Kate pulled on her coat. It was nearly time to leave for Albert and Helen’s place. Her eyes wandered to the end table where she’d left Richard’s letter. She dropped onto the sofa, picked up the envelope, and opened it. She skimmed over his greeting—“My dearest Kate.” She wished he wouldn’t say that. She wasn’t his Kate anymore. The words blurred and she blinked back tears, remembering how things had once been between them—a lifetime ago.
“I’ve been waiting, hoping and praying you’d come home. I’ve written and heard nothing back from you. I don’t think a letter is asking too much.”
Guilt clenched Kate’s insides. She’d meant to write. She’d even started a letter, more than once, but didn’t know how to tell him what she felt. She tried to focus on the words.
“Do you think you’ll be coming home soon? I found a little place down by the river. It would be perfect for us. There’s good fishing along that stretch.”
Kate crumpled up the letter, tossed it in the wastebasket, and strode to her desk. She grabbed a sheet of paper, dipped a pen in ink, and fought for the right words. It was over. She had to tell him.
“Dear Richard.” The salutation glared back at her. She dipped her pen into the ink, then wrote, “I’m sorry for not writing sooner. I meant to.”
She stopped. The letter had to be honest and firm but not cruel.
Kate continued, “I’ll never forget what we had.” She swiped at a tear. “But everything’s different now. I have a new life. I’m happy and doing what I’ve always dreamed of.” She gripped the pen more tightly. “I can’t give it up, not even for you, not for anyone.”
Kate studied her words. Did she mean it—was flying more important than everything else? She couldn’t imagine life without it.
“I tried to explain before I left, but I guess I didn’t do a very good job of it. I’m sorry things have turned out as they have, but we’re not meant to be together. You will always be a sweet memory, but it’s time to go on with your life as I have with mine.” Her pen hovered over the paper. “I know there is someone for you who will be the kind of wife you need. I will always cherish what we had and I pray you’ll find peace and love.”
She reread the letter and signed it, “Sincerely, Kate.”
Kate gently blew on the paper to dry the ink, slipped it into an envelope, and put a stamp on it. Before she left the apartment, she fished Richard’s crumpled letter out of the wastebasket, pressed out some of the wrinkles, and set it in the desk drawer.
On her way out of the store, she dropped the envelope in the mail slot, then pulled on her gloves and headed for the car. It was New Year’s Eve—a time for new beginnings. She didn’t want to think about Richard anymore.
When Kate pulled up in front of Albert and Helen’s home, she wondered why there were no other cars out front. She’d expected a group of partiers. Shutting off the engine, she stepped into the cold and gazed at a clear night sky with patches of sparkling frozen fog. She walked up a path cut through the snow, ice crunching beneath her boots. Although Albert had spread gravel on the walkway, there were still slick spots so she put her feet down with care. She stepped onto a small porch where a Christmas wreath decorated with red ribbon and pine cones still hung at eye level.
Before she could knock, Albert swung open the door. “Evening, Kate. Come on in.”
She walked indoors and looked around the front room. There were no other guests. “Am I early?”
Closing the door, Albert glanced at the clock. “No. Didn’t Helen say eight?”
“Well then, I guess everyone else is late.”
“The only one who’ll be here besides you is Mike.” He helped her with her coat. “It’ll just be the four of us. Figure the other pilots didn’t want to hang out with a couple of old codgers like me and Helen on New Year’s Eve.”
“Speak for yourself,” Helen called from the back of the house.
Albert glanced toward the kitchen, then hung Kate’s heavy parka in a closet adjacent to the entryway. Resting a hand on her back, he ushered her into a small living room.
Helen kept a tidy home. Colorful afghans hugged overstuffed furniture and a fire crackled in a Franklin stove. The occasional table and piano had become collection centers for family photos. Most of the pictures were of their two children, taken at varying ages. They both lived outside Alaska now, a heartache for Helen.
“My sweetheart’s been baking all day. I almost think she likes New Year’s more than Christmas.” Albert grinned.
“Is there something I can do to help?”
“I think she’s got things under control, but I’m sure she’d enjoy your company. Go on in.”
Kate walked to the back of the house where Helen was taking a pan out of the oven. “What is that wonderful smell?”
“Apple strudel.” Helen set the steaming dessert in the warming closet of her Windsor range. Closing the door and still wearing her mitts, she turned and hugged Kate. “So good you could come.” She held her at arm’s length. “This is going to be fun.”
“Albert said it’s just Mike and me.”
“I’m glad. We’ll have a chance to get to know Mike better. He only comes into the store once in a while, mostly to see you, I think.” Helen tugged off her cooking mitts and set them on the counter beside the stove. “He seems like such a nice young man. I’d guess you two have a lot in common.”
Kate lifted her brows. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re matchmaking.”
Helen chuckled. “Oh no. I’ll leave that up to God.” She smiled. “But you did attend Christmas services with him, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but that’s all. He got an emergency call and had to leave.” Kate had been disappointed but wasn’t about to let on. “We’re friends—nothing more. There’s no room in my life for romance, anyway. I have my career to think about.”
“There’s always room for romance.” Helen’s eyes sparkled with amusement.
“Mike and I have never even had a date.” Not a real one anyway.
Helen offered a knowing smile. “If he has any brains, that’ll change soon. Would you like some coffee?”
“That sounds good.”
Helen filled two cups with dark brew and handed one to Kate. “There’s cream and sugar.”
“That would only ruin it.” Kate took a sip. “You make the best coffee.”
Helen poured cream into her cup, then added a spoonful of sugar. “To tell you the truth, it’s a little strong for me. But that’s the way Albert likes it.” She sat at the kitchen table.
Kate settled into a chair across from her and took another drink of coffee. “I like it strong. But not like Sidney’s. His is too much like mud.”
“It is dreadful.” Helen chuckled, then set her cup on the table in front of her, her expression turning serious. “You know, Kate, one day a career won’t be enough. There’s more to life than flying.”
“I know that. But I’ve got to work hard while I can. The rest will come . . . later.”
“And what if the right man comes along now?” Helen picked up a dish of chocolate drop cookies sitting on the table. “Cookie?”
Kate took one, wondering about Helen’s statement. What would she do if she fell in love? Mike was a good man. She liked him, but could she love him?
“I have peanut butter and oatmeal raisin if you’d like.”
“Thanks, but I better stick to one at a time.” Kate took a bite of her cookie. “Even if the ‘right’ man came along, I’m not ready to see anyone, not like that. It hasn’t been that long since I broke my engagement.”
“Of course, that’s right. I’m sorry. I’m being thoughtless.”
“No. It’s just that I got a letter from Richard. Sometimes it feels like he’s still with me. He doesn’t want to let go.”
“Really? How so?”
“He keeps telling me that we belong together, that he loves me. And in his most recent letter, he told me about a house he’d found for us.” Kate shook her head. “It’s not like him. He almost sounds a little cracked, like he’s not living in the real world. I thought he understood about my flying. I wrote back explaining that everything is over between us. I hope he gets it this time. It was a difficult letter to write.”
“It’s hard to let go of someone you love.” Helen smiled softly. “I remember a young man I dated, back before I met Albert. When he ended our relationship, I thought my heart would break. I mooned over him for weeks and weeks. I even wrote him love letters that I never sent. I remember a few times going to the café where we used to meet, hoping he’d come in and realize how much he missed me.”
Helen sipped her coffee. “It was so silly, but at the time I remember it felt as if my life had come to an end.”
“So, what do you think I should do?”
“Just allow time, dear. He’ll get over you eventually.”
“I’m not even sure I ever loved him. Sometimes I think I told him I’d marry him because it was expected. Our families had been friends for years and we’d dated all through high school. Marriage seemed the reasonable next step.”
“Usually being reasonable is good, but when it comes to love . . . well, there’s just nothing reasonable about it.” Helen dipped a cookie into her coffee and took a bite. The room turned quiet, except for the ticking of a porcelain plate clock that hung on the wall. Finally, Helen rested her arms on the table and leaned toward Kate. “I’m worried about you.”
“Me? Why?”
“You’re such a lovely woman, but you’re single-minded— fly, fly, fly. That’s all you think about.”
“That’s not true.”
“No?” Helen leaned back, her eyes holding Kate’s.
“I have other interests.”
Helen didn’t respond.
Kate rummaged through her mind to come up with something she enjoyed besides flying. “I . . . I like to read.” It was true, but these days Kate rarely had time for books. “And I get to meet lots of interesting people in the bush. Once the weather warms up, I’ll have someone show me the good fishing spots. I love to fish.”
Helen smiled kindly. “It’s all right, dear. I understand passions. I have my own. Just make sure to include time for friends and diversions other than flying, at least once in a while.”
“You don’t need to worry. I’m not bored, not at all. There’s so much to learn about being a good pilot. Here everything’s new and challenging.” She propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “I still can hardly believe my job is doing what I love most.”
“Why did you choose Alaska? It’s so far from home. Your family must miss you.”
“They do. But Mom and Dad plan to make a trip up next summer. I can’t wait to show them Alaska.”
“But . . . why Alaska, dear?”
“I wanted a challenge, a place where I could test myself.”
“You’ve mentioned that before. Why do you feel a need to . . . prove yourself? You’re a fine pilot. Everyone knows that.”
Kate had never told Helen about Alison and what had happened at Rimrock Lake—that Alison was dead because of her—that if she’d been a better pilot, her dearest friend would still be alive. “I don’t see anything wrong with challenging myself.”
“No. Of course not. But you seem compelled to push too hard.”
“I guess it’s just the perfectionist in me,” Kate quipped, trying to make light of the subject. She picked up her cup and took a drink. She knew what pushed her, why she took risks. There was no shutting out the voices in her head that accused her of being a failure, a lark-about, a murderer. Painful memories dragged her back to Rimrock Lake. Why couldn’t she forget? It was part of the past and yet it still tormented her.
She had so many questions. If anyone could answer them, it was Helen. Kate set down her cup, her fingertips barely touching the smooth china. Her voice quiet, she asked, “Do you know why God allows good people to die?”
“We all die sometime, the good and the bad.”
“But why would he take a young person, someone who deserves to live?”
“We can’t know God’s ways, dear. But he has his reasons. We just have to trust him.” Helen’s eyes turned more gentle. “What’s troubling you?”
“I was just wondering.”
Helen waited, as if she knew Kate needed to talk.
Kate sat back in her chair, draped one leg over the other, and folded her arms across her chest. She might as well tell her. Looking straight at Helen, she blurted, “A friend of mine died, and it was my fault.”
Helen’s expression looked grieved. “I’m so sorry.” She reached across the table and rested a hand on Kate’s arm. “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”
“It was.” Kate closed her eyes, the terrible day rushing back at her. “I was nineteen. Alison was my best friend.”
While Kate told her story, Helen kept ahold of her hands, gently squeezing from time to time. Kate told Helen everything, making no effort to hold back her tears. Sometimes it seemed there was no end to them.
Helen took a hankie out of the top drawer of a buffet and handed it to Kate. “It was an accident, dear. We can’t be in control of everything.”
“If I hadn’t convinced her to go and if I’d turned back when I saw the fog . . .”
“You didn’t know.”
Kate wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “I knew better.”
“You were just a girl.” Helen moved to Kate and put an arm around her. “It’s an awfully heavy burden you’re carrying. Don’t you think God could have saved your friend if that had been his will?”
“I suppose.” Kate dabbed at her eyes. “Why do you think he didn’t? Alison loved God. She was the kindest person I’ve ever known.”
“I don’t know why God does what he does. But I do know all things work out just the way he has planned. All we see of this world is what’s right in front of us. But there’s so much more, and God sees it all. Alison’s life didn’t end that day in the lake. She’s still living, only in a place we can’t see. She’s with God.” Helen took Kate’s face in her hands and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I’m certain she’s not angry with you.”
Kate took in a shaky breath, envisioning Alison in heaven. It made her feel better.
“Is that why you left Washington, why you refused Richard?”
A knock sounded at the door, and Albert’s greeting to Mike carried in from the front room.
Kate quickly wiped away her tears.
“Something sure smells good,” Mike said as he walked into the kitchen, rubbing his hands together. “Thanks for the invite, Albert. Figure the best food in town is here.”
With a light touch to Kate’s hand, Helen stood and moved to Mike, giving him a hug. “We’re so glad you could join us.”
Kate glanced at him. “Hi.”
“Hey, Kate.” He looked more closely. “You all right?”
“I’m fine.” She glanced away and dabbed at her nose with the handkerchief.
Helen rested a hand on her shoulder. “She’s just a bit emotional—girl talk. You know how it can be.”
Mike nodded, but obviously didn’t understand.
Albert peered into the oven warmer. The smell of apples and cinnamon wafted into the room. He looked at Helen. “How about some strudel and a game of Parcheesi?”
“Sounds good to me. You men set up the game while Kate and I get the dessert and coffee.”
“I’ll pour the coffee,” Kate offered, her mind still on Helen’s words. Was it true—had it just been a freak accident? There were those who didn’t think so, people who hated her—who would never forgive her.
