Refuge Cove (New Americana 2)

The plane was flying low now, swooping down winding canyons and dipping between high cliffs. At last it glided down to rest like a dragonfly on the surface of a crystalline lake. Barely moving now, it taxied across the water and stopped alongside the narrow strip of shoreline. John cut the engine and lifted off his headset. “Stay here until I come around,” he said.

After securing the plane, he opened Emma’s door, took the bagged lunch, and steadied her as she climbed onto the float. The pressure of his hand sent a pleasant tingle up her arm. She was aware of the sun on his hair, the warmth of his skin, and the subtle aroma of freshly cut wood on his clothes.

“Careful now. It’s a jump to shore.” He took her hand, propelling her leap from the float to the water’s edge. His touch lingered on her palm after he let her go.

They sat on the rocks and opened the bag, which held two restaurant take-out boxes and a couple of sodas. John held out the boxes. “

One salmon and one halibut, both fresh caught. Take your pick,” he said.

Emma chose the salmon, so fresh that its taste was worlds away from anything she’d ever eaten in a restaurant. They ate their fish with fried potatoes and miniature tubs of coleslaw.

“This is so perfect,” she said, gazing up at the patch of blue sky above the cliffs. “Perfect day, perfect food, perfect setting . . . ” And an imperfect man who was just as he should be, she thought.

At a time like this, her troubles seemed far away. But she knew that those troubles would all be waiting, like cats at a mouse hole, when she returned to Ketchikan.

By the time they’d finished their lunch, black clouds were moving in from the west. Hurrying now, they bagged everything and climbed back into the Beaver. Moments later, after a heart-stopping takeoff, they were soaring over the cliff tops. The plane’s shadow passed over a cluster of mountain goats. Then, in the next moment, they were in the open sky, with the clouds rolling in behind them.

“Have you ever flown in a storm?” Emma asked.

“More times than I’d care to remember.” John’s voice came through her headphones. “But it’s not a good idea in a plane this size. The best way to deal with bad weather is to land somewhere safe and wait it out.”

A strong wind was blowing in ahead of the storm. It buffeted the wings of the sturdy vintage plane and battered against the fuselage.

Emma did her best to appear calm, but her heart was pounding in her ears. Every plane crash movie scene she’d ever watched replayed on a loop in her mind.

“What if we have to land?” she asked, trying not to sound nervous.

His laugh was edgy. “That isn’t going to happen, but we’d be fine. It’s not like we’d have to find a runway. We could land on the water and taxi to shore.”

The plane lurched as a wind gust rocked the wings. Emma suppressed the urge to grab John’s arm. He chuckled. “Relax, we’ll be fine,” he said. And they were.

By the time they sighted Refuge Cove, the rain had caught up with them. John brought the Beaver in low, its floats skimming the waves as they came to rest. Rain spattered the windows as they taxied past the wooded islands into the little harbor. Emma breathed a silent prayer of thanks. Refuge Cove was well named.

With the plane secured, they raced through the rain to the Jeep. Damp and breathless, they climbed inside. Raindrops glistened on John’s black hair. Emma’s shirt clung to her skin. She shivered, her teeth chattering.

“Here.” John reached behind the seat and pulled out a folded vinyl rain poncho. “It won’t be warm, but at least it should keep the chill off.”

Emma murmured her thanks and slipped the poncho over her head. The thin plastic was cold, but as she huddled inside, she felt her body begin to warm the small spaces around her.

John glanced at his watch. “It’s almost four. We’ve got a little time before you’re due back at the Gateway. Is there anything you want to do?”

“You’ve already given me enough of your time,” Emma said. “I left a few odds and ends in the cabin. After you take me back to get them, you can drive me into town.”

“Fine.” He started the engine and drove out of the parking lot, toward the main highway. “I have a couple of things to offer you. I hope you’ll take them.”

“If one of them is your toothbrush, you can count on it.”

“Funny girl.” He gave her a rare smile.

They said little on the way back to the cabin, both of them tired and lost in thought. Emma’s thoughts returned to Boone. She tried to imagine how he must look after the fire had burned him, and how full of rage he must be. Had he been back to the cabin since last night? Would John be safe there, even with her gone?

A few minutes later they came out of the trees and into the small clearing where John’s cabin stood. When John saw the dark shape on the front porch, he touched the brake, muttered a curse, then stepped on the gas and drove forward, honking the horn. The young black bear, about the size of a large dog, ambled off the porch and trotted off through the trees.

“He didn’t seem very scared,” Emma said. “And he’s kind of cute. Maybe you ought to keep him.”

“Not a good idea.” John climbed out of the Jeep and helped Emma to the ground. They raced through the rain to the porch. “By next year that youngster will be an adult. A full-grown bear can do a lot of damage. And if he loses his fear of people, he’s liable to hurt somebody or get himself shot.”

“So you’re doing him a favor, chasing him away like that?” Emma stood under the overhang on the porch, looking out at the rain.