Let There Be Light

by Melissa Storm

  Before dinner, she would hook up “her” team. They were always excited to see her coming around with harnesses in hand. Fred would make sure to give her large, sloppy kisses when she got close enough to his little hut.

  The days passed quickly this way. She woke up early and went to bed late, pushing her body to its limits and enjoying the newfound strength, both of muscles and of will. Shane and Lauren often exchanged pointed glances that suggested they spoke about her when she wasn’t around, that they worried about her—but she ignored their concerns.

  She pushed harder, harder, harder, driven by both love and hate as she prepared for the upcoming Iditarod. It wouldn’t be long now. Even Fantine’s puppies had already neared their adult weights now. The world was speeding forward with or without Scarlett, and she did everything in her power to keep up.

  One day she noticed one of the puppies, Lenny, looking at her wistfully as Scarlett readied her team for their after-dinner run.

  “Hey there, little guy,” she cooed to the giant puppy. At just about five months old, he was already the same size as a few of the leaner dogs. She’d definitely named him right. “You want to go running with everyone else?”

  He yowled in response—a special husky noise that showed just how excited he was. He’d done well in the mornings, so what could it hurt to give him a shot with the big dogs? Without giving any further thought to the matter, she harnessed him up and hooked him onto the sled. His eyes were wild with excitement, and for the first time, Scarlett noticed that like his mother, he had heterochromia. Though his discoloration wasn’t as pronounced, one blue eye was clearly darker than the other. Had they changed since birth, or had she just never looked at him closely enough before? It seemed odd, given all the time she spent in the company of the dogs and especially the puppies.

  But she pushed the worry from her mind, lest her thoughts return to another person she knew with mismatched eyes—Henry. Instead of having Lenny run next to another dog, she left Lenny on his own. Normally, dogs would run in pairs, but Scarlett wanted to make sure he was going to be okay hooked to the big sled before she tried to pair him up. Then, like she’d done every day, she hollered to the dogs and away they went.

  She’d expected Lenny to be a bit nervous with the bigger sled or the longer track, but he took to the new system like a duck to the water. Or rather, a sled dog to the snow. They took a shorter run, but by the end of it, she knew that Lenny had been born to race.

  She told Lauren and Shane as much that night over dinner.

  “You got one of the pups to go out with your team today?” Shane asked. “I’m impressed.”

  “Which one?” Lauren asked, bringing over another delicious plate of vittles.

  “Lenny,” Scarlett responded through forkfuls.

  Shane laughed. “Well, he hardly counts a puppy. He’s practically the size of half the dogs out there.”

  “You think you’ve got a new favorite?” Lauren asked. “Fred’ll be heart-broken, but by the time the Iditarod comes around, Lenny will probably be bigger than him.”

  “Sometimes hearts break,” Scarlett answered with a shrug.

  Shane and Lauren exchanged that well-practiced look, the one they always made when Scarlett’s behavior had started to concern them.

  Lauren cleared her throat. “Umm, so we were thinking about heading into Anchorage next weekend. Meeting up with a few other mushers, just a casual get-together. We were wondering if—“

  Scarlett held up her hand. “No, I’m just going to hang out here and see if I can find out who Lenny likes to run beside. If he’s going to be as big as you think, it might be good to have him with me on the way to Nome.”

  Shane looked like he was about to say more, but Lauren brushed his arm and gave him that look again. He slowly rose with the help of his cane and an excuse about a TV program he wanted to watch, then left the women on their own.

  “Okay, spill,” Lauren said. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “You know what’s gotten into me. I lost my job and all I have left is this race. I have to do my best.”

  “Are you sure? Because it seems like a whole lot more than that. You’re not yourself lately, Scar.”

  “I’m exactly who I’ve always been. Just my competitive side has come out now.”

  “No, Scarlett. This isn’t who you are, and frankly, sometimes you scare me these days. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

  Scarlett sighed. “I know.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything,” Scarlett said on a sob. “Everything’s wrong, and I’m doing my best to make it right again, but what if my best isn’t enough?”

  “Oh, Scar. We’ll figure it out together. I promise, Shane and I are here for you.”

  She almost told Lauren everything in that moment. Almost told her of her attraction to Henry, their heated sled ride and secret texts, the inevitable betrayal that followed.

  Almost.

  But instead, she took another bite of dinner and swallowed her feelings down—down so deep she hoped they would drown.

  Scarlett used her momentary fame to create something she hoped would be more permanent. Now, instead of avoiding the cameras, she called them over and gave them the carefully constructed soundbites they craved.

  Now they knew her name and cited it often in their sports sections.

  “Scarlett, is it true that you’ve vowed to beat Henry Mitchell, III, no matter what it takes?” they asked.

  And, oh, did she answer!

  She said things like, “The first Henry Mitchell was an evil man who did terrible things to the sport and our great state. The third is no better. I’m racing to prove that any man—or woman—has what it takes, that you don’t have to be born with a silver spoon in your mouth to take a bite out of life. Strength of will is power, but so is strength of knowledge. That’s why it’s so important we save our libraries and stop politicians like Vanessa Price who want to tear them down in order to pad her retirement. I hope you’ll join me in writing to Congress to express your disappointment. Thank you.”

  And the reporters ate it right up. An investigation was launched into Vanessa Price’s budgetary practices, but no wrongdoing had been uncovered—at least not yet. Scarlett was certain the woman hid far more than anyone knew.

  In fact, it seemed that Mrs. Price actually loved all the press attention. She even began to turn up at races, standing proudly at Henry’s side. And she always made sure the race officials stationed Scarlett and Henry right beside each other at the starting line to play into the drama. Even Ben Benjamin gave in to these requests before too long.

  “It’s good for the sport, sweet pea,” he said with a shrug when Liz confronted him about it.

  “She probably has her hooks in him, too,” Scarlett spat when her friend recounted the conversation.

  “I don’t know what’s going on,” Liz answered, “but I definitely don’t like it. It’s as if Dad has forgotten what that woman did to you. Either that or he’s forgiven her, and I honestly don’t know which is worse… She came over for dinner the other night,” Liz revealed after a painful pause.

  What?

  Guilt grabbed hold of Scarlett’s conscience, and this time it refused to let go. If she hadn’t introduced Henry to Ben, then Ben wouldn’t have been corrupted. And what did this mean for poor Liz? Scarlett had definitely been a very poor friend to her these past few months, and she needed to fix that now.

  “Are they dating?” she asked, unable to conceal the disgust in her voice.

  Liz moaned. “I think so. Oh, Scar, what am I going to do?”

  “You’re going to move out of there until your dad comes to his senses. Once I win this race, we’ll get an apartment all our own and we’ll start over. If you need a place sooner, let me know. Otherwise, I’m going to offer my subletter the chance to take over my lease fully. If you need the apartment, say the word and it’s yours.”

  Liz hugged her tightly and let out a sq
ueal. “My Scar-Scar is back at last!”

  Scarlett wondered what it meant that one of her friends thought she had changed completely while the other claimed she was finally being herself again.

  Moreover, which Scarlett was the real one, and which was the imposter?

  With time, Scarlett actually began to enjoy her interactions with the press. She’d always known words had power, but seeing their might firsthand brought a whole new appreciation to this once disgraced librarian. She started working out what she’d say in advance, arranging and rearranging her words until they were perfect.

  The absence of words had power, too.

  Henry had texted a few more times after his visit to the cabin that fateful day, but Scarlett had refused to answer and eventually blocked his number. At first, he’d tried to speak kindly to her at race events, but she only ever responded with sharp replies, the kind that put the reporters into a frenzy, the kind they loved to write about while covering the so-called star-crossed rivals.

  Still, even with this new rush, her heart hurt whenever she looked at Henry. She tried to hide it, but some of the savvier reporters had picked up on that longing.

  “I could never fall for a man who stands for everything I hate in this world,” she’d said when asked about it. “He’s fire, and I’m ice. Guess which of those wins the Iditarod?”

  And Henry served these volleys right back her way in his interviews. “Scarlett Cole,” he was often quoted as saying, “should keep her nose in books and out of this sport. She doesn’t have the training. She doesn’t have the ability. And she doesn’t have the heart. Ms. Cole seems to think that anyone can stand on the back of a sled and let the dogs pull them to victory, but are we forgetting that she couldn’t even manage that at the Tozier event? Mark my words, she can’t win. She won’t even place.”

  They spent time together in this new way. At least she imagined they did— each reading over what the other had said and preparing the perfect counter-strike, picturing the look on the rival’s face when finally word got out.

  “Why do you hate him so much?” Lauren had asked one day.

  “You hate him, too,” Scarlett had answered quickly, defensively.

  Lauren shook her head gently. “But it’s not the same.”

  “He stands for everything I hate. He’s fire, and I’m ice,” Scarlett supplied from rote.

  “Yeah, I know what you tell the press, but I’m asking as your friend.”

  “There’s a fine line between love and hate,” Scarlett said and then sighed. “Sometimes I forget which side I’ve placed him on.”

  When Lauren pressed for more, Scarlett just shrugged and said, “I’ve made mistakes, but I’m learning from every single one of them. Thinking there was any humanity inside Henry Mitchell, III’s heart was perhaps the biggest mistake of all.”

  And with that, their rivalry grew and her gentler memories of their time spent together were mostly replaced with these heated exchanged.

  Mostly.

  But not all.

  Finally, the big day arrived. At long last, the Iditarod was here.

  Scarlett looked out across the sea of faces lined up on the Anchorage streets. Shane and Rosie had opted not to ride in the basket for the ceremonial start this year. Instead, they stood amongst the spectators waving signs they’d hand-painted and dusted with glitter, alternating between cheering for Lauren and cheering for Scarlett.

  After biting the thumb of her glove and pulling it off, she used her bare fingers to double-check all the connections on both dogs and sled. She’d been pleasantly surprised when Shane had shown her the team in full regalia. Fred, Lenny, and the rest of the boys were decked out in green racing bibs with purple booties on their feet. Wendy and the other girls were dressed in the reverse—purple bibs with green booties.

  Unlike a lot of the other teams, her team stood still, tensed against the anchor of the snow hook. They didn’t jump or bark or play, almost as if they sensed how serious a moment this was for Scarlett. She adjusted the front end of her sled and made sure to give Fred a pat on the back.

  “You ready for this, boy?”

  Fred stamped in response and bit at the purple bootie on one of his front feet.

  They’d be starting soon, but she still hadn’t given an interview.

  She glanced toward Ben Benjamin, who stood busy with his clipboard as usual during these events. Vanessa Price appeared at his side, resting her head on his shoulder for a brief moment. But it was enough to send a clear message, especially when the vile woman looked straight at Scarlett and smiled. The gesture just wasn’t natural for her, despite how often she had to put it to use for political purposes.

  That smile was either a taunt or a warning, but it didn’t matter which to Scarlett. Either way, she would beat Henry, beat Vanessa—she’d even beat the man who had once been like a father to her if he insisted on aligning himself with the two of them. She would show them all. She would win at whatever sick game they were playing, even though she had yet to understand the rules.

  She swallowed the angry lump of unformed words in her throat and stalked toward the press to give them a piece of her mind and offer one last quote for their papers, but Shane stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder.

  “Don’t,” he said.

  “I’m just going to—”

  “I know what you’re going to, and I’m telling you that you shouldn’t.”

  “Shane, listen—”

  “No, you’ve been doing a lot of talking lately. Too much talking. I need you to listen.”

  She let out an irritated huff but let Shane continue.

  “You confided in me that day on the chariot, and I’ve kept my promise to you. Lauren doesn’t know anything more than the little you’ve told her. But I need you to understand something about anger. If you let it, it will take over everything. It will strangle your life like vines, kill everything. I was so lost. I thought if I gave everything to the dogs, then I wouldn’t hurt anymore. Just like you’re doing now. But that doesn’t work.”

  She was growing impatient with him. Why couldn’t he have given this speech earlier if it was so important? “Okay, so what’s your point?”

  “My point is you can’t go out there like this, Scarlett. You’re too angry, and that anger’s a distraction. Look at me.” He frowned and held up his cane emphatically. “I was distracted on a simple practice run, and now I’m out of the race forever. I could have lost so much more that day.”

  “But it all turned out all right for you. You have Lauren now. You’re happy.”

  “Yes,” Shane said, placing a hand on each of her shoulders and letting his cane fall to the ground at his side. “But you’re not. You saw the good in Henry once. Try to see it again. You don’t have to forgive him, but you need to let it go for your own good.”

  “Shane, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but I know how to take care of myself and the dogs out there. I’ll be fine.” She stooped to pick up his cane and return it to him. “Give Rosie a hug for me, and tell her I’ll see her in a few days. But first, I’ve got a race to win.”

  The wind had already begun to bite at Scarlett’s cheeks. Normally she’d have stopped a training run by now, tied the dogs back up, given everyone some rest. But this was the big one. Nobody took potty breaks during the great race, and Scarlett had more of a reason to win than any of them. So what if she was a rookie? So what if she’d had to finish her first official race on foot? The only thing that mattered now was pushing herself and her dogs to their limits—and then going past even that.

  As the sled continued its Northern trek, the air grew colder and colder, and Scarlett had to flex her toes inside her boots to make sure they retained feeling. She’d trained hard for this, but nothing had quite prepared for the actual longevity of the Iditarod. It could be two full weeks for her on the back of that sled.

  They said there was a certain inevitability that one day, the great race would have to come to end. Scarlett
knew that when it did, Alaska would lose a part of its soul. And maybe so would she.

  Thank goodness for the checkpoints scattered along the path to Nome. Without them, Scarlett doubted she would even remember to eat or sleep. So badly she wanted to finish—and finish well. And it was that pressing desire for victory that fueled her forward. When she’d first started going out with Lauren on the sled, she’d marveled at the pretty snow, how the wind made it feel like she was flying. Now she hardly noticed those things.

  She was all business now, and luckily her friend understood that and helped to offer little bits of advice whenever they ran into each other at a check-in.

  “Don’t work too hard to be in the lead right now,” Lauren had confided in her. “Make someone else break the trail for you. And don’t let all the stares bug you. They might be surprised that a rookie is doing this good, but I’m not.”

  At that thought, Scarlett glanced around the tiny outpost, surprised to see that there were very few others at the checkpoint with them. She’d been so focused on her own team that she hadn’t noticed that she was consistently coming into the checkpoints just a couple hours behind the head of the pack.

  “Just remember,” Lauren had said that first night, “we’ve got two mandatory rests to make. One’s eight hours and one’s twenty-four. You can take the big one anywhere, but the first eight-hour needs to be taken along Yukon. After that, we’ve got another eight hours in White Mountain.”

  Scarlett nodded, flexing her hands to circulate the blood.

  “Scar,” Lauren warned when she saw how preoccupied her friend’s mind was with other things. “This is important. Don’t feel like you have to push to leave the checkpoints as soon as you get there. The dogs come first. Take care of them, take care of you, and when you’re ready, get back on the trail. I know you’ve said you’re going to do this, but there’s no shame in scratching.”

  No shame in scratching? She doubted Henry would drop out of the race. And neither would she.