“I’m just finishing up changing the bolts on the prop. It’s been on my to-do list for a while, and I thought while you were home, and the sky was clear, I’d get it done.”

Of course he did. Again, Dodge watched as he tried to insert the safety wire into the tiny hole in the bolt, a precaution against losing the bolt.

“Dad. You’re not even near the hole.” He stepped up to him, reached out for the wire.

“I got this,” his dad said, glancing at him. He wore his spectacles down on his nose, and it aged him. In fact, in this light, his father looked downright old. He had deep lines around his eyes and his hair had whitened. And he wore a thick scratch of white whiskers.

It unseated Dodge.

“I’ve been changing prop bolts since before you could walk.” He made another stab at the hole.

Not even close. Dodge stepped back, watching him struggle, not saying anything.

Finally, “Dad. Can you see the hole?”

“I don’t need to see it. I usually feel for it—it’s so small, but—”

“If you had two hands, it might work better.”

His dad’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “Maybe.”

“Can I try?”

With a sigh, his father handed him the thin wire. Dodge inserted it into the bolt hole and wound it tight, then attached it to the adjoining bolt, yet another layer of safety. From here, he could see the other safety line had been already tightened down, albeit messily. A one-handed job.

He could fix it when he got home from the store, before he took the plane up again. “I’m going to run into town and pick up some groceries, as well as some tin. The roof came down in my cabin this morning.”

“Are you okay?”

Huh. Not the question he’d expected. “Fine. But there’s a hole, so I’m going to try and patch it before the storm gets here. For now, I moved back into the house. I hope that’s okay.”

His dad was tightening another bolt, not looking at him. “Yep.”

No emotion, but that was probably the best thing.

Somehow, however, something in Dodge chipped away, broke free. Felt lighter.

“I’ll be back later.”

“Don’t worry about me. I have a year’s worth of lasagna in the fridge.” He looked at Dodge and gave a wry grin.

And before he knew it, Dodge was grinning back.

Okay, whatever.

He turned on the radio as he drove into town.

Norm Dahlquist’s voice came over KTNO. He was doing a rundown of the week’s events, ending with a callout to all the homesteads. They called it the bush pipeline, a way to communicate with all the homesteaders who didn’t have ham radios.

“To Spike and Nola, your doctor from Anchorage will be out on Friday next, for a checkup.”