The Stormriders Page 12

  The answer was absurdly simple, abundantly clear.

  She turned abruptly to pick up her sweater. "I guess I have to trust you this time," she said. She pulled the sweater over her head. "Because I'm going with you." She tossed his shirt to him and opened the door.

  Red's hand hit the door and slammed it shut before it had cleared the frame by more than a couple of inches. His face was filled with incredulity and his voice was low as he demanded, "What did you say?"

  "You heard me. Somebody's got to hook up the system—"

  "Not you, lady!" He took a step away from the door, still looking at her as though he didn't know whether to laugh or rage. "Not you!"

  "Who then?" she returned angrily. "You?"

  "You've got a whole building full of men—"

  "Only two of whom can walk!"

  "Fine!" He was practically shouting now. "I'll take Gilly!"

  "And what's going to happen to all these sick people if he doesn't—"

  He wouldn't let her finish. He wouldn't even let her think it. "Lewis, then. He's—"

  "A mechanic! Damn it, Red, I'm the best engineer on this project and you know it. And even if I weren't, I wouldn't let anybody but me handle my system—"

  ''Of course!'' He slapped his forehead in mock dismay. "How could I forget? Nobody in the world knows how to do anything right but you!"

  Meg ground her teeth together to bite back hasty words, then managed tightly, "That's right." She turned sharply for the door.

  He caught her arm, hard. "Damn it, Meg, I'm not taking you up. This is not an afternoon sight-seeing tour, it's..."

  She looked at him coolly. "Dangerous?" She pulled her arm away deliberately. "I believe I mentioned that, Red."

  He couldn't stop her this time, and she strode out the door.

  Ten

  When Meg walked out into the common room, most people were up and moving around. Apparently it was later than she had supposed, and an entire night had passed in Red's arms. There were curious, knowing looks, mostly from Dancer and Gilly, and what might have annoyed her at another time now only struck her with a breathless stab of pain in her chest. Yes, she had spent the night making love with her husband; she didn't regret it, even though it felt like the biggest mistake of her life—and yet she would have done nothing differently, because now she knew it had been for the last time.

  She felt as though he had reached deep inside her, taken her soul and wrung it dry, then cast it aside when there was nothing left for him to take. She had given all of herself to him, she had opened herself up to him as she had never done before, and in the end... nothing had changed. In the end there was still that one barrier he refused to lower, that one part of himself he insisted upon keeping separate from her, and the hurt was sharper, more intense and encompassing than anything she had ever known before.

  And as always, the hurt turned to anger, because the only way she knew how to deal with any unpleasantness was aggressively, and because after everything they had shared Red still refused to understand. He was right about a lot of things, and in the past twenty-four hours he had made her face up to truths whose existence she had never even suspected before. Then why couldn't he understand this? It wasn't the flying; it wasn't his long absences from her or even his recklessness and her fears. It was the fact that he refused to share it with her. It was knowing that, no matter how close they were or how inseparably bonded in other ways, there would always be one part of his life—the most important part—in which she wasn't welcome. He didn't want her there.

  Dancer grinned at her. Her eyes were dark-circled, and an ugly bruise was beginning to spread beneath the bandage across her forehead, but her face had regained some of its color and she seemed to have her strength back. She said innocently, "Morning, Meg. Sleep well, did you?"

  Meg saw a chorus of smothered smiles go around the room, and she knew that a distraction from their own problems was probably good for them, but she simply couldn't take the teasing in good grace. She said curtly, "Has anybody checked outside?"

  "Some of the shutters are frozen shut," Reese volunteered. ''But we got a few open on the back side of the building. The worst of the drifts are on the south, and they're up to the damn roof."

  Meg nodded acknowledgment. At least they weren't trapped inside the building, which had been the worst of her fears. She went over to Gilly, who was bending over Joe.

  "How is he?" she asked.

  Gilly looked worried, exhausted with strain. "His fever's up. He's starting to cough. Pneumonia sets in fast in a case like this."

  He lowered his voice, and anxiety seemed to weigh down his face, making it look old. "Look, boss," he said quietly, "it's been a lot of years since I had to do anything like this. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing or not doing what I should be doing, and even if I am I'm out of my league once we get past broken bones. We've got to have some help."

  Meg patted his arm and forced a reassuring smile. "It's on the way."

  She wasn't sure whether the expression that crossed Gilly's face was relief or simple surprise from the friendly touch of her hand on his arm. Could it be that she had never touched Gilly before, even in an impersonal way, never complimented him on a job well done? She felt a pang of shocked regret for that and resolved it would not go uncorrected a moment longer.

  She squeezed his arm briefly and added, "We're not going to forget what you've done, Gilly. And you can expect a hell of a Christmas bonus in your stocking this year." She smiled. "That's a personal promise."

  She left Gilly speechless and turned to the room at large, raising her voice. "All right, listen up. We've been on the horn with Bixby and they've promised to send us a doctor." A round of clamorous excitement rose up and she held up her hands for silence. "The only catch is we've got to go pick him up. As soon as we're physically able we'll start transporting those of you who need to go to the Medical Center, but in the meantime we're going to need lots of help. Reese, can you handle the radio for a while?"

  Reese, sheltering his bandaged ribs with one arm, gave her a shaky grin as he got to his feet. "Ready and able, chief."

  "Good. I need all the weather information you can get, and see if you can raise some of the houses around here. See what they need and if anybody's able to get out and give us a hand. Lewis, I need you on the snowplow. Dancer—" Meg could feel Red's eyes boring into her back all through the speech, and she refused to turn around or even glance at him "—come with me."

  Red did not move from his position at the radio-room door as he watched her leave, his eyes dark and his stomach churning. Gilly came over to him.

  "So," he said quietly. "Do you think you can make it?"

  Red glanced at him briefly. "I don't know."

  The two men stepped aside as Reese entered the radio room. Red took his cap from his back pocket, pushed back his hair with a terse, angry gesture and put it on. "Bixby's running low on juice, and they need a generator. She—" he nodded in the direction Meg had gone "—has got some damn fool idea she's the only one who can hook it up."

  Gilly merely nodded. "She's right."

  Looking surprised and betrayed, Red swiveled his gaze to the other man. Gilly, in turn, looked confused. "So what's the problem?" he said. "It's her machine, and who else can we spare?"

  Red's jaw tightened. "She's got no business up there. And I don't need a woman along on a flight like this."

  Gilly grinned. "Superstitious?"

  Red glanced at him darkly. "Yeah."

  Gilly shook his head in a mixture of amusement and disgust. "You two are the craziest couple I ever saw. Even when you're doing something you both want to do you have to fight about it." He shrugged. "Maybe that's how come I managed to stay married so long— I don't have to live with her. But then again—" he gave Red an encouraging slap on the back'' —neither will you, for too much longer."

  He started to walk away, then hesitated, his expression confused and a little embarrassed. "But you know something? I can't believ
e I'm saying this, but the truth is I'm going to miss the old battle-ax, when it comes right down to it. Funny, isn't it, how some people grow on you."

  Red mumbled, "Yeah." He watched Gilly walk away, but he wasn't really thinking about him at all. The last thing he remembered hearing Gilly say was Neither will you, for too much longer.

  Was this how it was going to end between them, then? The same way it had started, with passion and fireworks, anger and confrontation? Hadn't they learned anything in the past two years?

  Maybe there were some people in this world who really lived best when they lived apart, and maybe he and Meg were two of them. He tried to convince himself of that, but damn it, he had been trying to convince himself of that for the past six months and in all that time apart from her, he hadn't been living at all. He had simply been waiting for Meg.

  Why couldn't she understand what this was doing to him? Did she think that he was refusing to take her along just to spite her? Just getting airborne would require all his skills as a pilot, and who knew what he was going to find once he got up there? Who knew what shape the Bixby runway would be in or whether he'd even be able to bring the plane down at all? Didn't she have any idea of the risk? Didn't she realize that he was doing this not because he wanted to push her away, but because he loved her and because she was the only thing in this world he couldn't afford to lose?

  But he was losing her. And it was all because, for the first time in his life, he knew how Meg must have felt every time he went up without her.

  How long were they going to keep doing this to each other?

  The answer was painfully, exhaustingly clear. Just until one of them, or both of them, got smart enough to stop it.

  It was cold in the hangar, despite the minimal heat supplied to keep the fuel from freezing, and Meg wore her heavy coat and gloves as she helped Gilly load the generator into the light plane's expanded cargo hold and secure it down. "That should do it." She sprang to the ground, rubbing her hands together against the chill, which seemed to come more from inside her than without. "We'll radio as soon as we land. Meanwhile, remember to monitor the control room, and if-"

  "I know what to do," Gilly reminded her gently.

  Meg fell silent. Of course he did. It was his job, after all. She smiled at him. "Okay, then, it's in your hands."

  She looked around. Everyone who possibly could had gathered in the hangar to see them off, their faces filled with excitement and hope. Meg doubted that even Lindbergh had received such an enthusiastic bon voyage when he set out to cross the Atlantic. Red was making his final walk-around check of the plane, and he had not spoken to her once since they'd left the radio room. The runway had been cleared of drifts and debris as much as possible, and Bixby reported they were ready to receive aircraft. Meg had not been able to make much sense of the sketchy weather information they'd gotten, but Red didn't appear concerned. Then again, he never did.

  "Dancer," Meg called, and walked over to the girl. "Remember—"

  "For heaven's sake, you're as bad as my mother," Dancer interrupted. "What do you want to do? Leave me a list?"

  Meg had to smile. She had spent more than an hour briefing Dancer and Maudie on what to do for those staying behind and how to prepare for any eventuality. She was leaving things in capable hands; there was nothing to do now but go.

  Dancer said, looking a little disturbed, "Say, I'll see you again, won't I?"

  Meg was confused, and Dancer added quickly, "No, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I just meant, well, you're not taking your suitcases or anything so I just figured you were planning on coming back."

  The truth was, the question had not even occurred to Meg. Bixby was one stop closer to Juneau, and there was no reason to come back here. The storm was over, and so much was different now—yet so much was not. She was, in fact, right back where she had started yesterday, and there was nothing to keep her here.

  She admitted honestly, "I don't know, Dancer. I'll radio when I get there and.. .1 guess I can send for my things if I need them."

  Dancer's lips tightened. "Be smart," she advised crisply. "Come back. Don't let him get away with this."

  Meg was honestly confused, as she so often was with Dancer. "Get away with what?"

  Dancer rolled her eyes in exasperation. "With winning! Lord, girl, do I have to tell you everything? If you let him chase you away now it'll be a blow against women everywhere. And that's what you're doing, you know—running away. The least you ought to do is stand and fight. Get it over with one way or another."

  Meg smiled tiredly, shaking her head. "I think it is over, Dancer."

  Dancer looked at her with a mixture of impatience and sympathy on her face. "Now I know you've got to come back. You have an awful lot to learn about men before you can be let loose on the world again, and I'm just the girl who can teach you.''

  Meg wanted to laugh, but she really didn't feel like it, and just then both women shivered at the blast of cold air that swept through the hangar as the doors creaked and rumbled open. Meg stepped back and saw for the first time in twenty-four hours the world outside.

  The air was foggy with ice crystals and bathed with a muted glow that seemed to swirl from pink to yellow—the refracted rays of a brave sun trying to break through the clouds. The runway was a narrow expanse of packed snow guarded on either side by sloping snowbanks that glittered in places where the sun struck them as though they were lined with diamonds. The world was blanketed in pristine white yet seemed at the same time to be alive with soft, sighing colors. Nowhere on earth did the light celebrate itself so joyously as it did in Alaska, and Meg spent a long time just looking at the view, memorizing it, storing it up like a precious treasure to be hoarded for bad times.

  "You know," she said softly, "I forget sometimes how beautiful it can be here."

  Dancer squeezed her hand. "You come back," she repeated.

  And then Red was standing beside her. Meg felt all her muscles tense for a fight, but he didn't say anything for a long moment. Then he said flatly, "You know I don't want you with me."

  He couldn't have wounded her more deeply if he had used a knife. For a moment Meg had one of those flashes that are commonly accredited to people in their last few desperate seconds of life—a collage of pictures, touches, whispers, glances, all of Red, and all she had left of him. Because overlaid there were the stark and blaring words I don't want you.

  Her voice was hoarse but her tone curt as she replied, "I know." She strode toward the plane.

  In three steps he caught up with her, grabbing her arm, and when she tried to jerk away he wouldn't let her.

  "You can't stop me," she said in a furious, shaking undertone. "After today you don't have to worry about me again, but right now, this last time, you can't stop me."

  ''Don't you think I know that?"

  "Then let me go! People are staring."

  His grip only increased. "Not until you listen to me." His eyes were dark and his face was tight, but there was something in his expression that she had never seen before—a kind of stubborn desperation, an open vulnerability that was not like the man she knew. That was what startled her enough to make her listen.

  “You were right, okay?" he said on a breath. "I wanted to keep you out of the cockpit because I was afraid you'd take over. Because I wanted to keep one part of me safe from you, in case I ever needed it again...in case I ever had to live without you. But it's no different from what you did to me, Meg. We were both planning escape routes from the minute we met, because it's a scary thing, losing yourself completely in another person, and because the thing that scared us most was losing each other."

  He dropped her arm. "I just wanted you to know that it didn't work. You were always with me. Just like a part of me was always on the ground with you. I don't want to lose you, Meg."

  It seemed all of the breath went out of Meg's lungs in a single low rush. The cold, the people watching, the foggy pastel day outside all faded into the background, and th
ere was nothing left but Red and the way he looked at her.. .but no promises had been made. No promises could be made, no solutions offered, no miracles wrought, not just like that on the spur of the moment with only a few words. It couldn't be as simple as that.

  She said, searching his eyes, "Red, I.. .1 don't want to lose you, either."

  And perhaps it was as simple as that. Because as they looked at each other there was nothing left to hide. No more secrets, no more fears, no more anger. And if that was not the solution, then it was at least a beginning.

  Red placed his hand lightly on her back. "Come on, then," he said huskily. "We've got a job to do.”

  The cheers and applause of well-wishers startled Meg out of her daze as she took her seat in the cockpit beside Red, but she recovered herself long enough to turn and wave. Red watched her with an odd little smile, and then he turned to his controls.

  She watched him transform from the man who was her husband into the pilot, his eyes scanning the instruments, his hands switching levers and pushing buttons. She could feel him withdraw into himself, almost slipping inside the skin of another man as all his concentration was focused on the job at hand. The change frightened her a little, but she discovered to her surprise that it also fascinated her, and excited her.

  The plane taxied slowly out onto the snow-packed runway, the skis of its landing gear gliding smoothly over the surface. "Hold on tight, babe," he murmured. "Eighty percent of all air accidents happen during landing or takeoff."

  The engine geared up with a whining roar, the snowbanks began to speed by, and Meg held on. It was all she could do to keep from squeezing her eyes shut.

  It was as though they were accelerating through an underground tunnel. There was nothing on either side but a blur of white, and she couldn't see the end of the runway until it was right in front of them, and then she had to smother a cry because it was much too short; it was impossibly short. And just when she knew they were going to plow off the runway and into the drifts ahead something struck them so hard that it knocked her back against her seat; Red swore out loud as the plane shuddered and seemed to lurch sideways, and Meg did close her eyes then, squeezing them tightly shut as she thought, This is it, this is—