Twenty

Jillian Sams. The name rang a faint bell for Dax. “I’m not sure.”

He opened the envelope and pulled out a family photo card showing a man, woman, three children ranging from perhaps ten to sixteen, and an Old English Sheepdog. They were all beaming, even the dog.

Recognizing them, the picture made him smile too. So did the message written inside.

Dear Mr. Xavier,

It’s because of you that my family will have a Merry Christmas. We are eternally grateful for your bravery. If there’s ever anything that any of us can do for you, you only need ask.

I’m all healed now, as good as new. I look at life with a fresh perspective, and treasure every moment. It’s amazing how things can change in the space of a heartbeat. I will never again take my life and my family for granted. And we’ll never do something so stupid again.

I will also do my best to follow your example, and to help others in need whenever I can. Though, I’m afraid, never with the same amount of courage you showed when you rescued me.

I wish you and your loved ones all the best for the holiday season and the new year.

Forever in your debt,

Jillian Sams

Oh yeah, sometimes life was good.

“Who’s it from?” Lily asked.

“A woman I helped this year.”

“May I?” She held out her hand for the card.

“It’s not a big deal.” He wasn’t sure why he was reluctant to pass it over.

“Then show it to me.” She took it from him and read the message. “Wow. That’s amazing.”

“It’s really not a big deal,” Dax repeated, putting leftovers into the fridge.

“What happened?” She touched his arm, stopping him.

He turned to her. “They were on a wilderness hiking-camping trip. Inexperienced, hadn’t checked the long-range forecast. It was sunny when they set out, and they assumed it would last. Anyhow, on the second day, a storm came up, quickly. Lightning and thunder. The dog spooked and ran away and the youngest boy ran after it. The parents told the other kids to stay in the tent, and went to look for the boy and dog. They didn’t stop to grab jackets, water, or cell phones. The mom slipped in the mud and fell off the edge of a cliff into a small canyon between two sets of hills. She tumbled down quite a drop, broke an arm and a leg, knocked herself out. The dad couldn’t get down to her, the storm was getting worse, he still had a lost kid and dog.”

“My God. The poor guy must have been out of his mind with worry.”

“He rushed back to their camp and found that the boy and dog had returned. Fortunately, they had marginal cell service, so he called nine-one-one. The dispatcher contacted the RCMP, search and rescue, everyone who might be able to help. It would’ve taken quite a while to reach her from the ground, especially with the storm. No way could a small plane get in and land, but it seemed possible a helicopter could. I had my name on a list of volunteers to do aerial search and rescue, and I was close by.”

Her grip tightened on his forearm. “You flew in the middle of a storm?”

He shrugged. “She was out there unconscious; no one knew how badly she was hurt. The sat photos indicated the storm wouldn’t let up for twenty-four hours or more. I’ve flown in worse conditions.” He gave a terse grin. “At least no one was shooting at me.”

“I wish you wouldn’t take that kind of risk.” Concern creased her forehead.

In the past, he hadn’t shared these kinds of stories with her, so as not to worry her. But now he realized that sometimes he had to share with her, if those parallel courses were ever going to touch. Wanting her to understand, he took her hands. “Lily, she mightn’t have made it. She had a life, a husband, kids. She didn’t deserve to lose that.”

She bit her lip.

“I’m not crazy.” He flashed her a grin. “I just happen to be an excellent pilot.”

“I know. That’s the only reason I survived when you were deployed in Afghanistan.” She squeezed his hands. “I understand why you did it. I’m proud of you.”

She’d said those words only a few times before, like when he graduated from college, and they carried weight. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“When you first started bush flying, you said you were flying people and supplies back and forth, transferring logs and equipment, that kind of thing. Now I’ve learned you fly into accident sites. What else? I want to know what’s involved in your work.”

“Well, when there’s a forest fire, I’ve dropped firefighters and evacuated people who were in danger. Picked fishermen up from a rough sea when their boat went down. Done helivac off the deck of a tanker.”

“Helivac? But there are special helicopter services that are equipped for medevac work.”

“But they’re not always close enough to help.”

“I’d like to hear more stories. Though I admit, you’re scaring me a little.”

“I’m careful.”

“I almost believe you.” Still, a worry wrinkle creased her forehead.

“If we spent more time together, we could share more stories. I’d like to hear about your work too. You used to talk about some of your patients, but you haven’t in awhile.”

“The kind of things normal people talk about at the end of each work day.”

“I guess.” Their lives had never been like that, but it sounded appealing. If only Lily loved the bush and would consider living somewhere out in the wilds. And that was just as likely as him wanting a desk job. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t have more time together, and make the most of it. He looped his arms around her neck and dropped his head so his forehead touched hers. “It’s late. Time for bed.”

“I won’t say no.”

“You go on up. I’ll finish here and bring in wood for the morning.”

When she’d gone, he put on his boots and jacket then headed out into the chill night. Before going to the woodpile, he stopped to stare up at the crystal-clear stars scattered across an indigo sky. No city lights; no haze of pollution. He breathed deeply, feeling peace sink into his soul.

His world. If only Lily wanted to share it . . .

He shook his head. Earlier, she’d said that everyone had unfulfilled dreams. He had to accept that fact, and let this dream go.