by Teri Wilson
“There’s no rush,” she said a little too quickly. She didn’t want to think about how lonely the ranch would seem without the reindeer. Without Alec. “You can stay in the guesthouse as long as you like.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he muttered as he stood and crossed to the door.
The ache that had formed in Zoey’s chest when she’d made the call to the lawyer’s office burrowed deeper as Dasher scrambled to her feet and started to follow Alec.
The dog. What was she supposed to do with the dog now? “Um, what about the dog?”
“Keep her. She’s yours.” Alec opened the door. His wide shoulders filled the frame, but beyond him Zoey could see reindeer tossing their antlers and prancing through a snowfall so light and delicate it looked like rose petals falling to the ground.
In just a few days those reindeer would be gone.
A muscle flexed in Alec’s back. Zoey could see it clear through the sleek black leather of his jacket and had a good idea just what that tension meant. Could he see it, too? The wistful, almost melancholy beauty of the scene playing out before them?
Of course he could. He’d have to be blind not to.
Alec fixed his gaze on the horizon, and without so much as a backward glance he stepped into the cold. Before the door clicked shut behind him, a gust of frosty air blew into the kitchen, ruffling the fur on Dasher’s back and sending a shiver through Zoey that she felt deep in the marrow of her bones.
What have I done, Lord? She ran her fingertips over the dog’s soft ears, and the cold settled into her so thoroughly that she wondered if she’d ever feel warm again. What have I done?
Chapter Ten
“You’ve done nothing wrong.” Anya was adamant, shaking the money from one of the donation jars with more force than was necessary, perhaps to emphasize her point. “You can’t beat yourself up about this.”
Zoey watched dollar bills and a few coins spill out onto her kitchen table.
I should give this money back, she thought, guilt pooling in her stomach. I failed. It’s blood money now.
“Seventy-eight dollars,” Anya announced. “And five cents. And that’s just the first jar.”
Zoey eyed the stack of bills. “You’re not suggesting I keep it.”
“Why wouldn’t you? People donated this money out of a desire to help.”
“A desire to help the reindeer. Not me.” She shook her head. “Whoever this money belongs to thought I was saving the reindeer. I’m not. I didn’t. I’m a failure.”
Anya quirked an eyebrow. “Could you get any more dramatic about it?”
“I’m worse than a failure.” A wave of nausea—definitely not the first since breakfast—rolled over Zoey. “I’m a killer...a reindeer murderer.”
“Wow. Yes, apparently you can get more dramatic about it. I severely underestimated your capacity for self-loathing.”
“It’s true. You know that old Rudolph movie from the sixties?”
Anya frowned, obviously wondering where the conversation was headed. “The one where Rudolph tries to cover his shiny red nose with mud?”
“Yes.” Zoey had seen it dozens of times since she was a kid. Hadn’t everyone? “Remember when all the other reindeer laughed at Rudolph and called him names? They seemed so heartless and cruel. Well, I’m worse than those mean reindeer.”
“I’m beginning to get seriously worried about you, hon. Those reindeer aren’t real. It’s a television show. A pretty outdated one at that.”
“It’s a classic.”
Anya shrugged. “Point taken. Sort of.”
“I can’t accept that money.” Zoey dropped her head in her hands. “I won’t.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll just put it in here while we add up the rest.” Anya dropped the cash in a gallon-sized ziplock bag. Even if they filled the rest of that bag to the brim with twenty-dollar bills, it still wouldn’t be enough money to get Zoey out of the trouble she was in.
If she kept it, which she most definitely was not.
Anya peered into another of the jars. “There’s a fifty in this one.”
Zoey glanced up, locking gazes with a pair of plastic googly eyes. “No, there’s not.”
“I’m afraid so.” She slid the jar to the edge of the table. “Listen, something tells me we need to take a time-out.”
A time-out sounded delicious. Like one of Gus’s spectacular frosted chocolate-malt sundaes. Only better.
“You did the best you could, Zoey.” Anya leaned forward and took on a serious tone that Zoey had heard from her only a few times before, namely when they’d worked together at the coffee bar and something had gone wrong. “You don’t know the first thing about reindeer. Most people in your position would have sold them in the very beginning, certainly after the fiasco at the airport.”
Zoey nodded mutely.
“When does the sale become final?”
“Tomorrow morning.” If everything went as planned, Zoey would leave the lawyer’s office with check in hand and have just enough time to deposit it before heading to the airport to deliver her down payment and collect the keys to the Super Cub.
Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.
“What would happen if you changed your mind? If you didn’t go through with it?”
“I wouldn’t be able to buy the plane. The owner would start advertising it for sale again, and someone else would probably step up to the plate.” She’d already begged the seller, a retired commercial pilot who’d bought a charter boat and relocated to the seaside town of Homer, Alaska, for more time. He’d refused. Boats don’t come cheap, he’d said by way of explanation.
Neither did airplanes.
Anya pressed on. “Is there any chance the money in the rest of these jars could be enough to make up the difference and allow you to keep the reindeer?”
“No.” It just wasn’t possible. “Unless someone’s written a four-figure check I’m unaware of.”
Anya winced. “I doubt it.”
“Then no.”
“Good. You can stop feeling so guilty now, knowing you didn’t have a choice.” Anya nodded resolutely, but even so, her gaze drifted to the window and its view of the reindeer.
The herd was serene this morning. Quiet. No mad dashing about from one end of the fence to the other, no littering the white landscape with hay. If Zoey didn’t know better, she’d think that somehow they knew what she’d done and were staging a silent protest.
Her throat grew tight. “I feel like I’ve failed him.”
“Gus?”
“Yes,” she choked out. Gus...the reindeer...even Alec.
She squeezed her eyes closed at the thought of Alec. She knew it was ridiculous to feel as though she’d let him down on some fundamental level. They weren’t his reindeer, his burden. They were hers. And he might have been the one who found Gus, but he hadn’t really known him. He’d never played Scrabble with Gus or gone out for ice cream with him.
None of that mattered, because when she closed her eyes all she could see was the look on Alec’s face when she’d told him she’d sold the reindeer. He’d been so disappointed in her. He’d never said as much, of course.
He didn’t have to.
“Um, Zoey?”
She opened her eyes and found Anya still gazing out the window, looking confused this time rather than nostalgic. “Yes?”
“There’s a fox in the hen house,” she said. “I mean, there’s a bear on your reindeer farm. A baby bear. In the dead of winter. How is that possible?”
Zoey followed her gaze. “That’s not a bear. That’s Dasher, my dog.” The dog did kind of look like a bear. She hadn’t really noticed before.
Dasher was hunkered down in the snow beside Palmer. She’d curled herself into a ball beside t
he reindeer the moment he’d lain down, and except for resting her chin across the thick ridge of Palmer’s neck, she hadn’t moved since.
Anya frowned. “You have a dog now? A dog with a reindeer name?”
“Yes.” Zoey sighed. “And yes. She was a gift from Alec.”
“Alec gave you a dog? That’s so sweet.” She paused to mull it over. “And oddly personal for a Christmas gift, don’t you think?”
“She wasn’t a Christmas gift.” Zoey didn’t even want to think about Christmas. Could she just pretend it wasn’t coming in fourteen days? Who killed off Rudolph two weeks before Christmas? “She’s a reindeer-herding dog. He brought her here to help with Palmer.”
“That’s beyond sweet.” Anya grinned. “That’s really thoughtful. And sorta brilliant. Wow, look at her. She seems to have quite the work ethic.”
Palmer rose to his feet, as did Dasher. When the reindeer took a step, so did the dog. It was uncanny. And pretty cute, too.
“She and Palmer are already as thick as thieves,” Zoey said. “You really didn’t know about it? Alec told me Brock helped him find her. Brock never mentioned it to you?”
That seemed strange. Brock and Anya shared everything. They even worked together.
“No.” Anya shrugged. “Maybe Alec wanted to keep it a secret so he could surprise you.”
“I guess so.” A lump lodged in Zoey’s throat. For some reason, the thought of Alec wanting to surprise her made her feel even worse.
“It really is a thoughtful gesture. You know, Zoey, it sounds like Alec might be growing rather fond of you.”
Zoey’s heart gave a wistful tug as she remembered Alec scooping her into his arms, the way he’d kissed the top of her head and tangled his fingertips in her hair. And most of all, the feeling of relief that had wanted to surge through her when he’d cradled her face in his hands and said with supreme confidence, everything is going to be okay.
For a sweet, sublime sliver of a moment, she’d finally known what it felt like to be able to depend on someone, to not have to go it alone. And in that instant, she could almost imagine what it felt like to be loved.
Almost.
And then she’d told him, I’ve done something.
No sooner had the words left her mouth than that heady feeling, that glittery rush of affection, had faded away like church bells on a cold winter’s night. She’d felt it in the stiffening of his arms as he held her, and she could see it in the crippling sadness in his blue eyes.
It had been painful at the time. Somehow it seemed even more painful upon reflection.
“Alec...developing an affection for me? I don’t think so,” she said.
Not anymore.
* * *
Alec stood in the doorway of his little cabin, sipping coffee and watching Dasher’s relentless pursuit of Palmer. The dog was remarkable. She seemed to have a good handle on the fact that Palmer, in particular, was her responsibility.
Alec had introduced the two of them late the night before, while he was still reeling from Zoey’s news. He’d been so shell-shocked that he couldn’t remember a single command from the long list the breeder had taught him when he and Brock had picked up the dog in Knik. He’d simply led Dasher to the far corner of the pasture where Palmer had been pouting all evening and said two words. Watch him.
Fifteen hours later, Dasher was still watching him.
Alec had to wonder if this crazy idea could have actually worked. If he’d gotten home a little sooner—an hour, two maybe—could he have convinced Zoey to hold out for one more day? And would Dasher have put an end to Palmer’s escapades?
Not that such speculation mattered. It was too late.
It’s too late. I’ve done something.
Zoey’s pained confession came back to him again and again.
He wanted to be angry with her. He wanted it with every fiber of his being. She’d sold the reindeer without even consulting him first. He could have helped her. He would have helped her. He would have done whatever it took to save those beautiful animals, even Palmer. Especially Palmer. Didn’t she know that?
He took a gulp of his coffee. No Northern Lights Inn gourmet Christmas blend this morning. He’d brewed it on the hot plate in his cabin, and it burned his throat as it went down. It was black and bitter, perfectly suited to his mood.
But as much as he wanted to blame Zoey, to rebuke her for what she’d done, he couldn’t.
The farm wasn’t his. He had no official place here. He didn’t belong in Aurora any more than he belonged anywhere else.
The trouble was that he’d begun to feel at home on the Up on the Rooftop Reindeer Farm. Just thinking about that name made him roll his eyes, but as corny as it sounded, he’d come to look forward to waking up and spending his morning trudging through the snow with thirty-plus reindeer on his heels. He’d found something here that he didn’t even realize he’d been looking for—peace. He was at peace here. He’d been so busy looking over his shoulder for most of his life that at first he hadn’t recognized that feeling of serenity when he’d stumbled onto it.
But he recognized it now. Now that it was too late.
He didn’t even want to think about what part Zoey played in those warm, fuzzy feelings that had begun to assault him. But deep down he feared it was a big one.
He slung back the dregs of his coffee and let his gaze travel over the reindeer one last time. They were eerily still this morning. Most stood huddled against the wind. A few pawed elegant legs at the frosty ground, searching for lichen, a treasure they occasionally found buried beneath the snow.
Then there was Palmer.
It looked as though he’d decided to test the limits of Dasher’s patience. The reindeer had begun to take sweeping side steps in an attempt to slip past the dog. But he was no match for Dasher. She dropped her head and fixed Palmer with a steely gaze that made the hair on the back of Alec’s neck stand on end, even from thirty feet away. Undeterred, Palmer let out a snort. Dasher answered with an earsplitting bark. More shuffling ensued, and both of them were soon caught in a flurry of kicked-up snow. They almost appeared to be engaged in some sort of elaborate snow dance. Alec half expected the sky to break open in a blizzard.
He’d miss them. He’d miss Palmer, Dasher and all the rest of them. And he’d never ever eat a reindeer hotdog as long as he lived.
What about Zoey? Will you miss her, too?
Thinking about her living out here on her own made his insides hurt. It was a physical pain, like something mean and ugly trying to claw its way out.
He pushed it down, tamed it. Years of practice had made Alec adept at ignoring pain—emotional, physical, spiritual. It was a special talent he’d honed to perfection.
He pushed himself off the doorjamb and went inside. Standing around mooning over Zoey’s decision wasn’t his style. He had better things to do, like looking for a new job.
He opened his laptop and went on Craigslist. At the very top of the page, an opening in Denali National Park caught his eye.
Wildlife Manager wanted. Start date: January 1.
He scanned the posting. The work was similar to what he’d done in the forest. And the pay was good. More than good, actually. It was double what Gus Henderson had promised to pay him for working at the reindeer farm. Located deep in the interior of Alaska, Denali was populated with an abundance of wildlife—grizzlies, wolves, moose, Dall sheep. Even reindeer. Best of all, it comprised over six million acres.
Which made it the perfect place to lose himself.
Again.
* * *
The barking would have awakened Zoey, if she’d been able to sleep. As it happened, she was still wide-awake when the yapping started.
She sat bolt upright in bed, heart hammering, until she remembered that, yes, she did indeed have a dog now.
She collapsed back onto her pillow and prayed Dasher would stop. The temperature outside had dipped below fifteen degrees earlier in the night. Just the thought of dragging herself out of her warm bed to go outside and check on Dasher made her shiver.
She knew she should have let the dog sleep inside. She’d fully intended to do just that, even going so far as to make a little nest of blankets for Dasher at the foot of her bed. But Alec had reminded her that the whole point of the dog was to keep Palmer from escaping. How could Dasher keep an eye on Palmer if she was holed up in Zoey’s bedroom?
“But won’t she be cold?” Zoey had asked. “It’s freezing outside. Literally.”
“Have you seen the coat on that dog? She was bred for this. Trust me.” Alec had looked exasperated. He’d looked like that a lot since she’d told him about selling the reindeer.
Not that she could blame him. She was exasperated with herself, too. The whole situation was exasperating.
“I’ll make her a nice bed of straw, right beside Palmer. I can even cover her with a blanket. Will that make you feel better?” he’d asked.
“I guess.” She’d finally relented and pledged right then and there to buy the poor dog a down coat from the pet store. Or at the very least, a sweater.
Not that any of that would matter after tonight. The reindeer were due to be hauled off shortly after the papers were signed. In all likelihood they would be gone by the time she returned from closing the deal on her airplane. Dasher would sleep at the foot of Zoey’s bed after that, if the dog still wanted to have anything to do with her. Zoey had her doubts. Why would a reindeer-herding dog want to hang out with someone who’d sent so many reindeer off to their doom?
God, please help me make sense of all this.
Zoey lay very still in the darkness, and the barking stopped.
Why did Gus leave me all these reindeer? And why did things have to go so horribly wrong?
She blinked back a fresh wave of tears.