by Teri Wilson
Clementine had already read all about Reggie in the newspaper with Nugget’s photo. After she and Ben had watched Nugget, Kodiak and Moose devour the contents of the doggy bag—clearly those three didn’t have any qualms about eating Rudolph’s relatives—they’d ordered coffee, settled on the sofa beneath the giant moose head and talked late into the evening. Reggie and Sue had stopped by for a bit and Anya had joined them after her shift ended, but Clementine and Ben had closed the place down. She’d gone back to her room exhausted but full of breathless excitement. She’d spread the newspaper on her bed and pored over Reggie’s bio. Anything to make the night last longer. She was afraid to go to bed, lest she wake in the morning to find it was all a dream.
The chattering of her teeth told her it was most definitely not a dream. She was really in Aurora, Alaska. The days were passing with alarming speed, but they had yet to run out.
“Hey, Anya. Good morning, Clementine.” Aidan stood in the bed of the truck, armed with a wide smile and a bullhorn. “Today’s the big day. Are you two ready?”
He looked even younger than he had at dog handling class. Maybe it was the bullhorn. He wielded it like a kid with a shiny new toy.
“Sure am,” Anya replied with a confidence that Clementine couldn’t help but envy.
“I’m ready.” Clementine gave the thumbs-up sign. Now that her hands were warm and safe in her gloves again, the feeling had returned to her fingers. “Stop, drop and roll.”
Aidan just shook his head. “Whatever. Try not to get hurt.”
“Yes, sir.” The act of calling him “sir” was enough to make her giggle.
“So I see you’ve found your way onto a musher’s team.” He motioned toward her armband.
“Yes. Reggie Chase.” Clementine nodded toward the roster, where she easily spotted Reggie’s dark skin and thick beard among the collection of small headshots. The square grid of photos looked like a sheet of mountain man postage stamps. “Number fifty-eight.”
“Cool.” Aidan squatted and held out a clipboard for her inspection. “This is the map of the area. Reggie’s team should be getting ready over on Third. Anya, why don’t you hang out here until one of the mushers calls for help.”
“Will do.” She nodded. “Have fun, Clementine.”
The starting line for the race was at the corner of Main and First. The first ten teams lined up on Main, in numerical order for about six city blocks. The remaining teams waited on the surrounding side streets until given the signal to pull out onto Main. Clementine studied the map and headed off to Third Street after promising Anya she would have a good time and again reassuring Aidan she would stop, drop and roll if things got out of control.
The sun was coming up, changing the sky from wild violet to soft pink. Clementine was grateful for the warmth of the sun’s rays filtering through the light snowfall. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t warmth per se, but her nose was a little less numb. That had to be a good sign.
The bib numbers were written in large black letters on paper plates, which had been stapled to posts and plunged into the snow banks. Musher trucks lined the streets, parked beside the paper plate markers, with the dogs tethered to the vehicles. Some of the dogs seemed to take all the chaos in stride and rested on beds of straw, with their eyelids fighting to stay open. Other dogs bounced at the end of their leashes, anxious to make the trip through the Aurora streets and head into the wilderness of the trail.
Clementine took it all in, trying to memorize every detail. She watched as camera crews swarmed around musher number 13, Mackey Brewer, the previous year’s champion. She squinted, trying to find Ben among the throng of photographers. She gasped when instead she spotted a television cameraman wearing a baseball cap emblazoned with the familiar Nature World logo.
Her first instinct was to look away. Pretend she hadn’t seen it. As if spotting something so closely associated with her real life would whisk her away, like a click of Dorothy’s ruby-red slippers.
This is ridiculous.
Like a magnet, her gaze was drawn back to the logo. She let her eyes wander to the photographer’s face. He looked right back at her. Correction: through her. Of course he didn’t recognize her. Why would he? He was a nature photographer and she was a nameless, faceless cubicle dweller. It wasn’t as if they would have crossed paths anywhere.
All those years behind that desk. And for what?
She pushed the question away, determined not to ruin the start of the race with negative thoughts. She marched over, introduced herself to the photographer and showed him her Nature World press credentials. He took down the information she provided about Reggie Chase and promised to get some shots of her assisting with his dogs.
Clementine hoped he would, in fact, return. He seemed much more interested in joining the horde of reporters and photographers surrounding Mackey Brewer. She watched, worried as he disappeared into the crowd.
“Clementine?” Reggie, clad in a traditional Native anorak and enormous mittens made of some sort of animal hide, appeared from behind a nearby truck and appraised her with his black eyes.
Clementine glanced at the paper plate noting his parking space. Sure enough, number 58. He was right where Aidan had said she could find him. “Hi, Reggie.”
She offered her hand, but he ignored it and instead enveloped her in a tight hug.
He had no problems speaking through the thick fur ruff of his anorak. “Welcome to the team.”
“Thanks again for having me.” A few of the butterflies in her stomach fluttered away. Reggie, once again, was all smiles and warm welcome.
He held her at arm’s length and patted her shoulders with his massive mittens. “Sue says you’re the one.”
Clementine looked around at the other handlers milling around, wondering if he’d gotten her confused with someone else. A super-handler of some sort. “Um, I’m not quite sure what you mean.”
“You’re the one.” He winked. His dark lashes were coated with a fine dusting of snow powder.
“The one?” she repeated. Saying it aloud didn’t make his meaning any clearer.
“The one who’s bringing my boy Ben back to life.” He whacked her on the back and a hearty laugh bubbled up his throat.
The one. As in The One?
A warm glow came over Clementine. She dipped her chin, embarrassed by the flush that she knew had made its way to her cheeks. Surely that’s not what he meant. “Bringing him back to life?”
“Yes. I wondered what it would take to get him back on track.” Reggie shook his head. “I never thought it would be a woman. Never thought he would find someone, seeing as he’s practically turned into a hermit. The Lord does indeed work in mysterious ways.”
Clementine wondered just what Sue, or possibly Ben himself, had told Reggie. Whatever it was, it warmed her heart to hear his friend quote Scripture. Perhaps he’d prayed for Ben, just as she had. “You’re a believer?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He looked off into the distance where the streets of Aurora disappeared into the horizon and a line of snow-laden evergreens sat at the base of the Chugach Mountains. “It would be foolish to get on a sled and ride it into the unknown if I didn’t trust in Him to pull me through.”
Clementine wasn’t sure why, but she felt compelled to tell Reggie what she knew about Ben’s past. “Ben told me about his accident.”
Reggie didn’t seem at all surprised at this revelation. “Our boy Ben thinks God let him down. One day he’ll come to understand what really happened four years ago. Ben lost most of his team, but his life was spared. God saved him.”
His words touched a tender place inside Clementine. “He feels responsible.”
“Any musher would. The bond between a musher and his dogs is a strong one.” Reggie was a musher through and through. So was Ben. Of that, Clementin
e was certain.
She could only pray that Ben would one day trust in God enough to return to that life. Experiencing it with him had given her a tiny taste of what such a life must have been like for him. She had seen the way the tension had disappeared from his handsome features when he stood on the sled runners. She knew he missed it.
The loss of Ben’s team was second only to the loss of years the tragedy had brought. Four years had passed. How much longer would he wait?
Reggie took a sidelong glance at Clementine. When he spoke, it was as if he could read her thoughts. “Ben will come back to it someday. ‘I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten.’ Joel 2:25. One of my favorite promises in all of God’s Word.”
“I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten,” Clementine repeated. The verse brought a trail of goose bumps up and down her arms.
“God will restore Ben’s lost years. Have faith.” Reggie pointed one of his furry mittens toward the sky. “It will happen.”
I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten. It was a lovely promise, one that Clementine would hold on to. A feeling of overwhelming gratitude came over her. There were other people praying for Ben.
As comforting as she found this, Clementine didn’t feel right talking about Ben behind his back. “What can I do to help you, Reggie?”
He pulled off a mitten and removed a tube filled with some sort of bright pink gel from his pocket. He tossed it to Clementine. “Here. Rub some of this paw ointment on the dogs’ pads for me, would you? I’ll get started harnessing them up.”
The irony of his request didn’t escape her. Paw ointment. She wished Ben were here. He’d probably be laughing, his freshly shaved face creased with dimples and his eyes crinkled in the corners.
She opened the tube and went to work applying the ointment to each of the dogs’ paws. Another handler followed, fastening booties into place.
“Dogs lose booties all the time,” Reggie explained. “Exposed paws will crack and bleed if not protected. That’s where the ointment comes in.”
“I see.” Clementine felt a little guilty for teasing Ben about the whole ointment thing. He was right. It was an important part of the race.
As if on cue, she heard the whir of a camera shutter and his familiar rugged voice behind her. “What do we have here?”
She turned, careful not to lose the grip she had on one of the lead dog’s back feet.
Sure enough, there stood Ben, grinning from ear to ear. “Is that my Clementine with paw ointment on her hands?”
My Clementine. Her heart skipped a beat. The One.
She straightened and aimed an accusatory glare at him. “You put him up to this, didn’t you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His features fell into a look of mock innocence, but a mischievous glint danced in his eyes.
“Ben Grayson, I cannot believe you.”
He snapped another picture. “Has anyone ever told you how stunning you look when you’re angry?”
She wasn’t angry. She was delighted. She hadn’t expected to see him before the start of the race. “I’m bundled up from head to toe and my hands are covered in a greasy mess. I’m hardly stunning.”
“I have proof.” He tapped the lens of his camera. “You’re breathtaking.”
“You don’t look half bad yourself. The clean-shaven look suits you.”
“My face is frozen.” He ran a gloved hand over his chin. “I can’t feel a thing, but thanks.”
“Hey, there, Ben.” Reggie walked past them, stretching out the gang line and laying it on the ground. It painted a bright blue streak in the snow. “Thanks for sending me Clementine. She’s a natural. Got everyone set with ointment in no time flat.”
“Paw ointment is kind of my specialty.” She winked at Ben. Or at least she gave it an attempt. Her face was so numb from the cold that she couldn’t be sure if it actually moved.
She realized the effort must have been a success when he winked back.
“You ready to babysit a pair of dogs until it’s time to go?” Reggie nodded toward the huskies, now straining at their leads to get to the gang line.
“I sure am.” Clementine took a deep breath. The frigid air burned her lungs but she hardly noticed. She’d come so far. And here she was—about to help lead a dog team to the start of the Gold Rush Trail.
“Come on over here.” He lifted the pair of neck lines closest to the sled. “The pair of dogs that go here are called the wheel dogs. You’re my wheel dog handler. Got it?”
“Got it.” She held on the tug line while Reggie connected one of the wheel dogs to its neck line.
Ben wordlessly went to work attaching the other dog in place. Clementine watched his fingers move over the equipment with expert speed and precision. His gaze swept over each fastener, one at a time, checking and double-checking the cables. She wondered if he had any idea how at ease he looked. Much more so than he looked with a camera strapped around his neck.
Reggie returned and set serious eyes on Ben. “Thanks for the help, friend.” He motioned toward the pair of dogs standing between them. “These are two great athletes, but Kodiak was always the best wheel dog a musher could have.”
The three of them stood there for what seemed like an eternity, none of them uttering a word, while the wheel dogs worked themselves up into a frenzy.
At last Ben simply turned on his heel and walked away.
Clementine followed him with her gaze, tracing his slumped shoulders and downcast eyes.
“Don’t mind him. He’ll get over it.” Reggie waved a dismissive hand toward the street corner where Ben turned and disappeared without a backward glance. “He doesn’t like to talk about the past.”
She bit her lip and blinked back the tears collecting behind her eyes. Tears for Ben.
She didn’t have the luxury of time to get her emotions under control. Reggie was already poised on the sled runners, ready to give the Hike command and swish through the snow toward the start line. Clementine’s stomach churned and she couldn’t help but marvel at Reggie’s calm confidence. Her job would be over in a matter of minutes, but his was only beginning. For the next ten days, he would know only the sled, his dogs and the tough Alaskan wilderness. She couldn’t imagine facing such uncertainty.
And to think Ben had ever done such a thing caused a shiver to run up her spine. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.
“Reggie?” she called out to him, above the barking madness of sixteen anxious sled dogs.
He smiled at her, and the fiery spark in his dark eyes told her he was just as eager as his dog team to get out on the trail. “Yes?”
“I’ll be praying for you to get to Nome safely.”
“Thanks. God willing, I’ll see you there.” He pointed toward her musher handler armband, strapped around the left sleeve of her parka. “Keep that. You can help care for my dogs in Nome.”
“Oh, I’m not going to Nome.” A week ago, Nome didn’t mean a thing to her. All she cared about was the start of the race. Now she could think of nowhere else she’d rather be two days from now.
However was she going to go back to her cubicle? What would she be doing when Reggie crossed the finish line? Sorting through piles of photographs of places she would never go? Eating another Lean Cuisine?
Missing Ben, she thought. I’ll be missing Ben. And Alaska.
Reggie shrugged and said with a grin, “Plans change. Keep the armband.”
Plans change.
She opened her mouth, fully prepared to tell him things were never that simple, but before she could say a word it was time.
“Hike.”
Reggie didn’t need to repeat the command. Clementine barely had time to tighten her grip on th
e gang line before she felt herself being pulled through the snow. The sheer power of the dogs lifted her clear off her feet, and she realized all those practice loops around the Northern Lights Inn parking lot bore little resemblance to the real deal.
Her heart beat faster and faster, in perfect rhythm with the swift steps of the wheel dogs. Clementine ran with all her might, determined to keep up with the team. By the time they reached the starting line, she wasn’t sure if she’d run the three blocks down Main Street or simply been part of an unstoppable freight train of momentum.
As soon as the lead dog crossed the shadow of the start banner, slung overhead between two lampposts, Reggie called out, “Whoa!”
Clementine considered it nothing less than a miracle when the sixteen dogs all slowed to a stop. She bent over, gasping for breath and choked when the stinging arctic air hit her lungs. Reggie’s name and bib number were announced over a loud speaker, and a roar went up from the crowd. The wheel dogs swiveled their heads in unison and looked at Clementine as if asking permission to run again.
Clementine ran her hand under their chins and cooed, “Just a minute longer guys. Be patient.”
They whined and pawed at the frosty ground as the countdown began.
10…9…8…
Clementine looked around at the swarms of people lined up on either side of the chute, cheering and chanting Reggie’s name. She tried to find Ben in the throng of photographers jockeying for position up and down the orange plastic fencing. She thought she spied him up near Reggie’s lead dog, lying on his stomach in the snow, aiming his camera straight at the dogs. She couldn’t be sure. The camera, with its bulky telephoto lens, covered most of his face.
Of course it’s him. She swallowed the lump in her throat. He’s hiding behind that lens.
7…6…5…