by Ross, Carol
He recalled how Janie had often mentioned how happy she was that Cal wasn’t a fisherman like their father had been. How his work as a logger, while dangerous, didn’t fill her with dread like the thought of him fishing did. And then he’d been killed when the road beneath him gave way, sending the log loader he’d been operating tumbling down a mountainside.
It was obvious to Emily that Bering would do anything for his family. And clearly they needed him. She would do anything for Aidan, but that was different because he didn’t need her—not on a daily basis anyway. She thought about her mother and stepfather. Her mother seemed too shallow to need anything but money. Franklin had always seemed to need her—at Cam-Field anyway. At least, she’d always felt that way until the promotion. Even that seemed unimportant, though, compared with the role Bering played within his family.
Daylight was arriving as they turned onto a snowplowed tree-lined gravel drive. At the entrance, a huge slab of rock had been carved with the words James Guide & Outfitter Service. The property was heavily wooded but they soon drove into a sizable clearing. There was a large attractive building and several smaller outbuildings. One was obviously an office as it was marked as such.
“It’s really beautiful here,” Emily remarked. “Does the river run through your property?”
“It does,” Bering said, “all one hundred and sixty-four acres of it. I’d like to build a house right back there someday.” He pointed off in the distance.
“What’s in all the buildings?” she asked as they pulled up in front of the largest. It was tall with unpainted but attractive wood siding.
“Boats, vehicles, equipment,” he said as he hit a switch on the visor. A door opened and he efficiently turned the pickup around and backed into the open bay. “If it’s okay with you, I’m not going to take you on my usual guided tour. This one will be better and I promise you’ll get your money’s worth.”
She agreed and hopped out of the vehicle. The building was full of more sporting equipment than Emily had ever seen outside a store. There were two more pickups, ATVs, snow machines, boats and inflatable rafts. Tools, equipment and fishing poles hung on the walls. The place appeared neat and tidy, though—full but organized. Emily didn’t doubt that Bering could find whatever he needed in an instant.
They removed the outerwear that they’d packed earlier and began putting it on, Bering instructing her on some of the finer points, like making sure her gloves were pulled over her sleeves and that her socks weren’t bunched into the bottom of her boots.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said. He walked back to the pickup and retrieved something from the backseat. She recognized the bag as the one Janie had given him just before they’d left her house.
“Here,” he said, handing it to her. “This is for you to keep. Janie made it. She knits things—hats and scarves and mittens and stuff. She doesn’t have any red hats right now but she said she’d make you one if you like this.”
Emily reached in and removed the fluffy softness. She pulled it through her fingers. “Like it? I love it.” She felt something at one end and looked down to find a small ivory-colored button had been sewn onto it. She examined it closely and discovered it had a wolf drawn on it. It was like a tiny work of art. She assumed it must be Janie’s signature of some sort.
“Bering, thank you.” She wrapped it around her neck and pulled it snugly into place. “Hmm, is it possible? Have I finally discovered the secret to staying warm here? I doubt I’ll ever take it off again.” Emily grinned at him but he was staring back at her with a weird look on his face.
“What? Is something wrong?”
“Nope. You, uh, you look nice in red.”
“Thank you. It’s my favorite.”
“I remember.”
He’d remembered...? Emily felt a rush of pleasure as she recalled that she had indeed told him her favorite color. “I never get a chance to wear it, though.”
“What do you mean? Why?”
“I read one time about this study that was done on how bright colors offend some people and that just wearing a certain color can cause a person to unconsciously dislike or distrust you,” she rattled off. “And that, as you can imagine, would be very bad in my business.”
She met his baffled stare for a few long seconds.
He shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “That is one of most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard. Seriously, Emily—top five on the most-ridiculous-of-all-time list.”
She opened her mouth to argue and then shut it. Right then it did seem pretty clear to her that it probably was near the top of the over-the-top list of extreme habits she’d adopted in her quest for corporate perfection.
“Yeah, okay, you might be right about that,” she conceded. She tugged on the ends of the scarf. “I’m scratching that one starting right now....”
* * *
EMILY HAD NEVER ridden on a snow machine before. She stood still as Bering helped her put on a helmet and some goggles. Then he strapped a pack onto the back of the vehicle and climbed on.
“Okay, come on,” he said, waving her over.
“Um, what do I do?”
He looked over his shoulder and patted the seat behind him. “Hop on and hold on.”
She stepped closer, hoisted her leg over the side and settled on the seat behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and Bering started the engine. They took off across the snowy landscape. The wind felt like liquid ice where it swirled under her chin, so she pulled the scarf up higher. Bering’s large form blocked most of the wind, and surprisingly, she soon realized she wasn’t cold. And the ride was sheer exhilaration.
She loved every minute of it, and after about forty-five minutes, Bering slowed and turned onto a narrow path between the trees. They traveled for several more minutes and then stopped as they neared what appeared to be the edge of a cliff. A tidy-looking cedar-planked cabin sat off to one side. A set of stairs led up to a deck that wound around it, all of which appeared to have been recently shoveled of snow.
“Okay, here we are,” Bering said and cut the engine. Emily climbed off. Bering did the same and removed his helmet and then hers. He grabbed her hand and began trudging across the crusty snow.
He stopped suddenly. “There, look.” He pointed at the river below, and Emily immediately saw what he was pointing out. A moose, no—she saw two moose. Emily squinted toward them and realized that one of them was actually on the opposite side of the ice-encrusted river. Neither animal bothered to lift a head to even glance their way.
“Doesn’t the sound of the snow-thingy bother them?”
“Nah, they’re used to it. I come by here quite often on animal surveys.”
“Really?” she said.
“Yeah, it’s part of my work with the Department of Fish and Game.”
“To watch moose?”
Bering nodded and added, “And other critters that frequent these parts.”
“Like what?”
“Like caribou and bears and wolves and foxes and various kinds of birds.”
“Grizzly bears? Of course there are grizzly bears out here. Why didn’t I think of that? They’re on your brochure....”
Bering grinned at her obvious discomfort. “Don’t worry, they’re hibernating right now. They won’t be out for another month at least, not till the spring. The sows come out with their cubs and I tell you, you’ve never seen anything cuter than a bear cub. Have you ever seen one?”
“Um, no,” she said and silently hoped that she never did.
“Man, are they cute,” he repeated. “And you’ve never seen anything meaner than a mama bear protecting her cub—except maybe a moose.”
“A moose? You’re kidding, right?”
Bering shook his head. “Absolutely not. They’re vicious when it comes to protecting
their calves. Remind me to tell you some stories. Come on.” He motioned forward and headed toward the cabin. He produced a key and unlocked the door.
They went inside and Emily looked around the cozy interior. Off to the right there was a small kitchen with a breakfast bar that separated it from the dining area. She saw two doorways, and Bering pointed to one and told her it was the bathroom and the other a bedroom. Straight ahead there was an overstuffed couch and two easy chairs. There was also a telescope on a tripod, which angled down toward the river below.
“I’ll be right back,” Bering said and exited out the door.
A few minutes later he came back in with a load of firewood piled high in his arms. He dropped down to one knee and placed it next to the woodstove, and before long he’d produced a roaring blaze. Emily was amazed at how quickly it began to warm the interior of the small cabin.
She commented on it as she peeled off her jacket and laid it on one of the chairs. Bering did the same.
She looked out the window to see if she could still see the moose. “Hey, what’s that?”
Bering walked to the window and peered over her shoulder. “Ah, I was hoping they’d be back today. That’s a wolf. I love wolves. To me, they symbolize so much about Alaska—wild and tough, imposing and beautiful...”
She thought about the button on her scarf. She started to ask him about it but he had leaned over and was adjusting the lens of a spotting scope that was mounted on a tripod in front of the window. “Here,” he said, “take a look.”
Emily looked through the lens. It seemed so close...almost as though she could reach out and touch it. She could see its frosty breath as it sniffed around the base of a tree. She could pick out the gray-and-brown colors in its fur and was spellbound by the way they swirled and blended together. In an instant, she was completely lost in the sight, and her fingers itched for her sketch pad.
“Where are the rest of them? I thought wolves liked to run around together.”
“They do. But they also run around solo sometimes. I recognize that one, and the rest of his pack is down there somewhere. They had moose for lunch yesterday, so if we’re patient, we’ll probably see more of them coming in for leftovers.”
“You recognize him?” she asked.
“Yep, that’s CL-42—Canis lupus 42 or, as I refer to him, Bob.”
“Bob?” she repeated. She studied Bob for a moment and then asked, “How can you tell for sure it’s Bob?”
Bering quickly explained the characteristics that made him unique.
“What do they eat besides moose?”
“Caribou, birds, voles, squirrels, hare, beaver and around here they eat salmon, too.”
“Of course,” she remarked drily, “even the wolves like seafood in Rankins.”
He laughed. “Wolves are actually a lot more opportunistic than most people realize. They hunt, but they also scavenge a lot. Because we have so many salmon spawning in the rivers around here, they will munch on them just like the bears and the birds do—easy pickings for growing puppies.”
As they talked, several more wolves did indeed appear, and in only a few minutes Emily could easily identify one individual from another.
Bering then began regaling her with stories about the protective nature of the mother moose. And by the time he finished telling her about the mom who treed the bow hunter and then proceeded to stand vigil for ten hours until help finally arrived, Emily had a new respect for the awkward-looking animal.
Then she became totally absorbed in wolf-watching while Bering prepared a simple meal.
“Hey,” he said sometime later.
Emily started and turned toward him. “Sorry. I’ve got my very own 4-D animal documentary going on here. This is amazing. You actually get paid for this?”
“Yep,” Bering said. “There’s a little more to it than this, but yes.”
“Amazing,” she repeated. “And don’t make fun of me for being a city slicker, but the wolves are so cute it’s difficult to imagine how vicious they can be.”
“Cute, huh? Are you actually admitting then that there is more to our enclave than ice and snow?”
“Hmm, I suppose,” she teased.
Bering leaned over and tilted the scope, turning it away from her. “In that case, you probably don’t need this anymore, then?”
Emily reached over and placed her hand on top of his. “No, wait, wait, wait. That’s okay. It’s not really that bad. I mean, I can suffer through it. It’s not like there’s anything else to do....”
“No, I’m sorry I forced this on you. First the fish and now the wolves... I can only imagine how boring it must be to a cultured sophisticate such as yourself. I’ll just—let me just get this out of your way.”
“All right, all right, you win. I admit it. I’m enthralled. With wolves. And moose. And in the snow no less. There, are you happy?”
Bering smiled. “Yes, I am—especially because I know how difficult it was for you to admit it. Just wait until this evening.”
Emily’s eyes widened with surprise. “What?” she asked, slightly breathless. “We’re going to be here tonight?”
“Yes, is that a problem? Don’t tell me you have more campaigning to do? We’re in the midst of a cease-fire, remember? I get the whole day.”
“I remember, Bering,” she retorted playfully, “and there’s always campaigning to be done. But no, it’s not a problem.”
The whole day? Emily liked that. There was such an easiness about being with him. Even when they were seemingly at odds, it was usually fun—teasing and exciting and yet somehow comfortable.
She was so used to being in work mode, but Bering somehow shifted her out of that effortlessly. Probably because there was so much depth to him—he loved his work, obviously, but he was so much more than his job. That was all Emily felt she had ever been, and she was coming to realize that it wasn’t what she had thought it would be. She wanted to be more than her job, too.
“Good,” he said with a long, slow grin. “Lunch is ready.”
“Good,” she returned and added her own smile. “I’m starving. What are we having?”
“Clam chowder, ham sandwiches, smoked salmon and apples. How does that sound?”
“Well,” she replied wryly, “I like ham.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Are you going to argue with me about lunch?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Are you going to make me eat something weird?”
“Have I forced you to eat anything weird yet?”
“Yes,” she said. “You have. I saw a picture hanging on the wall at the Caribou yesterday and Crab Johnson informed me that it was a halibut. I never would have taken a bite of that fish, Bering, if I’d seen how ugly it was first.”
CHAPTER TEN
NOW BERING WAS TELLING her about the college internship he’d done in Alaska’s far north studying polar-bear genetics. Emily found it fascinating. Or she would have, she was sure, if she could actually concentrate on what he was saying for any length of time. She couldn’t stop thinking about how good she felt—relaxed and stress-free—and how long it had been since she’d felt this way. She couldn’t recall. The entire day so far had been great—the snow-machine ride, the cabin, the wildlife. But she knew it was Bering who really made the difference. It wouldn’t have mattered what they’d done, she suspected; it would have been like this.
“...and that’s how we tag the polar bears,” he said, finishing his story.
She took another sip of her coffee, which Bering had made on the woodstove top with a percolator. She had watched in fascination as the pot had hissed and bubbled and a mouthwatering aroma had quickly filled the cabin. It was piping hot and Emily thought it was the most delicious coffee she’d ever had. It seemed ridiculous that she often spent five dollars for
a cup of coffee back at home—coffee that didn’t even compare to the richness of this frontier-style home brew. The thought made her smile. Almost everything seemed different here, she was coming to realize, in a good way.
“Bering, thank you again for bringing me out here. It really is... It’s incredible.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I suppose this is part of the job for you, though, huh? Showing tourists like me around?”
Bering smiled and turned toward her, sliding one arm along the back of the couch. “Sort of, but you are much more fun than most of the clients I cart around, I can assure you.”
Emily raised a skeptical brow. “Really? Laurel told me you have some pretty interesting and, uh, high-profile clientele.”
“Laurel exaggerates.”
“No, she doesn’t. She’s an excellent reporter.”
“That’s true. She is. We’ve had a few celebrity types, I guess.”
“You don’t seem too impressed.”
“Clients are all the same to me. I mean, I treat them all the same. I try to give each and every one the absolute best wilderness experience that they ask for. And every guest gets the same amount of respect and privacy. I really don’t think about what they do for a living while they’re here.”
“I believe that about you.” And she did. She couldn’t imagine there was much superficial about a person that would impress Bering.
“Good. It’s true. So I should also tell you that this really isn’t part of the job.”
“What’s that?”
He pointed back and forth between them. “Coming out to my cabin—I don’t bring clients out here. It’s only for family and friends. I have other cabins for clients.”
