Northern Lights

shelter.
    He was cursing when his boots bumped something solid. Picturing the curb, Nate waved his arms out like a blind man, and found the guide.
    "For our next amazing feat," he muttered, hauling himself onto the buried sidewalk. He dragged himself along until he found the cross rope, then changed angles and plowed his way to the outer door of the station.
    Wondering why he'd bothered to lock up, he fished out his keys, used his flashlight to help him find the locks. In the entry, he shook himself off, but kept his gear on. As he'd suspected, the station was frigid. Frigid enough, he noted, that the windows were frosted on the inside.
    Someone with more forethought than he had stacked wood by the stove. He fired it up, stood holding his hands, still gloved, to the flame. When he had his breath back, he closed the stove door.
    He got candles, a battery-operated lamp, and considered himself in business.
    He found the battery radio, tuned in to the local station. As promised, they were on the air, and someone with a twisted sense of humor was spinning the Beach Boys.
    Seated at his desk, he kept one ear on KLUN, the other on Peach's call radio and, mourning the lack of coffee, ate his muffin.
    By eight-thirty, he was still on his own. A reasonable hour, he decided, and settled down at the ham radio. He'd gotten a basic lesson from Peach on operation and decided to take his first flight.
    "This is KLPD calling KUNA. Come in, KUNA. Meg, you there? Pick up or sign on or whatever you call it." He got static, buzzing, a couple of squeals. "This is KLPD calling KUNA. Come on, Galloway."
    "This is KUNA responding. You got a license to operate that radio, Burke? Over."
    He knew it was ridiculous, but relief simply blew through him at the sound of her voice. Right on its heels was pleasure. "I'm C of P. Comes with the badge."
    "Say over."
    "Right, over. No, you okay out there? Over."
    "That's affirmative. We're nice and cozy. Tucked up here listening to the taku. You? Over."
    "I survived a hike across the street. What's taku? A rock group? Over."
    "It's a mean bastard wind, Burke. The one shaking your windows right now. What the hell are you doing in the station? Over."
    "I'm on duty." He glanced around the room, noted he could see his own breath. "Your power out?"
    She waited a beat. "I'll say 'over' for you. In this, sure it's out. Generator's up. We're fine, chief. You don't have to worry. Over."
    "Check in once in a while, and I won't. Hey, you know what I had yesterday? Over."
    "Besides me? Over."
    "Ha." God, this felt good, he thought. He didn't care if it was cold as the ice of hell. "Yeah, besides. I had horse turd whiskey and moose stew. Over."
    She laughed, long and loud. "We'll make a sourdough out of you, Burke. Gotta go feed my dogs and my fire. See you around. Over and out."
    "Over and out," he murmured.
    It was warm enough now to shed the parka, though he kept on his
    hat and thermal vest. He was poking through the files, looking for busy work when Peach pushed through the door.
    "Wondered if anyone was crazy enough to come in today," she said.
    "Just me. How the hell did you get here?"
    "Oh, Bing brought me in on the plow." She dusted one hand over the baby-blue fleece of her sweater.
    "Snowplow as taxicab. Here, let me get that." He hurried over to take the big sack she carried. "You didn't have to come in."
    "Job's a job."
    "Yeah, but . . . coffee? Is this coffee?" He dug the thermos out of the sack.
    "Wasn't sure you'd have the generator up yet."
    "Not only don't I have it up, I don't know if I can find it. And since mechanics aren't my strong point, I wasn't sure I'd know what to do with it if I did find it. This is coffee. Marry me, have many, many children with me."
    She giggled like a girl, slapped at him with her hand. "You be careful, throwing out offers like that. Just because I've been married three times already doesn't mean I won't go for four. You go ahead and have some coffee and a cinnamon bun."
    "Maybe we could just live together in sin." He set the sack on the counter, and immediately poured coffee into a mug. The scent hit him like a beautiful fist. "Forever."
    "You smile like that more often, I might just take you up on it. Well, look what the taku blew in," she added when Peter stumbled in.
    "Holy cow. That's a whopper out there. Talked to Otto. He's on his way."
    "Bing bring you in, too?"
    "No, me and my dad mushed it."
    "Mushed." Another world, Nate thought. But Peach was right, a job was