“Hirsh and Zemmans proposed local pieces meaning that you, darling, get to go on location.”
Wait. What?
“On location?” I asked, my voice cracking like an adolescent boy’s.
“This piece is screaming for you to go to Denali, Alanna.” She clapped her hands together and rubbed them back and forth. “Don’t you think?”
“I…I…” Couldn’t remember a single word of the English language.
Evelynne laughed. “Take a minute to let it sink in. Then take tonight and tomorrow night to pack. Get your head on straight, and then off you go to write a story that just might change your life.” She laid a plane ticket, a hotel reservation, and a corporate credit card on her desktop.
“You’ll fly into Fairbanks International Airport,” Evelynne said, tapping the plane ticket with her index finger.
“Fairbanks?” I said.
“Fairbanks, yes.”
“Fairbanks, Alaska?”
Evelynne narrowed her eyes. A kid-in-the-principal’s-office feeling washed over me. “Hard to do a story on Denali if you’re not in Alaska, Alanna. Is there a problem with Fairbanks, Alaska?”
Yes. Maybe.
“No. No problem, Evelynne.”
“Good. You pull this off, Alanna, and you’ll make a name for yourself here at Gaia. Hirsh and Zemmans have good ideas, but yours is something special. I can feel it. It’s bigger-stories, bigger-office, bigger-paycheck worthy.”
She was saying all the right things. Things I’d been working for. Things I deserved. I’d paid my dues.
But Fairbanks? Holy shit.
“You get two weeks in Alaska to gather your facts and photos and a week back here to pull it all together.”
She nudged the paperwork toward me. I lifted my hand robotically and took it. Evelynne stood and walked around to my side of her desk. She laid a hand on my shoulder, and I jumped.
“Congratulations, Alanna. This is your chance to go to the top. Win the race.”
Race? Sled dog races?
“Y-yes.” I stood slowly. “Yes. Thank you, Evelynne. It’s a fantastic opportunity. I won’t let you down.”
“That’s why I picked you, Alanna. You never let me down. You’re skilled. Top-notch.” Her smile was warm as she walked me to her office door.
I wobbled out of her office, past Meg’s cube. I didn’t stop even when Meg called out to me. After entering my own cube, I slumped into my seat and stared at the plane ticket atop the pile of paperwork Evelynne had given me.
“Alanna?”
“Huh?” I looked from the plane ticket to Meg’s dark eyes.
“What happened? Oh, my God…” Her voice trailed off as she rushed toward my desk. “You…you didn’t get fired, did you?”
“No.” I managed a strained laugh. “She picked me as one of the three.”
“Hurray!” Meg did a little dance in the middle of my cube. “Jeez, Alanna. You had me worried.”
“Sorry.”
Meg dropped into the chair across from me. She played with the fringe on the hem of her shirt—a funky-looking purple tunic today.
“Do you know who the other two are?” She looked up at me, her brown eyes wide and bottomless.
I nodded, not wanting to tell her she wasn’t one of them. Luckily, Meg understood without me having to say anything.
“Right. Okay. Good.” She straightened in the chair, mentally filing away her disappointment not to ruin my moment. Man, she was the best.
“I’ve got to go there.” I locked my eyes on the ticket.
“To Alaska?” Meg leaned forward and gripped the edge of my desk.
“Uh-huh.”
“Lucky shit. That promotion is so yours, Alanna. Good for you.” She bounded over to my side of the desk, threw her arms around my neck, and squeezed. When I didn’t respond, she drew back and looked at me, an odd expression on her face. “What’s wrong? This is all good news, isn’t it?”
I blinked several times before replying. “Yes, yes. It is good news. I’m shocked, I guess.”
“Get un-shocked, girl. When do you go?” Meg walked to the doorway of my cube.
I picked up the ticket. “Sunday.”
“We’re going to celebrate on Friday night. Just you and me.”
“Okay.” Celebrate. Yeah. That’s what people did when they got big opportunities. They celebrated. That made sense.
“You get to pick where.” Meg began to leave, but tossed a glance over her shoulder. “Smile, Alanna.” She rolled her eyes and left.
Alone in my cube, I stared at my computer until the screen looked fuzzy before my eyes.
Just come. I was going to Alaska. Hot damn.
****
I fumbled through the rest of my day at work, finishing some things, making no headway on others. I slid the Alaska paperwork into my bag, so I didn’t have to think about it yet. Another stop at Rita’s took care of dinner.
When I got home, I worked out to an aerobics DVD and ran on my treadmill. Yeah, more stall tactics to see if I’d eventually wake up from this dream of a day. After a shower I slipped into my pj’s, curled up on the couch, and then flipped on my laptop and the TV at the same time. I nibbled pizza—Rita so knew what she was doing with that dough—and finished the ending for my habitat piece.
I hopped online and browsed a few writing websites I frequented. Then I poked around on the Denali websites I had used to create my proposal. As I looked at the breathtaking pictures of the park again, my pulse quickened. I would have a field day there with my camera.
Chilly in late March/early April, I noted. Quite chilly. I shifted the laptop to the couch cushions and went into the bedroom. I pulled open my closet and fished around until I found a heavy, blue ski jacket. Tucked in the sleeve was a knit hat and thick gloves. Grew up in northern New York, almost on the Canada line. Wasn’t always a city girl. I knew chilly, and skiing was like breathing to me. My father had insisted I learned to ski as soon as I could walk. I was a natural at it as he had been. We had enjoyed many weekends, just the two of us, flying down the mountains, snow churning in waves after us.
I tossed my jacket onto the bed and scouted around for other essentials a trip to Alaska in early spring would require. Fortunately, I found most of what I needed in my dresser drawers. Good thing, because I didn’t have time for shopping. Jeans, sweaters, T-shirts, flannel. Hiking boots, raingear, thermal underwear. The mix of colors and fabrics overwhelmed me.
While I was hunting in my underwear drawer, my fingers fell upon a black lace bra and panty set I had bought to…well, it wasn’t important why I had bought it. It had only ended in another disappointing waste of my time.
I lifted it from the drawer and considered the skimpy pieces.
Sled-dog16 might like such an ensemble.
After placing the set in a pile by itself on my bed, I went back into the living room and woke my laptop. It would only take a moment to look him up as he’d suggested.
Only as long as high-speed Internet took to zip out over the worldwide web and retrieve my requested information.
I-d-i-t-a-r-o-d w-i-n-n-e-r
Just type it and wait. Sled-dog16 would be at my fingertips in a heartbeat. Anything I wanted to know.
All I had to do was hit ENTER.
Chapter Four
I didn’t hit ENTER and, before I knew it, Friday night had arrived. I found myself sitting across from Meg at my kitchen table—she had said I could pick the place for our celebration dinner—eating Szechuan take-out from Jade Dragon.
“Are you all packed?” Meg asked around crab rangoon.
“Uh-huh.”
“No. Wrong answer.” Meg waved a little bag over our meal.
“What’s this?” I took the bag and glanced inside. Tissue paper, lots of tissue paper.
“A little something for the wild. Open it.”
I dug in the bag and extracted a shiny, silver multi-tool. “A Leatherman Wave? Nice one, Meg. Thanks.” I popped over to Meg’s side of
the table to give her a hug and returned to my seat.
“No problem, kid. Figured it’d come in handy on your quest.”
“Pluck a splinter, skin an animal, saw a branch.”
“Defend yourself.” Meg shrugged when I looked at her. “You never know. Better to be prepared. It’s the New Yorker in me.”
“Or the Girl Scout.”
“The Girl Scouts don’t give patches or badges for the things I’m good at.” Meg wiggled her eyebrows. “Two whole weeks in one of the most beautiful places in the country.” She shook her head and raised her wine glass. “To Alanna Cormac!”
“Thanks.” I clinked my glass to hers, and we each took a sip. “I wish you could come with me.” I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. It just dribbled out.
“Of course you do.” Meg’s lip twitched. “Everything’s more fun with me around.” She raised an eyebrow. She had blown up yesterday about not being picked as one of the three, but once she got it out there, she was fine. Her expression now grew serious. “What? Are you nervous?”
“Maybe.” I chewed on my egg roll. “This is huge, Meg. Cover story and photos on freaking Denali. What if—”
“No. Don’t.” Meg shook her head. “Don’t doubt yourself, Alanna. You can do this. Evelynne knows you can do this. The story, the photos, all of it will be prize winning.”
Prize winning. First place. Dog racer. Fairbanks. I couldn’t stop the stream of words linking themselves across my mind. The feel of Meg’s hand over mine snapped me out of it.
“Who am I going to drive crazy for two whole weeks?” she said.
I raised my eyes to meet hers. “I’m sure you’ll find someone. What about that Matt guy?”
“Hmmm…” Meg closed her eyes, licked her lips. “He might be a good diversion. He sure tastes good.”
“Meg!” I threw my napkin at her.
“What? He does.” She shrugged and scooped up fried rice.
Wonder what a sled dog racer tastes like?
No. No, I don’t.
“What’s got your brows furrowed so deep, lady?” Meg took another sip of her wine.
“Huh? Oh, nothing.”
“No. It’s something, and you’re going to tell me.”
“It’s silly.”
“Spit it out.” Her eyes were nearly black in the dim light of my apartment as she narrowed her gaze at me. “C’mon. Out with it. What if your plane crashes, and you never come back. You’ll regret not telling me all your secrets now.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say, Meg.”
“Terrible but true.”
“Fine.” I put down my fork and clasped my hands in my lap. “I have this…this friend, I guess you’d call him.”
“Him? Oh, really?” Meg smiled from ear to ear. “Go on.”
“If you’re going to be like that, then forget it.” I got up from the dining room table and took my plate to the sink. Meg was behind me in a second.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Please. Tell me.” She nearly begged, and it was pitifully funny.
I drew in a deep breath. “He’s just someone I’ve been exchanging emails with for more than a year now.”
“Oooh, an Internet hottie?”
“Cut it out.”
“Sorry.” Meg scrunched up her shoulders like a child being scolded and slid her plate into the dishwasher. She took her wine glass and eased onto the couch, pointing to the other corner of it. “Sit and tell me the rest and I’ll shut up. I promise.” She held up her right hand, palm out, as if she were taking an oath.
I chewed on my bottom lip for a moment. I mean, I would tell her. That much was a given. I was fairly surprised I’d managed to keep sled-dog16 a secret from Meg for so long.
I sat across from Meg and tucked my legs underneath me. “When I researched that survival skills story for Gaia last year, I landed on a nature networking site. Interesting stuff. Good information, educated contributors.
“Anyway, I found a forum where I typed in my two cents, and this guy, sled-dog16, replied. He seemed knowledgeable and interested, so our correspondence volleyed back and forth. Now it’s been more than a year, and we’ve been emailing ever since. About global warming, endangered species, writing, cars, log cabins, the meaning of life. Everything.”
I ended my tale and then shrugged. Meg stared at me for several long moments.
“You’ve been hiding an Internet hottie all this time?”
“Meg.” I huffed. “I don’t know if he’s a hottie. He did win the Iditarod this year though.” I had a sense of pride in him for his accomplishment. “His last email invited me to Fairbanks, Alaska. Where he lives.”
“No freaking way.” Meg placed her wine glass on the coffee table and darted her eyes my way.
“Weird, huh?”
“Very weird.” Meg motioned to my laptop perched on the arm of the brown leather recliner across from us. “All you have to do is look him up.”
I followed her gaze but shook my head. “No. I’m not going to meet him, Meg. I don’t even know the guy, and I don’t have the time. It’s silly. I’m going to do the story and come home. It’s that simple.”
“Is it?” Meg raised both of her eyebrows.
“Yes, it is.” I drank the last of my wine and shook my head again. “Besides, he could be a psychopath.”
“They don’t let psychopaths race in the Iditarod,” Meg said.
“That’s what he said.”
“I already like him. He thinks like I do. He couldn’t be all bad.”
“Maybe he’s a fantastic guy, but I’m not about to start something with a guy who lives in Alaska. It doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s why it makes perfect sense.” Meg scooted over and placed her hand over mine. “Look him up. You deserve some fun, Alanna. Besides, you’re going to need something to keep you warm in Fairbanks.”
****
The Arctic blast that hit my face as I stepped into a cab at Fairbanks International Airport was hardly the welcome I’d envisioned. I looped a scarf around my neck and pulled on my bright blue knit hat as I sat in the back seat, waiting for the driver to load my suitcase. Man, I hated cabs. This one, however, smelled like Christmas tree, and I inhaled deeply.
When the driver slid in behind the wheel, he regarded me in the rearview mirror with two tired, muddy brown eyes.
“Where to?” he said. He yawned as he looked at me.
“Moose Point Resort.”
The driver whistled, perking up a bit. “Wow. Did you win the lottery or something?”
“Ah, no.” I looked at the ID plate on the back of his seat. Number 3427. Cab 71. Nope, it didn’t say anything about his complete lack of tact. “I’m here on business.”
“What kind of business?” He had pulled away from the terminal now and was merging with the steady flow of traffic buzzing in front of the airport. Not exactly a New York buzz.
“Magazine business. Doing a story on Denali.” I silently berated myself for succumbing to the driver’s prying.
“Moose Point and Denali.” He whistled again. “You must be talented. You’re in for a helluva time, lady.” He shot me a friendly grin in the rearview, his eyes a bit brighter. “Have you been to Alaska before?”
“No. This is my first time.”
“It’s a short drive to Moose Point, but keep an eye out the windows, and you’ll get a sample of why people love it here even though you can freeze to death getting your mail.” He laughed as he made a right turn.
I took his advice and gazed out the side window. A wide river ran parallel to the roadway as we emerged from downtown Fairbanks. Snowbanks rolled along its edge, and the close-to-setting sun cast sparkling glimmers over the white canvas. My fingers itched for my camera.
“That there is the Chena River. About 100 miles long. King salmon spawn there, and in the summer, a paddle-wheel steamer sails up and down for tourists,” the driver said as he turned onto a narrow driveway.
“It’s lovely.” I craned my neck
to look back at the river. I was only allowed a moment, for as soon as the taxi rolled onto the driveway, tall pine trees flanking the path swallowed us whole. We rode like that for a quarter of a mile before getting flushed back out into the dimming sunshine.
“Almost there,” the cab driver said.
The path had gotten a little bumpier and a bit narrower. I held onto the door handle and my backpack, hoping not to get jostled sick. A horrible scraping sounded beneath the cab as if a dragon were clawing its way through the metal.
“Sorry about this. The cab’s shocks are shot. This crap jeep’s seen better days. We have jeeps because they do better in the snow, but someone’s got to keep on top of the shocks.”
I simply nodded. Though I loved my car, I took that puppy to the mechanic for everything. I was only concerned with getting in and driving her. With being in control of my destination.
As we turned the bend in the driveway, my mouth dropped open. Looming magnificently in front of us was the hugest log cabin I’d ever seen. Thick, round logs stacked high created a mountain of a building with several floors and a wraparound porch encircling the base. Wide multi-paned windows were tucked in all over its exterior. More tall pines hugged the back of the building, and a narrow stream, parts frozen over, meandered off to the side.
A laugh from the front seat had me ripping my attention from the incredible view.
“It’s something, isn’t it?” the driver said.
“I saw photos of this resort online, but I had no idea…” My voice trailed off as I turned my attention back to the building.
“You must be an outstanding employee to get sent here on the company dime.” The cab driver raised his eyebrows as he opened his cab door and jumped out. I did the same and met him at the trunk.
“Thanks,” I said as he fished my suitcase out. I pushed money into his gloved hand.
He counted it, a satisfied curl to his lips. “You want me to take it in for you?”
“Thank you, but I can take it from here. You’ve got other people to pick up and carry off.”
“Enjoy your stay. If you need a cab to Denali, call this number.” He held out a card with the taxi service name on it. “Ask for number 3427, and I’ll take you. Wherever. Whenever.”
Alaska Heart Page 3