Alaska Heart Read online

  “I’m going to do things a little differently this year.” She paused just behind me and rested her hands on the back of my chair.

  Meg stiffened beside me.

  “I want each of you to submit an article proposal—topic, brief description, preliminary outline. The top three will do their stories and battle it out for the promotion. How’s that sound?”

  Evelynne walked back to her seat. As she sat, a stunned silence gathered strength in the conference room. No responses. No movement. Nothing. Just pairs of eyes directed toward Evelynne.

  “Great,” she said, not worried in the least that her entire staff had gone mute. “Okay, get to it, dears. Proposals on my desk by Wednesday.” Evelynne clapped her hands, which caused us to flinch into action. Most of us left without uttering a word. A few conversed quietly, the exclamation points at the end of their words nearly visible. Meg nudged me out of my own musings, and we shuffled out to her cube.

  “Ho-ly shit,” Meg finally said as she leaned against her desk.

  “Wasn’t expecting that,” I said. The wheels in my mind turned, picking up pace as Evelynne’s announcement sank in.

  “You’re totally going for it, aren’t you?” Meg kicked the tip of my shoe with her foot.

  “Be stupid not to,” I said. “You’re going for it too, right?”

  “Be stupid not to,” Meg repeated. “But I don’t have a shot.” She walked around her desk and sat. “I’m pretty sure Evelynne only keeps me around because she covets my shoe collection.” When I didn’t laugh, Meg snapped her fingers. “Hey, Earth to Alanna. That was a joke.”

  “Right. Sorry. I was—”

  “Already working on your story proposal,” Meg finished.

  I nodded.

  She shrugged. “Don’t let me get in the way. See you at lunch?”

  “Yeah, lunch.” I’d already stepped out of her cube headed for my own. Ideas bounced around my head and gave birth to more ideas. By the time I sat at my computer, I had at least ten different notions that could work.

  Only one kept surfacing, though, screaming out over the others. Only one just might be the winner.

  Chapter Two

  “It’s a story on Denali. The Big Five. Moose, caribou, Dall sheep, wolves, and grizzlies.” I took a bite of my apple as I sat across from Meg in the cafeteria.

  “It’s a great idea.” Meg played with the straw in her drink. “What made you think of Alaska?”

  “Nothing.” I said it too quickly, and Meg narrowed her eyes at me. “Nothing. I’ve always wanted to visit Denali. Doing research on it would be the next best thing.”

  Meg nodded, and I let out a breath. I hadn’t told her about sled-dog16. He was mine. Just mine. A secret.

  “What are your ideas?” I asked, then took another chunk from my apple.

  “I’ve only got one. I don’t even like it. Something about a NASA program that grows plants in space.”

  For someone who had all the confidence in the world when it came to men, Meg was unsure of herself at work. She doubted every word she wrote.

  “Sounds interesting,” I said. “Very futuristic.”

  She shrugged and fiddled with a crust of bread on her tray.

  “You’d better enter this little contest Evelynne’s got going,” I said, sensing Meg was thinking otherwise. “No opportunity wasted, right?”

  “Right. I know you’re right.”

  She was placating me. I could tell.

  “Tonight why don’t we each draft up our proposals separately, then we’ll swap them tomorrow. Help each other out. No rules against doing that.”

  This perked Meg up a bit. “Okay. Another good idea, Cormac.”

  I patted myself on the back, and Meg laughed. She’d write the proposal even if only to make me happy. Probably wrong to manipulate our friendship like that, but I didn’t want Meg to let her fears get the best of her.

  Like I was one to talk.

  Shaking my head, I gathered my trash and stood. “I’ve got to finish my habitat story before I even consider writing a proposal. See you later.”

  Meg saluted me, and I left her to bury myself in my cube. I worked for about two hours and then hopped online. Accessing my personal email account, I deleted the junk and, with an anxious glimpse around my cube, composed an email.

  gaia-girl706:

  Know anything about Denali?

  I let out a little squeak when a new message dinged back right away.

  sled-dog16:

  I know everything about Denali. Why?

  gaia-girl706:

  Might be doing a story on it. Wanted the inside scoop. Interested in helping a gal out?

  sled-dog16:

  If the gal is you, yes. If not, forget it.

  Why was it suddenly so warm in my cube? I peeled off my suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of my blouse.

  gaia-girl706:

  The gal IS me, punk. Helping me could mean a big promotion. I’d really appreciate it. If you’re not too busy sleeping, of course. ☺

  sled-dog16:

  Never too busy for you. Besides I’m climbing the walls now that the race is over and I’m “resting.” I hate resting.

  And I’m not a punk.

  I laughed quietly in my cube, somehow feeling that sled-dog16 was right there with me and not clear across the country. Why was it so easy to talk and joke with him, a stranger? I didn’t even know what color his eyes were. It took little effort to imagine meeting him face-to-face though.

  gaia-girl706:

  Okay, because you’re going to help me, I’ll retract the punk statement. For now.

  sled-dog16:

  Who’s the punk now?

  What do you want to know about Denali?

  gaia-girl706:

  I’ll send you a list of specific questions, but whatever you can think of would be awesome.

  sled-dog16:

  No prob. If you came up here, I could SHOW you Denali. Hint, hint. ☺ Nothing like seeing it in person.

  gaia-girl706:

  I’ll bet. Still, you could be a psycho, so we’ll stick to you answering my questions via email for now.

  sled-dog16:

  You could call me. You know, on the telephone. Wonderful invention. I can’t kill you over the phone. Totally safe.

  Call him? Yikes. Curiosity did have me wondering what his voice, his laugh, would sound like. How would my name roll off his tongue?

  “What are you thinking, Cormac?” I shook my head and tapped away on my keyboard.

  gaia-girl706:

  I could, but then I’d miss the excitement of opening my email and finding messages from you. Wouldn’t want to deprive myself.

  sled-dog16:

  Have it your way, wimp. I shall await your questions, O Big Important Magazine Writer.

  gaia-girl706:

  Thanks. Talk to you later, He Who Sleds with Dogs.

  Reluctant to end the conversation, I closed my email and spent the rest of the day working on my urban habitat story. Technically, only half my brain was devoted to that story. The other half visualized seeing Denali with an Iditarod winner.

  ****

  Nestled in the folds of my chocolate-colored, suede couch, garbed in my favorite sweatpants and T-shirt, I ate the salad and pizza I’d bought from Rita’s, a small Italian place one block from my apartment. Everything was right in the world when I had a slice of Rita’s cheese and pepperoni pizza in my hands. As right as it could be when you’re totally alone in your living room.

  With my precious flat screen TV on to fill the silence, I munched and jotted ideas for the Denali piece. Soon, I had a decent list assembled. From the list, I constructed a series of questions to send to sled-dog16. I indulged in daydreaming that we sat across from one another, mugs of hot cocoa wafting steam between us while I asked and he answered. He was right. It would be easier to call him and conduct an official interview as I would for any other story. Something about that notion, however, made me feel as if I’d be turning a co
rner—one I wasn’t ready to face.

  After emailing the questions, I spent another two hours drafting my Denali proposal. Fresh excitement built as it all took shape. I visited a few sites online to garner preliminary information. Then I sketched an opening paragraph, just for fun. The pictures I found were unbelievable. I itched to hike over the pinecone-ridden trails, crisp air filling my city-scarred lungs.

  As I marveled over these photos, each one drawing me deeper into nature’s perfection, a ding snapped me back to real time.

  sled-dog16:

  Got your questions. Answering them right now while lazing in my favorite recliner. Want photos too?

  Could someone be deemed adorable purely by the way he phrased an email?

  gaia-girl706:

  I’ll take anything you’re willing to share.

  sled-dog16:

  Anything?

  gaia-girl706:

  Anything about Denali.

  sled-dog16:

  Damn. ☺ I tried.

  Can I ask you a question?

  Uh-oh. A question. Where was this going?

  gaia-girl706:

  As long as I have the option to not answer.

  sled-dog16:

  Always.

  gaia-girl706:

  Ask away then.

  sled-dog16:

  What are you wearing right now?

  Laughter overpowered the TV’s volume as I read sled-dog16’s question. Looking down at my sweats, I made a decision.

  gaia-girl706:

  Who said I was wearing anything right now?

  My response was so Meg-ish that I had to laugh. Hanging with her did give me a window into what worked and what didn’t when it came to men. I usually had no desire to test my observations, but with sled-dog16 it was different. We would never meet, never fall head over heels in love with each other. Never mean so much to each other that when one of us did something supremely stupid, the other was left to live with a huge hole where her heart used to be.

  No. With sled-dog16 it was fun and games. Nothing heavy. Just the way I wanted it.

  sled-dog16:

  Naked in NY. I like it. I’d do the same, but it’s too cold for casual nudity in Fairbanks.

  I’ll have these questions answered in about an hour. That okay?

  gaia-girl706:

  Perfect. Thanks again.

  sled-dog16:

  No, thank you. I’ve got a good image of a naked writer in my head now. Very inspirational.

  gaia-girl706:

  Depends on which naked writer you have in your head.

  sled-dog16:

  Had to spoil it, didn’t you? Now I can’t get a naked Edgar Allan Poe out of my head.

  Later.

  Funny guy, that sled-dog16. What else was he?

  I shut down my laptop, watched a TV documentary about the psychology of a killer, and got seriously freaked. Another reason to not meet Internet “friends” regardless of how humorous they were in their emails.

  After a hot shower, I dragged my laptop into the bedroom and got under the covers. Felt inclined to keep a kitchen knife on the nightstand after the documentary, but didn’t. Instead, I busied myself reading sled-dog16’s responses to my questions.

  The man was thorough, adding personal anecdotes about his trips to Denali to the factual details. He had supplied me with enough information to write a kick-ass article. Even if Evelynne didn’t pick my proposal, I would have to write the story anyway. The pictures sled-dog16 supplied—none that included himself—called to me, demanded to be made into something for Gaia readers to experience.

  I dreamed of Denali all night and woke the next morning to the sound of a black-capped chickadee whistling on the fire escape. When I padded to the window and opened it, the bird hopped over. I kept a jar full of seeds in my bedroom for feathered visitors. The chickadee ate the seeds from my cupped palm and then skittered off. What could I get to eat out of my hand in Denali? Would I be a Snow White there too?

  At work, Meg swung by my cube. The bright yellow dress she wore nearly blinded me.

  “You ready to swap?” She tapped the file folder she held.

  “Sure.” I dug out my proposal and handed it to her. She smelled it, turned it around, pretended to weigh it in her hands.

  “Feels like a winner,” she announced as she walked out.

  “Yours too,” I called.

  She snickered.

  Over lunch, Meg slid my proposal toward me. “I love this, Alanna. It could be a commercial for visiting Denali. Where did you get all your info?”

  “I have my sources.” I took an enormous bite of my tuna sandwich to avoid speaking any more about the subject. I pointed to Meg’s proposal and finished chewing. “This sounds like impressive shit.”

  “It is,” she said, “but the scientist I talked to about the program operated on a level way over my head. I spent most of the night trying to wrap my underdeveloped brain around the information.”

  “I’ll bet you could charm him down to your level.”

  Meg fluttered her eyelashes, a small upward curl at the corner of her mouth. “Thanks. I think.”

  I gestured to the folders. “Nothing left to do now but drop these puppies onto Evelynne’s desk.”

  “Yep.” Meg stared at her file folder.

  “No gamble, no gain.”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay then.”

  “Okay.”

  We sat in silence for a long moment, staring at our proposals and fiddling with things on our lunch trays. Finally, we had to end our lunch and get back to work. Upstairs at my cube, Meg gathered up our proposals.

  “I’ll run these over to Becky, and the rest is up to Fate.”

  Accepting my brief nod as agreement, Meg turned on her calf-high, brown leather boots and tap-tapped down to Evelynne’s secretary. I peeked from my cube as Meg and Becky conversed. The proposals changed hands, and Becky hugged the file folders to her chest. Too late to turn back now. All I could do was hope I’d win and have a shot at the promotion of a lifetime.

  For the record, I’d never won anything.

  Chapter Three

  I hardly slept the night after I’d handed in my proposal. I kept thinking of things I should have included, different angles, different hooks. The more I dwelled on the proposal, the more I convinced myself I didn’t have a shot in hell at the promotion. Six years at Gaia was nothing. Other writers had put in more time. Their work was edgier, new wave. I wrote about the beauty of nature. I was all poems and pretty pictures. In fact, I should just go ahead and use Snow White as my pen name.

  Of course, I was blowing this way out of proportion. My stories did have hard-core facts and were always well researched. Solid writing accompanied the poetry and pretty pictures. Still, the chances of Evelynne picking me were slim. Better to be realistic and prepare for disappointment. Took the sting out. Sometimes.

  So when a green sticky note that read, “We need to chat,” adorned my computer screen about a week later, I had trouble swallowing. Meg found me in the beginning stages of an anxiety attack.

  “Why is your face so white?” she asked.

  I flapped the sticky note at Meg. She walked deeper into my cube and plucked it from my fingers.

  “Is this about your proposal?” Her eyebrows angled up as she waved the note at me.

  “I don’t know.”

  “It can only be about your proposal.” She grabbed my hand, shocking me out of my panic. “C’mon, kid. Go see her. Right now.”

  Meg pulled on my arm, rather roughly, until I stumbled out from behind my desk.

  “Meg, I—”

  “Hush,” she interrupted. “Move.” She pointed toward Evelynne’s office. “And I want to hear everything as soon as you get out of there.”

  Meg nudged me forward until my own legs took over the duty of carrying me along. Suddenly the hallway leading to Becky’s desk just outside Evelynne’s office seemed infinitely long. My feet kept moving, but I wasn’t gett
ing any closer.

  When I finally found myself staring into the thick lenses of Becky’s eyeglasses, I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Becky waited for thirty seconds, letting me mime painfully, until she said, “Go right in, Alanna.”

  I nodded and walked stiffly to Evelynne’s door. Next barrier. I stood there for another thirty seconds before Becky appeared beside me.

  “Works better this way, dear.” She rapped on the door.

  “Come in,” Evelynne called.

  “See,” Becky said. “Gets results every time.”

  Any other time, Becky’s humor would have been appreciated. Not today. My stomach felt as if I’d swallowed a pail full of rocks. I mechanically closed my fingers around the doorknob.

  Inside, Evelynne looked green as usual. This time she had on a sea green pantsuit with a cream sweater underneath. The necklace that hugged her throat appeared to be made from bits of sea glass and silver wire. Though she carried the green obsession a bit too far, she always looked like a magazine cover.

  I looked down at my own attire. Khaki pants, blue sweater, brown clogs. Not very creative. Not very “you deserve a promotion” either. Shit.

  “Morning, Alanna,” Evelynne said, slithering into the chair behind her desk. “Have a seat.”

  I tried to slither into the chair she’d indicated, but my slithering didn’t look anything like her slithering. It was more of a gloppy pouring of burned oatmeal, but I’d tried.

  Evelynne opened a file folder on her desk and leveled her gray eyes at me. “This,” she said, waving a hand over the contents of the folder, “is just what I was looking for.”

  Say what?

  “Your description had me wanting to know more about Denali.” Evelynne paused to look at me. “Your outline is well constructed, tight. Logical. This is the kind of story that will let the reader travel to Denali without leaving the comfort of his or her favorite chair.”

  “Thanks.” The word squeaked out.

  “You’re one of my top three choices, Alanna. Hirsh and Zemmans are my other two, but they haven’t been brave enough to come see me yet.” At this she smirked and arched an eyebrow. “I know everyone’s afraid to come in here. As it should be. I am the boss after all.”

  Funny how she looked completely un-scary to me with laugh lines creasing her eyes and mouth.