Down River

by Karen Harper

  Lisa downed her coffee and peered over her cup rim. You'd think that Ellie, instead of Mitch, had been enlisted to investigate suspects. Though Ginger hadn't pushed her, she might inadvertently provide more background on Christine or Spike. "I'd love to see her place, too," Lisa said, "if you want someone to go with you later, Ellie."

  Evidently not to be outdone, Vanessa chimed in, "Me, too, but I'd be even more excited about seeing how Christine makes those gorgeously detailed little Eskimo dolls in the other room. I'd love to buy one or two."

  The conversation segued to their walk to Spike's place about a mile away. When he described it as being in the woods, Graham excused himself and went upstairs. He quickly returned with a wooden-framed picture he'd obviously taken off a wall--no, Lisa saw it was a framed quotation.

  "Mitch," Graham said, "I hope you don't mind if I share these lines with the others. Mitch has this hanging in his suite upstairs."

  Lisa put her cup down with a too-loud clink. Graham had not only been in Mitch's quarters, but had felt he could go back up without permission and take something out. Maybe they'd planned more than just sporting activities. Maybe Mitch was helping with the Bonners' selection process and this was somehow a setup.

  "Sure," Mitch said, "but I'll bet some of you know this already. It's my favorite quote."

  "Thoreau, from his Walden Pond," Graham said, turning it toward himself to read, "'I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.' No doubt," he said, "Lisa and Mitch learned a lot about themselves these last difficult days, facing life and death."

  Though Lisa was strangely touched, she noted Vanessa narrowed her eyes--an almost feral expression flitted across her face.

  "I believe," Graham went on in his deep, oratorical tones, "we'll all learn a lot--and Ellie and I will learn what we need to know to decide."

  "Alaska does that," Lisa said, almost before she realized she would speak. "It teaches you about yourself--but a lot about others, too." She leveled a look at Vanessa, then Jonas, then Christine, who was refilling Jonas's coffee cup, but looking up for once. Lisa looked at Mitch last. No one blinked; they all seemed frozen in a tableau as if waiting for her to add something else. Finally, Vanessa looked down at her empty plate. Mitch dared a nod and a smile at her, but it was Jonas who finally spoke.

  "Anything that's a challenge does that--my son's illness has made me do things I never thought I'd do."

  "Emerson's a brave kid," Graham said, somehow managing to break the tension as he reached over to squeeze Jonas's shoulder. "Let's make sure we get some pictures of you with Spike's huskies, because your boy will love that. Maybe we can even send some to him online before you get home. Okay, everyone, see you on the front porch in about fifteen minutes, then off we go into a part of that other world Ellie mentioned."

  It's another world all right, Lisa thought, recalling her hallucinations about being in the land of Oz when Mitch rescued her from the river. No one was in Kansas--or South Florida--anymore.

  Christine had no intention of going along with the guests to Spike's place, but both he and Mitch invited her. At least with so many other people around to see the huskies, it would be an opportunity to try to get over her nervousness. Clay had often abused his dogs, and they'd been snarly and nasty. She could understand why, but they'd been frightening to feed. If animals reflected their master's personalities and the treatment they'd been given, surely Spike's dogs would be happy and well-behaved. Still, she had a big knot in her stomach.

  "I'm glad you came along, Christine," Lisa told her, dropping back to walk with her. Vanessa looked at them, but stayed next to Jonas. "I hear you made those beautiful Inuit dolls on display in the library and wanted to tell you how amazing they are."

  "Did Mitch tell you that? Most visitors don't know to say Inuit instead of Eskimo."

  "He told me about saying Inuit or Yup'ik, but not about the dolls. Vanessa mentioned it. So, you seem very content here at the lodge. Are you from this area?"

  Mitch had told this woman she was Yup'ik, so what else had he told her? Christine wondered. "From Fairbanks," she said, "but I like looking forward, not back. And yes, I'm more than content here. I've finally found a good job--a home."

  She glanced ahead at Mitch, leading the group with Mr. Bonner beside him. They were strung out on their walk to Spike's place along the forest path lined with thick birch and alder, overshadowed by the occasional tall Sitka spruce. This was one of the hiking trails groomed for cross-country skiing in the winter. It was at least ten degrees colder here, and she shivered. Ahead, Mrs. Bonner was now walking between Vanessa and Jonas. Other than snatches of conversations, Christine heard only birdcalls and the crunch of last year's leaves underfoot and the bear bells Vanessa carried, though bears would never bother a group of people. And she heard her own heartbeat and too-rapid breathing, not from the walk but from this talk.

  "I hope," Lisa said, "you can give me a little advice about Ginger. She seems to like her solitude, so do you think she'd mind if some of us visit her, or should we ask her first--maybe have you do it for us?"

  "Most Alaskans value their privacy and independence. But I'm sure she'd like the extra money, too, if you'd want to buy some of her baked goods to take home. She's saving money to pay Spike back for all the wood he cuts for her, though I don't think he'll take a dime, even with the cost of airplane fuel. I'll ask her when she brings tonight's things--late this afternoon."

  "Late afternoon? Oh, yes, I saw her boat just before I fell in the river. I remember that much. But I'd appreciate it if you ask her. I'll try to head Ellie and Vanessa off at the pass if they plan to visit her earlier. Please tell her we'd like to place an order for some items--which reminds me again, as Vanessa mentioned, do you sell your dolls?"

  "I made those several years ago, but I'm pretty busy here. I used to make them not just for money, but to preserve Yup'ik ways, but now I just have other interests. Mitch wanted them on display there, not me..."

  Her voice trailed off. She hoped that didn't sound lame or rude. In a way it was the truth. This woman Mitch had almost married was watching her very closely, out of the corners of her eyes. Iah, that was the look of a lawyer, all right.

  "Sorry," Christine blurted, "but I need to talk to Mitch about something for later. The hand-cranked aurora borealis ice cream, our special surprise for all our guests."

  Though Christine had no question about that or anything else for Mitch right now, she forced a little smile and hurried faster before Lisa Vaughn could ask her more questions.

  Jonas came back to walk with Lisa shortly after Christine left. "I just wanted to tell you something I hope helps," he said. "I was in a real bad car wreck when I was eighteen--I wasn't driving. Anyway, I got banged around pretty good, even with a seat belt on--concussion, brief coma. But what I wanted to tell you is that, even though I recovered--no residual problems--I never could recall the wreck itself, or what led up to it, the few minutes before the car rolled. Hopefully, your memories of that tumble in that monster river will be just like that."

  "Hopefully?"

  "Yeah, you don't want to be reliving that over and over in your mind. Just let it be blanked out--the things surrounding it. Is that the way it is for you, just a blank right before and during your fall?"

  A chill snaked up her spine. Jonas was trying to find out how much she could recall? But why? Just sympathy and support? Or was he desperate to know if she'd seen or heard something--someone? Maybe him.

  "That's the way it was at first," she told him, keeping her eyes on the forest path, hoping he wouldn't see the lie on her face--lawyers were skilled at psyching such things out. "But I really feel some of it's coming back to me, bit by bit. I really think I will recall everything."

  "Well, sometimes it's best to just let tough times stay buried. You know--considering where we're headed--to le
t sleeping dogs lie. Can't wait to see these huskies. In photos they seem to have the bluest eyes. Never had a job interview, so to speak, where the criteria had to do with racing dogs and zip lines and river rafting. What a resume we're going to have when we get out of here. I was really nervous about all this at first, but what could possibly happen on a dog sled, especially one on wheels on grass in warm weather?"

  He sounded nervous. Very nervous. Either from what lay ahead or what she'd said. "I would have agreed with you a few days ago," she told him, "but what could happen just standing on an elevated path between a lovely lake and a white-water river, right?"

  "Famous last words, you mean?" Jonas said with a forced laugh that showed his white teeth.

  Sharp teeth, Lisa thought, as they came into the clearing where Spike's property began. Teeth like the beavers cutting down trees or bears ripping apart river salmon. However much Mitch had not told her about Christine, she had to at least find a way to get him alone to tell him about Jonas.

  11

  L

  isa thought Spike's Siberian huskies were beautiful. As Mitch had said about the moose that had terrified her at first, they were also majestic--their thick, silvery coat hairs tipped with gray or black, their deep-throated, eager barks. They sounded like howlers, but her feelings toward them were a far cry from hearing the wolves that night in the wilderness. The dogs had perky ears and curled, wagging tails and alert, sky-blue eyes. She could tell how much they wanted to please their master, especially when they saw him pull the three-wheeled sleds out of the storage shed. "Okay, here's some info before I hitch four dogs to each of your sleds," Spike announced as everyone gathered around him at the gate to the dog yard.

  Lisa eyed the metal and wooden sleds, mounted on sturdy-looking wheels for the dogs' summer exercise. "I'll give some background on mushing and how to handle the teams, because you'll each--Lisa, Vanessa and Jonas--be getting a chance to control one of these sleds on a short run thataway," he said, pointing.

  All around them, grass about a half-foot high and white wildflowers blanketed the clearing, blowing like green waves with whitecaps, like river foam. Lisa could picture the dogs rushing into it, pulling her deeper into a whirling current of green and white...She jerked alert. That memory, that vision, had sneaked up on her like it used to. A flashback of being in the river, or of losing Mother and Jani again. Or was she still so exhausted she'd dozed off for a microsecond, falling into the dream that had haunted her for years? Mother's face through the blurry barrier, her voice calling, calling, "Come with me--come on." Her mouth open, her eyes wide from behind the glass or water or--

  Lisa shook her head to clear it and forced herself to look around at the here and now, to recognize reality. Spike's log cabin and his dog yard were in a large, oval-shaped clearing on the edge of the forest they had walked through from the lodge. The huskies lived in a miniature fenced-in village, where each dog had one of the small wooden houses set in two neat rows.

  Spike had said the dogs slept, ate and played with their neighbors, stealing bones or nipping at ears or tails, but they were always ready to run. Ready to run. She could recall Graham saying, "So, are we ready to run?" more than once before a team of Carlisle, Bonner & Associates attorneys went into court on some huge corporate lawsuit or defamation trial. Not "are we ready to go" or even "ready to rumble," like Vanessa sometimes said, but ready to run.

  "Here's the main thing," Spike told them, stepping up on the back of one of the sets of runners elevated on temporary wheels, as if he were on the witness stand, testifying in court. "It's easy to feel out of control on a dog sled, but you have to control yourself and the dogs. If you don't display leadership to them, they won't bother to obey you. They're intelligent pack animals, but they need to be led. To their way of thinking, I'm the alpha dog here. Likewise, you need to keep control while you're each in charge of four of them."

  So, Lisa thought, this activity did make some sense in a race to see who could assume the leadership role of a senior partner. She tried to focus on Spike's advice. He seemed totally in his element here.

  Vanessa asked, "Are their doghouses really warm enough in the brutal winters? You know, animal rights and all that."

  "Sure," Spike told her. "Just take a look at their coats, even thicker than that in the winter. The breed can withstand temps as low as seventy-six degrees below Fahrenheit. Their cold months are like how Florida feels to you in the winter. Still, I keep lots of straw in the houses, the same houses that give them needed shade in these warm months. Like Mitch and me, these dogs thrive in Alaska.

  "The word musher can mean the drivers or the dogs," Spike went on. "When it's the dogs, there's two kinds of mushers, the long-distance ones or the sprint mushers, like mine. They run shorter courses at faster speeds than those in the Iditarod or Yukon Quest races, but these are my kind of dogs."

  "Fast dogs and fast airplanes for Spike Jackson," Ellie said.

  "You got that right, Mrs. Bonner. Okay, just a few instructions, then we'll try it, maybe get us a little race going, since you're all here for a race for the senior partner position."

  So, even Spike knew Graham and Mitch's game plan, Lisa thought. Not as much bonding as competition, at least in this activity.

  "You stand back on the runners, see?" he went on, demonstrating. "And you hold on to the handlebow, this piece here. And I do mean hold on for dear life, 'cause the dogs will yank and lunge at first, though it's a smooth ride--'specially in snow--once they get going. Their towline's attached here to the front of the sled, see? There's a foot brake here for slowing or stopping," he said, demonstrating it, "but you really got to lay into it. The dogs will be harnessed, but there's no reins."

  "Then how do you steer?" Jonas asked.

  "Fortunately, on this run, you don't have to worry about a lot of commands to your lead dog and team. All you've got to know is my dogs follow the command 'mush!' to get going and 'halt!' to stop. Lots of folks these days use 'hike!' for the start, but that sounds like football to me. I like the old ways. I still use leather towlines 'stead of that new, fancy polyethylene rope, too."

  "But on grass like this," Vanessa said, "we won't go too fast, right? I'm as raring to go as these dogs and love the speed of water sports, but a group of dogs pulling all this weight--on wheels--can't go too fast."

  "Just remember," Spike told her, "these dogs are bred to run, so once you're on and moving, don't try to get off. And, like I said, don't let go, or you could get throwed."

  Don't let go and keep control. Lisa clung to Spike's words of advice. That was the key to sprint racing behind sled dog teams, but it was also the story of her life right now.

  Christine hated to admit it, but she was forming a grudging admiration for Lisa Vaughn. First of all, for someone to survive the Wild River was awesome, as if the woman had a supernatural protector way beyond Mitch. While Spike was hitching four dogs to each of the three sleds, Christine poured coffee into cups Spike had set out and just watched the others.

  She noted that only Lisa was showing any interest in the dogs themselves right now, and they were the engine that made everything run in a race like this. Vanessa, who looked like she could have stepped out of one of those luxury-goods catalogs Ginger was obsessed with, stayed clear of the excited animals and sipped her coffee at a distance. Now that was body language to show what she really felt about this opportunity. Jonas had Mr. Bonner taking photos of him with the dogs in the background. Mrs. Bonner and Mitch were talking off to the side as Christine moved closer to Spike.

  "They're great-looking mushers," she told him. "You take good care of them."

  "Glad you came along. Yeah, they're tough and feisty, real special. It's my honor to care for them. I swear, some of them are smarter than I am. I control them only to the extent that we make a good team."

  She had to smile at that. And the warm--even hot--look he gave her was a revelation. His eyes burned into hers, went down her body, then up like a caress before he turned a
way to bring up the next dog to its place on the towline. Iah, but she felt like he'd really touched her. Little butterflies beat in the pit of her belly. It was the closest she had ever felt to him, and yet there was a big dog between them.

  "I just had a bad experience with them before," she tried to explain. "With some huskies that weren't loved but abused. Since yours are raring to go, I guess I'd better not pet one of them."

  "I'd say pat, instead of pet, but sure you can," he told her. "You gotta be a bit strong with them or they won't even feel it. Even in these warm months, their thick coats are like armor."

  His eyes devoured her again. Was he talking about being strong with the dogs or with him? Christine gave the one he'd just harnessed a good, strong pat on the back.

  Clay's dogs had been howlers and growlers, as if he'd left them behind in the yard to keep her in the house. But this husky wagged his tail and gave her almost a grateful look. She blinked back tears at how good that felt, like she'd connected with this powerful animal. She sucked in a deep breath, held it and let it out. Something sharp and hurtful inside her uncoiled. It was like the armor that had kept her from Spike and Spike from her had a chink in it. But she was still scared of the feeling of trusting him, so she blurted out, "Lisa said the ladies would like to visit Ginger's place, but I don't know. I'll ask her."

  "I know. Suggest to them that they go one at a time," he said as he brought the next eager dog over to be harnessed. "If they want to place bakery orders to take home when they see her kitchen, she'll probably say it's okay. I could stop by her place if she'd rather have me there."

  "Wait till they see it," Christine said, patting this dog, too. "Little House on the Prairie with Neiman Marcus, Gucci and Tiffany catalogs all over. Yeah, for the extra money, I bet she'll agree."