By morning they’d covered every member of their families and every minor like and dislike. They laughed. They talked quietly. They held hands and dreamed of future flights.
“If the transatlantic record falls,” Jack said after they’d drunk another cylinder of water, “let’s go for your North Pole flight.”
“Really?” He’d said let’s, as in the two of them. “But, this time I’m the pilot.”
He grinned. “The pilot goes with the plane. If you own the plane, you can be the pilot.”
She flexed her hand. The feeling was coming back. “All right. I’ll settle for copilot.”
He leaned close again. “Me, too.”
They sealed the bargain with a kiss.
“Oh,” she cried, breaking away. “Look.” The eastern horizon had begun to lighten, and when Darcy looked overhead, she saw stars, millions upon millions of stars.
Within the hour, the forest creatures began their day gathering food. The rustling, cheeping and occasional scolding gladdened Darcy’s soul. She was terribly hungry and weak, but they’d survived the night. Somehow they’d make it home. She knew it.
Jack found the map resting against a birch tree, and using the compass, determined their approximate location. He sat beside her with a grunt. “I’d say we’re a good ten miles from the coast.”
“Ten miles?” How would she walk that far? Nevertheless, she said, “I can make it.”
Jack lifted the hatchet. “First I make you a new crutch.” He hesitated a moment. “I wish I had brought the sandwich that you started to eat.”
She wrinkled her nose. Even in starvation she couldn’t stomach that. “It was soaked in gasoline.”
“Rest,” he ordered, rising.
But how could she? While Jack looked for the perfect branch from which to craft a crutch, Darcy surveyed their surroundings. Last night’s snow was already melting. It was only an inch thick and in some places the twigs and dead leaves and plants poked through. Plants. Darcy looked closely. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was wintergreen. She broke off a leaf and sniffed. Sure enough. She chewed on it. It didn’t fill the stomach but it helped.
She’d gathered handfuls by the time Jack returned with the crutch.
He pounded it on the ground. “This’ll last a good twenty, thirty miles.”
“I sure hope it’s not twenty miles to the mining camp.”
“Ten, twelve at most. We’ll take it slow, and I’ll help you over the hills.” He handed her the crutch and held out a hand to assist her to her feet.
“First, eat.” She held out the wintergreen. “It’s mint. Try it.”
He took a leaf and chewed. His eyebrows shot up. “So it is. Where’d you learn about edible plants?”
“Papa’s expedition books.”
He munched on a handful. “I’ll have to thank your father. After we walk to the mine.”
A familiar screech drew Darcy’s attention upward. A dozen white, black and gray birds floated above them. “We won’t have very far to go, maybe one or two miles.”
“Impossible. The location of the stream, the terrain; it all indicates we’re here.” He pointed to the map.
“Then how do you explain the seagulls?”
Jack followed her outstretched arm. “What do gulls have to do with where we’re located?”
“Gulls mean we must be near the coast. Near Lake Superior.” As if to confirm her statement, a long low moan reached their ears. Darcy pushed to one knee. “A steam horn.”
“A ship’s horn.” Jack looked around. “That direction.” He pointed to the next ridge.
“Well, help me up.”
Instead, Jack scooped her into his arms. “Hold on tight.”
“You’ll hurt yourself.”
“Stop nagging.” But he was grinning.
She laughed, bouncing against his chest. They reached the top of the hill, and he stopped. She felt something release in him.
“What is it?”
He let her down, making sure she had her crutch for balance. There before them spread the deep blue of Lake Superior. Far below sat the mining settlement, smoke trailing from the shacks’ chimneys. A steamboat moored at the pier, taking on ore. The descent would be difficult, but they’d survive.
“We’re going home.” She positioned the crutch under her right arm, but before she could move he drew her close. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time, something I should have done long ago. Give me your hand.”
She lifted her right hand.
“No, the other one.”
Darcy caught her breath. Her left hand. Was he? Could it possibly be? She started to tremble.
“Darcy Opal Shea, I know it’s lousy timing and I should have asked you sooner, but there’s no one else I want to spend my life loving.”
The spasms started the moment he used her full name and accelerated with each successive word.
He gazed deep into her eyes. “Will you fly with me across the Atlantic or to the North Pole or just to the next town? Will you navigate the rest of our lives?”