The Single Dad's Guarded Heart

“My dad’s been in surgery a really long time.”

“Josh,” Marlee said carefully, “it takes a while to prep a patient and get underway. I waited four hours for word the day of Mick’s operation.”

“Four hours?” The boy glanced at his watch. “I haven’t been here for two yet.”

“Did you let your mom know we landed?”

“It’s a pay phone. She said to call collect.”

Marlee dug in her purse. “Here’s money for the phone. I know the wait’s hard for you, but she’s sitting at home with no idea of what’s going on.”

“Thanks. I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it. Would you like a soda? We passed vending machines in the hall. I’ll go get us something while you make your call.”

He accepted her offer, and Marlee and Jo Beth left the room.

By the time they returned, he was off the phone and looked markedly better. Marlee passed him the cold can and a ham sandwich.

“My Uncle Rod and Aunt Sammy are coming to help finish baling our hay.”

“That’s good. Will it take them long to get to the ranch?”

“They live in Spokane. It’s a hundred and fifty miles. Mom asked them to swing by here to see Dad and bring me home. Uncle Rod’s my dad’s brother.”

“I wasn’t sure if I needed to fly you back to the ranch. Forgive me if I’m out of line, but it looks like you came straight from work. Do you have money for food?”

He glanced at his dirt-and-blood-smeared shirt and jeans. “Mark Hart, our hired hand and me…we were repairing a fence knocked down by Chili Dog. That’s our bull. Dad went to track him. When we heard him holler, me ’n Mark dropped everything and ran to help, but the bull threw Dad against a fence post. Hooked ’im three or four times before we drove Chili Dog off.” Hunching, the boy rolled the cold can across his brow. “Don’t know what got into that ol’ bull.”

While Marlee tried to imagine the scene, Jo Beth went over and hugged Josh. “It’s okay if you wanna cry. Sometimes I did when my daddy had to stay at the hospital. And if your tummy aches, crying helps.”

The teen looked surprised, then looked guiltily at Marlee. “Did your husband get in a bad accident, too?”

Marlee shook her head, and took a long pull from her soda. “He had cancer. Of the lymph glands. Jo Beth and I are no strangers to hospital waiting rooms.”

Like everyone she told, Josh didn’t seem to know what to say. They were saved an awkward moment when the desk clerk told Marlee she had a call. She walked over, expecting it to be Mick. “Hi, there.”

“How’s Gordy Maclean?” The voice was familiar, but she didn’t immediately recognize it.

“Mr. Maclean is still in surgery. Who’s this?”

“Wylie. Ranger Ames. Mick transferred me. He said you’re upstairs with Josh. Oh, and he asked me to relay a message. Pappy’s about to go to bed, but he’s leaving a light on in the hangar.”

“Oh, well…thanks. Why don’t I let you speak with Josh?”

His answer was a low, rolling laugh. “Sure, but I was trying my level best to communicate better than a worm.”

Marlee choked on her soda, feeling the heat sting her face. She was going downstairs and she was going to murder Mick. “I…I…I…” She gave up trying to come up with something witty, and beckoned Josh over. “It’s RangerAmes,” she muttered. “Asking about your dad.”

Josh had barely said hello when a doctor in blue scrubs came into the room and headed straight for Marlee. “Mrs. Maclean, I’m Doctor Black. I was the surgeon on call when they brought your husband in.”

Josh dropped the phone, forcing Marlee to scoop it up. “I’m the Angel Fleet pilot,” she informed the physician. “This is Josh Maclean, Gordon’s son.” Into the phone, she hissed, “We should hang up. Mr. Maclean’s doctor is here to talk to Josh.”

“Wait. Take my number. Gordy and I are friends. I’d like to know his condition. If he’s likely to be laid up for months, I’ll organize help for his family.”

Marlee didn’t know Ames at all. She certainly had no reason to have formed a judgment against him. But she’d pegged him as a lone wolf. In a few minutes he’d blown that image to hell. “I don’t have anything to write on,” she murmured. “Can you call back on my cell in say, fifteen minutes?”

He hung up without answering or even muttering a goodbye. Definitely not verbose, she thought, turning to the surgeon, who was saying Gordon Maclean was in recovery. And after two pints of blood, his vitals had stabilized.

WYLIE WISHED he’d had longer to talk with Marlee Stein. He’d laughed when Mick told him what his sister had said about his lack of communication skills. Wylie knew he had the reputation of being a loner. It suited him to foster that with other rangers, especially after Shirl took off and left him to raise Dean. Friends were always trying to set him up. The rangers’ wives thought his son needed a mother. So, to get everyone off his back, he’d dated a couple of the women. But maybe he should heed what they said about how he needed to learn to trust again.

Oddly, after one meeting, Mick Callen’s feisty sister piqued his interest. She both disturbed him and revitalized a part of himself he’d kept locked up since Shirl. He’d met his ex after a long, lonesome winter.

It was spring, and she’d been a pretty, flirty waitress in town. Wylie had found excuses to visit her. But she’d played him for a sucker.

So maybe Marlee Stein made an impression only because she didn’t seem to give a damn if she interested him or not.

“Dad, didn’t Marlee get Mr. Maclean to the hospital in time?” There was concern in the boy’s voice.

Rousing, Wylie placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “She got there. I spoke to Josh. The doctor had just arrived to talk about Mr. Maclean’s condition. I’ll phone Jo Beth’s mom back later for a better report. Meanwhile, you go throw a change of clothes in a backpack. Josh said they have a rampaging bull loose at their ranch. We should leave at first light so I can help the Macleans’ hired hand corral it.”

“But I want to talk to Jo Beth. When you call her mom, can I tell Jo Beth I found my whole set of medieval knights?”

“We’ll see. It’ll all depend on how late it gets to be.”

IN THE WAITING ROOM, the surgeon laid out his plan for Gordon Maclean. “I’m sending him to ICU tonight. If he’s not too groggy, I’ll have the nurse give you a couple of minutes with him, Josh. Otherwise, you may as well go home. I make rounds at seven in the morning. If he looks good, he can go to the ward.”

Josh seemed panicky. Jo Beth latched on to one of his limp hands and Marlee the other. “The Maclean ranch is too far away for Josh to drive back and forth. He has relatives coming from Spokane. My daughter and I will stay with him until they arrive.”

“That’s good of you.” The doctor stripped off a mask that hung loose around his neck, rolled it and stuck it in a pocket sagging under the weight of a stethoscope. “You Angel Fleet people always go the extra mile. I don’t recall them having a female pilot before, though. Not that it matters. I grew up north of here, and I’ve seen some of the so-called landing strips.” He made a face.

“Yeah,” Josh said. “My mom worried that a plane couldn’t land at our ranch. Marlee did. But she scared the shit out of me taking off. Uh, sorry.” He turned red when Jo Beth let go of his hand and tsked.

“Mama, Josh said a bad word!”

“It’s okay, Josh. I’ll admit I had a few tense moments clearing those trees.”

The doctor was shaking his head. “Everyone believes my job takes nerves of steel. But I wouldn’t trade places with you.”

An older nurse approached. “Doctor, your patent’s alert. Should we move him now?”

Dr. Black turned to Josh. “Ready to see your dad? Come with me.”

The two started down the hall. “Marlee,” Josh called back. “I see my aunt and uncle coming. Will you tell them what’s going on and have them call Mom? And if Wylie phones again, will you bring him up to speed?”

Marlee didn’t want to be a go-between for Wylie Ames, darn it. But Josh had already slipped through the door. She turned her attention to the approaching couple and met them with an extended a hand. “Hi. Marlee Callen. Josh has been allowed a minute with his dad. Mr. Maclean’s gone from recovery to ICU.”

A tall, lean rancher-type stripped off a straw cowboy hat. “We’re Rod and Samantha Maclean. ICU? That’s not sounding good for Gordy.”

“A precaution, according to his surgeon. Your brother lost a fair amount of blood before we got him here. They’ve given him transfusions and stitched him up.”

“Ah, you’d be the volunteer pilot who flew Gordy out?” said Samantha Maclean. “My sister-in-law says you’re awesome. She’d read articles about Angel Fleet, and knew a family whose child the Angels flew to Seattle for a liver transplant. But she never dreamed they’d ever need Angel Fleet themselves. I guess no one ever does, huh?”

“I’m sure that’s true. I didn’t expect it, either. I was on a routine supply flight to a guest lodge when the call came in. My daughter was with me.” Marlee indicated Jo Beth, who’d retreated to a waiting room chair.

“She looks ready to drop,” Samantha Maclean whispered.

“We still have to drive back to the airpark, and then fly home to Whitepine. Josh said he’ll meet you here and asked if you could call his mom. I wanted to keep him company until Mr. Maclean came out of surgery, but I think we’ll be on our way now. If you’re going to help out around their ranch, I hope you steer clear of that bull.”

“Rod spoke with Gordy’s hired man when we hit town,” Samantha said. “A park ranger friend of theirs has arranged a kind of bull posse to chase down Chili Dog tomorrow.”

Wylie. Marlee pictured him astride a horse. She shook off the image, but couldn’t help wondering if catching crazed bulls was part of a ranger’s duties. She imagined he’d be capable of that or any outdoor activity. A few indoor activities, too.

“Jo Beth, honey, we’re going home.” Marlee lifted her daughter. Before she left, Marlee rang Mick’s room to say good-night.

He sounded tired, or else he’d taken pain medication. She didn’t keep him on the phone, but promised she’d be in touch the next day.

Jo Beth fell asleep before Marlee exited the hospital parking lot.

Thirty minutes later, they were at the airfield. When her phone played its tune and she answered, she wasn’t really surprised to hear Wylie’s voice. Marlee figured he must’ve gotten an update from Mrs. Maclean.

“Time got away from me,” Wylie said. “I’ve been organizing a few friends to help Gordy’s family. How is he?”

“Out of surgery. Out of recovery and into ICU for the night. I heard you were rounding up a bull posse.”

As Marlee unbuckled Jo Beth and locked the Caddy, she listened to his deep, thoroughly masculine laugh and couldn’t resist smiling.

“For being in the backwoods, news does travel fast. Bull posse, huh? Did Josh come up with that, or did his little sister, Carrie?”

This didn’t sound like the taciturn man Marlee had met. “Neither,” she said. “Josh’s aunt. I’ve left the hospital. In fact, I’m about to board my plane to fly home.” Unable to help herself, Marlee yawned. “Sorry. It’s not that late. Barely ten.”

“Late enough when you’ve had a long day. Mick said this was your first flight in a while. I could tell he felt bad that you had to deal with an accident on your first day.”

“If anyone could predict accidents they’d avoid them.”

“Right.” He was silent for a moment. “I figured you’d spend the night in Kalispell.”

“Mick’s planes are equipped for night flying.”

“The plane, yes, but it’s the pilot who takes off and lands.”

“About that…not to brag, but I can probably count on one hand the number of times my landings haven’t been glass-smooth.”

There was a smile in Wylie’s response. “No need to be defensive. We all make mistakes.”

“I’m not defensive.” She slapped the Caddy key down on the counter so hard the young clerk, deep in his novel, nearly fell off his stool.

Wylie stifled his muffled laughter when Marlee growled, “I’m hanging up. Do me a favor—wear a red shirt tomorrow when you chase that bull. On second thought, don’t. With my luck, Cloud Chasers would get another call from Angel Fleet.” She hung up and shut off the ringer, then shoved the phone in her back pocket while she strapped Jo Beth in the plane.

“Who were you yelling at, Mama?”

“I wasn’t yelling.”

“Grandmother Rose would call it yelling.”

Marlee clipped her own harness and put on her earphones. And felt an insistent throb against her butt. Thinking Mick or Pappy might be trying to reach her, she dug out the cell. “’Lo.”

“Call me after you land at home.”

“You know, Ranger, it’s been years since anyone’s asked me to check in.”

“Huh. That attitude could be why your husband took a powder. He did, I presume.”

“My husband died, you insensitive jerk.” She jammed her phone into her pocket, unaware of how every nerve in her body trembled until it took her three tries to contact the tower for permission to take off. All the while, she felt every quiver of her cell phone’s insistent bleat, which she flatly ignored.

Her wings wobbled on takeoff. Damn the man to hell and back. Whoever was handling the tower would think she was a novice flyer, for heaven’s sake.

The phone stopped pulsing. Marlee rolled her tight shoulders, and trimmed the wings. She probably shouldn’t have snapped his head off.

Casting a glance in Jo Beth’s direction, Marlee wondered what her daughter would say about that last outburst. The girl’s soot-dark lashes had drifted down. Moonlight glittering through the side window splashed shadows across her baby’s cheek.

The phone danced yet again. Marlee touched the metal case through the material of her jacket, then just as quickly withdrew her fingers, too tempted to take the call.

She massaged a pain lodged beneath her breastbone. Heartburn. Marlee was no stranger to it. In five years she’d been treated twice for peptic ulcers. The flight surgeon said she needed yoga or some other relaxation technique to combat what he diagnosed as increasing anxiety, resulting from Cole’s worsening condition.

The phone finally fell silent. She expected the vibrations to start again. They didn’t. Well, he gave up easily. She ought to ask herself why she cared that Wylie Ames thought her enough of a bitch for a man to divorce her.

Up here, alone with nothing but the night sky, a person tended to see too clearly. It hit Marlee like a wrecking ball. She’d lied to Mick earlier when she insisted his friend rubbed her the wrong way. She’d lied to herself. The real truth—Wylie rubbed her the right way. So right, she felt disloyal to Cole. “There you have it, Mr. Moon,” she whispered. Of all the men she’d met in the year since Cole’s death, it made no sense that the first one to waken her dormant emotions had to be the most unsuitable.

The reflectors of Mick’s runway twinkled below. Bringing a bird safely home always sparked a joy that would be impossible to describe to anyone who wasn’t a pilot. Home could be anywhere—the deck of a carrier, a military runway in a foreign land, or this slab of asphalt with its moth-eaten wind sock blowing in the wind. The sense of a mission accomplished was always the same the instant the plane’s wheels down.

The fact that Jo Beth slept on as Marlee taxied the Arrow into the empty hangar Pappy had left lit made her homecoming sweeter.

Her first day on a new job was now officially behind her. Marlee tucked the clipboard with the daily log under her arm. When the propeller stopped spinning, she opened her door and dropped to the ground. Before she rounded the tail to wake Jo Beth, the cell phone in her pocket began to convulse against Marlee’s waist. She smiled for no reason as she eased it out of her pocket. “Yes, I’m home,” she said softly instead of berating her caller.

“About damned time,” the gravelly voice said. “Now maybe Dean’ll quit fretting and go to sleep.”

“Dean’s still up? Jo Beth dozed off ages ago.”

She heard the man’s tight breath. “Actually, Dean’s fast asleep, too. Listen, about my earlier comment. I shouldn’t have assumed…” His words trailed off.

Marlee knew he wanted her to relieve his guilty conscience.

She didn’t.

He cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I didn’t want to leave what I said hanging between us, Marlee. I’m sorry, now I’ve apologized. There’s no reason to mention it again. Uh…so long.”

Like that, he ended the call. Marlee stared at the phone in exasperation. On a scale of one to ten, as apologies went, she’d rate his a two. Maybe a three. Hell, she’d be generous and give him five, she thought, juggling her clipboard while trying to remove Jo Beth’s deadweight from the seat.

She whacked an elbow on the door casing as she stumbled into the dark house. That time the sound leaving her lips roused her daughter.

“Grandmother Rose? Why is it so dark? Is Daddy sick again?” The sob in the child’s half-asleep voice ripped at Marlee’s heart.

“Mama has you, hon. Everything’s fine. We’ve been flying. Remember? Now we’re at Uncle Mick’s.” Marlee rubbed her cheek over Jo Beth’s hair. “Pappy Jack didn’t leave a light on inside. Shh, we don’t want to wake him.”

She made it down the hall and into her old room. After growing up in this house, she could navigate it blindfolded. Marlee located the twin bed with its mountain of stuffed animals.

“I don’t wanna be at Uncle Mick’s,” Jo Beth sobbed. “I wanna go home. I wa…ant Grandmother Rose!” The child flailed her arms and legs.

Few things hurt Marlee as much as that did. With shaking hands she found the lamp with its night-light base. She hoped the soft, rosy glow would comfort Jo Beth and help her fall back asleep. Ac cording to the pediatric psychologist Marlee had consulted, time and distance were all that would get rid of these bouts she said were caused by worry and Marlee’s absence.

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