Alaska Heart

by Christine DePetrillo

  “Sorry, Selia. I’ll keep it clean.”

  “Thank you.” She patted her father on the shoulder, and he rested his massive hand over her slender one. The gesture and the conversation wrapped around me like a hug. I missed family stuff.

  “How long you going to have to heft that around?” Jake pointed to the cast.

  “At least three weeks. Then I have another appointment, and the doctor will see how it’s doing.”

  “Does it hurt, Uncle Dale?” Noah said with a sad little face.

  “A little bit.”

  Noah rushed forward as did Mick and Riley. All three of them hugged Dale’s legs.

  Dale looked up at me, his face gone soft at his nephews’ compassion. I wanted to hug his legs—and the rest of him—too.

  “Thanks, guys.” He peeled the boys back from his jeans and crouched to be eye level with them. “Maybe it doesn’t hurt as much now.”

  Jake shook his head in sympathy. “I suppose it could be worse. You could have hurt something real important.” He ran his gaze over me and then back to Dale. Both of them sported smirks as if an unspoken joke had passed between them. Unspoken, perhaps, but not unnoticed.

  “Definitely. At least I’m left handed.” Dale wiggled his left hand to show it was in working order, and the two of them knocked knuckles.

  “Such male bonding.” Selia rolled her eyes at me. “Here, Lefty,” she said to Dale. “Take this into the dining room, will you?” She pushed a basket of bread toward him across the kitchen counter.

  “And you,” she said to Jake. “These bowls need to go to the table too. Dad, will you carve the turkey?”

  All three men hopped to their duties as Selia ushered the boys into their seats at the dining room table. When she returned, I was admiring a lovely bouquet of bright orange lilies in a crystal vase on the table. Their soft fragrance mixed nicely with the scent of roasted turkey in the kitchen.

  “These are gorgeous.”

  “Thanks, we got them in the shop yesterday.” She fingered the velvety petals.

  “The shop?”

  “I own a flower shop. Used to be my mother’s.” She traced the flower, traveling somewhere else for a moment before looking at me.

  “What can I do to help here?” I looked around the organized kitchen.

  “Drink this with me.” Selia snapped out of her memory and poured us each a glass of wine.

  I picked up the wine glass. Selia peeked into the pastry box I’d set on the counter and nodded.

  “Got to love Sikik, huh?” she said.

  “She’s helped me out on my short stay here so far.”

  “Dessert is the way to get in good with my brother,” she said. “For an athlete, the kid can eat his weight in sweets.”

  “He does have an appetite,” I said before I could stop myself.

  Selia laughed into her wine glass. “I’ll bet.”

  My face grew hot. “I mean…I…uh…”

  Selia raised her glass in salute. “I know what you meant, Banana Alanna.”

  ****

  “C’mon, Uncle Dale. Please,” Riley whined.

  “I don’t know, Riley.”

  “But it’s our favorite.” Mick joined in.

  “Yeah, and it’s more fun to watch it with you,” Noah added.

  “A little help here,” Dale said to Jake.

  “Sorry, man. The people have spoken. You’ve got to give the crowd what they want.”

  “Traitor. I remember a time when you used to be on my side.”

  “What can I say?” Jake held his hands out. “I’ve built my own team here, and I’ve got to stick with them.” He looked at me. “Besides, I bet Alanna will enjoy seeing this.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s Uncle Dale mushing,” Mick squealed.

  “Yeah,” Riley said. “In the I-did-a-road.”

  “Iditarod, sweetie.” Selia ruffled her son’s sandy hair.

  “That’s what I said, Mama,” Riley said.

  Selia rolled her eyes as Noah climbed onto the couch to snuggle between Dale and me. I surprised myself by wrapping my arm around Noah and scooching him a little closer. As a rule, I generally didn’t hang out with kids. Didn’t know many of them. Something about Dale’s nephews, however, made thoughts of having my own children flit across my mind. Dale’s entire family had me thinking about things I rarely thought of. Things that didn’t fit my lifestyle.

  Dale looked to me for help. “Alanna doesn’t want to watch this.”

  “Sorry, Dale. Alanna does want to watch this.”

  A chorus of hurrays resounded in the comfortable living room as I nestled deeper into the leather folds of Selia’s couch.

  Dale’s shoulders slumped as he rested his head on the back of the couch.

  “Outnumbered again, huh, son?” Ram gave Dale’s kneecap a squeeze as he passed by to sit in the matching leather recliner.

  Jake turned on the flat screen TV on the wall above a quaint fireplace across the room. He popped in a DVD and sat next to Selia on the love seat perpendicular to the couch. He took her feet into his lap, and the two of them swapped grins.

  “It started with a dream…One man’s dream…” Jake began before Dale hurled a pillow from the couch at his brother-in-law’s head.

  “Just play it, Jake.” Dale folded his arms across his chest and scowled, but his eyes focused on the screen just the same. Mick climbed onto his lap, ready to watch, while Riley planted himself at Ram’s feet.

  “You’re such a faker,” I whispered into Dale’s ear. “You love that we all want to watch this.”

  His lips turned up to reveal the dimple in his cheek. “Shhh,” he said. “You’re going to miss it.”

  Again I worried about the stains I was going to leave on the couch post-meltdown. Was there a limit to how many consecutive days a woman could walk around completely aroused by a single man?

  Shaking my head, I focused my attention on the screen as Bora crept into my lap. She kneaded my thigh before settling down, her little body warm and fluffy. Noah petted her as an assortment of dogs filled the TV screen. Dale’s dogs. They were all attached to the towline by their harnesses and eager to pull. Their yaps were full of energy, power.

  Gypsy looked confident in the lead position on the screen, just as she had when I’d ridden with Dale. In the living room, she raised her head at the sight of herself and poked her nose into Riley’s cheek as if to tell him to pay attention to how good she looked. From his position at Dale’s feet, Zynk barked at the dogs on TV.

  “Yeah, boy.” Dale reached a hand down to rub the dog’s ear. “You look great.”

  In the background, a figure in an army green snowsuit bent over the section where the sled connected to the wheel dogs. A white bib displaying numbers and the word “Dodge” was slung over the figure’s shoulders.

  “There’s Uncle Dale,” Noah sang out, wiggling beside me.

  “Or the Abominable Snowman,” I joked.

  “It’s cold out there, Alanna,” Mick said. “You could freeze your ball—”

  “MICK!” Selia and Jake said together.

  Dale brought his hand up to his mouth to stifle the laughter ready to bubble out. I hid my face behind Noah’s head, but couldn’t stop my body from shaking.

  “Sorry, Daddy,” Mick said. “That’s what Uncle Da—” Again the boy’s words were cut off as Dale’s hand covered Mick’s mouth, clamping down solidly.

  Selia shot Dale a look, but the corners of her lips turned up, and Jake tried to hide his amusement as well.

  “We’re gonna turn these boys into scoundrels whether you try to stop us or not,” Ram finally said, nudging Riley with his toe.

  “I’m not gonna be a scoundrel, Pop,” Riley said.

  “Oh no?” Ram trapped the boy between his stocking feet. “What are you gonna be then?”

  “I’m gonna be a detective, like Daddy,” Riley said, sitting up a little straighter.

  “Gonna catch the scoundrels, huh?”<
br />
  “Uh-huh.” Riley’s attention was back on the TV.

  Jake watched Riley with glossy eyes. I supposed there could be no greater tribute for a son to give his father than to say he wanted to be like Daddy when he grew up. I turned my focus to Dale and found myself wondering what a son of his would be like. Would he want to raise dogs? Be a musher?

  A writer?

  What are you doing, Cormac? I forced myself to tune back into the conversation in the room.

  “I don’t want to worry about two detectives,” Selia said, rubbing her eyes.

  Jake gave her feet a squeeze. “Look at it more as two detectives working to keep you safe.”

  Selia ran her hand along Jake’s cheek, and he brushed his lips along her palm.

  “Jake’s working on the most recent string of…” Selia mouthed the word murders so the boys couldn’t hear. The worry sent creases around her brows.

  The dogs’ behavior today and the footprints Dale had discovered beyond the fence in his yard wormed back into my mind. A shiver worked its way down my back, and Noah cuddled a little closer to me. His wide brown eyes looked up to my face.

  “Are you cold, Alanna? I could get you a blanket,” he offered.

  “Aren’t you a sweetie?” I gave him a squeeze. “I won’t be cold as long as you’re here.”

  He tossed his arm around my waist, resting his head on my chest.

  “Kid’s got moves, doesn’t he?” Dale said as he tickled Noah so the boy wriggled beside me but didn’t release his grip.

  “He must have had a good teacher.” I raised my eyes to Dale.

  “I do what I can for the kid.”

  A desperate need to consume his lips flooded over me, and I gripped the arm of the couch. Dale’s eyes shot over to my fingers, and he leaned closer to me. The way his breath played over my skin had my insides sparking.

  “I’d be happy to do whatever I can for you later,” he whispered.

  I nodded and turned back to the TV for fear of climbing over Noah to devour Dale.

  On the screen, crowds of people lined the street on either side of Dale and his dog team. The snow beneath them was packed down and barely moved as the dogs pawed at it, anxious to get on with the race. People waved signs and cheered as Dale pulled on a black knit hat, donned his sunglasses, and stepped onto the back of his sled. Giving the crowd a wave—and looking sexy as hell—he yelled to Gypsy, and she let out a bark. The rest of the team pulled, and the sled surged forward. The race had begun.

  Footage of Dale reaching a checkpoint, signing in, and caring for his team flowed by next. He was taking one of his breaks at this particular stop. He arranged straw beds for the dogs, organized their meal, and inspected each of them for injury. Two more mushers stopped at this checkpoint, prompting Dale to leave during the night after a few hours of sleep on a cot.

  Armed with a headlamp, a light on the sled, and several lights on the towline, Dale took off into the blackness of an Alaskan night. Pretty solitary as far as I could see. Nothing but man and dog, and all the night creatures lurking about in the frosty, snow-covered terrain. Just black and white. In the next frame, however, the orange-pink glow of the sunrise cast a waking eye over the land, causing the snow to sparkle like tiny diamonds.

  “Wow,” I whispered.

  “Yeah,” Dale agreed. “That was my favorite moment right there.”

  “Better than crossing the finish line first?”

  Dale nodded, the sun’s rays from the TV coloring his face. He leaned his head on the couch with his eyes closed as if he were back out there on the trail.

  At that moment, I officially fell in love with Dale.

  Just how deep were the wounds going to be when I had to leave? How bad would my heart bleed?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “That was fun,” I said as Dale took my hand and led me to the driveway. Gypsy and Zynk darted ahead of us, heading for the only patches of snow in Selia’s front yard.

  “And the night’s not over yet.” Dale tugged on my arm, spinning me toward him. I landed hard against his chest, and he staggered back a couple of steps.

  “Sorry.” I hunched up my shoulders. “Impromptu dancing is not one of my skills.”

  “We’ll have to work on it.” Dale threw his other arm around me and squeezed me close. I suddenly had no need for my heavy jacket.

  “I suck at kissing too.”

  Dale planted his lips on mine with long, achingly slow sips. “I don’t agree with that, but we can work on kissing if you’d like.”

  “Okay by me.” I encircled his neck with my hands and deepened the kiss until everything around us faded away.

  Well, maybe two dogs barked furiously off in the near distance somewhere, but I ignored them. I was with Dale, and his lips were on me, and…

  Damn. Those dogs were loud. Focus, Cormac. I poured all I had into the kiss, but a squeaky whimper echoing in the trees across the yard made Dale rip his lips from mine. We both spun to face the trees.

  “Zynk,” Dale yelled. “Gypsy.” He headed for the trees when the dogs didn’t come to us. I started to follow, but Dale held out his arm. He pressed the keys to the Tribute into my palm. “Get in and start her up.”

  “Dale, I—”

  “Please, Alanna. Do it. I’m going to get them.” He continued toward the trees. I couldn’t stop him. He would do anything for those dogs. I knew that.

  I turned back to the driveway, jogged to the SUV, and hopped inside. I started it and waited. When Gypsy ran up, I climbed out and opened the back door. Gypsy didn’t get in. She kept looking back to the trees.

  “C’mon, girl,” I coaxed, patting the seat inside, fearing for Dale’s safety. She barked a short, quick huff as her tail whipped back and forth. I squinted into the darkness and breathed a sigh of relief when Dale emerged from the trees, a dark shadow draped across his arm. Zynk.

  “Gypsy, now,” I said. She looked at me and then to Dale before she hopped into the car. I opened the back passenger door as Dale approached.

  “Something got his leg.” Dale’s face was stark white. “I’ll clean him up at home. He’ll be fine.” He sounded as if he were telling himself more than me. His way of keeping calm.

  “I’ll drive,” I said.

  Dale nodded and climbed in beside Zynk in the back of the Tribute. He positioned the dog’s head in his lap as I closed the door and got behind the wheel. Gypsy growled at her window. I hesitated and squinted into the shadows.

  “Just go.” The urgency in Dale’s voice caused me to back out of the driveway.

  Dale opened his cell phone as I headed for his house.

  “Jake. It’s Dale. Something’s loose in your front woods. It got Zynk.”

  Dale paused as Jake replied.

  “I don’t know yet. Once I get home and clean it, maybe I can identify what attacked him.”

  Another pause.

  “I wanted to let you know. With everything that’s been going on around here, I don’t want to take any chances. I’m not a hundred percent convinced another animal got Zynk. I mean, he and Gypsy are pretty alert, pretty skilled. It takes something clever or large to surprise them.”

  Dale’s nod was reflected in the rearview mirror as he listened to Jake.

  “Okay. She’s staying with me anyway.” His eyes swam over to me in the mirror, and he managed a weak smile. “Yeah, you too. Bye.” He snapped the phone shut and looked toward his lap.

  “Almost there,” I said.

  Dale’s eyes met mine in the mirror again, and he nodded. He bent over Zynk and talked to the dog as it whimpered softly in his lap.

  “It’s okay, boy. You’ll see. Just a scratch. I’ll fix you up, and you’ll be fine.”

  My heart broke seeing Dale so upset. His eyes were soft, yet anger lurked in them. Anger that something—or someone—had hurt a member of his family.

  I pulled into Dale’s driveway and waited impatiently for the garage door to open all the way. As soon as I was in the garage, I
hit the switch to close the door. I was more than a little freaked by the dark outdoors at this point. I let Gypsy out behind me and ran around to the back passenger side. After flinging open the door, I backed up to let Dale climb out. He reached in and slid Zynk out, carrying the dog in his arms again. Zynk barely moved, and I caught a glimpse in the overhead lights of the gash oozing blood on his hind leg.

  I willed my stomach to settle and jetted up the stairs to the door that led into the house. I unlocked it, and Gypsy slid past me into the kitchen. She circled the island several times before stopping to look at me. She looked frazzled too.

  Turning back to Dale who had entered the kitchen, I said, “Where do you want to work?”

  “The light’s best in here.” He hit the switch for the overhead eyeball lights with his elbow. As light flooded the kitchen, Dale said, “Go into the bathroom and get a few towels to lay on the floor.”

  I shed my jacket, sprinted to the bathroom, and yanked open the closet. I shot back to the kitchen with five towels.

  “Spread a few out there.” He motioned to the middle of the floor with his chin. Zynk lay limp in his arms.

  Once the towels were spread out, Dale squatted. Zynk must have weighed about fifty pounds, but Dale took his time to avoid causing the dog further discomfort. He gently slid his hands out from under Zynk. A few whimpers escaped Zynk’s throat.

  “What else do you need?” I asked.

  Dale ran a hand over his face as if to clear his mind. “A basin of hot water.” He pointed to the cabinet under the sink. “The rest is in the shed. I’ll be right back.” He got to his feet and disappeared out the back door.

  The spotlights blared in the backyard, and Dale’s other dogs woofed softly in acknowledgement. I busied myself by filling the basin with hot water and carrying it to our makeshift surgical area. Gypsy was licking Zynk’s face; his eyes closed at her touch. She nuzzled me as I set down the basin and knelt beside Zynk. His brown eye opened to look at me. So watery and hazy. A lump formed in my throat. I gathered Zynk’s head in my arms and stroked his soft, thick fur until his eye closed again. His ribs rose and fell, and I begged for them to continue.