Frank nodded down the path. “Tell me about it while we get ourselves organized.”
Twenty minutes later they sat and talked over tea.
“I sent out three men who know the country,” Frank said, draining his teacup. “Give them a day and they’ll know what’s going on and why.”
“What about my parents and Rudi?” Magda asked.
“William’s getting the supplies we need. As soon as you two get some rest, we’ll go after them.”
“I’m not tired,” Magda said.
“Yes, you are,” Frank said, his lips twitching toward a smile. “And look at the lieutenant, he’s almost asleep.”
Jerry forced his eyes open in the cozy kitchen of Frank’s home. “I can keep up with you!”
“I’m sure you could, Lieutenant Yamato. But you’d be of more use to us and yourself if you recharged your batteries.”
Jerry couldn’t argue with him. He wasn’t just tired; he was exhausted. He couldn’t remember ever being this tired before in his life. Magda had to be nearly out on her feet, too.
“Four hours of sleep and we’ll start, okay?” Frank said glancing from one to the other.
Jerry nodded.
Magda sighed. “Okay. But just four hours.”
Frank pointed to two doors. “You each have a room if you wish.”
Jerry felt his cheeks grow warm. “Thanks, see you in four hours.” He entered a small, clean bedroom containing two single beds and a dresser. As he shut the door he heard Magda say, “It’s not like that, Uncle Frank.”
“Whatever you say,” Frank said with a chuckle.
Jerry’s eyes popped open and he wondered what it was that woke him. For a long moment he couldn’t fathom his location. Then it all flooded back.
He sat up in the comfortable bed and looked across the room. Magda slept on the other bed, curled in a fetal position with the sheet pulled tight around her shoulders.
So much for trust, he thought. But then he realized that her defensiveness might not have anything to do with him. There was a lot happening in her life just now that might induce something less than open, welcoming arms on her part.
He turned, pulling his body free of the light sheet and blanket, and slipped into his boots. As he secured the lashings, he glanced around the cabin. He could live in a place like this, he decided.
Varnished peeled logs fit tightly atop each other, creating a snug bedroom boasting one window. The yellow cedar window frame brought warmth from outside and spread it liberally throughout the room. The plank flooring felt cool and sturdy under his feet, and nowhere a sliver to be found.
Jerry had spent months living in the Sierra Nevada Mountains every summer for five teen-aged years. As a counselor he had one of the better cabins in the camp. The difference between this house and those cabins was the difference between Satori, his P-61 Eureka fighter, and an AT-9 Sacramento trainer.
They both fit the description, but in such different ways.
He looked back at Magda again and found her staring at him.
“Hi,” he said. “How do you feel?”
She looked at him, her head still partially buried in the pillow, and smiled. “I’m fine, how are you?”
“Quite rested, thanks.”
Her eyebrows arched. “What time is it? How long have we been here? Why did they let us sleep so long?”
Jerry peered at his watch.
“It’s eighteen hundred?” He looked up at her. “Six in the evening. We’ve been here about six hours, if I remember right. What was the last thing?”
She popped out of her bed as if spring-loaded. In a few seconds she had slipped into her hide boots and rushed out the door.
“Good thing I had a head start,” Jerry muttered, following her.
Magda didn’t hesitate, but hurried down a flagstone path to a larger house. She slammed the door open with the heel of her hand and disappeared inside.
“Doesn’t anyone knock in this country?” Jerry said loudly, following on her heels. If someone took offense at her lack of manners, he might have to rescue her.
“Frank, where are you?” she shouted.
The house felt empty. Jerry wondered if she had gone to the wrong cabin. He started to suggest his question, but—
“Damn him! They’ve gone without us. That low-down, condescending, hubristic son of a bitch went without us!”
Relief surged through Jerry and he silently thanked Frank and William and whoever else went with them. He focused on Magda, realizing he had to get her calmed down or end up following her through these woods carrying anything between an automatic weapon and a spear.
Magda was certifiable, as his grandfather used to say. She didn’t hesitate to consider consequences, just acted. Or did she?
In controlled circumstances, she was quite deliberate, such as their first meeting. He frowned, upset that he had jumped to conclusions.
He had worked so long and hard on that one.
“So what should we do?” he asked.
“Nothing, damn it! I hate being treated like a-a…”
“Well-loved young woman?”
She started to answer, and then suddenly her eyes bored in to his. “By whom?”
“Your parents and your uncle, dimwit!”
“He knew I wanted to go along,” she said, close to a pout.
“He also knew you were exhausted, ready to drop, and completely overwhelmed by circumstances.”
She frowned at him but it faded into a moue. “You’re right, dammit, Lieutenant Yamato.”
“But.”
“But it’s my fight, too!”
“He knows that, and he respects it. That’s why he had to trick you to get you to sleep long enough to do some good.”
The moue solidified into a frown. “You’ll get nowhere with me by being right all the time!” She stomped into the next room.
After four silent responses he elected to say nothing. He followed her into a kitchen and realized how hungry he had become.
“Can you handle a moose steak?” Magda asked.
“Better than it can handle me,” he quipped with a smile.
“Good. That’s about all we got.” She stoked a wood range and tossed sticks into the firebox, opened the flue a quarter turn. “Rare, medium, or well done?”
“Medium. I’m a medium kind of guy.”
“No, you’re not. I wouldn’t like you if you were medium.” She burrowed into the refrigerator and pulled out a plate holding two large pieces of meat. “I don’t believe the Republic of California picks medium guys to fly their fighter planes.”
She dropped each steak into its own pan and began pawing through the spice shelf. “No, First Lieutenant Yamato, I think you’re more of an extreme guy”—she looked at him over her shoulder, nearly hiding her smile—“who isn’t afraid of risk and is always looking for an adventure. Right?”
The steaks sizzled in the pans and the aroma of cooking meat touched his nose. His stomach growled. She filled his thoughts.
“Never thought about it that way, but to a point you’re right. You have to want to fly more than anything else in the world to make it through flight school, not to mention put up with more military bullshit than you ever imagined.”
“But you did it,” she said, still smiling and turning toward him. “Because you’re an extreme kind of guy.”
She crossed the small space between them and kissed him; he wanted it to last forever. She finally pulled away and he saw something new in her eyes.
“You get through this safely, Jerry. We have a lot to do together.” She turned back to the stove and flipped the meat.
Jerry decided he was in love. He wasn’t sure exactly what that would mean to him in the future, but more than anything, he wanted to grow old with Magda and love her as much as possible every single day.