Her Mistletoe Miracle

The ranger smiled in sympathy for his younger brother-in-law’s plight. “I won’t say a word. How about I bring in the paint and rollers, while you spread that canvas sheeting.”

Mick brushed aside thoughts of Hana Egan and bent to the task of making sure the canvas covered all corners. Wylie had done a great job installing tongue and groove hardwood. Mick forced himself to focus on the room. His house could stand renovation. Rather than head for sun and surf this winter, maybe he ought to stick around and spruce up the old place.

If he did that, he wouldn’t have an opportunity to meet a suitable prospect for the position of Mrs. Mick Callen. Not that marriage was at the top of his list. Yet he envied what Marlee and Wylie had. And it was lonely rattling around that big, empty house.

He cleared his mind until Wylie returned to pour warm butterscotch paint into Mick’s roller pan. Each stroke he made on the wall unfortunately reminded him of Hana Egan’s eyes. He hurried around the walls so he could move on to the pale yellow of the smallest room, which made him think only of Stella’s homemade banana cream pie.

Mick was primed for eating by the time they were called for supper. After the meal Marlee opened all the baby gifts Mick had bought and cried over each one.

He shrugged off her thanks, grateful when Wylie asked if he wanted to stay up late to hang the flower-sprigged wallpaper down to the wainscoting in the bathroom.

Marlee and the kids came out shortly after to say good-night. “Mick, I made up the bed in Dean’s room for you.”

“Thanks. I’ll be quiet going in. I know you said we need to get an early start in the morning.”

Later, he tiptoed into the dark room. Piston and Wingman had already found his bed, and Mick shooed the disgruntled dogs off. As he listened to the wind howl outside, Mick stepped to the window to see if it’d started to snow. Deciduous trees were bare, but their fallen leaves rustled around their trunks. Fir and pine boughs swayed in the wind, and the silver moon shone cold and crisp. Turning away, he climbed between sheets heated by the dogs’ bodies and lay a moment, wondering if Hana and her pal, Jess, were sharing a sleeping bag for warmth on a wind-swept mountain that would be colder than it was here. Flopping on his stomach, he rubbed an achy hip that surely meant a change in weather was coming. He forced his breathing to slow so he could fall asleep.

IN THE MORNING, with everyone trying to use one bathroom to get ready, the house was pure chaos. Wylie didn’t want anyone showering in the new bathroom yet, although the paint was dry. Mick was relieved to see the wallpaper hadn’t slid off the walls overnight. Hey, maybe he could spiff up his house.

Marlee blew in with red cheeks after taking the dogs out. “Brr. It’s beginning to snow.”

Excited, Dean and Jo Beth crowded together at the door and looked outside.

“In or out!” Wylie bellowed. “Dean, you know enough not to let heat out.”

The phone rang. Marlee answered. She frowned and hung up. “That was Ellen Russell. It’s snowing and blowing at the potluck site. They’re moving to the education room at headquarters.”

Wylie stroked a fresh-shaven chin. “Four rangers from the outposts will have to fly in then. Makes for a crowded runway.”

“Yesterday you suggested taking the chopper. I don’t mind doing the flying,” Mick said.

“I did bring it up, but later I started thinking the chopper will be a bumpier ride than the Merlin. I’m not keen on Marlee flying at seven months, let alone in the Huey.”

She reached past her basketball belly to hug her husband. “Don’t coddle me, Wylie. My great-great-grandmother had great-grandpa Callen on a wagon train somewhere along the Oregon Trail. I’ll be fine. Taking the Huey makes sense. You and the kids and the dogs can sit on the pull-down canvas litters in back. I’ll pretend I’m copilot. But, the wrath of a pregnant woman will be on you if either of those dogs eats my pies or the lasagna.”

Laughing, they decided to load up. Soon after, Mick lifted off into pearl-gray clouds laden with snow.

At the main ranger station, the kids snapped leashes on the dogs, hopped down and were soon surrounded by other rangers’ children. Dean introduced Jo Beth. Wylie did the same for Marlee and Mick.

Thanks to Ellen Russell, Marlee was absorbed into the circle of women bustling about the central meeting room, where someone had already set up folding tables and chairs in anticipation of moving the potluck indoors.

Ever observant, Mick noticed two female rangers didn’t seem to mix with the gaggle of wives, nor did they hang with the men, who’d gone out back under a freestanding roof to pitch horseshoes. The younger of the two women had been introduced as Natalie Sweeney. She made eye contact with Mick. She had rosy cheeks and sandy hair. Pleasant enough looks, but her flirting didn’t have much effect on Mick. He escaped by detouring outside to bring the dogs in.

It’d been a while since he’d spent time in the company of a bunch of guys who liked bullshitting with buddies the way the rangers were doing. Mick laughed at their tales about campers who should never have taken up that hobby. City guys who couldn’t build a fire or even set up a tent.

Shortly after 1:00 p.m. the women called everyone in to partake of the food that had been tantalizing Mick for an hour. Everything smelled so good.

More emboldened once the married men joined their families, leaving Mick momentarily on his own, Natalie slipped between two people to reach him. “Hi, I work a couple of areas away from your brother-in-law. It’s very remote. I’d love a chance to talk with somebody who’s been out in the real world.” She twisted a lock of hair around a blunt finger. “After you fill your plate, join me? I staked out two spots in a quiet corner, away from the kids.”

Mick glanced down the line of people filling plates. Marlee and Wylie were deep in conversation with another couple. “Uh, sure,” he told Natalie.

“Great. Here, let me refill your coffee cup and set it at my table…unless you want to switch to beer.”

He debated, but finally shook his head and handed Natalie his empty mug.

“Everything looks so good,” he joked with the ranger ahead of him, “I either need two plates or a sideboard.”

“Forget sideboards, friend, you need armor. A word of advice…Pat Delveccio talked me into dating Natalie once. She’s got a one-track mind focused on becoming Mrs. Somebody. If you don’t believe me, wait. She’s got a list of things she wants in a husband. You won’t get two words in before she’ll start grilling you about what you do, if you smoke, whether you go to church, how much you have in the bank. When she got to how many kids I thought I’d like to have, I ended the date real fast.”

Mick loaded up his plate, unsure whether to join her or not. Maybe she wouldn’t feel so free since they’d barely met and in no way were on a date.

Stopping behind his sister, Mick leaned down as she scooted over to make room for him. He murmured in her ear, “I got roped into eating with Natalie Sweeney. If you see me signaling frantically, come rescue me before dessert.”

“Don’t signal me, Mick. You need to socialize more.”

“Thanks heaps.” Well, he could always tell Natalie he was in a serious relationship—with a smoke jumper. As he made his way across the room, he noticed it was snowing harder, and his mind skipped to Hana and her pals. Had they already turned back? Undoubtedly, weather on the mountain would be far worse than it was here.

Mick sat, and had no more than dipped a fork into his meal when Natalie hit him with question number one.

“My friend Pat said you own a freight flying service. That’s cool.” As he chewed, he thought, Marlee’s lasagna’s not bad. “She also said you’re on navy disability. That must provide you a nice nest egg.”

She smiled, but the lasagna stuck in Mick’s throat. He coughed and stuffed more food in his mouth.

By the time Natalie had worked her way to question number three, Mick’s eyes were glazed. The park radio crackling to life saved him. Trudy Morgenthal had set it to take Park area emergency calls here. Talk instantly ground to a halt.

Mick heard enough of a frantic, garbled transmission to deduce that the hiking party of smoke jumpers had turned back, but not soon enough. They’d met with trouble.

He bounded out of his seat and crowded around the radio with the rangers.

“I outfitted that party,” he said. “I know several team members. What happened?”

Trudy shushed him and turned to her boss. “It seems that last night they disagreed over whether to forge on to the peak or turn back. They went farther up the face before pitching tents. Today they decided to call it quits. But the first team roping down the ridge slipped and plunged into a crevasse. The guy on the radio knows they have injuries, and he’s afraid some may be dead.”

The captain scowled. “Damned crazy smoke-eaters. Who in hell issued them permits this time of year?”

“I did,” said a ranger standing behind Mick. “I issued it last month. They delayed going twice because of fall fires. But I mean, I expected them to have common sense.”

“Yeah, well, apparently they don’t,” the captain muttered. He scanned his men. “How many of you are sober enough to head out on a rescue climb?”

Several hands, including Mick’s, shot up.

The radio stuttered to life again. “I’m getting word from the crevasse,” a disembodied voice said. “Two women seem to be hurt bad. The most coherent one claims there’s been no response from our guide. He fell first, but he’s our most experienced climber. Can you send a rescue plane? I’m afraid if we don’t get the injured out ASAP they’ll die.”

Mick wanted so badly to ask names and particulars. But a larger part of him was afraid to know who had fallen.

“We can’t send either of our helicopters out in this wind. They’re small and it’s too risky,” the captain said.

“I flew here in a Huey.” Mick elbowed his way forward. “Trudy, ask if there’s a clearing near them large enough for me to land away from trees.”