Alaska Heart Read online

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’m going to slow us down with this picture-taking.”

  “That’s okay. It’s why we’re here.”

  “How many times have you been here?” I stepped onto a boulder to get a better shot of the trees in the distance.

  Dale let out a long breath. “Hundreds.”

  “Really?” I hopped off the boulder.

  “Really. My dad used to bring us here every summer, and I’ve been coming back here regularly. Can’t stay away, you know?”

  “I can see how that could happen. It’s peaceful here.” Such a contrast to the industrialized world of New York.

  “It’s easier to feel like a part of the Earth here.” His voice was a whisper, reverent and serene.

  “Oh, that’s lovely. Can I use it in my article?”

  “Sure. If you think it’s any good.”

  “It’s perfect.” I rummaged around in my pack for my notebook and pen. After scratching down what he’d said, I made a few more notes about the landscape. Dale walked a bit ahead with Gypsy and Zynk on his heels. I grabbed my camera. Focusing on him and the dogs, I snapped several shots. A little souvenir for myself.

  I jogged to catch up with him, but stopped short when a loud, rumbling growl echoed through the natural silence that cloaked the park. Dale motioned for me to stay still. With another hand signal, he sent Gypsy and Zynk to their bellies. Dale took a few more steps forward, hardly making a sound as he moved. He signaled for me to approach, and when I did, my jaw dropped open.

  Two full-grown grizzlies faced one another on hind legs, their massive paws swatting at each other. Deep grunts emanated from them as they grappled. One tumbled to the ground. The other lunged on top of the fallen bear. I nudged Dale and pointed to my camera. He nodded, and I maneuvered the view screen to capture both bears in the frame. I snapped shot after shot without a flash or a sound, and the bears continued their battle as if Dale and I weren’t watching their every move.

  Snow flew in every direction as the bears wrestled. Finally, the one on the ground squirmed free and lumbered into the trees. The winner stomped after him to the tune of snapping twigs and low growls.

  “Oh my Goddess! That was amazing!” Adrenaline pumped through my body, while fear and wild excitement battled for dominance.

  “Your article is going to kick ass if we keep having shows like this.” Dale tugged on my backpack, so I would follow him. As soon as he motioned to them, Gypsy and Zynk popped up and traveled along with us.

  “Good thing you know how to not look like food,” Dale added, grabbing for my hand.

  “I’ve had years of practice being invisible.”

  Dale stopped walking and turned to face me. “You’re not invisible. Not to me. I’d have spotted you miles away.”

  “What would have happened if the bears had spotted us?” I tightened my grip on Dale’s gloved hand, beaming a little at his compliment.

  “I’m sure they knew we were there.” He hiked a small incline, tugging me behind him. “They had more important business to tend to at that moment. They weren’t on the hunt, and they weren’t mamas protecting cubs, so we were of little interest.”

  I let that information sink in and realized Dale knew a great deal about the wilderness. He looked as if he belonged in Denali, wandering amongst the bears. Though the temperature was frosty, he looked unaffected. He wore his jacket and hat as if they were a permanent part of him, and his feet carried him steadily across the terrain. A new swell of admiration flared inside of me as I followed him.

  My fingers itched to capture everything around us on camera. As we walked through Sable Pass, we encountered a red fox, her rusty fur dusted in snow, as she corralled three cubs into a burrow. Four Dall sheep, two of them lambs actually, crossed the fresh snow covering a nearby mountainside. Their innocent faces, dotted with two soulful black eyes, turned skyward as they sniffed the air and then followed the older sheep along the mountain. The spiraled horns adorning the heads of the two adult Dall sheep showcased an exquisite example of nature’s artwork.

  “Those horns remind me of the ram carved onto your father’s door at the tavern,” I said.

  “I carved that.”

  “Holy shit. Really? You’re good.”

  “I’m good at a bunch of things.” Dale threw a glance over his shoulder, and a hot sweat broke out all over me.

  At Polychrome Pass, a gray wolf was hunting hares. Poetry in motion, he crouched in the snow and waited for the unsuspecting hare to hop by. Then, in one swift pounce, the wolf caught its prey, and the hare breathed its last breath. Though something tugged at my heart over the spent life, it was so circle of life, so natural, I couldn’t help but be awestruck. I remembered reading about the food chain in Ms. Taylor’s third grade, but seeing it live was a whole different experience.

  “You hungry?” Dale pulled off his glove and checked his watch.

  “What time is it?” Time had no meaning in Denali. The real world seemed so far away in this picture-perfect wonderland.

  “Nearly one o’clock. We should eat, hike a little farther, and then, sadly, make our way out before it gets dark.”

  I made a sad face that had Dale lifting my chin with his still ungloved hand. The feel of his skin against mine wiped away the frown.

  “Wouldn’t want you to freeze your lovely ass off,” he said.

  “I suppose if you don’t vanish into thin air once we get back to your truck, I can live with having to leave Denali.”

  “Wherever I’m going today, Alanna, you’re coming with me.” It wasn’t a request and, oddly, I had no argument with it. I rose on my toes to brush my lips against Dale’s. As we got sucked into the kiss, I slid my hands to either side of Dale’s head. In one quick motion, I pulled his hat down to the bridge of his nose, throwing off his skilled field trip around my lips.

  “Hey!” He stumbled back and yanked his hat off. Raking a hand through his thick hair, he narrowed his eyes at me. “Be on alert, Gaia-girl. I love payback.”

  “I’ll be ready.” I raised an eyebrow in challenge and narrowly avoided the snowball Dale constructed and hurled at me. “You throw like a girl.”

  “Pushing it, lady.” He assembled another snowball and pretended to take his time aiming it.

  “Oh, throw it already. You’re going to miss.”

  “I don’t think so.” The words still hung in the air as he dropped his backpack and launched himself at me. After scooping me up in his arms, he spun us both around before sinking playfully into the snow. I let out a yelp that had Gypsy and Zynk jouncing over, their tails wagging, wanting in on the action. The dogs took turns nosing at my cheeks, while Dale held down my shoulders.

  “No fair.” I gasped around laughter. “Three against one.”

  “Are you going to take back that I throw like a girl?” His face was inches from my own, and his eyes held me captive. Though I was now wet, a hot splash of fire blazed through my body.

  “Sure. I’ll take it back.”

  He eased his hold and sat back next to me. “Thank you.” Dale dusted off his jacket, dropped the snowball, and stood to retrieve his pack.

  “I’ll take it back when you start throwing like a man.” When he whipped around, I tossed a snowball square at his chest. A dead on bull’s-eye.

  “Wait,” he said, pointing a finger at me. “You wait.”

  I got to my feet and went over to him. “I’ll bet you don’t hold grudges. Besides, I have ways of making you forget about revenge.”

  He raised an eyebrow as he handed me a plastic container from his backpack. “You’re going to have to try awfully hard to make me forget.” He tossed me a water bottle, and we shared our lunch, grinning at each other from time to time like adolescents. Dale set out food for each of the dogs as well, and they attacked it.

  “Did you make these sandwiches?” I asked, finishing off the last of my own.

  “Uh-huh. Why, were they not to your liking?” He stuck his tongue out at me as I handed hi
m the empty container.

  “Actually, they were excellent. Ram has rubbed off on you.”

  “Yeah.” Dale took a deep breath. “The older I get, the more like him I get.” He shrugged and tossed the container into his backpack.

  “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Your father seems like a great man.”

  Thoughts of my own father rushed into my head. I was totally a daddy’s little girl. My whole world revolved around him when I was a kid and remained so as I’d aged.

  “My father is a great man,” Dale said, “but sometimes I make myself crazy trying to impress him.”

  “He certainly seems proud of you, so you must be doing something right.”

  “He gets a kick out of me winning the Iditarod, but he has other goals in mind for me.” Dale took a swig from his water bottle and then hitched his pack onto his shoulder.

  “Other goals? Like what?”

  “Like settling down. Getting married. Having kids. Like my sister.”

  “Do you want those things?” I didn’t know if I wanted the answer to that question, but it spilled out before I could stop it.

  “Eventually. I know my sister and brother-in-law are happy. Family life looks good on them. I wouldn’t mind a slice of happiness like that.” I matched step with Dale as he walked. “What about you?”

  I don’t know why, but I hadn’t been prepared for him to turn the question over to me.

  “Me?” I walked beside him quietly for several long seconds. “It all sounds good. In theory. I have doubts I can do the family thing and the career though. I don’t juggle well and marvel over people who do.”

  Dale simply nodded, and I appreciated his ability to listen without offering advice.

  We trekked onward until I spotted caribou loitering by a grove of trees. One of them, a fine bull, kept watch while the others nosed around in the snow. He had an impressive set of antlers that looked too heavy for his head to carry. White tufts of fur ran along the underside of his neck, giving him an old sage appearance. The air of dignity surrounding him was unmistakable as he held his head high.

  Turning around in a wide circle, I snapped a panoramic image, frame by glorious frame. Hopefully, when the pictures were developed, I could orchestrate a 360º view of the perfect beauty around me. The Alaska Range spiking from the ground and doused in white. Pine trees with heavy, sagging boughs, standing guard. Wildlife surviving the winter in Denali. No other place I’d visited or done stories on could compare to this.

  “There’s one more thing you’ve got to see.” Dale’s voice sounded far away at first so lost was I in my enjoyment of the park. “C’mon.”

  Dale scaled a small hill, Gypsy and Zynk on his heels. I hiked up behind them. Dale reached down and locked his grip on my forearm. With a gentle tug, he maneuvered me to stand in front of him, facing him. The look on his face was akin to a child ready to share a secret.

  “When you turn around, look first. You can grab your camera after. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Anticipation buzzed through me. Or was it being so close to Dale?

  With a little nudge, Dale spun me around, and a gasp caught in my throat. His hands closed over my shoulders, anchoring me, keeping me earthbound amongst what had to be heaven.

  Rising above all the other mountains in the distance, Mount McKinley reached into the cerulean Alaskan sky like a white giant. Its peaks were arrowheads of rock encrusted in snow that glistened magically in the pink of the late afternoon sunlight. How incredibly small I was, like a speck of dust in comparison to the majesty of McKinley.

  “Oh, Dale…” My voice was nothing more than a rasp. I let my pack drop to my feet and leaned back against him. He folded his arms around me and squeezed. When I thought the moment couldn’t get any closer to perfection, he loosened my scarf enough to nuzzle his cold nose against my neck. Though I initially shivered at the contact, he quickly warmed the spot with the heat of his lips.

  Giving McKinley another look, I turned around to face Dale. He trailed his lips over my cheek and finally to my mouth where he did things that made my head spin. Our lips met as we tasted, savored each other. Great Goddess, I had shut myself off for too long. Or maybe I’d been waiting. Waiting for him.

  Whatever the case, Dale unlocked emotions in me. Trust, wanting, love. I wasn’t sure what to do with any of these, but my heart thudded wildly in my chest over the prospect. My skin longed to have Dale’s fingers spread across every inch of it. My lips wanted him to never stop kissing me.

  “Take your pictures.” The words were a whisper. “And let’s go.” His lips brushed mine one final time before he descended the small hill. Zynk leaped after him, but Gypsy sidled up next to me.

  “You must love living with him.” I reached down to scratch her cheek. Gypsy let out a soft bark as she put her paw against my leg. “Yes, you’re right.” I looked back at Dale. “I need to hurry with these pictures.”

  The hike back to the truck was as wonderful as the hike into the park. Excitement over what I had seen in Denali and now anticipation about the night ahead had my blood pumping at full speed through my veins. As we unloaded our packs and shuffled the dogs into the back seat, a loud snapping of twigs caused me to walk around to Dale’s side of the truck.

  “Moose,” he said. “Two of them, male and female.”

  “Where?”

  “At about eleven o’clock.” Dale angled his arm out in that direction.

  I followed his arm until movement caught my eye. The bull was enormous. Muscles bulged beneath his thick pelt. The cow was equally impressive with her smooth auburn coat and wide eyes.

  “Fantastic,” I whispered. Raising my camera still hung about my neck, I captured the last animal on my list. “That makes all five of the Big Five. Plus, I got some others, too. My boss is going to flip.”

  “That promotion is in the bag.” Dale held his hand out for a high five. I obliged, and as soon as my glove touched his, he grabbed my hand. “We’re probably past the high-five stage.”

  “Definitely.” I leaned into him again, desperately wishing to be rid of our heavy jackets and gloves.

  “Come home with me.” Dale kissed my forehead and then focused his eyes on mine.

  I nodded, and Dale’s lips twitched up in victory. He released my hand, and I sauntered to the passenger side of the truck. Tried my best to give Dale a good show.

  “Let’s see if we can avoid a speeding ticket.” Dale started the truck and pulled onto the park road.

  Laughing, I rested my head on the back of the seat. Gypsy pressed her wet nose to my ear and sniffed loudly.

  “Gypsy. Jeez, I’m sorry she keeps doing that. She’s usually better behaved.” Dale pushed her back with his hand.

  “No, no. It’s all right. We’re becoming friends, she and I.”

  “I can’t be responsible when she wants to climb into your lap.”

  I glanced at the size of Gypsy. “She’s not a lap dog.”

  “That’s what you think.” Dale let out a chuckle. “She may be big, and when we’re training or racing she’s all business. Give her a Friday night at home, however, and she’s the ultimate couch potato. She’ll plant herself across my lap and fall asleep. She even snores.”

  I pictured Dale and Gypsy all cozied together, and my attraction to him grew tenfold.

  “She’s welcome to sniff my ear, lick my face, and hog my lap.” I reached around to pat Gypsy’s muzzle, and the dog’s tail thumped against the car seat.

  “Can I get an invitation like that?” Dale sent me a sideways glance.

  “You’ve got it.”

  I raised the armrest between us and scooted closer. Dale rested his arm in my lap again, and I pulled off my glove first, then his. I slipped my hand under his, weaving our fingers together for a perfect fit. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, but I told myself to go with it. To enjoy it for however long it lasted.

  Chapter Ten

  The drive back to Fairbanks passed in a whirl of hot pink streaks acr
oss the sky as the sun dipped below the horizon. Total darkness crept in as Dale pulled onto a narrow driveway. The pine forest on either side hugged the gravel, threatening to swallow the path once we went by. After a few minutes, a black silhouette appeared in a clearing amongst the trees. A thin beam of light grew wider as a garage door opened. In the headlights of the car, the rounded shapes of thick logs appeared on the exterior of the house.

  “The infamous log cabin,” I said, remembering several emails from Dale when he was building it.

  “I hope it lives up to how I’ve described it.”

  “Other things have exceeded my expectations. Why shouldn’t your house?”

  I climbed out of the car, shouldered my backpack, and checked out the black truck in the second garage bay.

  “Two nice vehicles. Not too shabby.”

  “The truck is part of my race win.” Dale pulled his backpack from the SUV and dropped it by a door I assumed led inside.

  “Seriously? They give you a truck like this for traipsing through the snow with a couple of dogs?” I let out a whistle.

  “Traipsing? More like freezing my balls off as the wind whipped at me and my champion pups.”

  “Whatever you say.” I rolled my eyes. Teasing him was such fun.

  I looked at the neat shelves lining the interior of the garage. My eyes fell upon a row of bins, all tidily labeled with their contents.

  “And I thought I was type A.”

  “I hate messes.” He closed the garage door before the cold seeped in. Pulling off his hat, he came to stand next to me. “Go ahead. Make fun of me if you want, but if we need”—he paused and angled his head back to read one of the labels—“twelve-gauge speaker wire later on, I’ll know exactly where to get it.”

  He pulled off my hat and threw it toward Zynk. The dog jumped up on two powerful hind legs and caught it in his jaws.