The Rescue Pilot Read online

  “Me?” Cait looked surprised. “You don’t know me.”

  “Ah, but we can judge people by those who care about them. Rory cares about you. A whole lot.”

  “I’m lucky.”

  “You’re more than lucky. Lots of sisters don’t like each other. So Rory’s concern about you tells me all I need to know.”

  That elicited another smile from Cait. “I think I can hold the cup.”

  Rory helped her free her hands from the blankets and watched with easing tension as her sister drank. She was making an effort, and every effort she made was a commitment to live.

  “Want to share my blueberry muffin?” Rory asked her. To Rory’s great delight, Cait nodded.

  Rory broke it into pieces and pushed the napkin over in front of Cait. Her sister put down her tea and picked up a small piece. “I’m so tired, but I’m getting hungry, too.”

  “That’s good.” Although it wasn’t really. Cait had been on IV supplements that nobody had thought it was crucial to continue over the few hours it was supposed to have taken them to reach Minnesota. Of course she was getting hungry.

  But Cait managed to consume nearly half the muffin and the whole cup of tea before coughing racked her again. Rory pounded her back the way Wendy had, and at last the coughing subsided, leaving Cait drained. Moments later she fell back to sleep.

  Rory sat back, picked up her coffee mug and said with bitter frankness, “I hate myself.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I wouldn’t wait until I could hire an air ambulance. They’d have had IVs and all that stuff.”

  “Why didn’t you wait?”

  “No time.” She shook her head, feeling a surge of frustration. “I had to get her there immediately or they wouldn’t add her to the trial, because her doctors were saying she only had weeks left. I told you it was a hurdle to get her on this program. Well, the first air ambulance I could get wasn’t for ten days. Nobody would bump another patient, one who was more likely to be saved by transport.”

  He nodded. “It’s a hard calculus. I guess I’m used to it from the military.”

  “Triage. I get it. No one in Seattle held out any hope. So bumping some burn victim or desperately injured child wasn’t going to happen. And I couldn’t wait ten days because the researchers were flat-out frank about it. The longer the delay, the less they wanted her as a trial patient.”

  “More ugly calculus.”

  “Exactly. My sister’s life was being weighed against the likelihood that anything might help her. I get it. I got it totally. So I asked what if I flew her on a private jet. None of the docs thought that was going to make anything worse. I’ve been wondering if that decision was solely because they considered her hopeless. Regardless, it was only supposed to be a few hours.”

  “Then don’t hate yourself for not getting an ambulance. Dammit, Rory, what choice did you have?”

  “I didn’t think I had any.”

  “Well, you didn’t. And if we hadn’t crashed, she’d already be in the trial. How can you argue your decision now? You did the best you could under the circumstances.”

  “I know, I know. It’s just that I’m looking at her now and thinking of all the things I wish I’d insisted on before we left. Like keeping her on IVs.”

  “I couldn’t have transported her that way. So that would have taken you back to the ambulance solution. Which clearly would have prevented her from getting in the trial.”

  “I know.” She bit her lip. “I know all of this logically.”

  “Then stop beating yourself up. Everything would have been just hunky-dory except for some lazy mechanic in Seattle who didn’t do something right. Those are the kinds of things nobody can prepare for.”

  Rory drew a few deep breaths, fighting down her frustration. Being frustrated wouldn’t change a thing. At last she let go of a long breath and tried to smile at Chase. “I thought this was supposed to be a date.”

  “It is. Who says you can’t talk about things that upset you on a date? What kind of date would that be?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I do. It would be exactly the wrong kind. Exactly the kind of date I’ve gone on too often in my life. I said I was going to tell you something I’d realized about myself.”

  That completely captured her interest. “What’s that?”

  “That I got kicked to the curb a million times because I made a career out of picking the wrong kind of women. Over and over. And I think I did it on purpose.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I had fighter-jock syndrome, for one thing. I looked at the outside of the package and made my selection from the unending deli of beauties who prowl the bars looking for guys like me. And then I picked the ones I knew wouldn’t stick around.”

  “Why? Why would you do that?”

  “I guess because I didn’t want to get attached. I dunno. I’ll have to think about that some. But watching you with Cait, I realized that you’re the kind of person who will stick through thick and thin. That’s what I wanted in my wingman. Why the hell wouldn’t I want that in a woman?”

  “Don’t ask me. I have no idea. I know why I avoid involvement.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because it would lessen my authority if people are thinking about my sexuality. I’m already fighting an uphill battle.”

  “At least you understand why. I’m still working on it.”

  “Maybe you were just young and liked being foot-loose.”

  “And maybe I liked visiting the deli to try out a new sandwich.” He gave a snort. “Don’t think I’m proud of that.”

  “That doesn’t make you unusual for a man.”

  “You might be right. Everyone I knew, with a few exceptions, was basically doing the same thing. Oh, they tried marriage, the operative word often being tried. Some found good relationships. A lot more wound up divorced. We’re not very good marriage risks, navy pilots. Maybe it’s different for the air force.”

  “That I wouldn’t know.”

  “I don’t have statistics to refer to,” he admitted. “But watching you with Cait, I suddenly realized that I’d been getting exactly what I wanted from my girlfriends—desertion. And I don’t think I want that anymore.”

  Her hand froze on her cup. Was he trying to tell her something? God, she hoped not. She had enough on her plate right now, and she didn’t want to be another one of the women who kicked him to curb.

  “Anyway,” he said after a moment, “a little self-revelation. That’s always good.”

  “I’m sure the women you’re no longer blaming will be relieved.”

  He chuckled quietly. “I think they were playing by the same rules. I doubt a single one of them remembered me after I flew away.”

  “You make it sound like you were all counting coup.”

  “Maybe we were. Notches on the belt or something. More coffee?”

  He refilled their mugs and poured some more water in the chafing dish that was still steaming on the table. “Do we need to tent her again?”

  Rory glanced at her watch. “Another ten minutes or so.”

  “Okay.”

  He sat regarding Rory steadily. His stare made her a bit uncomfortable, especially since she was remembering how he had touched her the night before, and wishing he would do it again. The conflict between her worry for her sister and this unexpected sexual need jarred her, but there it was.

  Two sides of her nature, both trying to take charge. Well, one side had to be in charge. No way around it.

  Then it struck her that he hadn’t asked her to say anything about last night. No, he’d simply told her something that she would need to know later: that he hadn’t just taken advantage of her because of proximity.

  Later, whatever happened, that would reassure her that she hadn’t just been used. The kindness of that was almost enough to take her breath away.

  But he’d asked for no reassurance for himself. Didn’t he need it? Or maybe he didn’t want to
hear her answer, was afraid she might say she’d just been having an adrenaline reaction.

  Maybe she had been. But she doubted it. Truth was, sitting here across from him now, she still felt his magnetism. She still wanted to have sex with him. Out of place or not, there was no denying that it was real and she wanted more. With him. Only with him.

  She hadn’t felt that in a long, long time.

  But she was afraid to tell him so. Afraid of what that might mean. There could be no future for them. She had to take care of Cait, then she had to get back to her job. Where could anyone else fit into that? Nothing had really changed—her job would make the same demands, and there’d be no place once again for thoughts of marriage and family. She had to believe this was just a passing desire or how would she ever get back to her career?

  “Have some muffin,” he said, nudging the napkin toward her. “This is a date, remember?”

  “Certainly a memorable one.”

  He smiled. “We aim to please.”

  He helped with tenting Cait as he had promised, and they got her to cough some more. They even got her to drink another cup of heavily sweetened tea.

  “I thought you two were having a date,” Cait said breathlessly as she sagged back in the seat.

  “Shh,” Rory said, holding the tea to her lips.

  “No.” Cait gave another small cough. “This is something I never thought I’d live to see. My sister on a date.”

  “In a crashed plane,” Chase pointed out. “With the pilot who was at the helm. At least we have the candlelight to add to the romance, though.”

  Cait actually laughed. It dissolved into coughs, but when she caught her breath again she looked at Rory. “I think,” she said faintly, “that I want to live.”

  Rory’s heart cracked as surely as if it had been cleaved in two. Her throat grew so tight she couldn’t answer.

  “That’s good news,” Chase said gently. “We’ll get you to Minnesota, Cait. We will.”

  Her sister looked at a man she didn’t even know, and Rory saw the trust in her gaze. “I believe you.”

  “Then how about some more tea or muffin? Gotta keep your strength up.”

  But the clock just kept ticking, and to Rory it sounded like the heartbeat of horror: loud and echoing. Time kept running out like grains of sand in an hourglass, and more endless hours stretched ahead of them before they could do a damn thing.

  Time, the cruelest taskmaster of all.

  Chapter 8

  The day outside brightened steadily, but the snow showed no evidence of abating. The plane rocked a little as afternoon arrived, and Rory guessed that the buried wing had been blown clear again.

  Her nerves grew tighter, ready to shriek from the inactivity. God, she couldn’t stand this. Cait might be worsening, to judge by her congestion, and Rory just wasn’t built to sit around twiddling her thumbs, which was about all she could do right now.

  Playing cards didn’t distract her nearly enough, and even the funny stories Chase tried to tell about the military filled only small pieces of endless time.

  Except time wasn’t endless. It might feel like it right now, but it was short—shorter than she could stand to think about.

  Every time she looked at her sister, she questioned her judgments and decisions. Not only about deciding to take a private flight to save time, but about how to handle this situation when the storm passed.

  Should they wait if the GPS came up, assuming the beacon was undamaged? How much more might they risk by stumbling out into the snowy mountainside? Would the exposure put Cait at even greater risk?

  There were no answers. None at all.

  She had believed that she had learned to live by the maxim Worry about the things you can fix, and not the things you can’t. Yeah, she could do that when it came to her job. She had a lot of control there, and when control was taken from her it was often by someone who employed her, and the problem then became theirs.

  But this was different, so different from anything she had faced before. Her coping skills fell far short of having learned to wait.

  “You need to nap,” Chase told her.

  Wendy and Yuma were in the galley, making more hot soup to be followed by tenting Cait again.

  “I don’t want to be alone.” The bald admission startled Rory. She was used to being alone. She basically lived her life alone, relying only on herself. She thought of herself as strong, independent, a woman who could travel the world and work under nearly all conditions.

  And now she was falling apart, feeling weak, frightened and afraid of failing. So unlike her. She wished she could snatch back the revealing words, but even if Chase hadn’t been there to hear them, she had. Now she stared starkly at herself, at the facade she had created over the years, and realized there were other parts of her long unnourished. Parts she didn’t want. Parts she wished she could sever.

  “Okay,” Chase said. “After we eat, I’ll nap with you. You know Wendy can look after Cait.”

  In fact, Wendy had been far more useful in looking after Cait than Rory had been. She wouldn’t have known how to handle her sister’s growing congestion. Wouldn’t have been able to listen to her sister’s chest and judge the gravity of it.

  “I guess we’re lucky there was a nurse onboard,” she said.

  “Very.” Chase gave her a half smile. “A damn fine nurse. She’s dealt with a lot worse in emergencies.”

  Rory didn’t want to imagine worse. This was certainly bad enough.

  They chatted about nothing substantial during their meal, avoiding any discussion about the situation. Cait ate another full cup of soup, and then cleared her lungs again. Only when she at last slipped back into sleep did Rory feel that she could go nap herself.

  But she wasn’t at all sure she’d sleep. Wound as tight as a coiled spring, every muscle in her body was tense enough to ache. She slipped under the covers in the chilly aft cabin, and stared at the fuselage only inches away, almost invisible as only a little light reached the room from the candles in the main cabin.

  She knew she needed to sleep. At any moment something could change, and the better rested she was, the better she would be able to handle it. Fitfully dozing last night had not left her feeling rested. But would anything?

  A few minutes later, Chase entered the cabin. She heard him close the door, move around a bit, and then he slipped in behind her, wrapping his arms around her.

  God, it felt good to be held. So good. How could she have forgotten the soothing power of a simple hug? It had been so long since she had allowed anyone to do this.

  “Relax,” he murmured. “We’ll be the first to know if something happens.”

  That was true, and acceptance of that allowed her to uncoil just a bit. He helped by running his hand soothingly along the length of her side, from shoulder to knee. As if he were petting her.

  With her head pillowed on his arm, his other hand stroking her gently, she closed her eyes and willed herself to relax.

  The anxiety that had been winding her steadily tighter since she had learned of Cait’s illness, and ever more rapidly since the crash, began to ease.

  Surely it wouldn’t be a crime to let go of worry for just a little while. Especially since she was helpless to do anything about it.

  And as she relaxed, weariness began to rise. God, she was worn out. Worn out from the last few weeks, worn out from all her terrors and all her efforts, worn out from the last twenty-four hours and all the added complications.

  “Chase?”

  “Hmm?”

  “She’s all I have left.”

  “I gathered that.”

  “I don’t know what I’ll do.” A tear rolled down her cheek, just one, hot against her cold skin. “Maybe it’s stupid, but even after we lost Mom and Dad, Cait was always there in my mind. Like an anchor. I still had family.”

  He made a sound like agreement.

  “I wish you’d met Cait when she was well.”

  “Was she like you?”


  “That depends on what you mean.”

  “Feisty, determined, dedicated,” he said.

  “That’s an overestimation of me.”

  “We can argue about it another time. Tell me about Cait.”

  “She’s softhearted. I don’t mean that in a bad way, either. Just that she was the one who’d bring home the stray cat or dog, who’d get upset even about killing a spider.”

  “Really?”

  A choked laugh escaped Rory. “You will never know how many times I had to agree to try to capture bugs before I was allowed to step on them. We had a problem with pygmy rattlesnakes in our yard for a while, and what with the dogs she’d brought home, Mom and Dad were worried one of the dogs might get a snake-bite. But Cait would go out with a shovel and scoop them up and toss them back into the woods.”

  “So she is like you.”

  “I dunno. At that age I was all for killing them.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “No.” She sighed. “I guess at some level I was glad she protected them. Yes, they were a threat, but if they could be safely removed, why kill them? As she was fond of saying, ‘They’re just being snakes doing snaky things.’”

  “And when she got older?”

  “Pretty much the same. Rescuing animals. Until she became sick, she worked for a rescue organization. She got married, talked about having four kids, and in the process of trying to find out why she couldn’t get pregnant they discovered the lymphoma.”

  She sighed, and used a corner of the blanket to wipe away that stray tear. “She was all about helping. Helping people, helping animals. I couldn’t even list all the charities she volunteered for. She’s one of the last people this world can afford to lose. Me, I just went off to do my own thing because finding oil challenged me. I looked for the excitement, I guess. She looked for love.”

  “She sounds pretty special.”

  “She is.”

  “Here.” He tugged her gently until she rolled over so that they were face-to-face. There was no light in the bedroom, except what seeped around the door from the candles in the main cabin. Even so, she could just make out his features.