was growing dark. There was still no sign of the Sea Duckor Baloo. Kit, assembling a model airplane on a crate in the corner of the office/living room, watched his adopted mother’s frantic fluttering. From her actions, it was obvious that she was worried about her husband. She walked from her desk over to the window. She stuck her head out the door. Frowning and muttering to herself, she crossed the room to her desk and picked up the telephone. After a second, she put the receiver down and headed back to the door to look outside again. Rebecca then went to the radio, pushed the transmit button on the microphone, opened her mouth, shook her head, closed her mouth, and put the mike down. For a second time, she trotted over to the window. When the Sea Duck’s engines were audible, the petite brown bearess rushed to her desk. In her haste, she knocked a pile of bills on the floor.

She was gathering them up when the pilot came through the door. He whipped off his red cap and crushed it in his paws. Apologies never had been easy for him. With a heavy sigh, Baloo crossed the room and knelt beside Rebecca to help her pick up the papers. He handed them to her, saying softly, repentantly, “Becky...honey, I’m sorry.”

Papers and envelopes scattered on the floor as Rebecca flung her arms about his neck. “I’m sorry too, Baloo.”

Smiling, Kit bent over his airplane model.

Later That Evening

The von Bruinwalds were relaxing post-dinner in the living room. Rebecca was at her desk, buried in ledgers and clicking away at an adding machine. Baloo, in his ratty red easy chair, watched the cubs chase each other around the room in a make-believe game of DangerWoman versus the air pirates.

“Ya know, Beckers,” the big bear said through a yawn, “ya wouldn’t be so uptight all the time if ya laid offa the work now and again.”

“Don’t push me, buster! I’m still upset that we lost the Gelman Glove account because of your tardiness!” Rebecca’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Know-it-all, lazy bear,” she muttered under her breath, jabbing at the adding machine keys more forcefully.

“Kit had a good idea when we were getting ice cream,” Molly interjected, brandishing her DangerWoman spatula.

“Not now, Molly!” Kit said, fearful his idea would cause a second Great War between his parents. Even after they had ‘kissed and made up’, the tension was still high between them.

Regardless of her brother’s protests, the little girl forged ahead. “Trade jobs for a day. Daddy can stay here, and, Mommy, you can fly the deliveries.” She looked at her parents expectantly.

“Becky fly my baby!” Baloo sat upright in his chair.

“Baloo mess with my business!” Rebecca spread her arms protectively over her ledgers.

“I don’t think so!” both adults exclaimed simultaneously.

At least you agree on something, thought Kit with a wry smile.

“Although...” Rebecca shot her husband a saucy glance. It would be amusing to see him make a fool out of himself. He knew absolutely nothing about business. The fact that he ran Baloo’s Air Service into the ground was proof. He wouldn’t know a ledger from a ledge.

Baloo hurried over to stand in front of her desk. “Yer not seriously thinkin’ about it, Becky!”

“Why not? It might be fun,” she replied, sorting bills and invoices into separate piles.

“Fun for you, ya mean! I’d hafta stay in this stuffy little office all day while yer flyin’ my beautiful Sea Duck.”

“It’s my plane, too, Baloo.” She flaunted her wedding ring before his face. “We’re married now, remember? We share everything fifty-fifty.”

“Yeah, but...”

“Technically, I’m sharing my half of the Sea Duck with you, since Iowned it before we were married.” With dizzying speed, Rebecca stapled packets of papers together and placed them into folders for filing.

Baloo nervously rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking.

“And I’m a pretty good pilot.” She stopped her work to give him a pointed look. “You said so yourself.”

“But...but...” Baloo could have kicked himself. He had told her that after her last flying lesson. Me an’ my big mouth!

“We’ll take Wildcat with us so if anything goes wrong - which it won’t - we’ll be safe.”

“We?” Baloo cried.

“Kit and I. A pilot needs a navigator, right?”

Baloo knew he was beaten. When his wife got that determined glint in her eyes, there was no other option but to play along. “I s’pose...all right, Becky. Just fer one day.” He turned to Kit, a dour, disapproving expression on his face. “Next time, keep yer big ideas to yourself, kid.”

Early the Next Morning

The sun was just beginning to peek over the hills on the eastern edge of Cape Suzette when Baloo and Kit stood in the doorway of Higher for Hire. They watched as Rebecca - wearing Baloo’s red cap - directed the loading of the Sea Duck’s cargo hold. That morning’s shipment was twenty crates of Handy Dandy diamond-tipped drill bits. Two men with dollies rolled the crates from the truck to the seaplane.

Scratching his head, which felt naked without his hat, the big bear grumbled, “How come they load ‘em for her, but I gotta break my back liftin’ all them darn things! It ain’t fair, Li’l Britches.” Baloo placed a paw on his son’s shoulder. “If anythin’ goes wrong, call me, okay?”

Kit grinned up at Baloo. “Don’t worry, Papa Bear. We’re just going to New Fedora. We’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

At the other end of the dock, Rebecca pulled Molly aside. “If your daddy does something bad, like yell at a customer, make sure you radio me right away.”

“Check, Mommy,” said Molly with a thumbs-up.

“Shake a leg, Becky, or yer gonna be late!” Baloo shouted. He chuckled to himself, Hee, hee. I get ta yell at her for a change. Hot diggity dog! It’s great to be the boss! He scooped up Molly. Father and daughter waved in response to Kit waving at them from the seaplane.

Baloo had a queer, sinking feeling in his stomach, seeing his ‘baby’ taxi into the harbor and take off without him. Becky can fly. Becky can fly. After all, she’s been taught by the world’s greatest pilot, an’ she’s got Wildcat an’ Kit ta help her. His heart caught in his throat when the Sea Duck’s wing grazed a passing zeppelin and wobbled for a breath-taking second before disappearing through the cliffs.

“Mommy said to give this to you.” Molly held up a clipboard with paperwork pertaining to the Handy Dandy shipment. She wriggled out of his arms and returned to playing with her dolls.

Whistling, the pilot went inside, tossing the clipboard on top of the filing cabinet on the way to the kitchen and a morning snack.

The telephone rang. And rang. And rang some more.

“Daddy! Phone!” Molly said, bouncing into the kitchen.

Rummaging through the refrigerator, Baloo said, “You get it, Button-nose.”

“That’s not how Mommy does it,” Molly said in a sing-song voice.

“How ‘bout you an’ me pretend that you’re my secretary, just for today.”

“Really?” Molly squealed in delight, hopping on the desk. She answered the telephone. “Hello?...Yuh-huh, this is Higher for Hire...Sorry, Daddy can’t come to the phone right now. He’s eating.” At the irate dial tone, she shouted, “They hung up, Daddy!” Then, she ran upstairs to play.

“Who cares? If it’s important, they’ll call back.” With a cookie in one hand and a slice of cold pepperoni pizza in the other, Baloo settled into his comfy chair. Why does Becky bellyache so much? Alls she’s gotta do is answer the phone a coupla times a day.

A knock came at the door.

“Miss Molly! Where’s my secretary?” Baloo hollered playfully. “I need ta see who’s at the door.”

From upstairs, Molly said, “Secretary Molly’s busy doing stuff. ‘Sides, Mommy never, ever lets me answer the door.”

“I’ll let ya.”

“Nuh-uh. It might be a scary stranger.”

The person knocked again.

Baloo really didn’t want to get up. “Or it could be a nice person, Pigtails.”

“That’s not what Mommy says,” Molly sang.

Grumbling, Baloo shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth and went to the door. Standing there was a clown. A real clown wearing a baggy, colorful patchwork outfit, red nose, and oversized red clown shoes. He clutched a bunch of helium-filled balloons. The clown shoved the balloons in Baloo’s face and honked his horn. BEEP! BEEP! Attached to the balloons was a neon green card, which read: Karl’s Kooky Klowns needs klaxons delivered tomorrow afternoon in Kookamunga for Klown Konvention.

Greatly perplexed, Baloo inquired, “Ya wanna know if this is doable?”

The clown’s red make-up grin widened. The horn honked cheerfully. BEEP! BEEP!

“Lemmee check the schedule.” Baloo pulled out Rebecca’s scheduling book in which she wrote down the name of the customer, destination, date and time of delivery and other specifics such as insurance, payment plan, etc... “Um...no can do tomorrow afternoon.”

The clown’s smile drooped. The horn sounded like BWAAA.

A sad clown? Baloo couldn’t let that happen. “What about tomorrow mornin’ before noon?”

The clown perked up, grinning and beeping his horn happily.

“Oh, boy! A clown!” Molly cried. She, along with her favorite doll Lucy, clattered down the stairs.

Smiling, the clown pulled out a blue balloon, blew it up, and fashioned a dog for her. Then he made a second, miniature version for Lucy.

“Thanks, Mr. Clown! Say thank you, Lucy.” In a high-pitched voice, Molly squeaked, “Thank you!”

With a parting beep, the clown hopped on his unicycle and glided away.

“Told ya it could be a nice person.” Baloo closed the door.

“Of course he’s nice, Daddy. He’s a clown. They have to be nice.” Molly scampered back upstairs with her new playthings.

Baloo once again settled into his easy chair and closed his eyes. A few seconds later, he sat up with a start. “Oh, man! Why didn’t I ask who, what, when, where, why? I don’t know how many or when

Previous Page

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Next page