“I hope you’re right about that,” the older woman said.
“It was nice to meet you,” the woman with the toddler added with another sweet smile. “If you ever need anything, just stop by town. There’s always someone around who can help.
The man nodded, causing the flaps on his hat to bounce back and forth. “You’ll find that Puffin Ridge doesn’t have many people, but the ones who are here are mighty friendly.”
“I see that,” Lauren said. “Well, I better get inside before I lose all feeling in my toes.
The three locals looked down at her boots. “Stop by Lowood’s when you’re through here and get yourself some proper winter attire. You’ll need it,” the older of the two women said, and they all nodded in agreement.
“I will. Thank you.” She shook each of their hands and headed toward the door, wondering how long it might take for the feeling to return to her extremities. She bundled up tightly when she was outside with the dogs, but hadn’t thought it would be necessary for a quick trip into town.
Quick, of course, was relative.
Lauren met two new acquaintances on the way to the entry, and several more as she made her way through the grocery store. Everyone was eager to introduce themselves and comment on the tragedy that was her employer. After a while, she began to nod along and pretend she knew what they were talking about. It was easier than admitting that she was living with a man she knew very little about.
If her father were alive, what would he think? Would he be angry at Lauren for putting her entire life on hold to follow what seemed a lot like a random whim? Or would he be proud she was following in his footsteps here?
She couldn’t say for sure, so she decided to believe the latter. Every day spent working with the dogs in Alaska brought her closer to the secret life her father had lived when he’d been about her age.
This place was in her blood, and her body seemed to know it, acclimating more quickly than she would have expected to the cold, the work, all of it. Regardless of Shane’s temper and cold disposition, she knew this was the place she needed to be.
And it was up to her to make these months enjoyable.
Before heading home with her trunk full of groceries and overfilled bag of new winter wear items, she stopped off at the small florist shop that sat at the far corner of town.
“Hello! You must be the new handler everyone is talking about,” the lady behind the counter greeted her. “Are you here for some meats?”
“Meats? Isn’t this the flower shop?”
“Ahh, yes, that too. The flowers are more of a hobby. The sausages and game pay the bills, though. Happy to help you with either or both.”
“I’m looking for a nice bouquet to brighten up my house. Umm, well, the place I’m living, at least.”
The woman nodded and shuffled over to a cooler that held both floral arrangements and an assortment of smoked meats. “I don’t have much in right now, just enough to keep stocked through folks’ anniversaries, birthdays, and random acts of romance. I’ll have more in a few weeks, though. Valentine’s Day is the one time of year that the flowers here outnumber the meats.”
“Do you have roses?” Lauren asked. She’d never been much of one for flowers, and roses were one of the few types of blooms she could name. Besides, it seemed more likely the tiny florist-slash-butcher would have roses than lilies, tulips, or daffodils.
“Why, I sure do!” the woman whipped out a bouquet of slightly wilted red roses with a dramatic flourish. “You know, roses used to be Mr. Ramsey’s favorite. He’d often stop in and pick up a bouquet as he passed through town. Been a long time since I’ve seen him back, though.”
“Perfect. How much?” Lauren asked, reaching into her pocket. Shane had given her money for the groceries, but she knew better than to use his credit cards to purchase a luxury item like this, regardless of what the old woman said. Luckily, she had enough left over from her last paycheck with data corp to cover this expense herself.
“Tell you what,” the woman said with a huge smile as she wrapped up the bouquet. “You buy some of the elk jerky Mr. Ramsey likes so much, and I’ll include the flowers for free. Think of them as a welcome to Puffin Ridge gift.”
“Wow, thank you so much. You’ve got a deal.”
A few minutes later, Lauren was back in her car full of groceries with the fresh floral arrangement sitting on the passenger seat beside her. Soon she’d be back at the cabin on Thornfield Way, a place she was now beginning to think of as home.
When Lauren returned to the cabin, Shane was still exercising in the living room with Grace’s help. Three times per week for more than two hours per session seemed like a lot, but Lauren wasn’t an expert when it came to these things.
She left them to their task and quietly unloaded the groceries, pleased to find that they almost filled the once empty pantry. Unable to find a proper vase, she arranged the roses in a tall glass tumbler and set them in the middle of the table amidst Shane’s mess of papers. Well, at least the pop of red helped to brighten the mess up a bit.
And as much as she’d like flowers to be a regular fixture at their table, she’d seen the prices attached to each bouquet, and they were more than double what she would have paid back in New York. That meant they probably had to be shipped from far, far away, especially during this season. Lauren had never been much of an environmentalist, but even she knew that was a huge load to add to her carbon footprint.
She quickly checked in on Shane and Grace again and, seeing that they were focused on their work, she decided to return to hers outside. She’d purchased the dogs some special treats to apologize for the mistakes she’d made earlier that day—and also just because spoiling them was fun. There was no rule that said working dogs couldn’t also be well-loved dogs. At least she didn’t think there was. She had, after all, failed to read Shane’s ridiculous house rules in their entirety.
One by one, she visited each dog and gave out the special rawhide treats she had purchased for them. Then she headed toward the garage to find the sled weights Shane had told her about. As she passed the old wooden shed, she contemplated trying once more to pry it open, but she knew what a mistake that would be during broad daylight, and while Shane was home, no less.
Maybe she could read up on lock-picking later that night and give it a try whenever Shane left the house next—if he ever left. Because whatever was hidden inside that old wooden structure would undoubtedly shed light onto the secret of Shane, a mystery she was dying to solve.
A strangled cry shot across the valley, and Lauren raced back to the kennels where two of the dogs had gotten into a fight over the rawhides. Even though they had all been tied back up, the large Malamute named Fred had managed to pull himself free and was now quarreling over who had the right to the treat Lauren had given to the much smaller husky, Georgina.
“Stop, stop!” Lauren cried, sprinting the rest of the way to the dogs.
Grace ran out of the house, too. “What happened?” she asked, but then looked down and saw for herself.
“I just wanted to do something nice for them,” Lauren explained. “I figured if I got one for each of them, everything would be fine.”
Grace grabbed Fred by the harness and dragged him and his house back over to the spot they belonged. The slight woman was far stronger than she appeared, and Lauren couldn’t help but watch as she took care of everything.
“Do me a favor,” Grace said, tossing the rawhide in the trash before returning to Lauren’s side. “You don’t tell him, and I won’t either.”
“But what did I do wrong?”
“These aren’t normal dogs. They were bred to compete, and that’s what they live for. You keep treating them like pets and they could get hurt or, worse, dead. You want to do something nice for them, then work them hard. Keep them running as fast and as long as you can. That’s what Mr. Ramsey hired you to do, and as long as he’s still willing to fight to get better, that’s what you owe it to him and these dogs t
o do. What happens after that, I can’t say.”
“I don’t understand,” Lauren said with a sigh. “But I’ll do what you say. The last thing I want to do is cause anyone trouble, especially these sweet dogs.”
Grace nodded. “Good. That’s for the best. And I’ll tell Shane that a coyote ran across the yard and got the dogs riled up. If there are any of those treats left over, find them and toss them in the trash to prevent any more fights. And, for the love of all that is holy, make sure you tie them up properly next time.”
Lauren nodded as Grace returned inside for a few minutes, then came back out with her therapy equipment packed up and at her side. How was it that everyone understood how to do Lauren’s job better than her? It seemed the more she tried, the worse she messed up.
She wanted to do work she could be proud of, work that would have made her father proud, and work that would ease whatever pain Shane Ramsey was trying to keep buckled up and close to the vest. Would she ever get it right?
Lauren watched as Grace got in her car and drove off. She then ventured inside to make the hearty beef stew she’d planned for that night’s dinner, hoping that Shane would be relaxed after his long afternoon of physical therapy.
She found him standing by the window, staring sightlessly into the yard. He turned toward her then, and his eyes immediately darted toward the floor where a mess of broken glass and scattered roses lay.
“Oh gosh! Let me help get this cleaned up,” she cried as she grabbed a wad of paper towels from the counter and stooped down to assist with the mess.
“No,” Shane answered forcefully. His hands shook with a tremor she hadn’t seen before, but he made no motion to stoop down and clean up the flowers himself.
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “I’m here and able, and I think the flowers can still be saved. The glass, not so much.” Lauren let out a small laugh. Accidents happened, and this one proved Shane was just as human as the rest of the world.
“No. Stop!” he said, suddenly enraged or frightened—she couldn’t tell which. He kicked at the fragments of glass using his bare feet, and predictably opened a wound right on his sole. Blood mixed with water in a swirling, mesmerizing stream, like paint washing off from a brush.
“What are you doing? Are you crazy?” Lauren scolded. “Sit down and I’ll go find a first aid kit.”
“No, don’t,” he said again, but his voice had lost much of its power.
“Yes,” she shot back. “Put that butt in the chair and hold this to your foot until I come back with some bandages.” She tore a fresh wad of paper towels from the roll and shoved it into his chest, then rushed toward the bathroom.
It seemed she was always rushing these days. Some relaxing break this was!
Luckily, it didn’t take her long to find a box of Band-Aids and some antiseptic ointment in the medicine cabinet. Even still, when she returned to the kitchen, Shane was not where she’d left him.
The door slammed, drawing her eye over to where he stood before a thin trail of blood. His shaking hands now bore fresh cuts as well.
“What is your problem?” Lauren screamed. This guy had zero self-preservation instinct, and she really didn’t want him to die on her watch. She joined him at the door and pulled him back to the table.
A quick peek out the window confirmed that he had tossed the roses into the frigid yard. Why he would go out of his way to do that, she hadn’t a clue.
“Now sit,” she hissed, putting her hands on her hips as she waited.
“I told you not to worry about it,” he said glumly. “I had it.”
Lauren grabbed Shane’s hand and inspected the tiny cuts and gashes speckled across his palm. “What was the rush? Why couldn’t you have waited five seconds for me to grab the broom?”
He said nothing, but the shaking started up again.
“Fine, don’t tell me.” She sighed. “But whatever the reason for your outburst, we still need to get you patched up.”
“What’s the use?” he moaned. “You think this hurts? It’s nothing compared to having a thousand pounds of metal bust in both your knee caps, pinning you in a huge snow drift where you’re left for close to an hour to wonder if this is it, if this is how you’ll die.”
“That was incredibly specific. Did it happen to somebody we know?” Lauren dabbed some antiseptic onto a cotton ball and pressed it to the first of Shane’s cut. He winced, but didn’t cry out.
“But, small as this might be by comparison,” she continued, “it could still get infected. And not liking how a few flowers looked on the table is no reason to risk that.”
“It’s not that…” Shane argued before losing heart and trailing off into silence.
She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.
“Well, whatever it is, what you did sure was stupid. It’s a good thing I do all the work around here, because you’re going to be even more useless with that gash on your foot and your hands cut to pieces.”
“Why do you talk to me like that?” he asked, staring at his hands as she worked on them.
“Because that’s the way you need to be talked to. I asked to start over that very first day, and you refused, so this is how our relationship is now, unapologetic and straight to the point.”
Just as quickly as the corners of his face stretched in a grin, they fell back into his perpetual frown. “Maybe that’s for the best.”
Lauren turned his hand over and continued to work on cleaning up the cuts he’d sustained from frantically collecting the roses. “Maybe,” she agreed. “But make no mistake about it: I’m going to figure you out eventually.”
“So much confidence,” he observed. “I doubt you’ll be able to do something that even I haven’t managed to do myself, but good luck.”
She had a feeling he really meant that, that he wanted to be figured out, if not by himself, then at least by somebody out there.
Seeing as he was softening more and more with each moment they spent together that evening, she decided to try again for some kind of explanation. “Will you tell me what you have against roses, especially considering you named one of your dogs Briar Rose?”
“Briar Rose is not my dog,” he said pointedly, as if Lauren had made a terrible accusation without knowing it.
“Funny, seeing as she lives here in the kennels with your dogs.”
“I keep her, but she’s not mine.”
“And the flowers?” She kept her face down as she worked, doing her best not to show how interested she’d become in finding out the answers to the many questions she found herself asking about why Shane was Shane.
“Are unnecessary,” he finished for her before reverting back to his normal callous demeanor. “I don’t like change, and I don’t like you messing things up here.”
“Well, excuse me for trying to add a bit of cheer.”
“Who said I like cheer? Who said this place needed it?”
“Okay, Mr. Grump, you’re done,” she said, slapping the last of the bandages on his hands. “Now show me that foot.”
“Careful of that glass,” he said as she stooped down to inspect his sole.
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Why should I be when you weren’t?”
He smiled again, but then forced a cough to cover it up. This time when she applied the antiseptic to his gash, he jerked in pain.
“Easy, boy,” Lauren said, gripping his ankle to hold him in place just as much as to keep her balance.
“I don’t like you taking care of me,” he said.
“Then stop leaving me no other choice.”
Another two weeks passed much the same as the first one had. Lauren grew more comfortable with both the dogs and their master, but still didn’t fully understand either. This led her to focus much of her energy on something she could hopefully understand with the right information.
Her father’s past.
Each day she’d finished her handler duties earlier and earlier. She’d found several ways of her own to exercis
e the dogs more effectively—from starting them at the bottom of the valley and having them pull her and the weighted sled uphill to putting Shane’s car in neutral and having the bigger dogs pull it instead of the much smaller sled. Even Shane seemed impressed whenever she tromped back into the house before nightfall.
Today she’d woken up a couple hours earlier than usual and was able to clock out around noon. This left the better part of the day at her disposal, and she knew just how she wanted to spend it.
Shane agreed to let her borrow his car so that she could drive into Anchorage and spend the afternoon touring the city. What he didn’t know is that this was a research trip. She’d already ruminated over the facts she knew at length. Each day as she worked the dogs, she tried to connect the data points she knew by using the invisible lines she had yet to draw.
Today she would sharpen her mental pencil and maybe even solve the mystery altogether. She’d written down a timeline of events using the old newspaper articles and other mementos in the memory box. The first article was dated 1992, and the most recent one was 1995. She’d been two years old then but couldn’t remember ever living in Alaska—nor had her father ever mentioned it. In fact, her birth certificate said she’d been born in California.
Was that even true?
Her mother had died when she was two. Was that the reason why her father had denied his former life and moved to New York to start over? But still, why would he keep it secret when he knew how much she craved every detail he could give about her late mother?
And why hide such a big part of himself?
That was as far as she could get on her own. She always dead-ended on these major questions, feeling more confused than ever.
That’s why today’s mission was so important.
She started her tour of Anchorage at the practice grounds frequently mentioned in the articles about her father and the races. Sure enough, a number of sleds were out that day, dogs and men both racing cheerily around the track.
Let There Be Love: The Sled Dog Series, Book 1 Page 4
