morning she turned her pickup off Highway 14 at Industrial Way, followed the signs to the airfield, and parked behind the corrugated metal hangers. By the number of vehicles in the parking lot, she wasn’t the only one with flying in mind.

She grabbed her daypack by the shoulder straps, stuffed her down vest in the front pocket, and set off to locate a pilot.
I should have called for a reservation
, she thought as she strode around the corner.

Five planes were lined up at the west end of the concrete runway, ready for takeoff. Several others were warming up, prior to trundling down to join the line.

As Jenn approached the building marked
OFFICE
, she could see another line; this one of men waiting in front of the counter.

It seemed like a hundred conversations going on at the same time, all in cocktail party decibels as she opened the door. The cacophony and the cigarette smoke hit her simultaneously. Wrinkling her nose at the smell, Jenn stepped into line behind two gesticulating men.

“I don’t care what your studies indicate,” said the bearded one. “This mountain is going to blow. The only question is when? The quakes have progressed to harmonic tremors. That means magma is moving around under that peak.” He threw up his hands. “It’ll only get worse.”

“Sam, there’s been earthquake activity under these peaks before. Why, Baker’s been puffing for years. Even Rainier steams at times.” Dennis, the younger of the two, shoved his hands into his back pockets. “You can’t just shut the area down. People have a right to get into their property around Spirit Lake, and I sure wouldn’t want to be the one to tell those loggers to take a vacation. They’ve been known to turn a hair nasty when they can’t work.”

Jenn almost commented.
Could be my dad they’re discussing. And yes, he can get testy when someone else tries to tell him what to do. Likely where I got my own stubborn streak
.

Sam stuck his brushy jaw out farther. “You mark my words, if those loggers, the gawkers, and those homeowners don’t stay away, it’s gonna cost them more’n a few days’ wages. Those other mountains don’t have a crater in their summit bigger’n two football fields, now do they?”

The other man shook his head.

“And, Dennis, those mountains aren’t spitting ash and steam a couple of miles up in the air, are they?” He hammered his point home with a stiff forefinger on Dennis’s chest.

The clean-shaven, wiry young man shook his head. “But still …”

“No buts …”

“Excuse me, you two.” The harried-looking man behind the counter interrupted them. “Finish your argument in the air. Hank is ready for you in the twin-engine Beechcraft. He said to hustle. His schedule’s going nuts in short order.”

The two men waved their thanks as they left the room.

“Next!”

“I’d like to hire a pilot and aircraft.” Jenn took her place at the counter.

“Where to, ma’am? And what type?” He studied the paperwork on the counter.

“I want to get as close to that crater as I can, and some time around the rest of the peak. I’m a photographer and …”

“You and everyone else,” the agent muttered as he shook his head. He raised his eyes to hers. “It’ll be a couple of hours, if you get up today at all.”

Oh, please
. Jenn turned on her megawatt smile, the one that transformed her face into stunning. “Is there any chance of something sooner? I’ve been waiting for days for the …”

“As he said, you and everyone else,” responded a masculine voice from behind her. “But I’m going up, and who am I to turn down a fellow photographer?”

“Thank you so much.” Jenn turned as she spoke, her smile radiating even more voltage. “I’ll pay whatever …” She raked her gaze up and down the smiling man in front of her. Shutters closed off the candlepower of her eyes. “Oh. It’s you.”

“And hello to you, too. Thought for a minute the spring thaw had come.” Mitchell Ross extended his hand. He waited. “Guess I was wrong.”

Jenn stared at his hand, none of her warring emotions visible on her sober face. It was him, the intrusive hustler of the flight from New York.
But what are my choices? Him or a long wait. And the weather can change any minute
. She gripped his hand and shook it.