Leni recognized Large Marge’s truck.
“You stay in the truck,” Mr. Walker said.
“No!”
“Stay here.” He grabbed his mesh bag and left the truck, slamming the door behind him.
In the glow of headlights, Leni saw Mr. Walker meet Large Marge in the middle of the road. He dropped his bag, took out some coiled-up rope.
Leni pressed herself to the window, her breath clouding the view. Impatiently she wiped it away.
Mr. Walker tied one end of the rope around a tree and the other end around his own waist in an old-school belay.
With a wave to Large Marge, he lowered himself over the embankment and disappeared.
Leni wrenched the door open and fought the wind, blinded by snow, to cross the road.
Large Marge stood at the edge of the embankment.
Leni peered over the edge, saw broken trees and the bus’s shadowy bulk. She shined her flashlight down but it wasn’t enough light. She heard metal creaking, a thump, and a woman’s scream.
And then … Mr. Walker reappeared in the feeble beam of light, with Mama bound to his side, tied to him.
Large Marge grabbed the rope in her gloved hands, pulled them up, hand over hand, until Mr. Walker stumbled back up onto the road, Mama slumped at his side, unconscious, held up by Mr. Walker’s grip. “She’s in bad shape,” Mr. Walker yelled into the wind. “I’ll take her by boat to the hospital in Homer.”
“What about me?” Leni screamed. They seemed to have forgotten she was there.
Mr. Walker gave Leni one of those you-poor-kid looks Leni knew so well. “You come with me.”
*
THE SMALL HOSPITAL waiting room was quiet.
Tom Walker sat beside Leni, his parka puffed up in his lap. First they had driven to Walker Cove, where Mr. Walker had carried Mama down to the dock and placed her gently on the bench seat in his aluminum boat. They had sped around the craggy shoreline to Homer.
At the hospital, Mr. Walker carried Mama up to the front desk. Leni ran along beside, touching Mama’s ankle, her wrist, whatever she could reach.
A Native woman with two long braids sat at the desk, clacking away on a typewriter.
Within moments, a pair of nurses came to take Mama away.
“Now what?” Leni asked.
“Now we wait.”
They sat there, not talking; each breath Leni took felt difficult, as if her lungs had a mind of their own and might stop working. There was so much to be afraid of: Mama’s injury, losing Mama, Dad coming in （Don’t think about that, how mad he will be … what he’ll do when he realizes they were leaving）， and the future. How would they leave now?
“Can I get you something to drink?”
Leni was so deep in the pit of her fear that it took her a second to realize Mr. Walker was talking to her.
She looked up, bleary-eyed. “Will it help?”
“Nope.” He reached over for her hand, held it. She was surprised enough by the unexpected contact that she almost pulled away, but it felt nice, too, so she held his hand in return. She couldn’t help wondering how different life would be with Tom Walker as her dad.
“How’s Matthew?” she asked.
“He’s getting better, Leni. Genny’s brother is going to teach him to fly. Matthew is seeing a therapist. He loves your letters. Thanks for keeping in touch with him.”
She loved his letters, too. Sometimes it felt like hearing from Matthew was the best part of her life. “I miss him.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
“Will he come back?”
“I don’t know. There’s so much up there. Kids his age, movie theaters, sports teams. And I know Mattie, once he takes control of an airplane for the first time, he will fall in love. He’s a kid who loves adventure.”
“He told me he wanted to be a pilot.”
“Yeah. I wish I’d listened to him a little better,” Mr. Walker said with a sigh. “I just want him to be happy.”
A doctor walked into the waiting room, approached them. He was a heavyset man with a barrel chest that strained to be freed from the confines of his blue scrubs. He had the rugged, hard-drinking look of a lot of the men who lived in the bush, but his hair was closely cropped and, except for a bushy gray mustache, he was clean-shaven. “I’m Dr. Irving. You must be Leni,” he said, pulling off his surgical cap.
Leni nodded, got to her feet. “How is she?”
“She’s going to be fine. Her arm is set in a cast now, so she’ll need to slow down for six weeks or so, but there should be no lasting damage.” He looked at Leni. “You saved her, young lady. She wanted to make sure I told you that.”