Christmas Paradise

by Gale Storm

  “Okay, boy, you know what to do."

  Tarry touched his neck before he bounded to the shed and, with a rumble, had the others up. They barked and whined as she put out their bowls and broke the ice on their water. She whistled as she worked, determined to enjoy the day to its fullest.

  It took over half an hour to tend to her chores, and by then the sun was a bright ball in a very blue sky. Rounder arrived at her side dragging the harness of the sled.

  She laughed and hugged him.

  “So, old boy, you're anxious to exercise today.” She took the harness as Rounder stood on his back feet and gave her a wet kiss. Tarry whistled once and all the other team members appeared beside her. With the ease of long practice she buckled each into position. Talking all the while, she then stood on the sled and gave the order.

  “Hike."

  With the elation of animals who loved the activity they shot out of the yard, headed toward the lake. Tarry laughed at the ease with which they moved. Her heart felt suddenly light and carefree. It was always like this when she could see the positive results of hours of training.

  She was almost at the lake when she saw the lone skier. He was a giant man and was moving smoothly over the frozen snow. She tried to slow the team as she yelled a warning at him, but the man and the wolves were all so intent on their run that her efforts came too late. One moment the skier was upright, the next she watched in shock as he tumbled forward and down the steep slope. With all her strength, she halted the team yards from the collision. Breaking the team, she raced back to find the man lying on his side, a look of surprise in his eyes.

  “What happened?"

  He brushed the snow from his face. His clean-shaven cheeks were flushed red from the bite of the midday air; his brown eyes were still dilated from the shock at being knocked over. His stocking cap was askew and a shot of very blond hair escaped across his forehead.

  “Are you okay?” Tarry knelt beside him, seeing that his left ski had been snapped in two by the tumble. She couldn't tell if he was injured.

  “I guess so.” He blinked and focused her. “Who are you?"

  “I'm Tarralee Roessel. We knocked you over, my team and I. I'm very sorry. I didn't see you in time."

  “You're Roessel?” The man shook his head. “The Roessel that trains wolves? I've heard about you."

  Tarry felt a warm rush of pleasure that he would recognize her by her reputation. “Are you sure you're not injured? That was a nasty spill, and your ski is broken."

  The man glanced at the ski, seeming to realize that he had tumbled down a twenty-foot slope. He slowly pushed to a standing position, favoring his left leg.

  “Apparently, I've twisted my ankle. I...” He tried to take a step and the flash of pain that wrinkled his brow worried Tarry.

  “You are hurt, and it is my fault. Please, don't move—I can get help. If we can only get you to the sled, I can take you to my cabin and then I know we could get you to a doctor."

  He looked at her again as she reached out and wrapped her arm around his waist.

  “You're a woman.” He stood still, eying her with a narrow expression. “I assumed, when you first came sliding toward me, you were a boy.” He straightened, lifting his weight away from her supporting arm.

  “Not the first time someone has mistaken me for a boy. I'll assure you, Mr...?"

  The man flushed. “My name is Michael Johansen. Mike, to my friends and family. I think if you'll just hand me my ski poles, I can manage this incline."

  Together, they made their way up the slope. Michael struggled not to rest his weight against her, but Tarry continued to act as a prop as they climbed back to the trail.

  He was sweating when they reached level ground again.

  “You've really hurt your ankle, Mr. Johansen. Sit while I fetch your skis and my sled.” It took only a few minutes for her to retrieve the now-broken skis. His face had returned to its normal color when she rejoined him, and he smiled gratefully at her.

  “You're amazing, Miss Roessel—may I call you Tarry?” At her nod, he grinned. “You're very athletic, but you're so tiny."

  Tarry laughed, a light tinkling sound.

  “You're very sweet to say that, Michael. But now I think we should head back to the cabin.” She moved to the sled and quickly turned the team around, coming alongside the tall, brawny man. “Get on, I promise to make them go slow so they don't tip us over. Hang on.” With one whistle she had the team moving smoothly over the snow.

  It was an uphill journey back to the cabin, and it took them over an hour to reach it. Always, Tarry kept a concerned eye on Michael, watching him for any further sign of shock or injury. He made light of his accident, talking easily to her and explaining that he was on a week's trek through the mountains by himself. When they entered the yard Tarry felt she had known him for years.

  He was an avid outdoorsman and was intrigued by her control of her team. When they arrived at the barn Tarry encouraged Rounder to the steps of the house so that Michael wouldn't have to walk any farther than necessary. There she stopped the sled and offered him her arm. She watched as he stood. Try as he might, Michael could not disguise the sharp pain that made him flinch and lean heavily against her.

  “Let's get inside. I want to see that foot without the boot. It might be broken."

  He didn't protest as she opened the cabin door and helped him to the couch. Quickly, with the skill of one versed in caring for injuries, Tarry gently removed the ski boot and sock, staring at the swollen ankle.

  “It's only a sprain,” Michael diagnosed. “I'm sure if I keep it up for a little while it will be much better by tomorrow."

  Tarry shook her head. “You're probably right, but I do think you may have torn some ligaments. Ankle injuries can be severe and very painful. I'm going to get my first aid book. Sit still and I'll be right back. Keep it elevated while I get some ice."

  After making Mike comfortable, she sat on the floor and shared a cup of tea with him. He was intrigued by her lifestyle and her family history. Filled with questions, he quizzed her; and his easy manner completely relaxed her. She liked Michael Johansen.

  “So, what do you do when you're not traipsing through the wilderness, Mike?"

  They had moved to the kitchen so Tarry could prepare lunch.

  “I guess you could call me a jack-of-all-trades, Tarry. I've been known to build houses, construct roads, play the guitar, sing and follow other creative pursuits."

  “My brother David is a contractor. Have you ever worked for him? He has a company in Eureka."

  “Nope, can't say I have. I'm from Nebraska."

  “Nebraska? You're far from home. What does your family think of your being away for Christmas?"

  Mike was silent for so long she realized she might be getting too personal with her questions.

  “I'm sorry, Mike. I'm not sure what I was..."

  “No problem, Tarry. My mom and dad are farmers, and I've two sisters who are married and have three children each. They'll enjoy the holidays together. They understand that this trip was necessary for me."

  “Do you want me to get the team ready? We could take you down the mountain to the doctor after lunch. It wouldn't be any problem, and since I was responsible for your fall it's the least I could do."

  Mike laughed. “Is that your way of telling me I've already overstayed my welcome?"

  “Of course not. I would love for you to stay here until your foot's healed. My brothers should be here tomorrow, and they'll bring transportation so you won't have to ride down the mountain on the sled."

  “I loved riding on the sled, Tarry. In fact, I was wondering if you could spend sometime explaining to me why a woman as tiny as you became a dog musher. That is the term isn't it?"

  “It is, but actually I'm more into training than mushing. Long treks take stamina, and though I'm feisty, I've learned to live with my physical limitations."

  Michael laughed and she joined him. “You're the first women I've
ever met that is ready to admit that she isn't as physically capable as a man."

  “Oh, I didn't say that, did I?” she teased. “I said I'd recognized my limitations, learning to work around them. Let's have lunch."

  The rest of the day and early evening passed pleasantly as they shared experiences. For the first time since leaving Tyrone she didn't think about him. Tarry felt as comfortable with Mike as she did one of her brothers. She fixed stew for their supper; and after they finished eating she went upstairs, changing into her nightshirt and heavy robe then rejoining him in front of the fire. He asked again about dog mushing and quickly she was caught up in the experience.

  “There really isn't anything like being behind a team running through the trees when they're enthusiastic about it. There is a quiet that overtakes you, a feeling of contentment and peace. The animals compete with one another. I always place the oldest, most experienced team members in front to keep a steady, quick-freighting trot, then place the younger ones behind to encourage each other. Of course, most mushers take their teams to Alaska or Canada in the winter. But I...” Tarry stopped as Michael stifled a yawn. “Gosh, Mike, I'm sorry. I got carried away. It's already nine. Please forgive me.” She stood up self-consciously glancing at the window in surprise. “Good grief, it's snowing again. I can't believe I talked all day. You must be bored stiff."

  Michael laughed, a full rich sound that filled the cabin. “It was wonderful, Tarry. I enjoyed every moment of it, especially your enthusiasm and love of nature. If I weren't already an outdoorsman I'd convert this moment."

  “And you're a tease.” She picked up the dinner dishes, carrying them to the sink. “I must go out and make sure the dogs are bedded down for the night. I'll be back in a moment."

  As she opened the door, Tarry heard Rounder's howl and knew that the pack had spotted something in the dark. Stepping onto the crusted snow, she called them. They didn't come, and since they continued to howl she wondered if an elk had strayed onto her property again. She always hated it when a deer or an elk came within sight of the dogs. They did the natural thing; and they usually terrorized the poor creature until Tarry could haul them off the hunt. It wasn't surprising that it was extremely rare for any wild creature to come near her home.

  She walked out into the snow-covered yard, hardly noticing the cold as she called the dogs. There was a howl, and then Cedar was beside her.

  “Well, at least one of you is behaving. What have the others got cornered?” she asked as she touched the dog's ears. “Let's call them, girl.” Tarry cupped her hands around her mouth and started the yowl, as Cedar sat back on her haunches and let out the same blood-chilling sound. Within moments, seven of the others were bounding out of the darkness and surrounding her. “Where are the other two?” Tarry took a step forward, and a quietly spoken comment from out of the darkness made her yelp. She turned instinctively toward the voice.

  “They weren't joking when they said you were a wolf. You've been too long alone with them, Tarralee."

  “Tyrone?"

  “Who else do you know would brave winter perils and ten wolves to be with you?"

  Tarry could hardly believe her eyes as he stepped out of the shadows. “How...? Are you alone?"

  He ignored her questions as he said, “I didn't know you could howl like a wolf. You constantly amaze me."

  “Tyrone, you startled me."

  “I didn't mean to. I thought the pack announced my presence quite well, actually. They were so happy to see me they almost broke both my legs like they did my ski poles.” He held up the two broken sticks.

  “They didn't hurt you, did they? They're protective, and they might have thought you were an intruder."

  He laughed, walking into the light that spilled out of the windows. He was wearing a charcoal-gray ski outfit with a large pack on his back.

  “You're alone?” she asked, surprised.

  “No, David is coming. I just took off ahead of him when we left the Blazer. Tomorrow at the latest I'm expecting your other brothers. Charley will bring them by helicopter."

  “Why on earth didn't you come with them? Skiing on the mountain after dark is suicide, especially with as much snow as there is now."

  “Skiing after dark is exhilarating and extremely peaceful. I needed the peace to put my thoughts together.” His voice was quiet.

  “And cold.” She shivered as Cedar licked her hand, “Come in before I freeze."

  She led the way to the porch, stepping up onto the wooden planks. He noticed then that she didn't have on a coat, and only her light boots.

  “Don't tell me you're out here without a coat. Do you want to catch...?"

  She shrugged instead of answering, entering the house first and going straight to the fireplace. He followed her moments later after closing the door, hauling off his parka, boots and ski cap. He looked vitally alive and extremely healthy. She felt her heart skip a beat as he stretched his lithe body, running a hand across the back of his neck. It was obvious he hadn't suffered physically from her absence, as she had from his. He shook his shoulders as he turned to face her—and saw Michael sitting comfortably on the sofa, his feet propped up on a stool.

  Tarry ate up the sight of Tyrone, having completely forgotten Michael, who watched Tyrone in silence. She did not miss the cold expression that chilled Tyrone's eyes as the two men stared at one another.

  “Tyrone, I want you to meet a friend of mine. Michael Johansen, Tyrone Shields."

  Mike stood, balanced on one foot as he offered his hand. The two men shook, then Tyrone turned to her for an explanation. But before she could answer the question in his eyes, Michael spoke.

  “You wouldn't be Tyrone Shields, the writer/director of those award-winning movies?"

  Tyrone shrugged, his eyes moving to Mike, then instantly back to Tarry. “The same."

  “What an amazing stroke of good fortune. Tarry didn't tell me she knew Tyrone Shields."

  “She didn't?” A twisted smile curved Tyrone's lips and sent a shiver to her very core as he spoke. “But, then, you must know by now, Mike, that Tarry isn't a woman who impresses easily."

  “That's for sure,” Michael agreed easily, as he collapsed back into his seat. Tarry sent him a glance that would've shut up any of her brothers for the rest of the evening. Michael seemed not to notice. “This little girl rescued me today. Pulled me from a snow bank and single-handedly carried me up a fifty-foot slope. She is a wonder."

  “You didn't know that Tarry makes a habit of rescuing men in distress, I take it?” Tyrone voice was too calm.

  “You mean she trains those dogs of hers to knock men over so that she can rescue them?” Michael laughed, and Tarry felt the hot blood stain her face. “Neat trick, that. I suppose the same thing happened to you?"

  “No. Our meeting was a bit more explosive, but it did turn into a rescue, of sorts. I wasn't knocked over by her dogs, though."

  She intercepted the appraising glance he sent her.

  Enough was enough. Tarry broke in, bringing Tyrone's attention back to her.

  “Do you want something to eat, Tyrone? Skiing up here must have used every calorie you've eaten all week.” She knew her interruption was rude, but she couldn't stand it if he elaborated further. He met her annoyance with a grin.

  “How are you, Tarralee?"

  His voice was soft and caressing now, and she felt a shiver course up her spine as he followed her into the kitchen. What type of game was he playing with her? She realized suddenly that the entire situation was explosive. But at least Mike hadn't followed them.

  “I'm fine. And you?” She lifted the lid on the stew.

  “Tired.” The response was flat as he watched her. “It's been an age since I've seen you.” Her heart somersaulted and stuck in her throat. “I've missed you,” he said as he walked toward her; and when he spoke next he was directly beside her, reaching his hands out to the stove. He continued to speak softly for her ears only. “I've missed the feel, look and taste of you, lo
ver."

  With a jerk, she went to the cupboard, leaving him alone in front of the stove. “I made stew for Mike and me this evening. There's plenty for you and David, and I baked bread and homemade sweets for dessert."

  The words rushed together as Tyrone followed her with a determined stride. He stood directly behind her, not touching her yet so close she could feel the warmth of his body.

  “Stew sounds wonderful. I hope it has more than vegetables in it, though. I need protein."

  “I'm quite used to feeding five men, Tyrone.” She would have moved away, but his mouth touched the sensitive side of her neck.

  “Have you missed me?” he whispered.

  Dear Lord, was he planning to drive her crazy? Her heart was pounding so hard that she saw her robe actually jump with excitement. Her hand came up to cover the betraying movement. She felt her body lean involuntarily back toward him. The heat of him seared her back even though they didn't touch.

  “I've missed you,” she said simply. “But I've managed to stay busy."

  He lifted his head from her shoulder. The silence dragged on as he studied her averted profile, and finally she turned and faced him.

  “I'm sure you've been busy, too."

  His hand came out and traced the curve of her jaw.

  “Like you, I filled in the hours, but now I'm on vacation until after the New Year. I want to stay with you until then.” His tone was solemn; he waited on her reaction.

  “But your family ... the studio?"

  He shook his head. “I spent Thanksgiving with the family, and they realized then that my mind was somewhere else. They accepted my apologies, and they sent their love to you.”

  She felt a warm flush of blood come into her face. She could hardly believe he was here. “I made them presents."

  “Of course, you did.” He shook his head, a smile lifting his lips. “They sent you something, too.” She tilted her head in question as his smile grew. “But you have to wait till Christmas morning,” he teased as he leaned toward her. “Where's the mistletoe, sweetheart? I see the tree, the candy, the presents under the tree, you and lover boy, but no mistletoe."