Joy Takes Flight Read online

  Kate didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the casket. Her child lay inside. How was it possible?

  Her little girl would never know the love of her parents, the smell of summer lilies, or the warmth of her mother’s arms. And Kate would never see Emily smile, never hear her laugh, or feel her pudgy arms about her neck and the drop of a wet kiss on her cheek. Tears rolled down her face. So many dreams lost. Why?

  Paul took his place beside Kate and tucked her arm into his. They didn’t look at each other. Paul’s eyes held a depth of sorrow Kate knew reflected her own. She didn’t want to see it.

  Patrick stepped to the front of the group, removed his hat, and tucked it under one arm. He opened a large black Bible and read, “‘To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven. A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.’”

  He closed the Bible and looked at the handful of people with eyes filled with sorrow. He turned his gaze to the new grave with its little coffin. “Lord, we know life and death is not in our power to decide. Only you can make such a weighty decision. And we trust it to you. We thank you for little Emily. Even though she never breathed of this earth, she has given her parents many hours of joy. And she is in your kingdom now where she waits for a reunion. We praise you for your promises and for the hope that we have in you.” He glanced at Paul and Kate.

  Kate felt as if her heart were being ripped from her chest. She leaned heavily on Paul, afraid she couldn’t stand under the weight of grief. The sorrow cut her heart so deeply she wondered how it could keep beating.

  Patrick continued, “Your Word says you will bind up the brokenhearted. We trust you and ask that you place a healing balm upon our hearts. We thank you for your everlasting presence and the gift of your love. As you take little Emily into your arms and hold her close, we ask that you bless us with the peace that surpasses all understanding. Amen.”

  Kate wanted to be the one holding Emily. Why had God selfishly taken her?

  It wasn’t God. She had insisted on going with Paul.

  Patrick placed his hat on his head and looked at Paul and Kate, his brows furrowed, eyes awash with tears. He picked up a shovel and handed it to Kate.

  She stepped forward, and stared at the coffin. She didn’t want to put dirt over her little girl. And then strength flowed through her as she remembered, For dust you are and to dust you shall return. She pushed the spade into the mound of earth, scooped up a small amount, and tossed it on top of the wooden box. She gave Paul the shovel and he added another scoop of soil. He returned the spade to Patrick. Paul and Kate watched as Patrick and Clint covered the grave and pounded a marker into the ground.

  “You two take all the time you want,” Patrick said. “Me, Sassa, and the kids will be at the house.”

  Sassa, eyes awash with tears, pulled Kate into her arms. She held her for a long moment, then turned and took Patrick’s arm. The children walked quietly in front of their parents toward the trail that led to their house. Sassa sniffled into a handkerchief.

  Clint set his hat on his head and with a nod toward Paul and Kate he stepped back. Lily handed Teddy to him, then moved to her friends. She hugged Paul and then Kate. Tears spilled onto her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. So sorry.” She joined Clint. With Teddy bundled up close to him, Clint grasped Lily’s hand and they walked away.

  Snow started to fall. White crystals froze on the fresh mound of earth. Soon the grave would be buried, the marker no longer visible. Kate couldn’t bear the thought. She ought to go, but how could she leave her little Emily alone beneath the earth?

  Paul placed an arm around Kate and she looked up at him. He stared at the grave, his chin quivering, tears running unchecked down his cheeks. Kate grabbed him about the waist and buried her face in his coat. Sobs rose from deep inside. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

  When she was cried out, Paul said, “It’s time to go. Do you think you can make it?”

  She nodded and, with their arms intertwined, they walked away.

  The time at Patrick and Sassa’s dragged. Kate felt like a shadow—not fully present. Sassa offered a meal of meat, bread, and cheese. Kate tried to eat, but her throat wouldn’t allow her to swallow. Lily was saying something about summer plans, but Kate couldn’t focus on the conversation.

  Paul stood with the men. They talked about hunting, trapping, and their latest adventures. Paul acted like he was listening, but every few minutes, he’d look at Kate. Their eyes would meet and they knew—they would never be the same.

  Kate was thankful when Paul suggested they leave. They walked home in silence, Kate’s mind trapped in a loop of memories—the birth, lifeless little Emily, a casket instead of a cradle, the burial. Kate tried to shut it off, but it continued to wind through her thoughts again and again.

  Snow blew sideways in a sharp wind that howled across the creek. Kate thought it strange that she didn’t feel the cold. When they reached the cabin, Paul helped her up the steps and inside, then went to care for the dogs. She looked around the house. The storm bellowed outside. Inside it was cold and quiet, like a tomb. Kate slumped to the sofa—Emily couldn’t hear the storm.

  She sat, not knowing what to do. There should be a baby needing a meal or a changing. Kate should be admiring her little one—cradling it against her shoulder. But there was none of that, only emptiness. The baby that had been her constant companion for months—kicking, squirming, and hiccupping, waking her in the middle of the night—now she was gone. Kate’s womb and her arms were empty.

  Kate sat for a while and finally picked up a book that Paul had been reading. She opened it and stared at a page without seeing it. Finally, she closed it and set it on the occasional table. With a heavy sigh she headed for the bedroom and undressed. She was tired. Only yesterday, she’d given birth. She donned her nightgown, then climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up under her chin and rolled onto her side. Sleep. She craved sleep.

  Kate closed her eyes, but her mind carried her to the grave. She heard the sound of the door opening, accompanied by the howl and chill of the wind as it swept into the house. She could hear Paul stoke the fire and the aroma of burning wood drifted on the air. Angel walked into the room and stood beside the bed. With a whine she rested her chin on the edge of the mattress. When Kate didn’t reach for her, she nuzzled Kate’s hand.

  “Not now, girl.”

  Angel watched Kate, then finally lay down on the floor beside the bed.

  Kate stared at the wall as daylight faded away in the window. When Paul came in, he moved carefully and quietly. Kate felt the bed give as he climbed in beside her, careful not to touch her.

  “I’m awake,” she said quietly, keeping her back to him.

  “I thought you’d be sleeping.”

  “Can’t.” She felt Paul leave the bed and heard him open his medical bag.

  He returned to the bedside. “Here take this.” He held out a spoon of some sort of liquid. “It will help.”

  Kate took the bitter elixir. What did it matter?

  He draped an arm over her and pulled her close. They lay like that for a long time, neither of them speaking, but Kate felt stronger because of him.

  “I’m sorry,” Paul said. “I let you down. I shouldn’t have allowed you to come with me and . . .” His words were choked off.

  Kate clasped his hand. “It wasn’t your fault. I wanted to go. I insisted.” She was angry with herself. “I had to have my way.”

  “I knew be
tter. And when the baby came, I should have been able to save it. I didn’t know how.”

  “There was nothing you could do.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  Kate could hear the words stick in his throat. “It’s not your fault,” she said, rolling over and facing him. When she saw the anguish in his eyes, she wished she’d kept her back to him.

  “I have a knack for killing people—not doing the right thing, not knowing enough.”

  “That’s not true. You’re a wonderful, kind man and you’re a good doctor. The baby just came too early. She was too small.”

  Paul stared at her. “I killed my wife and my son.”

  Kate didn’t know how to reply to his statement. She’d wanted to know what had happened in San Francisco. Now was the time, but she was empty with nothing to give. Now she didn’t want to know. “What happened?” she asked reluctantly.

  Paul closed his eyes. When he opened them, he looked past Kate, as if he were seeing something. “I knew Susan was ill. I told her to go to the hospital, but she said she was fine, and I let her have her way. I should have insisted she go. Instead I did nothing to save her.” His eyes pooled with tears. “A good doctor, a good man would have been firm and resolute.”

  “What happened?”

  “She hadn’t been feeling well—terrible headaches, pain in her abdomen, dizziness, and swelling in her hands and feet. I knew the signs. I’d seen it before. I should have done something.”

  Kate thought her pain couldn’t be worse, but now she felt the weight of Paul’s piled on top of what she already carried—this terrible heartache he bore all these years. Her tears were now for him. She rested a hand on his.

  “I . . . I came home . . . after working my shift at the hospital. And I found her on the hallway floor. She was still alive, but she couldn’t move or speak.” He stopped and looked as if he were there again, seeing his wife like that for the first time. “I picked her up and carried her to the car and drove as fast as I dared to the hospital.” He stopped and took in a shuddering breath. “She never recovered. We tried to save the baby, but it was too late.”

  Kate closed her eyes and prayed that God would renew her husband’s broken heart. She took his face in her hands, her eyes brimming. “You did all you could. You couldn’t do more. It was your love that allowed Susan to do what she wanted. You understood that she felt secure at home. You were being the gentleman you are.” Kate wished there were something more she could say or do that would wipe away his sorrow. She pressed her forehead against his. “Sometimes us women . . . we think we know everything by what we feel in our gut. And sometimes we’re wrong. You aren’t responsible for what happened to Susan.”

  “Better to be a doctor than a gentleman.” Paul closed his eyes and a sob bubbled up from inside. And then it was as if the floodgates of anguish were opened as one sob followed another.

  Kate wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. Lord, help him. He’s a good man. Help us.

  Paul made Kate stay in bed for a week, but after that, one day melded into the next as they did their best to return to a normal routine. No matter what they did, nothing was as it should be. Instead of taking runs, they remained close to home, staying busy with chores. Paul had noticed that Kate placed a hand on her abdomen from time to time. She didn’t say anything, but he knew she longed for her child. He wished there were a way to get that day back, to make a wiser choice. And he longed for just one day when he didn’t think about what had happened to Kate and to Susan.

  One morning he left the cache with fresh bait. Knowing he’d be home for a few weeks, he’d decided to put out a trapline. It was time to check it. He didn’t really care whether he caught anything or not, but it kept him busy. And he wasn’t even sure he wanted to go back to working as a doctor. He didn’t want to be part of someone else’s heartache. He had enough of his own.

  He started toward the sled when he saw Kate. She knelt over the grave and cleared away freshly fallen snow. His heart squeezed. After every snowfall, she made sure to brush away the snow. He’d be glad for spring, but even as the thought came to him, he knew she’d still tend their daughter’s resting place, making sure it was clear of weeds and keeping fresh flowers on it. She wouldn’t forget.

  He cleaned off the sled, then unleashed the dogs. Buck seemed most anxious to go, so Paul placed him in front.

  By the time he had all three dogs harnessed, Kate joined him. “I hope you have better luck today,” she said, watching the dogs pace and whine. “They’re ready for a run.” She looked back at the cabin. “I wish Angel had been trained to pull a sled. I think she’d like it.”

  Paul smiled. “Nah. I think she was meant to fly. I doubt she’d take to a harness.” He pulled his hood up. “I won’t be gone long. With just one line and all three dogs we’ll move along quickly. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

  “Good. I’m cooking up a couple of grouse, along with spuds and peas. Thought maybe I’d make biscuits too. You’ll be hungry by the time you get back.”

  “You can count on it.” He kissed her. “I’ll be thinking about you,” he said, wishing that when he returned they’d have something to talk about besides the mundane. They never discussed their future or the next run or Kate’s job. Life felt aimless.

  She rested a hand on his arm. “Be careful.”

  “I will.” He stepped on the boards and called, “Hike up.”

  The dogs lunged forward and headed down the trail leading southeast away from the cabin. He looked over his shoulder. Kate stood watching him. When they were first married, he’d longed for the thrill that came with each day. Back then, life had seemed like one grand adventure. How quickly it had changed.

  He tried to keep his mind on the task at hand, reading the terrain and the depth of the snow and guiding the dogs. They’d had a heavy snowfall the last few days, which most likely buried his traps. The air was cold but not as frigid as it had been. He glanced at the sky where a patch of blue appeared in the cloud cover.

  Buck, who was generally obedient and steady, wasn’t listening to his commands. Paul had to correct him several times. He decided to place Nita up front. While he was moving Buck into the second position, the dog lunged toward Jackpot and tore into him. Jackpot responded and the two dogs ripped at each other.

  “No! Enough!” Paul shouted, yanking the dogs apart. He dragged Buck back into position. “What’s wrong with you today?” Paul asked, but he knew. Buck was the dog Paul felt closest to and when Paul was out of sorts so was Buck. “Sorry, boy. I know it’s not your fault. Things will be better soon.”

  With the dogs back in place, they set off. Paul had only a handful of traps left to check. He hadn’t stopped to eat and he was hungry, so he hurried, knowing Kate was preparing dinner.

  When he reached the next trap, he called the dogs to a halt. Getting down on his knees, he pulled the trap out from beneath spruce boughs. It was still set and had a chunk of meat in it. He removed the moose meat and tossed it to Nita, who gobbled it down. Taking a chunk of salmon, Paul set it in the trap and moved it back into place beneath the boughs. He pulled the jaws apart, but he was in too big a hurry, and when he tried to set the spring, the trap snapped shut on his hand, biting through his gloves and into the flesh of his hand.

  “Ahhh!” Paul clenched his teeth. Pain radiated through his hand.

  He pried the trap open and pulled its teeth out of his skin and his glove. He could feel blood flowing, so he quickly removed his glove and clamped his other hand down tightly on the wounds.

  “Dang it.” He hurried to the sled and dug into his pack for a cloth. He took a quick look at the lacerations, but there was too much blood to see how bad the damage was. He wrapped the injury tightly and held it for several minutes. When he thought the bleeding might have stopped, he removed the wrapping, cleaned the hand with snow, then examined it. The teeth had bit deeply into the soft part of his palm. He wiggled his fingers and bent them. No broken bones. That w
as good. It had started bleeding again, so he rewrapped it. His hand pulsed with pain.

  Paul looked up the trail and tried to decide whether to go on or return home. He wasn’t of much use this way, so he headed back to the cabin.

  When he pulled into the yard, Kate stepped onto the porch. “Do you need help with pelts?”

  “No. I didn’t catch anything, except my hand.” He lifted his bandaged, bloody appendage.

  Kate hurried down the steps and ran across the yard. “Are you all right?” She gently took his hand in hers. “What happened?”

  “Got careless and a trap bit me. I’ll be fine, just need to get it cleaned and bandaged. Good thing it’s my left hand.”

  “I’ll put the dogs up and feed them,” Kate said.

  “You sure you’re up to it?”

  “I’m completely fit,” Kate said. “And a lot better off than you are.”

  “Okay,” Paul agreed reluctantly and trudged toward the house. Once indoors, he hung up his coat and then moved to the sink. He washed both hands with soap and water, washing the wound thoroughly. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he scrubbed it until he was convinced it was clean. He took a closer look. The puncture wounds were deep and would likely become infected. No telling what kind of bacteria festered on the teeth of a leghold trap. He put cold water and soap in a bowl, then added hot water from the kettle, then moved to the table and sat with his hand soaking.

  A few minutes later, Kate walked in and sat at the table beside him. “Is it bad?”

  “Nah. It’ll be fine.”

  “Let me have a look.”

  “So, you’re the doctor now,” Paul teased.

  Kate gave him a disgruntled look.

  Paul held up the hand and allowed her to examine it. “It looks nasty. It’ll need some antiseptic.”

  “Yeah, I figured that out,” Paul said sarcastically. “Can you get my bag?”