She knew Clint had warned her and she’d listened, but just a few feet? She glanced over her shoulder. Clint and Dalton were buried in the front end of the plane. Just a few feet for a few minutes and she’d come back. And what Clint Sisnuket didn’t know wouldn’t hurt either one of them.
She edged out on the frozen river bed a few feet. Yep. That was better. Much better. But still…if she could get just a little closer. And she couldn’t help but think that Clint was being overly cautious. But then again, that was his job. If he wound up with an injury, he could be sued. What he’d warned her about happened…what, once every twenty years?
The frozen river felt as solid as terra firma beneath her feet. And hadn’t he said it was rare? Rare was…well, rare…as in seldom happened. So, what were the odds that today would be the day? And when was she likely to have this opportunity again? Not anytime soon. It was probably fine. It was probably something his insurance stipulated so he couldn’t get slapped with some lawsuit.
She moved more confidently across the ice, which didn’t actually feel like ice when she was walking on the fresh fallen snow. She brought the view finder up to her eye and was blown away by the magnificent translucent blue ice.
Enchanted, she crossed farther out, moving closer to the towering ice. It was enthralling, beautiful, a once in a lifetime view—it was almost as if she was caught up in a spell.
Before she knew it she was standing right in front of the glacier. Her breath caught in her throat. Truly, truly amazing. She held out a tentative hand and touched it.
And it was at that moment that she felt the ice shift beneath her feet.
CLINT WIPED HIS HAND on the rag and straightened. The carburetor had needed flushing. He glanced over to where Tessa had set her tripod up on the river-bank…and she wasn’t there.
She stood right next to the glacier, at the most dangerous point, where the constantly moving, melting glacier met the frozen river. His heart felt like it had literally stopped beating in his chest. He had faced down grizzlies before, but had never known the level of terror that gripped him now.
He took off at a dead run. No. No. No. Nothing could happen to her. He’d told her. He’d warned her.
“Tessaaa,” he yelled, her name ripped from his throat.
He slipped and slid across the ice, his only thought to get to her. Meanwhile, she had started back across the ice, her face an even paler shade than usual.
“What in the hell were you thinking? I told you…I warned you,” he shouted, enraged. He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. He wanted to shake some sense into her. He wanted to sob with relief. Instead, he grabbed her hand in a death grip and pulled her along in double-time.
“I know,” she said.
Together they gained the river bank where Dalton waited, concern etched on his face.
Clint released her hand and whirled on Tessa, gripping her shoulders. “Why the hell—”
“You’re hurting me,” she said.
Dalton grabbed him, “Hey, man, chill. She’s fine.”
“Goddammit, you know what could’ve happened,” he snapped at Dalton.
Dalton nodded grimly. “Yes. I do know, but it didn’t.”
Tessa’s hands were visibly shaking and her face remained blanched. “The ice…I felt it move under my feet.”
Even though he knew she was safe and standing right before him, Clint felt the same terror he’d known before. Just the thought…
“You could be dead right now. Sometimes the ice flips and there’s not a thing anyone can do. By the time we’d have gotten to you, you would’ve been dead.” He grabbed her shoulders again and this time he shook her. “Do you understand that?”
Dalton grabbed Clint and hauled him back. He looked at Tessa and said, “Give us a minute.” Pulling Clint aside, he said in a low undertone, “Hey, get a grip. She’s a client. You can’t go off like that.”
Nauseating panic still roiled through him. Dalton was right, he needed to get in control of himself. He never lost his temper. He never reacted like this, like some kind of madman. But then again, he’d never been so damn scared in his life. But she was a client and his behavior was the other side of unprofessional. He’d always prided himself on his level of professionalism.
That was the whole damn problem. She wasn’t just a client. He wasn’t sure exactly what she was, but somewhere along the line she’d become much more than just another client.
And if nothing else, what had just happened illustrated beyond a shadow of a doubt that Tessa Bellingham didn’t belong here.
He nodded grimly at Tessa. “You’ve got another hour here. Stay. Off. The. River. We’ll fly back to Good Riddance and then we’ll head out to the village this afternoon.”
He’d planned on tomorrow, but they’d make it today. Then she’d see just how much she didn’t belong here.
12
“I’M SORRY,” TESSA said again, glancing at his taut profile as they pulled out of town in his truck, an older-model Suburban. “I give you my word that for the rest of the trip nothing like that will happen again.”
“No, it won’t because I won’t put you in another situation like that.” He stared straight ahead, his grip tight on the steering wheel. “You scared me. I don’t think I’ve ever been that frightened in my life.”
There was a rawness to his words, a bleakness that twisted inside her. She’d been alone a long time, relied just on herself. She had friends and neighbors but there was something about his words that seemed to go beyond that. “None of your clients have ever had an accident?”
“Tessa, that wouldn’t have been just an accident. You would have been a casualty. When I looked up and saw you standing next to that glacier…”
She reached over, closing the space between them, and placed her hand on his arm. Tension radiated from him, through her. “It was stupid. I just thought…it was so beautiful, but my zoom wasn’t getting me close enough. I was just going to go a little way and then it was so tempting to get a little closer.” Self-consciously she withdrew her hand.
He nodded, still tense, but not as stiff as before. “I owe you an apology. I’ve never lost my temper like that. It was unprofessional and it won’t happen again.”
“You don’t need to apologize. I was the one at fault.” Tessa turned and looked out the window. Towering spruce lined the road. She thought this was as good a time as any to change the subject. “We’re heading…north? Right?”
“Northwest to be exact. If you look up to the right—” he pointed slightly ahead of them “—that turnoff is the drive to Dalton’s place, Shadow Lake.”
They met an old Land Rover with a winch attached to the front heading into town. The driver, a man with a salt and pepper ponytail, waved and Clint returned the salutation.
The potholes that dotted the road forced Clint to drive fairly slowly, slowly enough for her to catch a glimpse down the road of two cabins tucked at a lake’s edge. She liked knowing where Dalton and Skye lived. She liked both of them and it was impossible to be around them and not share in their joy with each other. “It looks nice.”
“It’s beautiful. The lake is ringed by the mountains so some part of it is always in shadow. That’s how it came to be known as Shadow Lake.”
Snowflakes began to drift down. “This is beautiful. It’s like powdered sugar sifting out of the sky,” Tessa said.
“We can pull over if you want to videotape some of it,” Clint said.
“That would be great. I didn’t know whether or not we were on a particular time line to arrive at your village.”
“No. We get there when we get there,” he said, pulling the truck off to the side of the road. Tessa pulled out her camera and climbed out into the bracing cold, tugging her hood up over her shorter hair. Funny what a difference it made when you lopped off a few inches of hair. Your head got cool a lot faster.
The road ribboned between the tall evergreens while the snow fell. She set the tripod up and began to shoot t
he video. Clint stood quietly, watching while she worked. It felt right having him there. It was as if he was part of the moment, part of what made it what it was. She grabbed her other camera and began to shoot footage by hand, scanning the area. On a whim, she panned to where Clint stood by his truck, the quintessential Alaskan native. Just as she’d filmed the town the night before for her own viewing, this would never make it into a video for the world to see. The shot of him by the truck was for her alone.
“Tessa,” he said, quietly, a touch of wonder in his voice, “look…at the edge of the trees, there in the bend of the road.”
Instinctively she followed his directive without lowering the camera. There, standing statue-still next to one of the evergreens, was a wolf. “Wow. He’s big. It’s not the same wolf we saw yesterday, is it?”
“No. Even though they can travel a fair distance, we’re in another pack’s territory now. This is unusual. I occasionally see them a little farther out but I’ve never seen one on this road.”
She knew it was a special moment. She felt it inside her. Something shifted, changed, a recognition of something she couldn’t name or label.
She had the sense that if anyone would understand what she was feeling, he would. “It’s funny. Wherever I go, I always take a bit of the local culture back with me. Not just with the videos, but personally, as well. But there’s something about here that’s different. It’s as if instead of taking part of this away with me, instead I’ve found a part of me here. Does that make sense?”
Clint nodded his understanding but he wore a wary expression. “There is a magic here, but there is also a harshness to life that can wear on you after a while. You don’t always feel that in just a few days’ visit.” He hesitated and then said no more.
Something had been on the tip of his tongue. She sensed it had been something important, but she also knew whatever it had been, the moment had passed.
Tessa looked back to where the wolf had been but he had vanished, melting once again back into the wilderness. She’d known before she looked that he would be gone.
She put away her camera and then started packing away the other camera and tripod, feeling vaguely disappointed at Clint’s response. It was as if he didn’t want her to feel too comfortable here, as if he was continually warning her off connecting with Good Riddance too much. And whatever his problem was, it was just that, his problem. Maybe he was spooked because they’d slept together and he was afraid she was going to attach herself to him.
Well, if the truth be told, she was a little spooked herself. She felt a connection with him she’d never felt with anyone before. And while that was all fine and good, she was going to stick to her rule of not becoming too emotionally involved. It hurt too much to care about someone and then lose them as she’d found with both her parents and her aunt and uncle. It was much better to keep everyone at a reasonable arm’s length and that applied to him as well. Actually, that applied to him in particular.
“Ready?” he said as she zipped the tripod case.
“Yes. Thanks for stopping. I got some good stuff and seeing the wolf was like icing on the cake.” She opened the truck door and climbed back in. The cold didn’t particularly bother her but the warm cab was definitely a welcome change.
He climbed in, started the truck, and within seconds they were on their way again.
“Anything in particular I should know before we get to your village?” she said.
“No. Is there anything in particular you want to know?”
“Well, I’d prefer not to go in and make a fool of myself or offend anyone, so if you can think of anything along those lines, I’d like to know up front.”
Clint laughed. “No. We’re pretty much the same as other people. My grandmother sort of runs the show and Nelson’s father is our shaman.”
“And that means…?” She didn’t want to use the term witchdoctor but it was what came to mind.
“The shaman is considered something of a go-between or mediator, if you will, between people and spirits. Shamans mostly work with illness.”
“But if Nelson’s father is the shaman and Nelson works for Dr. Skye, isn’t there a conflict of cultural interest there?”
“Thank goodness not any longer. Except for a few stubborn holdouts, most of us see it as having access to the best of both worlds.”
He’d mentioned his grandmother but not his mother or father. “What about your parents?”
Clint’s face took on a closed expression. “They’re divorced.” Tessa kept her mouth shut but she’d been exposed enough to various native cultures that she was pretty sure that had been a big deal. “My father used to work as a guide, now he has a cabin out in the middle of nowhere and pretty much lives as a hermit. When he wants to see people, he comes down to the village, occasionally to Good Riddance.”
It didn’t escape her notice that he didn’t mention his mother. Maybe that was a question for Merrilee later because Tessa had the distinct impression there was something key to his personality that was tied into what he wasn’t saying about his mother. And she found she had an almost desperate need to know what made him tick.
“WE’LL STOP BY TO SEE Earl the carver first,” Clint said, glancing over at Tessa. Outside it was still snowing, forming a backdrop for her profile. God, but she was beautiful. Every time he looked at her she took his breath away.
“That’s good with me,” she said with her easy smile that turned him inside out.
It was just damn easier to take Tessa by to see Earl and his carvings before he subjected her to his grandmother. Even though he’d shown his grandmother the proper respect in telling her he was bringing Tessa out, Grandmother hadn’t been pleased and he felt sure she was going to offer a frosty reception. It took him a second to recognize he wasn’t just opting for the easier path as much as he was following an inherent instinct to protect Tessa from what was likely to be unpleasant.
“Hey,” she said, interrupting his thoughts, which was just as well, “is it okay if I bring my camera along?”
“Sure. I think Earl will be thrilled to have you documenting his craft.” He made a left and drove down a rutted drive to where Earl’s cabin sat in a small clearing.
Earl, somewhere in his late sixties, greeted them on the porch. Within minutes he and Tessa were engrossed in each other. Earl was obviously charmed and Tessa was equally captivated. He loved watching the expressions filter across her face, her spruce-green eyes alight with intelligence and interest. The other thing that spoke to him about her exchange with Earl was the level of respect she showed. There was nothing remotely patronizing, which was what he’d witnessed more times in the past than he’d like to re call when native artists demonstrated their abilities to visitors.
“You made a good choice in the eagle. The eagle is strong. Is there another piece on the table that speaks to you?” Earl asked, indicating the finished carvings on one end of his work table with a sweep of his hand.
“I didn’t come for…”
“It is my gift to you,” Earl said. “I would consider it a high honor.”
Tessa gave Earl one of her sunny smiles and the poor man looked nearly besotted. Clint knew the feeling.
He also knew before she selected it which one she would choose. He was right.
“This one.” Without hesitation she selected the wolf. He found it interesting she chose the one of the wolf sitting patiently rather than one of the several in howling poses.
“That is a good choice. Do you want it on a separate necklace or should it share with your eagle?”
“Oh, definitely on the cord with the eagle. I think that would look nice,” she said, unfastening her necklace and passing it to Earl.
“It will be good.”
Tessa told him about seeing the wolves while he threaded the carving onto the necklace. Earl sent Clint a questioning look. Clint confirmed it.
Earl nodded sagely. “You have been marked by the wolves as one of their own.” Tessa beamed.
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“But I thought it was only at birth,” Clint said. Tessa’s connection to the wolf confounded him, but that shouldn’t surprise him because Tessa confounded him in general.
Earl returned the necklace to Tessa. “It is unusual in the extreme but every now and then the animal will sense the soul of one who has just arrived or who has perhaps been reborn.” He smiled at Tessa, as if welcoming her. “Such is the case with you.”
“I feel extremely honored,” she said, and Clint could see the pride shining in her eyes. It was everything he could do not to reach over and hug her, she looked so happy.
She rehooked her necklace and the eagle and wolf sat side-by-side in the hollow of her neck, as if they were facing the world together, there to protect each other.
Clint deliberately looked away, but it didn’t matter. The image was one that was forever burned into his brain. And that was just fine as long as it didn’t find its way into his heart.
TESSA FELT AS IF SHE WAS floating on a cloud rather than sitting once again in Clint’s pickup. Being marked as a wolf was one of the coolest things that had ever happened to her, and she didn’t doubt for a second that it had happened for real.
She rubbed her fingers over the two carved figures and a tremor ran through her. She glanced over at Clint. “Thank you for taking me to see Earl. That will be one of the highlights of my trip.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, clearly distracted.
Unbidden, the thought occurred to her that even though she’d seen some incredible natural phenomena such as the northern lights, the wolves, a glacier up-close-and-personal, the highlight remained making love with him in that one-room cabin in front of a wood stove and the northern lights. That, she suspected, would be impossible to top. And if she thought he was already acting gun-shy, that would certainly send him heading for the hills. It was best to keep that little tidbit to herself.
Northern Encounter Page 11
