The Single Dad's Guarded Heart. Roz Denny Fox
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anti-inflammatory meds and still fly. But it’s my problem, Twin, not yours. I’ve got my fingers crossed that Manley will pass that student. My routes are straight-up flying. As a rule,” he added.
“I’ve seen some of those rinky-dink landing strips,” she said drily, dumping corn into boiling water. “Do you feel like setting the table?” she asked, changing the subject.
He climbed slowly to his feet. Marlee saw what it cost him to try to do that with panache. She said nothing else until they were all seated at the table, and Jo Beth had offered a simple prayer. Pappy alone dug into his meal.
“Out of curiosity, Mick, what timetable does the doctor give you for getting back in the saddle after surgery?”
“Eight to ten weeks. But I heal fast. I figure I can take the controls again later in the winter. Between more lodges, and more outpost rangers stocking up before snow socks ‘em in, I get busy. After November, calls are sporadic until spring thaw, except for an occasional emergency. And your military training qualifies you to handle those.”
Marlee nibbled a thin slice of steak. Jo Beth loved baked potatoes. She was making a healthy dent in the one Marlee had cut and buttered for her.
Pappy devoured his food, tuning them out. Marlee heard him humming. It wasn’t until he wolfed down everything on his plate, shoved it back and went outside without a word, that she revisited a previous topic. “Mick, I want to help. With a little refresher on fixed-wing aircraft, I can fly your route. Even into the winter, if need be. For God’s sake, I landed choppers on carriers in all kinds of weather. But…two things. It’s imperative that you agree to let me name you as guardian for Jo Beth should anything happen to me. It’ll probably take a codicil on my current will. And…after surgery, how do you propose to manage here if I’m on a flight? You’ll be on painkillers at first. Jo Beth can’t be given the freedom you apparently allow Pappy.”
“What would you say to taking her along? I mean, we flew with Pappy and Dad from the time we could crawl into the cockpit. Mrs. Gibson—Stella, a widow from down the road—does light housekeeping here now. She can look in on me’n Pappy. She often prepare meals for us to pop in the oven.”
“Taking Jo Beth wasn’t something I’d considered. I’ll have to think about that.” Standing, she started stacking plates. Jo Beth had excused herself to play with her dolls. Marlee wondered if her daughter would like flying. Until Cole got really ill, on weekends Marlee sometimes rented a plane and flew him out over the ocean he loved.
They’d told Jo Beth what her mother did for the navy—fly. Marlee had planned to request a discharge at the end of her first Gulf tour. But while she was on active duty, Cole had better medical coverage as a spouse than he did once he took a medical discharge. Marlee had let Rose talk her into signing on for another two years. She’d never once dreamed the Navy would promptly deploy her again. She’d already missed too many of Jo Beth’s formative years. Missed being on hand when Cole’s conditioned worsened. Hey, maybe a flight now and then would be good for her daughter. Except for her new tantrums, Jo Beth seemed far too serious.
Shaking off her sudden blues, Marlee carried her load to the sink. “I see you had a dishwasher installed. That’s a four-star improvement.”
“Yeah, but not in the cabins.” With a hint of the old Mick, he teased, “Guess that means you’ll have to fix all your meals at the main house. You don’t want to end up with dishpan hands.”
“I can afford a dishwasher, brother dear. Fighting Rose in court didn’t go through my entire savings, even if my lawyer did his best to see I didn’t end up too well off.”
“Ouch…life’s a real bitch, sometimes,” he said, lowering his voice.
“All God’s chilluns got trouble,” Marlee quipped back. “Let me put these dishes in to wash, then why don’t we go take a gander at your office?”
“I guarantee my plane engines are in better shape. While you finish up here, I’ll see where Pappy got off to.”
“You said he runs off?”
“Wanders. He’s usually messing around in the workshop. It’s important to lock the doors on the planes. Can’t trust him not to get it into his head to fly. That’s why I let him ride along, especially if I’m going to the fishing lodges. He loves gossiping with his old cronies.”
“I hate to see him going downhill, Mick. Is his health okay other than the arteriosclerosis? Is that what they used to call hardening of the arteries?”
“Uh-huh. He’s got the usual health issues of a man his age. His cholesterol’s sky-high. The doc said to limit red meat and dairy. Bad though I am in the kitchen, I did try. First time I told him no more steak he walked all the way into Whitepine and ordered rib eye at Sue Jensen’s restaurant. I went nuts when I couldn’t find him anywhere on the property. I called the sheriff, and Pappy gave us both what-for. So, call me negligent, but I let him eat steak or roast a couple of times a week.”
“I’d never call you negligent, Mick. Cole bucked his doctor’s orders, too. He loved the beach. One time, Rose summoned me home from the Gulf when things looked grim. Cole rallied and begged me to drive him and Jo Beth to the beach. He wanted to build sand castles with her. But he was too weak, so he persuaded me to build them for him. We dug in the damp sand while he watched. He kept urging us to build more.” She bit her lip. “Jo Beth was having fun, and I didn’t realize the sun had dropped. It’s always windy at the beach…but Cole got really chilled. He had no defenses to fight off infection. Rose accused me of hastening his death. I don’t know,” Marlee said slowly, almost absently. “He laughed that day, Mick. We saw his old sparkle.” Her throat worked and her voice had grown raspy.
“Leave the dishes. When we come back, I’ll help. Pappy heard us talking about the office, and I’ll bet he decided to straighten up.”
Grabbing the chance to shake off her thoughts of Cole’s last days, Marlee rounded up Jo Beth and found them both sweaters. They kicked through fall leaves, saying little until Marlee noticed Mick rubbing his hip and leaning into his left leg.
“When did your doctor think he could schedule surgery?”
“Next week if I give the word. If I called tomorrow, he’d probably have me under the knife on Tuesday.”
“That doesn’t give us much time to draw up an addendum to my will, or for me to check out the fixed-wing planes. But…do it, Mick. I can’t bear to watch you suffer like this.”
“Are you sure? I’ve got a run tomorrow. Nothing again till Thursday. Supplies going to Finn Glenroe’s lodge. You remember him and Mary?” As Mick opened the office door, Pappy turned, feather duster in hand. Mick hadn’t exaggerated; the place needed cleaning. The place looked junky. The desk held an ancient, dusty computer, nearly hidden by stacks of invoices.
“What about Finn?” Pappy flipped his duster, and they all choked. “Oops,” he said, “should’ve stepped outside.”
“I was telling Marlee which jobs are firm. Oh, I almost forgot Wylie’s generator parts. They go out whenever Don Morrison calls.”
“You tell Marlee that Wylie Ames is part Blackfoot?”
Mick shook his head. “He’s Chinook Native. But what’s that got to do with anything?”
“He’s tight-lipped. I hear the boy’s got no native blood. Like maybe the woman he married cuckolded Wylie. Could be why he did her in—if’n he did.”
“Pappy, honestly! Shirl left him. Uh, that cop show you like is on in ten minutes.”
The old man surprised them by locating a pad and pencil. He handed both to Jo Beth. “Draw me a picture to hang on the fridge,” he said before he left.
Mick demonstrated his computer program for Marlee. They discussed flight plans and talked for an hour while shuffling papers.
“I’ll dig into this filing mess