by Teri Wilson
Her insides instantly grew even warmer. “She’s told me everything. I’ve got all sorts of blackmail now.”
“I should have known better than to leave the two of you alone.”
“We were good. I promise.” Sue held up her right hand. “Scout’s honor.”
Ben narrowed his gaze at her. “When were you a scout?”
She shrugged. “Never.”
“That’s what I thought.” He chuckled as he took Clementine’s hand and lifted her out of her seat. “We’re going to take a look around the auction. That is, unless you two need more time to slander me.”
Sue rolled her eyes.
Clementine laughed as he escorted her to the auction tables to the right side of the stage. As much as she enjoyed talking to Sue, she was glad to be back at Ben’s side. “Just so you know, we weren’t talking about you. Sue was telling me all about Aurora.”
He gave her a questioning glance as he tucked her arm through his. “And what did you think?”
“I love it here.” She sighed. “Then again, I already knew that.”
* * *
She loves it here. She loves Alaska.
Against his better judgment, Ben found himself wondering if she would ever stay. He couldn’t come out and ask her, but the question burned in his gut.
He did his best to ignore it and instead focused on the silent auction items and sales table. An assortment of autographed race bibs, commemorative posters from prior years and dog booties lined the tables up and down the ballroom. After Ben told Clementine people sometimes used the dog booties as cell phone or iPod covers, she purchased five to bring home as gifts. The older gentleman behind the cash register grinned and asked her if she had a five-legged dog, which prompted her to laugh and toss her hair in a way that alleviated any lingering worries Ben had been holding on to.
“Wait a sec.” She paused before moving on to the higher-end auction items and unzipped her tiny purse. It was far too small to hold a dog, so there was no way Ben could be mistaken about the fact that it was a purse and not a dog carrier. “I want to put my cell phone in one of these.”
She slipped her phone in a black dog booty with a lime-green band and Velcroed it closed.
When it didn’t quite fit back in her minuscule bag, Ben said, “Here, let me.”
He slid the phone, booty and all, into his coat pocket.
“Thanks.” She slipped her arm through his as they continued to browse. “You know, you’re quite the gentleman.”
Ben said nothing, but he lifted her hand and gave it a tender kiss.
Clementine’s cheeks took on a rosy hue. She gave him a bashful smile before taking a glance at the display tables. “Oh, my. Look at that.”
He followed her gaze to a sapphire-blue parka with an enormous silver fur ruff.
She lifted the sleeve and held it against her cheek. “It’s velvet.”
The woman manning the auction table smiled at Ben and removed the parka from its display hanger.
“It’s completely handmade. All Native craftsmanship.” She held it toward Clementine. “Would you like to try it on?”
Clementine glanced at the clipboard with the long list of handwritten bids for the parka. “Oh, no. I couldn’t.”
“Go ahead.” Ben nodded toward the coat. “What’s the harm in trying it on?”
She looked longingly at it. “Well, okay.”
She slipped her arms into the sleeves and wrapped the plush velvet around her slender form. The parka was a perfect fit. Not only that, it was stunning on her. She looked like some kind of snow queen. Ben found it suddenly difficult to swallow.
The auction woman beamed. “You look beautiful.”
An understatement if Ben had ever heard one.
He reached for his camera. Clementine peeked at him over the silver fur. He couldn’t even see her nose or lips. Only her eyes…those luminous eyes.
He snapped her picture.
“It’s made for you, dear.” The woman at the table nodded and held her hand to her heart. “And it’s so warm. It would be perfect for Nome.”
At the mention of Nome, Ben’s heart plummeted. He looked at Clementine over the top of his camera and their eyes met. And in that moment, he knew.
She wanted to stay.
Wordlessly, she removed the coat. Ben busied himself with putting away his camera. He didn’t trust himself to even look in her direction. Nor did he check the photo he’d taken of her on the camera’s digital display. He couldn’t take it.
He heard a buzzing noise, dragging him from his thoughts of Nome, and realized it was coming from his suit pocket.
“I think your phone is ringing.” He fished her cell phone, complete with dog booty, from his pocket and handed it to her.
“It’s the hotel.” She frowned as she looked at the small, illuminated screen on the vibrating phone. “Hello?”
Ben watched her face crumple.
“Oh, no. And no one has seen her?” She reached for her throat, with an unmistakable tremor in her hands. “We’ll be right there.”
Tears pooled in her eyes as she ended the call.
Ben slipped his arm around her shoulders. “What is it?”
“It’s Nugget.” She clutched the cell phone and blinked up at him. “She’s missing.”
Chapter Twelve
“I don’t understand how this could have happened. They said she darted out the door when housekeeping went into my room for turndown service. I thought I put the do-not-disturb sign on the door.” Clementine rushed out of the convention center, toward the Northern Lights Inn. From a few blocks away, it looked so cozy. A ribbon of smoke curled from its chimney and the windows, rimmed with snow, glowed with a friendly, gold warmth.
The quaint scene did little to quell her worry. Somewhere inside that building, her tiny dog was lost.
“We’ll find her.” Ben gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and she glanced over at him.
He looked so strong, so certain.
Her frantic heartbeat slowly returned to normal.
“She was upset that I left her behind.” Clementine shook her head. “I promised her a doggy bag. I totally forgot.”
“I promised Kodiak the same thing. I’ve got the leftover caribou all wrapped up in my camera bag.” Ben ran his thumb in soothing circles over the back of her hand. “He can share.”
“Thank you.”
She tried to tell herself that everything was going to be fine. They would get back to the hotel and it would all be some sort of mix-up. Nugget would be in her room, right where Clementine had left her. Moose would be there, too, watching over Nugget like a big, furry protector. Maybe she and Ben could bring the dogs down to the lobby and feed them the leftovers while they shared a coffee and snuggled on the big, comfy sofa.
Please, God. Please let it be so.
She blinked back a fresh wave of tears and quickened her pace, although it was easier said than done on the icy pavement. She reached for the reassurance of the cross on the chain around her neck and nearly stumbled.
Ben caught her and eyed her with concern. “Try not to worry. Everything is going to be fine.”
Everything is going to be fine. Exactly the words she so desperately needed to hear.
She clung to them.
* * *
Ben watched Clementine reach for her necklace while he wrapped his arm around her waist. As her fingertips clutched the dainty gold cross, it came to him.
He knew exactly what would make Clementine feel better about Nugget. Perhaps they could pray together for Nugget’s safe return.
He shifted from one foot to the other and fought the impulse to ignore the idea and keep walking to the hotel.
&
nbsp; Everything within him railed against it. Could he really pour his heart out to God in front of Clementine? Even if he could, would God really listen?
Part of him thought their time would be better spent getting back to the hotel to search for Nugget. His prayers would be of no use. He hadn’t uttered a proper prayer in years. He wouldn’t know what to say, where to begin. Just because he’d been reading his Bible lately didn’t mean he expected God to be there when he needed Him, did it?
No. I just…can’t.
He gathered Clementine next to him and took a step in the direction of the Northern Lights Inn. But his feet refused to move an inch. Clementine peered up at him, her eyes wide with worry. Her full bottom lip trembled, and Ben knew giving up on the idea was a lost cause.
He would do it simply because it would alleviate her worry. And maybe, just maybe, God would hear him.
“Clementine, would you like to pray? For Nugget, I mean?” he finally asked, in a voice gruff with emotion.
Visible relief coursed through her, and she smiled at him in spite of her tears. “Yes, I would. Thank you.”
Her lip wobbled again, and shame pierced Ben’s soul. How could he have almost pushed down the instinct to pray? He could do this. Would do this. For her.
He was the first to close his eyes, the first to speak. He had no clue how to start, but he figured saying anything, simply asking for help, would make her feel better.
“Lo-ord.” His voice cracked.
Get a grip on yourself.
He cleared his throat and continued. “Clementine’s little dog is missing. Nugget. I’m asking You to help us find her. Please keep her safe. And keep Clementine from worrying too much.”
He opened his eyes a fraction and took her in, with her bowed head and soft curls framing her face.
Then he closed his eyes again and finished with, “She loves You. Amen.”
He waited to see if she would add anything of her own. She clasped his hands a bit tighter, and he realized one of them was trembling. He wasn’t even sure if it was him or her.
Then she spoke with remarkable calm. Her voice was softer than a lullaby. “Father, Your Word says that if two of us on Earth agree about anything we ask for, if will be done. For where two or three come together in Your name, You are there with them. You are here right now, with Ben and me.”
She paused and the air between them grew still, silent.
Ben couldn’t hear a thing—not even the arctic wind that whipped his coattails—other than his own heart. It beat loud and strong, filling his ears. It beat so hard that it ached. He told himself it couldn’t be true. God wasn’t here on a lonely sidewalk in Aurora. But the pounding of his rebellious heart told him he wanted to believe it.
“So we ask that You lead us to Nugget and protect her wherever she is. In Christ’s name we pray. Amen.”
Clementine’s eyes opened. Ben, suddenly acutely self-conscious, switched his gaze to his feet. “I hope that was…”
His voice trailed off. He’d never felt more out of his element.
“It was perfect. Thank you.” She dragged his attention away from his shoes with a gentle kiss on the cheek.
He looked up, met her gaze once more and took in her bittersweet smile. And, just like that, any lingering awkwardness between them melted away.
He motioned toward the hotel, a mere block or so away. “Shall we?”
She nodded and they headed toward the Northern Lights Inn, hand in hand. It wasn’t a leisurely stroll, but Clementine’s steps were slower, less frantic than they had been before. Ben couldn’t deny that the prayer had brought a certain sense of peace to the situation.
But with it came a gnawing doubt in Ben’s gut.
He was convinced they would find the dog. He wouldn’t stop looking until she was safe and sound in Clementine’s arms. He knew he couldn’t bear the heartrending look in her eyes so long as Nugget was missing. Now, he also had the added element of the prayer to worry about. Clementine didn’t deserve to lose her dog, and she most certainly didn’t deserve to lose her faith. Or even a tiny part of it.
Jaw clenched, Ben waged a silent war with God in his thoughts.
Lord, don’t let her down. Bring the dog back.
Begging was out of the question. He refused to resort to such desperate measures. But the minute they pushed through the revolving doors of the hotel his resistance wavered.
Please.
“Ben, look!” Clementine dropped his hand and ran toward the registration desk.
He followed, ducking when her path brought his head perilously close to the polar bear’s threatening claws. She stopped short when she reached the desk, and Ben skidded to a halt behind her.
Likewise, his heart slammed into his rib cage when he spotted a familiar ball of fluff over Clementine’s shoulder.
“Nugget?” He frowned at the Pomeranian, resting on a blanket spread across the check-in counter. The little dog wagged her tail and let out a yip.
Of course it was Nugget. Who else would it be? It’s not like the state of Alaska was crawling with lapdogs.
Clementine scooped the dog into her arms and grinned at him like crazy over the top of Nugget’s fuzzy head. “She’s here.”
“She certainly is.” The hotel manager came around the front of the desk, holding a folded newspaper. “I’m Bob Easton. You must be Clementine. And you are?”
“Ben Grayson.” Ben shook the man’s hand but scarcely took in his presence. He couldn’t take his eyes off Clementine and her dog. “Was she ever really lost?”
“Most definitely. A member of our housekeeping staff found her only a few minutes ago, cowering in a supply closet.”
A few minutes ago. While they’d been praying.
It didn’t mean anything. Coincidences like this happened all the time.
Still, Ben had difficulty concentrating on the conversation. They hadn’t even had to look for the dog. They’d just walked in and she was sitting right there. Waiting.
“A supply closet?” Clementine winced. “I’m so sorry. And my other dog? Moose?”
The hotel manager gave her a reassuring nod. “Safe and sound in your room. She never so much as budged.”
Moose?
So now the stray had a name.
Ben figured he may as well cave and tell Clementine he would take the dog. It felt like Moose already had one paw firmly wedged in his life. Resistance was futile where Clementine was concerned.
“Thank you for looking after her up here.” Clementine smiled at Bob Easton as she snuggled Nugget close to her chest. “I told the person who called me earlier to just put her back in my room if she was found.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that. Nugget here is a celebrity.” Bob scratched Nugget under her minuscule chin.
Clementine flushed and lowered her voice. “Celebrity? Oh, no. Did everyone in the building hear about her getaway?”
Bob let out a hearty laugh and gave Ben a knowing look, as if he were in on some kind of joke. “Not that. I’m talking about this.”
He unfolded the newspaper and held it toward Clementine. The Yukon Reporter. Early edition. With one of Ben’s own photographs on the front page.
“What is this?” Clementine furrowed her brow and looked back and forth between Ben and the image of Nugget, nearly life-sized, directly beneath the masthead. She was half-buried in snow, but her pink bunny slippers were clearly visible. “Is this from the other day, before the snowball fight?”
Ben took the paper from Bob, who was being paged to help out with another crisis. Something about a leaking toilet. “Yes. I hope you don’t mind. I was going to tell you before it came out, but I thought it might be a fun surprise.”
Nugget stared at the newspaper, as if look
ing into a mirror. Clementine read the photo caption aloud. “‘Nugget, a Pomeranian from Texas, enjoys the snow just days before the Gold Rush Trail sled dog race.’”
A slow smile came to her lips. “My dog is fine. And she’s on the front page of the paper.”
Ben didn’t even want to address Nugget’s disappearing act. He was still trying to make sense of the entire episode. “Don’t be too impressed. It’s a small-town paper, remember. Our circulation isn’t very big.”
“That doesn’t matter, silly.” She swatted him with the newspaper and Nugget flinched in her arms. “I look at pictures for a living. Pictures of other people, doing exciting things in other places. Never anything to do with me. And now, look. My dog. On the front page. This is crazy. I don’t even know what to say.”
She shook her head and stared, transfixed, at the photo.
Ben could hardly believe it. He’d rendered her speechless, a feat he’d considered impossible until now. When Clementine spoke her mind she was a force to be reckoned with. A silent Clementine was like the dawn after a storm. Serene, thoughtful. But no less fascinating.
He cupped her chin and captured her gaze. “So you like it, then?”
“I do,” she answered.
Just like a bride.
Chapter Thirteen
Everything about race day was more intense than Clementine could have imagined. The dogs were louder. The crowds were bigger. The weather was colder.
The lights along Main Street, all decorated with Gold Rush Trail banners, cast a dim glow over the snow-covered street. Everything—the snow, the sky, the white awnings covering the hot chocolate stands where Sue and other musher wives handed out cocoa and cider—had taken on an almost-eerie violet hue in the predawn hours.
Clementine’s fingers nearly froze when she removed her gloves long enough to strap on her musher handler armband. With the armband firmly in place, and a fresh swarm of butterflies taking flight in her belly, she marched over to the dog handler headquarters with Anya.
“Headquarters” consisted of a red pickup truck with chains on the tires and a bright orange flag that would have whipped around in the bitter wind if not for the fact that it was frozen stiff. On the passenger-side window, someone had taped the musher roster that had been printed in the early edition of the paper. There was a photo of each musher, along with the team’s race number.