Touching the Clouds: A Novel (Alaskan Skies Book #1)

Kate Evans pushed open the screen door and stepped onto the broad front porch of her parents’ farmhouse. This was supposed to be her wedding day. Instead, her lace, floor-length gown hung in her closet.

Shifting her pack over one shoulder, she moved to the railing. Closing her eyes, she savored the feel of a cool breeze on her skin and breathed in the subtle fragrance of sun-heated grass. Richard’s image stormed against her peace. She could see his blond curls spilling onto his brow, his wounded eyes. He’d always been steady, but her announcement had staggered him. She wanted to love him enough to stay, but the turmoil she’d been feeling had escalated until she felt she had no choice—she just couldn’t go through with it.

She gripped the porch railing, anxiety sweeping over her like a summer squall. Had she made a terrible mistake? It was one thing to postpone the wedding and quite another to call it off altogether.

They’d been friends since childhood and were comfortable with each other. But did that mean they belonged together? If she stayed, she’d be forced to give up her longtime dream and would have to settle for a commonplace life. She’d end up resenting Richard, and she couldn’t bear the thought.

Shaking off her doubts, she turned her gaze to her mother’s flower gardens. The well-tended yard was bordered by patches of rich soil embracing velvety pansies and roses that hummed their splendor. In contrast, a flower bed on one side was congested with brightly colored dahlias that shouted at the sun. Beyond were the apple orchards. The flowers were off the trees now, which were loaded with small green apples.

Kate folded her arms across her chest. She couldn’t have picked a worse time to set out on a venture. It was 1935 and much of the country was in the midst of a crushing drought, and despite President Roosevelt’s New Deal, the economy was in shambles.

She heard the screen door creak open and turned to see her mother step onto the porch. “Hi, Mom,” she said as cheerily as she could manage.

Joan Evans lifted a picnic basket. “Here’s some food to take along.” She managed a smile.

Kate took the basket. “Thanks.”

Joan picked fading leaves off a hanging basket of red lobelia, then turned kind eyes on her daughter. “We spent a lot of summer evenings on this porch.” She pressed her fingertips to her lips. “I remember you and Alison, sleeping out here and gabbing until all hours.”

Kate took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to release the rising ache in her chest. “Those were good days.” Memories, like a slide show, flitted across her mind until she purposely pushed them aside.

“Kate, you explained why you’re going, but I know there’s more.”

“I told you, I want to do something with my life.”

“You don’t think being a wife and raising a family is doing something?”

“It is, but it’s not right for me, not now. I have to . . .” There was no way to describe how she felt—as if her heart would shatter if she didn’t get away. She had to do something that mattered, something better than just being what people expected, a farm girl who got married and had babies. And better than the girl who larked about with planes.

Joan settled into a wicker chair.

Kate knew what was coming, and she didn’t want to discuss any of it. She sat on the edge of a chair and set her pack on the ground. She held the basket in her lap. Clasping her hands around it, she pulled it against her stomach, hanging onto it as if it were an anchor.

Joan began gently. “I know a day doesn’t go by that you don’t remember and feel the burden of . . . of Alison’s death.” She studied the dead leaves she cradled in her hands, then looked at her daughter. “It was a long time ago. It’s over. You can’t get that day back. You have to go on with your life.”

Kate pursed her lips. She’d decided not to speak, but no matter how she tried to hold back the words, they spilled out anyway. “You don’t know what it’s like—every day knowing she’s dead and that it’s my fault. If I hadn’t been so full of myself, so careless, Alison would still be alive. She’d be married and have babies and her mom and dad would still be happy—and they wouldn’t hate me.”

“Not living your life won’t bring her back, it won’t make anything better.”

“I’m trying to live my life. But I can’t do it here. Every time I go into town I’m afraid I’ll see her mother or father . . . or her brother or—”

“Kate, you can’t let the past rule the present.”

“That’s just it. As long as I stay here, everything is about the past. I need to start over in a place where I can prove myself, a place where I’m free to live without shadows of that horrible day dogging me.” She shook her head, squeezing back tears. “After the accident, I was too afraid to even go up in a plane. I thought I’d never fly again, but Dad helped me and I did. I’m a good pilot because of him. Now, well . . . I’m twenty-five years old, and I’ve got to do something with that ability while I still have time. And I want you to be proud of me.”

“We are. You know that.”

Kate chewed on her lower lip. “Okay, but I’ve got to be proud of me too.”

“Alaska’s a dangerous place, especially for pilots.”

The front door opened and Kate’s father stepped out. “So, Katie, you ready?”

She grabbed her pack and stood. “All set.”

Bill Evans slung an arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “Well, let’s go then.”

Kate strode toward her bright red Bellanca Pacemaker, which sat on the airstrip behind the house. Nerves made her stomach jump. She studied the name painted on the side of the fuselage—Fearless Kate. Was she fearless or just pretending?

She set her belongings in the back of the plane, then walked around the craft, examining it to make sure it was flight ready. There were no signs of dents or fuel leaks, exposed or hanging wires, and the tires were in good shape.

She moved to the plane’s door. “She’s ready to fly.”

Her father squinted against the early morning sunlight. “I checked the fuel—it’s fine. And I put extra cans of gasoline in the back in case you need some.” A breeze caught at his salt-and-pepper hair sticking out from under his hat. “Oil’s good too.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

He moved to his only child and gently grasped her arms. “I’m going to miss my flying partner. We’ve been a team for a long while.”

“I’ll miss you too.” Kate blinked hard, holding back tears. “I still remember the first time we went up. I was so scared I was shaking. But that was the day I knew I had to fly.”

He smiled, the creases at the corners of his eyes deepening. “You got everything you need?”

“I think so. Mom made me enough food to last a week. And I’ve got my tools, extra blankets, and water . . . just in case.”

Kate dared a glance at her mother. Joan’s lips were drawn tight and her chin jutted up slightly.

“It’s time to go. I’ve got a lot of miles to cover.” Kate moved to her mother. “I’ll write. I promise.”

Joan’s brown eyes pooled with tears. She brushed the moisture away. “I packed your grandmother’s Bible in the basket. She’d want you to have it.”

Kate’s throat tightened. She could still see her grandmother’s weathered hands lying on the pages of her Bible as she read.

The sound of an approaching vehicle carried from the road. Dirt billowed around it in a dusty squall. Kate’s stomach clenched. Richard. She’d hoped he wouldn’t show up, and yet she’d have been disappointed if he hadn’t.

His Ford pickup ground to a stop, and the sturdily built man stepped out. His expression determined, he walked toward Kate. “We gotta talk.”

“We’ve said everything there is to say.” Kate folded her arms over her chest, hoping to match his resolve.

“Not everything.” He grabbed her elbow and pulled her several paces away from her parents.

Kate wished there was some way, any way, to avoid what was coming. What could she say? There was nothing that would make this easier. Why couldn’t he understand?

Out of earshot of her parents, Richard stopped. Facing Kate, he held her hands in his. She liked the feel of his strong, calloused grip. Her determination wavered.

“Why are you doing this? Today, we were supposed to start our life together.”

“I explained—” She disengaged her hands.

“No you didn’t. A week ago, one week before our wedding, you came to me and said you had to move to Alaska, that you had to fly and that you couldn’t live an ordinary life. And that you couldn’t explain why.” He shoved fingers through his hair. “I don’t get it, Kate. This is beyond even you.” His tone was angry.

“I know. I’m sorry. But . . . I have to go. If I get married, I’ll never have a chance at my dream.”

“Your dream of being a bush pilot?” He shook his head. “That’s not a dream, it’s a death wish . . . and it won’t bring Alison back or prove—”

Kate pressed her hands over her ears. “Stop it! I know it won’t bring her back.” She dropped her hands. “I just want to fly.”

“You can fly, here.”

“It’s not the same.” Kate squared off with Richard. His blue eyes were lit with pain and anger. “I don’t want to hurt you. Please believe me.”

“Then why aren’t you walking down the aisle with me today?”

Kate didn’t have an answer. It was true, she didn’t fully understand why she had to go. “I’m sorry.” She turned and walked toward the plane.

“Kate!”

She kept walking.

“If you go, that’s it. You’ll never see me again.”

She forced herself to keep moving. She loved Richard, but he wasn’t enough.

“I mean it, Kate.”

Ignoring him, Kate hugged her stricken mother. “I’ve got to go, Mom. I love you.”

The truck door slammed and the engine of Richard’s pickup growled. The tires spit dirt and rocks as he tore out.

Kate pressed a fist to her mouth as she watched the truck disappear. Why couldn’t he be enough? Turning to her parents, she said, “Tell him I’m truly sorry.”

Bill circled an arm around Kate’s shoulders. “We’ll tell him.”

She leaned against her father. He’d always understood her.

The wind sighed, lifting dust and fallen leaves into the air. A longing for peace swelled inside Kate. If only she could settle for an ordinary life. “I better go.”

Joan caught Kate in her arms and studied her daughter with adoring eyes. She brushed a strand of auburn hair from Kate’s forehead. “I remember when I first laid eyes on you. Oh my goodness, you squalled, outraged at having been born. And you’ve fought my attempts to gentle you ever since.” She glanced at Bill. “You’ve the same spirit as your father.” She swiped away tears. “I haven’t given up on your settling down and having a family one day.”

Kate looked at her booted toes, then at her mother. “One day.”

“Richard will be here when you get back. He’ll wait . . . if you’re not gone too long.”

Kate took a deep breath, the weight of her decision heavy in her chest. “You think so?”

Joan nodded. “He loves you.”

Her father rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m proud of you . . . for not settling. You’re a good pilot, don’t ever forget that. Alaska will be better off because of you.”

“I hope you’re right.” Worry pricked Kate’s confidence. She rotated her shoulders back, trying to relax tight muscles, then looked to the sky where downy white clouds drifted. “It’s a good day to fly.” Her gaze moved to the grass runway bordered by apple orchards. “I’ll miss having fresh apples— heard they’re hard to come by in Alaska.”

“We’ll box some up and send them,” her father said.

“I’ll hold you to that.” As Kate walked to the plane, panic swept over her, and she felt like that little girl again, taking her first flight and scared out of her wits.

“I’ll crank her for you.” Bill moved to the side of the Bellanca, engaged the hand lever in the flywheel, and started cranking.

Kate climbed into the plane, pulled the door closed and latched it, then moved to the front of the craft and settled into her seat. When the flywheel was singing along pretty well, she pulled on her helmet and called out the window. “All set?”

Bill stepped back. “It’s ready to go.”

Kate pulled the ignition and the engine came to life. Bill handed the crank to her through the window, and she stowed it.

With the engine’s roar in her ears, she checked the oil pressure and temperature gauges—they were normal. Gas level was good. While the engine warmed, she double-checked her gear, then logged her time of departure.

With one more look at her temperature gauge, she waved out the window and then pulled it closed. The windsock that sailed from a pole alongside the airfield kicked from west to east.

Her adrenaline pumping, she moved to the east end of the grass runway, turned the plane into the wind, and revved the engine. The cockpit smelled of fuel and oil.

Her mother lifted a hand, but didn’t wave. Her father flagged his hat at her. With a hand on the stick and her feet resting on the rudder pedals, Kate moved the craft forward. Increasing speed, the plane rolled down the airstrip while Kate’s heart battered against her ribs. She’d done this a thousand times, but it had never mattered so much. Then a picture of Alison flashed into her mind. This is for you.

With one final glance at her parents, who stood with their arms linked, she increased power. She felt the plane lighten as its wheels left the ground and then the momentary sense of weightlessness as she lifted into the air.

The farm and its orchards fell away. Kate soared over the trees and looked down at the familiar patchwork of the family ranch. Large oaks hugged the old farmhouse, and chickens hunted for bugs in the yard. Apple trees stretched out in long green rows.

The sun’s glare flashed across the windshield, blinding her for a moment, and then she could see the endless blue sky. Kate felt joy working its way up from her toes, displacing her fears. She couldn’t keep from smiling.

She soared over soft brown hills that reached toward green forests and white-capped mountains. She made one more pass over the farm, then turned the plane in a wide arc. As she approached the landing field, she dropped down until she was just above the trees.

Buzzing the field, she dipped the wings of the plane back and forth in a salute of farewell, her joy mixing with a touch of regret at the sight of her mother leaning against her father. Bill and Joan waved, and Kate headed toward the white craggy peaks of the Cascades.