I guess.”
“It’s because of our marriage,” Aran stated, making her blush.
“Oh?”
“Also it’s an opening now I’ve been discharged from the army.”
“And your father? How does he feel about you moving near your mother?”
Aran’s expression hardened. “My father died just before I was deployed.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
And she truly was. She knew what it was like to lose a parent when you were young. It sucked. And she felt bad that she hadn’t known that, since they’d got married right before he’d deployed.
Of course. Now it made sense why he’d been so distant during their wedding...
“Look, if you don’t want to go through with this it’s okay,” Ruby offered. Aran was not his usual jovial self.
“No. It’s fine,” he said quickly.
But he didn’t offer a reason why he was so cold. So preoccupied.
“Is it something I did?”
“No,” he said tersely.
Before she could back out the court reporter came out into the hallway. “Dr. Cloutier and Dr. Atkinson?”
Aran took her hand and led her into the judge’s chambers.
He looked down at her. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“Like what?” Ruby asked. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
“Relax. It’s okay.”
Only it wasn’t okay. He’d married her when he’d been grieving. People made a lot of mistakes when they were grieving. Life was like a blur. And when you lost a parent it was as if a piece of your soul had been gouged out from you and you had to relearn the world without that vital piece there. Even twenty years later she was still mourning the loss of her father. She was still grieving him, even though she kept it to herself.
They didn’t say much else as they walked the rest of the way to the crab shack. When they got down to the docks the familiar scent of Old Bay seasoning, melted butter and salt water hit her and her stomach growled in response. It had been a long time since she’d come down here and had some Alaskan King Crab. She’d been so busy at work.
Aran held open the door for her and they took a seat in the screened porch that looked out over the Cook Inlet.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been here in all the times I’ve visited Anchorage,” Aran said, looking around.
“Your mom never brought you here? It’s an Anchorage institution, apparently.”
“This is not my mom’s type of place. Brown paper tablecloths, crab and beer... Yeah, so not her thing.”
Ruby laughed. “Well, I’m not having any beer tonight. I have a patient to check on when we’re done.”
“Right—this is the patient who was brought in this morning from up near Wainwright?”
“Yes...” Ruby sighed looking at the menu.
“What can I get you folks today?” asked a waiter, coming up then and interrupting their discussion of the patient.
Which was fine. Ruby really didn’t want to talk about her patient at that moment. She was worried about him. He wasn’t doing well.
“I’ll have an order of crab legs and an iced tea.” She handed the menu to the waiter.
“Same,” Aran said and handed his menu back.
“Great! I’ll be back with your drinks in a moment.”
An awkward tension settled between them. She saw Aran was picking at his napkin. What had happened between the two of them? They’d used to be so comfortable around each other. They’d used to be able to work and converse easily.
Of course that had been when they were just friends and not husband and wife. And, really, they hadn’t talked much about anything besides work.
“He’s not doing well. My patient,” Ruby finally said, breaking the tension.
“Oh...?”
“I think an infection has set in. I started a round of rabies shots, obviously, but...”
“Go on,” he urged, interested.
“I’m not going to talk about the nature of a bear attack in a restaurant. It was pretty bad. I’m actually surprised that he made it to Anchorage.”
Aran nodded. “Yeah, it’s best not to talk too much about that when people are eating.”
“He’s in the ICU, but I have a feeling I’m going to have to open him up again and see if an abscess has formed.”
The waiter appeared again just then, with their drinks, and there was a slightly horrified look on his face at hearing the word “abscess.” She tried to stifle a laugh.
“Enjoy,” the waiter said quickly, before leaving.
Ruby chuckled and Aran smiled.
“See what I mean?” she said. “That waiter was grossed out.”
“He did look a bit green around the gills,” Aran said looking over his shoulder. “Remember that time when we had to take those first-year medical students on rounds?”
Ruby groaned. “Oh, don’t remind me. That was so awful.”
“I dragged one young man into the operating room and there was that infected bowel...”
“No, you really need to stop!” Ruby laughed. “That was awful.”
“Well, it helped him decide that surgery was not his cup of tea.”
Ruby nodded. “It did—and he looked just as green as that waiter.”
Aran nodded. “So, who pilots your plane while you’re saving lives?”
“Me. I do.”
“You’re a pilot?” Aran asked, stunned.
“Yes. You seem surprised.”
“I haven’t met many women pilots. Logically, I know they exist. I’ve just never met one.”
“Well, I grew up in a community where for a long time the only access in or out during different parts of the year was via plane.”
Aran cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Up until 2008 the side of Great Slave Lake I lived on could only be accessed in the summer if you drove your car onto a ferry or in the winter when the river froze and you drove your car across it.”
Aran’s eyes widened. “You mean people drive across ice?”
“Have you never heard of an ice road? They have them up here in Alaska.”
“No. I haven’t.”
Ruby chuckled. “You really are a southern boy.”
“So, now you have a bridge?” he asked.
“Yes, there’s a bridge crossing the river now, and those communities aren’t landlocked during certain seasons. See, when there was ice breaking up the ferry couldn’t run, and of course you couldn’t drive across it. And ice road seasons are becoming shorter. Still, there are many other places that rely on bush planes to service their communities. When I was old enough I started to take flying lessons. I wanted to be a pilot. My older brother is a bush pilot.”
“Is