by Teri Wilson
Her fingers itched, anxious to redial the number for the airline. She knew the phone number by heart.
But Ben didn’t want her. In Nome. Or anywhere. He’d said so himself.
Deep down, Clementine hoped it had only been his grief talking. Kodiak stepping in the trap had taken Ben back to a time and place he’d barely begun to leave in the past. Once he had time to heal, he might regret telling her to leave.
But when would that healing come? Four years had passed since the first accident and his wounds were still as fresh as new fallen snow.
She couldn’t throw herself at Ben when he’d asked her to leave. Doing so would go against every safe, carefully planned move she’d ever made. She belonged back in Texas. At home she had a nice condo and a good—albeit boring at times—job. Her parents were there. And she belonged to a good church, the same one where she’d attended Sunday school as a little girl. Her friends were there. Her life was there.
Her safe, predictable life.
She let her eyelids drift closed. As she did, the words that never failed to bring her comfort came to her lips. She spoke them aloud.
I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.
The verse had become seared into her consciousness. She’d thought she was ready to claim such a promise—even on that first day, when she’d fallen into Ben’s arms on the icy pavement. She hadn’t realized just how full her life could become. All she had to do now was take that last step.
All she had to do was go to Nome and tell Ben she was in love with him.
Lord, what should I do?
Her answer came in a gentle whisper.
I have come that you may have life, and have it to the full.
At first, Clementine failed to notice the subtle difference.
The whisper grew louder.
You may have life.
Goose bumps pricked her arms. The verse was meant for her. Not just everyone, a collective mass of people. It was a promise to her, directly from her Savior.
She hadn’t really thought of it in quite such an intimate way before. Going to Nome and facing Ben again frightened the life out of her.
Then she thought of Ben mushing again. He’d taken a chance. Wasn’t it time for her to take a chance, too?
What if he really meant what he said? What if he didn’t love her back?
She knew what would happen if that were the case. God would heal her heart. But if she never gave Ben a chance, she would always wonder…what if?
She couldn’t go back home. Not yet.
Home.
As she turned the word over in her mind, Clementine realized she already felt at home. Alaska was home. She wanted to live in a place where the air sparkled with diamonds and build a life with the man whose kiss put them there.
She threw off the covers and flicked on the bedside lamp, flooding the room with light. Nugget squinted at the sudden brightness before poking her nose under Clementine’s pillow.
“Sorry, sleepyhead,” she cooed. “Although I don’t know how you can sleep at a time like this.”
Her fingers flew over the number keys on her cell phone so fast that she misdialed three times. When at last she reached Alaska Airlines, a computerized voice told her she had a seven-minute wait before she could speak to a representative.
Each passing second seemed like a lifetime. The annoying hold music only made the time pass even slower. When the third song got under way, Nugget popped her head out from beneath the pillows and swiveled her fuzzy head toward the door.
She curled her tiny lip and growled.
Clementine frowned. She, too, felt like growling. Was a ticket agent ever going to pick up the line?
Nugget hopped off the bed and scurried to the door. She sniffed at the crack at the bottom and the sliver of light shining in from the hallway, growled again and yipped impatiently at Clementine.
“Nugget, not now. Okay?”
Not one to be ignored, the little dog spun a quick circle and barked once more.
Her bark was followed by a soft knock at the door. Clementine’s heart jumped to her throat and she nearly dropped the phone.
Ben?
Nugget barked yet again and scratched at the door.
Clementine propelled herself into action. Being careful not to disconnect her call, she wedged the phone between her ear and her shoulder and scooped Nugget into her arms.
She swung the door open without even checking the peephole, certain that she would find Ben on the other side. Instead, Bob Easton, the hotel manager, stood in the doorway holding a large, white gift box.
“Hi.” Clementine nodded toward Nugget squirming in her arms. “I know you’re not here to tell me you found my dog again. She’s safe with me, at least for the time being.”
“I’m not here about Nugget.” He grinned and held the gift box toward her. “This was delivered this morning, to your attention. I tried to catch you when you came in earlier, but you seemed upset. I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Oh.” Clementine glanced at the box. “I’m sorry. It’s been kind of a rough day.”
“Well, maybe this will help. It looks as though it could be something special.” Bob stepped one foot inside the room and slid the box onto the dresser.
“Thank you.”
She waited until the door was safely clicked shut before releasing Nugget. Then she turned her attention toward the mysterious box. It was a rectangular, white box tied with a red silky bow. Clementine bent to inspect the package and found her name written on a large envelope, fixed in place beneath the bow’s smooth satin ribbon.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Ben?
Of course. Who else would send her a gift?
She clicked the phone’s speaker button and set it on the dresser. Nugget let out a dramatic yawn and hopped back in bed.
Clementine’s hands trembled with anticipation as she pulled the ribbon loose. She ran her fingers over the handwriting that spelled out her name and broke the envelope’s seal. She slid the contents into her lap.
It was a stack of 5 x 7 photographs, neatly bound with a rubber band. She let her gaze fall on the picture on top. It was from her first full day in Alaska—the day she’d built the snowman. In it, her hair whipped around in the wind, but even her wild curls couldn’t hide her expression of sheer delight as she patted snow into place on the top layer of the snowman. Nugget had jumped clear off the ground and looked as though she were suspended in midair, with her pink booties dangling from her dainty paws.
The next photograph had been taken at her dog handling class and showed Clementine with the cream-colored husky she’d been assigned to handle. She was holding on to the dog’s purple harness and running alongside the gang line. Clementine had no idea when Ben had taken the photo. When he’d come to check on her after the ambulance had pulled into the parking lot, he hadn’t had his camera. He must have gone back to get it and snapped the picture after class had resumed. She smiled at the image of Akiak. With his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth, he looked so happy and free. And when she let her gaze fall on her own image, Clementine couldn’t help but think she, too, looked brave.
“Akiak,” she whispered.
And a shiver of awareness ran through her as she remembered Ben telling her the same thing on that very day.
There were more photographs, about ten in all. From the image of her gazing awestruck at the ice sculptures in the park to the photo of her first time standing on the runners of a sled, Clementine barely recognized herself. Each picture was more mesmerizing than the last.
And together, they told a story. The story of a woman who’d come thousands of miles in search of something and, by the looks of things, she’d found it.
>
With great care, she restacked the photographs, slid them back into their envelope and turned her attention to the box.
Her heart hammered as she lifted the smooth white lid and peeled back layer upon layer of wisp-thin tissue paper. What she found buried beneath them took her breath away. Nestled inside was the sapphire velvet parka she’d tried on at the Gold Rush Trail banquet.
She blinked in disbelief. Surely this wasn’t the same coat.
She ran her fingers over the luxurious velvet and then let them skim the soft silver fur of the collar.
It was most definitely the same coat.
She lifted it from the box. As she did, a slip of white paper fluttered to the floor. Clementine slipped her arms in the sleeves of the parka and lifted the hood until the fur tickled her nose. Then she bent to examine Ben’s note, only to find it wasn’t a note at all.
Rather, she found herself holding a plane ticket for the evening flight from Aurora to Nome.
“Alaska Airlines. May I help you?”
Clementine tore her gaze from the treasure in her hand and searched out her cell phone, still switched to the speaker phone setting on the nightstand.
A tiny voice called out, “Hello?”
Clementine clutched the plane ticket to her heart and spoke into the phone. Even she could hear the smile in her voice. “Hi. I’m so sorry, but I won’t need any help after all.”
“There’s nothing I can do for you today?”
“No, thank you.” She was sure Ben had arranged for the box to be delivered before Kodiak’s injury. Afterward, there simply hadn’t been time. She decided it didn’t matter. Ben wanted her to go to Nome. Somewhere, deep inside, she prayed he still did. “I have everything I need.”
* * *
Watching Clementine walk away from him was the worst sort of torture Ben could have imagined. It was a wonder he could still breathe by the time she disappeared through the double glass doors of the veterinary clinic.
She hadn’t looked back. Not once.
But even through the swirl of fresh snow flurries on the other side of the doors, he’d seen the shake of her shoulders and knew she was crying. He’d felt unworthy, down to his center. It was a feeling that tortured him throughout the night, worse than any nightmares he’d ever had of the trail. How could he have told her to go back to Texas when she’d been willing to extend her trip and come with him to Nome? Sitting in that waiting room, covered with Kodiak’s blood, he’d convinced himself he was doing Clementine a favor. She deserved a real man. A whole man. Not one who’d been so beaten down by circumstances that he was afraid to live the life God had given him.
Lying in the dark, he knew the truth—he hadn’t done Clementine a favor. He’d broken her heart.
And perhaps worse, he’d sent Moose away with her. In the end, she couldn’t even count on him to give the poor dog a home. He wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she despised him now.
Morning came, slow, painful and lonely. On the way to the airport, Ben stopped at the animal shelter, hoping he wouldn’t find Moose there. Maybe Clementine had decided to ignore his outburst and go to Nome after all. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time she’d ignored his opinion on matters.
When he found Moose pouting in the corner of one of the kennels, he gave up whatever last shred of hope remained. Clementine would never take Moose back to the shelter if she planned on staying in Alaska. She was probably already gone.
Ben wiggled his fingers through the chain link of the kennel enclosure. “Come on, bud. I’m sure you’d prefer her, but it looks as though you’re stuck with me.”
Moose bounded toward him and licked his cheek through the fence, indicating all was forgiven. The dog’s unfailing loyalty made Ben feel even worse, if that was possible. After spending a lifetime with dogs, he hadn’t learned a thing about faithfulness. How was that possible?
Shame settled in his gut like a lead weight as he made his way to the shelter lobby and told the receptionist he was ready to adopt Moose. She didn’t seem at all surprised at his request, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Clementine had told her that he might come for the dog. Maybe she hadn’t given up on him after all. Since day one, she’d had more faith in him than he did in himself.
It didn’t matter. She was gone. And he’d been the one who sent her away.
Despite the realization that he’d likely never see her again, his thoughts snagged on the word faith.
Faith.
Perhaps it played more of a part in what he’d done than he realized. Not faith in himself, but rather, faith in the Lord.
He couldn’t shake the regret that followed him as he boarded the plane at the airport. With Moose safely tucked away in the cargo section of the aircraft, and Stu’s assurances via phone that Kodiak was resting peacefully, Ben thought he might find a glimmer of peace in his soul as he headed toward Nome. But the question of faith nagged at him and refused to let him go as he arrived in the place where he’d once thought Clementine would join him.
He went through the motions of retrieving Moose from the tiny baggage section of the Nome airport and getting the keys to his rental car. When he found the SUV in the parking lot, beneath a thick layer of snow, he tossed his bags inside and got Moose settled on the passenger seat. Ben crawled in the driver’s side and rested his forehead against the steering wheel.
I’ve lost her and it’s all my fault.
“It’s not a choice. It’s not as if I decided to be this way,” he muttered aloud.
Moose, sitting straight up beside him, let out a soft woof and swiveled her pointy husky ears. As Ben watched the dog, a voice floated up somewhere from the depths of his consciousness.
You have a choice now.
Ben wasn’t sure where the words came from. God? Clementine? It certainly sounded like something she would say.
He wished it were that easy, that he could simply decide to place all his trust in the Lord.
He let his eyes drift closed. Weariness settled over him, bone-deep. But his physical exhaustion was nothing compared to the ache in his soul. He wondered what it would be like to finally let it all go. To lean on God with everything he had. With a pang, he realized he already knew what it was like. He’d lived that way before.
He’d been a regular at church, never doubting for a moment the existence of the Creator. He’d mushed his dog team into some of the most majestic territory on the planet, places that took his breath away. And he’d done so filled not with fear but with awe at the beauty all around him. For a time, he’d been fearless. He’d been a true believer.
Lord, I want to be that man again. Help me get there.
A plane roared overhead, forcing his eyes open.
He’d never be able to hear the Lord’s voice. Not here. Not now. He knew where he needed to go.
He shifted the car into Drive and turned out of the parking lot. Darkness had descended on Nome, and the airport vanished from his rearview mirror quickly as he headed toward the light.
Chapter Seventeen
Historic Nome Community Church stood above all the other buildings in the tiny Gold Rush town. Since the early 1900s its tall, slender steeple dominated the skyline, stretching to heaven. Crafted from whitewashed brick, the church and its stunning spire appeared as though they were born from the tundra. Nightfall only made the church more spectacular.
When he pulled up at the church and clicked off the engine in the shadow of the steeple, he felt utterly alone. For once, the company of a dog wasn’t enough. He gave Moose an apologetic pet and leaned into the backseat to dig through his duffel bag. Somewhere beneath all of his clothes, he’d tossed in his Bible.
Locating the book hadn’t been an easy task. After flipping through the one at the Northern Lights Inn had become a nightly routine,
Ben had decided to find his old Bible back at the cabin. It was the last thing he’d done before heading to Reggie’s place to return his dogs the day he’d taken Clementine mushing. He’d looked for it on the bookshelf by the fireplace, where he knew it had once occupied a regular spot.
When he didn’t find it there, he’d searched the dresser drawers, his closet and finally the old trunk in the living room that served as his coffee table. The fact that he at last unearthed it from the bottom of the trunk, buried beneath old photographs and newspaper accounts of his mushing days, spoke volumes.
But at least he had it.
He’d yet to open it. With everything that had happened, he hadn’t had so much as a minute to spare. Now, with Clementine gone and Kodiak recovering in the hospital, the night stretched before him, lonely and endless.
He grabbed the Bible and stalked out of the car, with Moose trailing on his heels. Something about being out in the open appealed to him, as though God would somehow be easier to find. Ridiculous, he knew, especially considering the temperature had dipped well below zero, but he’d reached the point of desperation.
He settled himself on a concrete bench facing the historic building. The bench was cold, cold enough that Ben felt it even through his base layer and insulated ski pants. Thankfully it was dry. With a sigh, Moose curled into a ball at his feet.
Ben fixed his gaze on the church and a flicker of disappointment passed through him. This was the closest he’d been to God’s house in years. He’d expected sitting here to feel different somehow. But it didn’t. He bowed his head anyway, pushing down his yearning to sense God’s nearness.
Lord, forgive me for what I said to Clementine yesterday. Bring her back to me. I can’t lose her.
The prayer seemed hollow. Empty. He could only hope it reached God’s ear.