Alaskan Hearts

by Teri Wilson

  “Oh, Ben.” Her hand flew to her chest.

  He’d brought her to a small park, where a dozen or so ice sculptures stood, lit from below with colored spotlights. Glowing in the darkness were an enormous blue moose, a pink polar bear and a cool green eagle.

  She walked at once to a violet sled dog running atop a frozen pedestal. Ethereal and graceful, it looked as though cut from amethyst gemstone. She reached toward the sculpture and gingerly placed her fingers on its back, and was almost surprised to find it icy cool to the touch.

  “This is fantastic!”

  At the exact moment Clementine peeked at Ben over her shoulder, he pressed the shutter button on his camera, capturing the moment.

  “Sorry.” He lowered the camera and winked. “You looked so enamored, I couldn’t resist.”

  “I can’t get over this place.” She returned her gaze to the crystallized husky and decided it was very nearly life-sized. “How long will they last out here in the open?”

  Ben shrugged. “As long as the temperature stays well below freezing, I think they’ll be here awhile.”

  “Incredible.” She shook her head. “And I can’t believe we’re the only ones out here.”

  He took a step closer. “I don’t mind. Do you?”

  “Not at all.” She took her hand from the sculpture and let it fall on the smooth lapel of Ben’s suit jacket.

  His eyes, as clear and blue as ice, followed her every move as she reached up on her tiptoes, until her face was only inches from his.

  “Thank you for bringing me here,” she breathed. Then she leaned forward and rubbed her nose gently against his.

  Ben’s face split into a wide grin. “Did you just give me an Eskimo kiss?”

  She bit her lip and shrugged. “When in Rome…”

  “I’ve lived in Alaska my entire life and no one has ever given me an Eskimo kiss before.”

  “That seems a bit sad.” She made tsk-tsk noises and gave him a look filled with mock sympathy.

  He narrowed his gaze at her. “You know, that kind of kiss is actually called a kunik in Inuit. And it goes something more like this.”

  He cupped her cheeks with his hands and tipped her face toward his. Their eyes met and Clementine was instantly riveted. She had to remind herself to keep breathing as he pressed his nose and lips against her temple and slowly inhaled. His lips were surprisingly soft, and she could feel every warm puff of his breath dance across her skin.

  They stayed that way for several moments, with the tip of his nose making a slow, tender trail up her temple toward her forehead. Their lips never touched, but it was the most meaningful kiss Clementine had ever experienced.

  * * *

  Once they’d found their seats in the maze of round banquet tables at the convention center, Ben pulled out Clementine’s chair. She smiled at him over her shoulder and he could think of little else but their moment in the park.

  She was exquisite, a treasure in his arms. After all the years he’d spent alone, he’d convinced himself he was better off that way. He didn’t need a woman in his life.

  Then along came Clementine and, with her charming way of putting him in his place, everything changed. He was growing accustomed to the idea of having her by his side. When she wasn’t with him, he spent most of his time thinking about her, which posed a serious problem.

  She was leaving in a matter of days. Ben raked a hand through his hair and sighed. He didn’t even know exactly when she was scheduled to go home, but he knew the day was fast approaching.

  He turned toward her and let his gaze fall on the side of her face. He was reminded instantly of her warm, vanilla scent and the way the soft curls falling from her upswept hair had tickled his nose. He cleared his throat and looked back down at his plate. “The race starts tomorrow.”

  “Yes, it does. I can’t believe it’s all happening so fast.” She gestured toward the Gold Rush Trail start banner, draped across the stage at the front of the room. “Tomorrow I’ll be standing underneath that banner on Main Street, handling a sled dog. I can’t tell you how surreal that feels.”

  Despite the tug of worry that such an image conjured in his mind, he knew better than to voice his concerns. Besides, he’d seen her in action in the parking lot at her handling class and with Reggie’s dogs when they’d gone mushing. She didn’t look like a novice handler. Quite the opposite, in fact. “You’ll do great. Just remember…”

  “If I fall down, roll out of the way. I think I’ve got it.” She laughed, then curled her hand around his. “Thanks for saying I’ll do great. Your encouragement means a lot to me.”

  Ben squeezed her hand in return. And he found he couldn’t hold back any longer—he had to ask. “When exactly do you need to go home?”

  A look of confusion washed over her features, and she bit the corner of her lip. “Oh. You mean, home. As in Texas.”

  Texas. It sounded so far away. The word settled like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach. “Yes,” he answered softly.

  “I leave on Tuesday.”

  Three days.

  When he’d checked into the Northern Lights Inn, he thought race week would last a lifetime. Now he wished he knew a way to slow the wheels of time and make it last even longer.

  “Ma’am. Sir.” A server stepped between them and placed their meals on the table.

  Ben was thankful for the distraction. He had his answer. Clementine was scheduled to leave in three short days. He’d learned what he wanted to know.

  And suddenly he had no appetite whatsoever.

  He glanced over at Clementine, picking at the food on her plate with exploratory stabs of her fork. She looked even less interested in the food than he was. “Is everything okay?”

  She dipped her head toward his. “I hate to be rude, but what exactly is this?” She gave her meat another poke and frowned at it.

  Understanding suddenly dawned on him and he winced. “Caribou. They serve it at the banquet every year. It’s a tradition.”

  Sure enough, she furrowed her brow. “I can’t eat Rudolph, Ben.”

  “How do you know it’s Rudolph? It could be Dancer. Or even Blitzen. One of the reindeer without top billing.”

  She lifted her fork, took a wary glance at it and brought it back down to her plate. “I don’t think I can do it, even if it’s Blitzen’s distant cousin.”

  “Splitzen?”

  She laughed. “So you’ve heard of him?”

  “Sure. I know all about Splitzen.” He gave her nose a playful tap. “Bobcats consider him a delicacy, you know.”

  Perhaps it was her laughter that gave him the courage to bring up what would happen between them when she went home. Perhaps it was desperation. He couldn’t be sure, but he took a deep breath and said it. “Clementine, I’d like us to keep in touch after you leave. I want you to know that.”

  Keep in touch? He cringed at his own words. He’d made it sound as though he wanted them to be pen pals. And that wasn’t quite what he had in mind.

  “Of course.” Clementine looked down at her caribou. Was that a look of disappointment on her face?

  Ben couldn’t tell. He gave it another shot. “I hope we can see each other again.”

  “Me, too.” Clementine’s brow furrowed in apparent concentration. “I suppose there’s always next year?”

  Her words should have given him hope, but Ben felt anything but hopeful. Next year? He would have to wait twelve months to see her again?

  A lot could happen in twelve months. People met and got married in twelve months. Would that happen with Clementine? And another man?

  His mouth filled with a bitter taste and he glanced down at his plate. He shouldn’t have said anything. What he’d wanted was for her to give him some ki
nd of indication she wanted him to come visit. They’d joked about it before, but this was serious. She was about to leave the state. All she had to do was give him a hint that she wanted him to come and he’d be on the next plane with Kodiak.

  Ben balled his hands into fists under the table. What was he doing, making plans? Clementine hadn’t said a word about his coming to see her in Texas.

  Not that he blamed her. He couldn’t make any promises about their future. Since the accident, it took every ounce of strength he could muster to get through one day at a time.

  A change of subject was in order. Immediately, if not sooner. “Have you been assigned to a particular musher for tomorrow?”

  “No. I’m just supposed to show up.” She glanced at the stage, where one by one, the mushers were being introduced to the crowd. “I’m part of the pool of volunteer handlers who provide extra support. I’ll be assigned to any musher who needs additional help.”

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I spoke with a friend. Reggie Chase.” Ben released her hand and reached into his suit pocket. “He said you could join his team as a handler if you like.”

  He pulled out an armband with the words Musher Handler emblazoned on it in red letters. Clementine’s green eyes followed his every move as he unfolded it and pressed it into the palm of her hand.

  Each musher in the Gold Rush Trail race was allowed to personally select a limited number of dog handlers for his team. Such spots had become coveted positions over the years. Musher handler armbands were typically only given to corporate sponsors, family members or close personal friends.

  Ben wasn’t sure if Clementine even knew the distinction between a musher handler and the other dog handlers, but he knew she would get more hands-on experience working with Reggie. And that sort of thing seemed important to her.

  So it had become important to him as well. If thinking about it gave him an ulcer, so be it.

  She pressed the armband to her heart and gazed at him with tear-filled eyes. “You did this? For me?”

  The sight of her tears caused Ben’s breath to catch in his throat. “Reggie’s a great guy. You’ll have a good time. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I will.”

  A lone tear fell down her cheek, and Ben wiped it away with a brush of his thumb. “Would you like me to introduce you?”

  “To Reggie? Now?” Clementine sat up straighter in her chair. The caribou and the matter of her leaving appeared to be forgotten.

  Thank goodness.

  “Yes.” He nodded toward the cluster of tables near the front of the room where the mushers and their families were seated. “Don’t you think it would be a good idea for the two of you to get acquainted before tomorrow?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  He gestured toward her plate, where the caribou sat untouched. “Unless you’d like to finish your dinner first. I wouldn’t want to come between you and Rudolph.”

  She lifted an amused brow. “Rudolph’s a little nonresponsive right now. I don’t think he’ll miss me.”

  “Okay, then,” Ben said, grateful the awkward subject of their future had been dropped. “Let’s go.”

  He helped her out of her chair and tried to let go of the nagging thought that nothing had changed. She was still leaving in three days, and he had no idea when he would see her again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Clementine followed Ben as he led her to a table directly in front of the stage. She did her best to concentrate on the people clustered around the table watching their approach, and not the way her hand felt in Ben’s.

  Cherished. As if it belonged there.

  Stop it.

  There was no use dwelling on such things. As they’d already established, she was leaving in three days. They wouldn’t see one another for a year. Maybe never.

  The thought gave her pause—along with a pang to her chest—so she pushed it away. It wasn’t as if she could change things. She lived in Texas. Ben belonged in Alaska. End of story.

  Stories could be rewritten, though, couldn’t they?

  “Clementine?”

  She blinked, refocused and found Ben watching her with concern. She’d done it again—let her mind wander when she should have been paying attention to what was going on right in front of her. It was a good thing the bears in Alaska were hibernating. At the rate she was going, she would have walked right into one of them if they were out and about.

  “Sorry.” She gulped. “Distracted.”

  Ben gave her a knowing smile and wrapped his arm around her waist. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about the same thing. Their relationship, for lack of a better term. Not the bears.

  “Clementine, I’d like to introduce you to some friends of mine.” He shifted his gaze to a man sitting at the table who had skin the color of warm caramel. “Reggie and Sue Chase.”

  Sue, who sat next to Reggie, had the same striking bone structure as Anya, except her complexion was darker, closer to her husband’s. She wore a traditional Inuit hot-pink parka, with a large fur-trimmed hood. The parka was a pullover, more like a dress than a coat. Beside Sue, Clementine felt a bit ordinary, certainly not Alaskan.

  Sue rose and wrapped her arms around her in a warm hug, as if she were an old friend. Clementine instantly felt at ease.

  “We’re so happy to meet you.” Sue’s dark eyes found Ben’s for a moment and then flitted back to Clementine’s. “Reggie and I have heard a lot about you.”

  “We sure have.” Reggie stood beside his wife. He had a formidable black beard, like the musher on the Gold Rush Trail poster in the hotel lobby. A chunky silver-and-turquoise necklace in the shape of a sled dog team, complete with silver sled, wrapped around his thick neck. There was no mistaking this man was a dog musher.

  He, too, gave Clementine a fierce hug.

  “I’m pleased to meet you both.” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder until he released her.

  “Sit down.” Sue waved to their empty chairs. “Join us.”

  “We can’t take your seats, Sue.” Ben pulled Clementine next to him again, as though she belonged with him.

  Sue and Reggie must have noticed because they shared a knowing glance and a smile.

  “Sure you can.” Reggie grabbed Ben by the shoulders and pushed him into one of the chairs. “Sit. I’ll go dig up a few more chairs. I’m still a musher, you know. I have some clout around here.”

  It was only a vague reference to Ben’s past, but it made Clementine’s breath catch in her throat. She sank into the chair beside Ben’s and glanced at him. She breathed easier when she saw how relaxed he looked. Obviously he and Reggie were close. The fact that Reggie wasn’t afraid to mention Ben’s experience as a musher told her as much. She doubted Ben would tolerate it from anyone else.

  “Reggie was there for me,” Ben said in a low tone, so only Clementine could hear. “After the accident, I mean.”

  She nodded, glad that Ben hadn’t had to go through such a tragedy alone. In the hours since he’d told her about losing his dog team, Clementine had thought a lot about his cabin in the woods, specifically the graveyard of empty doghouses. She couldn’t understand how he could live there every day. She realized now, after meeting Reggie and Sue, that his isolation was a choice. Ben wanted to cut himself off from people. That’s why he stayed out there.

  Is that why he kissed me? Because I’m leaving soon? I won’t stay around to complicate things. He can go back to his lonely life as soon as I’m gone.

  She didn’t want to believe it. He’d already told her he wanted to see her again, after she’d left Alaska. He’d told her she was special. And here he was introducing her to his friends.

  An image of Mark riding around on that ridiculous motorcycle flashed in her mind.
As much as she hated to admit it, things weren’t always as they seemed. And sometimes people weren’t who they seemed, either. The mess with Mark had taught her that much.

  Sue pulled a chair next to hers while Reggie sat on Ben’s other side. “Clementine, I hear you’re going to help Reggie tomorrow with his dog team.”

  “Yes.” Clementine thought about the musher handler armband tucked away in her handbag and at once felt reassured. Ben cared about her, even if she was leaving soon. “I’m really looking forward to it. Are you going to be helping out with Reggie’s dogs as well?”

  “No. I belong to a group of mushers’ wives who provide hospitality at the race start.”

  “Hospitality?”

  “We pass out hot chocolate and apple cider so spectators can stay warm.” Sue nodded toward the slide show flashing images of one frigid scene after another on a big screen suspended above the stage.

  Clementine shuddered. “You keep everyone warm. That seems like an awfully tall order.”

  Sue laughed. “I guess you could say we’re only moderately successful.”

  “I think it’s great how the whole community comes together to support the race.”

  “The race couldn’t go on without all the volunteers. And the mushers certainly couldn’t brave the Alaskan wilderness alone. Everyday life in Aurora stops for the duration of the race. We all pitch in and do whatever is necessary to keep everyone safe—dogs and people alike.” Sue swelled with pride for her town when she spoke.

  And Clementine couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit envious. Houston was a big city. On any given day, people moved about without any thought to what their neighbors were doing. She wondered what it would be like to live somewhere like Aurora.

  Nice. It would most definitely be nice.

  The thought made her all warm inside, like she’d just had one of Anya’s flavored coffees.

  Ben rose from the table and nudged his way between Clementine and Sue. “What are you two talking about over here? You’re not giving away all my secrets, are you?”

  He looked at Sue with mock consternation and then winked at Clementine.