Generally Tracy avoided sweets, and it’d been years since she’d had a candy bar. Right now, she thought it was the best thing she’d ever tasted.
“You called me sweetheart,” she said, breaking off the next piece. Her fingers stilled abruptly. What had made her say that? She hesitated, wondering if he was going to pretend he hadn’t heard her, hoping he would.
“Don’t take it personally.” His voice had stiffened noticeably.
“I didn’t. We were going down and I was panicking and you...you didn’t mean it. Besides, I wouldn’t want to upset your girlfriend in Fairbanks.”
She felt rather than saw his eyes bore into her.
Every time she opened her mouth, she seemed to drive her foot deeper into her throat. Whether he had a girlfriend in Fairbanks or anywhere else was none of her business.
“Forget I said that,” she said hurriedly. Her face burned. Duke was a virile attractive man; it was logical that he’d be involved with someone. She’d be surprised if he wasn’t.
“How’d you know about Laurie?” he asked, his voice cool.
“Uh...”
“Mariah.” He supplied the answer himself.
She didn’t bother to deny it.
A tense silence followed. “I haven’t seen Laurie in some time,” he told her.
Mortified beyond belief, Tracy felt it was important to clarify the situation. “I didn’t ask, really I didn’t. Mariah mentioned once—briefly, very briefly—that you had a friend you sometimes visited in town. She said it in passing.”
“But you remembered?”
Tracy shrugged. She had remembered. The information had stuck in her mind for weeks. She hadn’t questioned why. Now and again, she’d found herself wondering what kind of woman would interest a man like Duke. She’d wanted to think he was like other men she’d met who never looked beyond the size of a woman’s breasts. But she’d always known that wasn’t true of Duke. He might be a lot of things—a traditionalist, maybe even a chauvinist, a man who provoked her to anger—but he didn’t see a woman as just a body.
“You were right about Gavin,” she whispered. “He—he’s hoping to find his inner child.”
Duke laughed shortly.
Tracy found herself smiling.
“Laurie bored me.”
“Bored you?” Tracy wanted details. The happy way her heart reacted to his words didn’t bear considering.
“She agreed with me far too often,” he said.
“The poor dear must have wanted to keep the peace,” she teased.
Duke chuckled. “You, though—I could always count on you to challenge me.”
“That’s because you say the most outlandish things. Really, Duke, you’ve got to be more up-to-date.”
“Nah,” he returned. “And miss seeing your eyes spit fire at me? I’ve never known a woman who looks as pretty as you when she’s roaring mad.”
Pretty. It wasn’t a word men used when they talked about her. Smart, yes. Tough. Hardworking. A good attorney. But rarely did men view her as pretty.
Once again her throat tightened, and she struggled to hold back tears. She was lost somewhere in the Alaskan bush in a downed plane with an injured pilot beside her, and all she could think about was the fact that he thought she was pretty.
Four
As night closed in around them, Duke began to wonder if he’d make it. At times the pain in his arm was almost more than he could bear.
Tracy shivered at his side, but at least they were together. For a while, they talked, telling each other all kinds of things. Private things. Duke found it was like talking to his oldest and dearest friend. Comfortable. Comforting. He knew he was rambling but it didn’t worry him, because he trusted her. He did worry about her bouts of shivering. As best they could, they conserved their body heat by cuddling together beneath the sleeping bag.
Duke’s feet were in bad shape. The cold pierced through him like swords thrust into his legs. He’d dozed off, but the pain didn’t let him sleep long. He’d lost feeling in his toes, which was, he supposed, a blessing of sorts. The relentless tingling sensation only added to his misery.
He was frightened for Tracy, who’d grown still and quiet.
“What if no one comes by morning?” she suddenly asked. It was the first time she’d spoken in at least an hour, he estimated. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep track of time.
“Don’t worry, help’ll be here soon.” He sounded more confident than he felt. Duke had flown into plenty of storms and was well aware of their hazards. The last time he’d checked on the emergency frequency, there hadn’t been any sign that the storm was breaking up. Apparently the cold front had moved directly over Fairbanks.
“Try to sleep,” he urged. He couldn’t sleep himself; the pain was too great to allow him the luxury of that escape.
Tracy rested her head against his shoulder, nestling into his warmth, sharing her own. A swell of tenderness washed over him. He was afraid of what would happen to her if he died.
Several minutes later, he gauged from the even measure of her breathing that she was asleep. If he was about to die, he decided, the time had come to think about his life—analyze his regrets. Somewhat to his surprise, he realized he didn’t have many. To his way of thinking, his sins had been few, his mistakes plenty. He wished his relationship with his mother was better. The fault, if there was one, lay with him. He hadn’t wanted to intrude on her life.
He’d never cheated anyone, rarely lied, and overall felt that he’d lived a good and decent life.
He wished he’d fathered a child. That came as a shock. A man didn’t often consider his mortality. He dismissed the regret, certain it had occurred to him because of everything happening in Hard Luck. Weddings...and now babies. Karen Caldwell and Abbey O’Halloran were pregnant, and last he’d heard, so was Bethany Harris.
He didn’t know what kind of father he’d be, but the thought of having a son or daughter appealed to him.
A house appeared in his mind—a house that didn’t exist. He’d always hoped to build his own home someday. He figured he’d live in Hard Luck, close to his friends, be part of the community. He was sorry he’d never have a chance to build that house—if he was to die.
Tracy stirred, and he studied her in what little light the moon afforded him. He’d been astounded by the way she’d handled this crisis. He probably shouldn’t have been, though; she was an incredible woman. Almost against his will, he found himself admiring her, grateful for her cool head and gentle touch.
One day Tracy Santiago would make some lucky son of a gun a great wife. She’d be a great mother, too; he felt it instinctively. He pressed a silent kiss to the top of her head, then closed his eyes. Yeah, she was one hell of a woman....
A whooshing sound disturbed him, and he made an effort to clear his mind. He must have slept. Night had become day.
The noise came again; it seemed to be some distance away.
“Duke, did you hear that?” Tracy lifted her head from his shoulder.
He opened his mouth to tell her he did, but couldn’t find the strength to speak. He was glad she didn’t seem to notice he was fading quickly.
“I need my suitcase!” she cried. “I know I promised not to get out of the plane, but I won’t go far.”
“No...”
“I’m going to get my red nightgown and climb onto the wing and wave it. Otherwise they might not see us in the snow. I’ll be careful,” she assured him, and then she did something totally unexpected.
She kissed him. Sweetly. Excitedly. On the lips.
“The helicopter’s almost here.” Her voice was giddy with relief.
Duke lacked the strength to tell her that the emergency locator beam would give the pilot their precise whereabouts. It was unnecessary for Tr
acy to climb onto the wing and signal. Even in his groggy state, he found the idea amusing.
The sound of the rescue chopper’s approach sharpened as the aircraft drew near. Duke closed his eyes and whispered a prayer of thanksgiving.
Sounds began to mingle in his ears. The chopper, men’s voices, Tracy’s excited cries. Then someone was at his side and he was being extracted from the aircraft.
“Please be careful,” Tracy shouted in the background. “Can’t you see he’s hurt?” Duke saw a flash of red and wondered if it was the nightgown she’d mentioned. Pity he’d never seen her in it.
Pain cut into his arm and he groaned as he was placed on a narrow stretcher.
“Don’t touch his arm like that!” Tracy yelled. “What’s the matter with you people? Can’t you see he’s in pain?”
Duke closed his eyes. Minutes must have passed before he opened them again, because when he did, he realized he was in the chopper and they were airborne. An emergency medical technician was taking his vital signs.
Tracy sat on the other side and held his hand between both of hers. She didn’t look good, he thought. Dried blood matted her hair. The cut didn’t appear to be serious, but he saw a lump on her head; he hadn’t noticed it earlier.
Nor had he known how pale she was.
“Tracy.” Her name was all he could manage.
Her eyes brightened with tears and a few spilled over. “You’re going to be fine. We both are.... I don’t know if we could’ve lasted much longer.” She smeared the tears across her cheek, obviously embarrassed by them.
Although it required every bit of his strength, Duke brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.
He was barely aware of what followed. The next thing he knew, he was being wheeled down a hospital corridor. He couldn’t remember landing or being taken from the rescue helicopter or driven in the ambulance. Nor did he know what had happened to Tracy. She’d been with him from the beginning of this ordeal, and he wanted her with him now. If he hadn’t been so weak, he would’ve asked.
He heard raised voices and recognized a few. Sawyer was there; so were John, Ralph and a couple of the other guys. They all seemed to be talking at once. He tried to sit up to tell his friends that it’d take more than a little crash in a snowstorm to kill him. Unfortunately he didn’t have enough energy to so much as move his head.
Where was Tracy?
“Tracy.” He called her name, but it came out as a whisper.
A man in a white coat leaned over him. “You’re asking about your friend?”
He nodded.
“You don’t have a thing to worry about. She’s fine—a few bruises, a couple of cuts, exposure. Dr. Davidson is examining her, but she’s giving him all kinds of trouble.” The physician grinned. “She’s worried about you. I told Davidson to tell her you’re going to be fine once we get that arm set. It’s a compound fracture, which makes it more complicated. We’ll be taking you into surgery within the hour. I’ve given you something for the pain, so you should be able to rest comfortably.”
That was what he was feeling, Duke realized, the absence of pain. Tracy was all right; he could let go now.
* * *
Sawyer waited until he’d had a chance to see Duke and Tracy personally before he searched out a pay phone to call Abbey. He knew she’d be waiting anxiously to hear from him.
“They arrived twenty minutes ago,” he said, and heard the relief in his voice.
“How’s Tracy?”
“They’re examining her now, but she looks great for having spent the night in a snowbank. The hospital probably won’t even need to admit her.”
Abbey’s own relief was audible. “And Duke?”
“Duke wasn’t as fortunate,” Sawyer replied. He leaned against the wall, able to relax now that he’d seen his friend. “Compound fracture of his arm, possible internal injuries—they haven’t told him that part.”
“How bad?”
“We don’t know yet.” Perhaps he should’ve waited until he had all the details, but he’d wanted to call with the good news—Duke and Tracy were alive. Half of Hard Luck had stopped in at the office during the day, asking about them. Word of the crash had spread throughout the community.
“Will he be all right?” Abbey asked next.
“He’s going in for surgery so the arm can be set. As for the other, it’s too soon to tell. But my guess is Duke’ll be just fine in a few weeks.”
“Thank heaven.”
“Yes,” Sawyer murmured.
“The others are with you?” Abbey asked.
“Yeah. They’re waiting for me in the cafeteria.”
As soon as he’d heard that the snowstorm had cleared over Fairbanks, Sawyer had headed for the airfield, planning to assemble a rescue team and go after the missing couple.
Before he’d made it to the plane, however, Ralph had come running over with the news that they’d been rescued. He, John, Ted and three of the others asked if they could accompany Sawyer to Fairbanks. Nearly his entire crew had wanted to be at the hospital when Duke arrived.
Duke had friends. Good friends.
“I’ll pass the word along,” Abbey promised, sounding close to tears.
“Abbey, is everything all right?”
“Yes...yes, of course. It’s just that I’m so relieved. Those two had me worried.”
“You!” She’d been cool and controlled with him. Knowing how the crash had affected Sawyer, she must have figured she needed to be strong. He’d married himself quite a woman, Sawyer thought. A woman whose compassion and generosity humbled him even now.
* * *
Tracy walked into Duke’s hospital room and felt the sudden urge to cry. She’d waited what seemed like hours for him to be brought out of recovery.
His head was bandaged, his arm was in a cast, and an IV bottle steadily dripped fluid into a needle imbedded in the back of his hand. Dark circles shadowed his eyes.
He was a mess.
The doctors had told her it would be a while before he woke, but she didn’t care. They’d been through too much together for her to desert him now.
She sat in the chair next to his bed, content to stay exactly where she was until he told her himself that he was all right. She didn’t trust anyone else.
“Tracy?”
Sawyer O’Halloran walked into the room.
She gave him a weak smile. “That was some airplane ride,” she teased.
He didn’t smile. “I’ll bet.”
“You don’t need to worry—I’m not going to sue.”
He blinked in surprise. Obviously the thought had never occurred to him. But it probably had to others. After all, they’d figure, she was an attorney.
“How are you feeling?”
She smiled faintly. “Like I was in a plane crash.” The cut on her head was held together with a butterfly bandage, and she’d suffered a slight concussion, but her injuries weren’t life-threatening. No frostbite, even.
She must look a sight, but she didn’t care. Nor was she willing to leave Duke’s side until she knew for herself that he was going to pull through.
“Can I get you anything?”
“I’m fine, but thanks.”
“I’ve booked a hotel room for you over at the Moose Suites,” he said, and hesitated when she gave him an odd look. She couldn’t help it. The Moose Suites?
“The place isn’t as weird as it sounds. Clean rooms, reasonable rates. Ralph brought your suitcase there.” Sawyer handed her a key.
“Thank you.” Until he’d told her about the room, she hadn’t given a moment’s thought to where she’d stay. Once Duke woke up, she’d take a taxi to the hotel, shower and sleep for a week.
“I took the liberty of contacting your law firm.”
r /> Her gaze shot to him and she blinked. “Oh, my, I forgot about work.” Neither her law practice nor her life outside this hospital room seemed quite real at the moment.
“I spoke with Mr. Nelson.”
“He’s the senior partner.” Tracy bit her lip. She’d pushed the entire matter of her career and her life in Seattle out of her mind. She tried to picture her work calendar and remembered that she had a brief due on Wednesday, a settlement hearing scheduled for Thursday and on Friday—Oh, dear, there was something important on Friday, but she couldn’t remember what it was.
“Mr. Nelson was sorry to hear about the accident. He sends his personal regards and asked me to tell you to take as long as you need.”
“Thank you, Sawyer.” For a woman as disciplined and organized as she was, it astonished Tracy that she could actually forget about her work commitments.
“He asked if you’ll give him a call when you’re up to it.”
“I...will.” But not anytime soon, she thought.
“Until then,” Sawyer continued, “you’re not to worry. Mr. Nelson has everything covered.”
She nodded, not knowing what to say. Her whole world was centered in this small hospital room with the man who’d saved her life.
This was no exaggeration, no survivor’s gratitude run amuck, but simple fact. Tracy had heard the men talking as they’d pulled Duke from the plane. They’d found the ruptured fuel line and said the pattern the plane made as it went down showed that Duke had purposely steered it so that his side of the aircraft received the greater impact.
Duke’s skillful handling of the plane had saved their lives. Again and again Tracy heard the investigators’ comments to that effect.
A nurse had told her she was lucky to be alive, and Tracy had quickly corrected her. Luck had nothing to do with it. She was alive because of Duke Porter, and she wasn’t going to forget it.
“Do you need me for anything else?” Sawyer asked.
“No...” She couldn’t think, couldn’t make sense of her incoherent impressions.
“Don’t hesitate to phone if you or Duke need anything,” he said.