Scotch also portrayed a cheer that was not quite real in its appearance. She kept giving Lainey furtive looks, searching for something and not finding it. At those moments her expression was closer to resignation than anything else, as if she were trying to buck up under the weight of her unpleasant thoughts.
Howry scraped the last of his breakfast from his bowl. Time to corner one of them and find out what was happening here.
Lainey refused to believe that Howry's insistence on riding with her was just to get better shots of Scotch on her snow machine. She had seen his examination of her at breakfast. He knew something was up and, like any good journalist, would not let it go until he got the scoop.
She forced a smile and agreed, unable to come up with a valid reason to deny him.
After a quick lesson on the operation of the snow machine, she saddled up with Howry behind her. The controls were not much different than the ATVs she had used all summer. Too bad, she thought. If she could not drive one, maybe she could have ridden with someone else.
Rye, Irish, and Scotch each rode a machine, and the yard was filled with the whine of engines and the barking of the dogs. Scotch looked back and waved at Lainey to follow her. Her brother and sister each went in another direction, off to check the snow levels of their favorite stretches of trail.
Lainey surged forward with a jerk, causing Howry to clutch at her and curse. She grinned despite trepidation at his upcoming questions. As she became used to the vehicle controls, she felt him relax his grip, and she heaved a sigh of relief. Her ribs were definitely giving her more trouble today. She could already tell she would be spending a large amount of her free time at the hot springs.
The trails were almost alien to her, though she had just been on them the day before. White powder covered the familiar landscape, turning it into another realm. Branches which had been above her head now drooped under the weight of snow. In some places, only the brightly fluttering plastic markers indicated where she should go, jogging her memory. Scotch rode ahead of her, breaking the trail, and Lainey gave her plenty of lead to keep from running into her when she occasionally bogged down in snow drifts.
“So, what happened this morning?”
Lainey pursed her lips. "What do you mean?" she asked, not willing to give in so easily.
"Don't be coy, Lainey. You don't wear it well,” Howry said, his voice raised to be heard over the engine. "We both know what I'm talking about.”
"What if I don't want to talk about it?”
He remained silent behind her for a full minute. “Think I should talk to Scotch instead?”
"Bastard,” she said under her breath.
Howry hugged her closer. "What was that?”
Lainey looked over her shoulder. "I said you're a bastard.”
"Good to know I haven't lost my touch.”
His laugh triggered her sense of the absurd, and she joined him. It was far better than crying.
“Seriously, Lainey, what's going on? You two have a fight over something?”
She sobered. Before her, Scotch took the left branch of a trail, standing on the machine as she disappeared down an embankment. Lainey braced herself and followed. Once they were back on level ground, she slowed to give Scotch more room. "I don't think Scotch is straight.”
"What? I don't think I heard you right. Scotch isn't...?”
“Straight!" she yelled. Up ahead, the topic of conversation must have heard something because she glanced backwards. No, surely Lainey had not shouted loud enough for that. Scotch was only checking the distance between them.
"Really?” Howry drawled. "How do you figure?”
"Oh, I don't know, Don. I guess when she tried to kiss me I kind of figured things were off.”
He loosened his grip, slightly pulling away from her deep sarcasm. "You're joking.”
Lainey grumbled to herself. "I wish.”
He did not need to hear her to understand what she said.
As he digested this new information, she concentrated on driving. Scotch pulled onto another trail, waving Lainey toward one that paralleled her course. She gave the snow machine more gas and caught up to her roommate. Breaking the trail made the journey a bit rougher, but no less enjoyable. A thin line of deciduous trees flickered between them, giving Lainey the weird sensation of watching a reel of film at slow speed. Her heart warmed as she saw Scotch smile at her. At least the morning's oddness had not affected their friendship too severely.
Howry took advantage of their proximity to take a rapid series of photos.
"How're you doing?” Scotch yelled.
"Great! Where to next?”
"Let's head to the river, see how it's doing there. We'll need to slow down some.”
"Okay. Lead on!"
Scotch nodded agreement and pulled ahead. At a break in the tree line, Lainey crossed over to the other trail, feeling the fine mist of granulated snow as Scotch picked up speed and rooster tailed. Howry laughed and she joined him.
“So, she made the moves on you, huh?”
Lainey rolled her eyes. She had hoped he would drop the topic, but she supposed she had not given him his due. He was a newsman, through and through. "Yeah. She said she was happy I was here, and the next thing I knew, we were closing in for the clincher.”
"Did she come to her senses and realize I'm a far better catch than an old, broken down war horse like you?”
Despite the churn of emotions, Lainey smiled. "Actually, we were saved by the sister. Irish interrupted before anything could happen.”
"Hmmm, my sympathies to you then.”
"Don...”
"I know! I know! Even though you've wandered around for months mooning over her, you can't conceive of slaking your unrequited passions in her bed. I understand.”
She wondered if she could find a ditch to jump and dislodge him from behind her.
"No. Scratch that. I don't understand,” he continued. "What's the problem? I'd think you'd be shedding your parka and skipping into her arms by now.”
"God, you're an idiot,” she told him.
“That's not news.”
She chuckled. "You don't get it. Scotch has just figured out she's either gay or bi. This is all new ground for her.”
Howry whistled. "Lucky for her you're here to show her the ropes, huh?”
"Don!"
"What?” he asked in the same sharp tone. "I'm just a straight man; I'm not getting it here. Enlighten me.”
Lainey refused to speak. Howry was not a dense man. If he could not figure it out, she certainly was not going to tell him. Scotch took the a trail to the right. Lainey pushed the snow machine to its limit as she turned followed, causing Howry to clutch at her in abrupt fear of being thrown.
"Holy shit.”
At first, she thought he swore because of her attempt to lose him in a snow drift.
"You love her.”
Lainey swallowed, her lungs suddenly not big enough to give her enough oxygen. She wheezed a couple of times, her heart thumping so hard, she was certain he could feel it through his thick gloves and her parka.
Love.
As she regained control of her body, a sardonic grunt left her throat. Of course. Infatuation was the wrong word entirely. Being a journalist, she needed a good command of the language. Funny how her mind had danced around the term but never allowed her to focus on it.
Her mother always said if you can name your demons, you can control them. Lainey wondered how to control this.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
REGARDLESS OF HER sudden emotional revelation, Lainey spent the rest of the expedition doing her damnedest to banish her demon. She doubted she was a hundred percent successful when every time she got a good look at Scotch racing ahead of her, her heart thumped in muted joy. As they neared the kennel, she felt she might have gotten a handle on her ardor. It helped that Howry had let her stew in silence after his observation. Not having to defend herself to him gave her plenty of time to work through her available opt
ions and come up with a plan.
Not that it was a good plan, but at least she had something.
The last thing Scotch needed was a distraction like this. She was aiming for the top ten in the Iditarod this year and needed to stay concentrated on her dogs and their training. It was never easy for someone to question their sexuality; coming out to one's self was worse than coming out to family and friends. Lives had a tendency to fall apart as the soul searching took over, and Scotch could ill afford the time or heartache.
Moving out of the cabin, while the easiest way to achieve the space needed between them, would make Scotch question Lainey's motives. Even the argument of requiring warmth for her 'football injury' would fall flat. They would both know the reality of the situation. It would only serve to highlight the attempted kiss in the dog barn, and Lainey had to draw the focus away from that.
No, she had to be the adult here, the experienced one. She had to stay put to allay Scotch's fears yet not get intimately involved with her. It would be hell, but Lainey would just have to hang onto this demon for all it was worth. When the race was over, then and only then could she consider sitting Scotch down for a real heart to heart discussion about what was going on with her.
Lainey felt vaguely pleased with her decision, not to mention a bit perplexed at the self-imposed distance she would have to place between them. She would much rather do exactly what Howry had suggested and teach Scotch all the joys of loving a woman. She consoled herself with the knowledge that after the race, things would be different. If Scotch truly felt desire for her, Lainey would be more than happy to reciprocate.
She pushed away the rush of arousal that followed that particular notion. By the time they returned to the kennel, Lainey had set aside her internal debate. Her nerves still fluttered, but she was resolute. She drove the snow machine into the yard, hearing the welcome clamor from the dogs. Pulling up next to Scotch, she saw that Irish and Rye had already returned, their vehicles covered with a light dusting of still falling snow. She turned off the engine, and glanced at the woman beside her.
Scotch's cheeks and nose were red from cold, her eyes sparkling as she grinned. She had yanked back her hood and tawny curls stuck out about her face, flakes of snow starting to settle there. Lainey's heart ached as she returned the smile. Stay away from this? God was a cruel, cruel being.
"It's looking really good," Scotch said, climbing off the snow machine. She pulled off her thick gloves and opened the neck of her parka. "We can only hope the snow stays like this for the entire season!"
The vehicle shifted as Howry got off. "I think it's time to switch to manual cameras," he said, pulling a plastic bag from his pocket. He stuffed his camera inside and zipped it closed. "I ran out of film on the run. If I wind it now, it'll shatter."
"You can always switch to digital," Lainey said sweetly, revisiting an old argument.
"Blasphemy," he muttered. "A camera without real film is an abomination in the sight of the gods."
Lainey smiled and swung her leg over the snow machine, remaining seated. She too removed her gloves. "Are we taking the dogs out today?"
"No. Let's give the trails another run after lunch. Pack 'em down some more. If it keeps coming down, we'll do more tomorrow. The tighter we pack the trails now, the longer they'll last if the temperature rises. It's still early in the season; who knows what the weather will do?"
Standing, Lainey stretched with light misgiving as her ribs gave her a slight jab. The pain was far less than it should be after the extensive ride. They had spent a good three hours roaming the trails surrounding the kennel. By all rights, she should be emulating a rheumatic old woman.
"You okay?"
Lainey nodded at Howry. "Surprisingly. I'm glad I heeded Thom's advice. That jacket I had last March was crap."
Without warning, Scotch reached out and grabbed her right hand, forcing Lainey to raise it above her head. The ache was bearable, and completely overshadowed by Scotch's skin against hers.
"You know that liniment we use for wrist injuries?" she asked, still focused on Lainey's ribs.
Blushing at Howry's smirk, she said, "Um, the one for strains and sprains?"
"Yeah." Scotch released her. "I'd bet it'd work on your ribs."
Howry snorted, no doubt entertained with the notion of Scotch possibly offering to apply it to the injury. Lainey so wanted to kick him in the shin, but knew she would have to explain herself to their witness afterward. Instead, she rolled her eyes. "It's for dogs," she reminded Scotch.
"It's been used on people upon occasion." She chuckled. "It might do the trick. You should give it a try."
Scotch's matter-of-fact tone made Lainey view the salve in another light. Its primary purpose was to ease joint aches in the wrists and shoulders of overworked dogs. It was a homegrown remedy created by God only knew who, but it seemed every musher worth his or her salt had a variation on the recipe. An herbal mixture, it was blended with petroleum jelly to give it substance and make it easy to apply. Scotch and her brother both swore by the stuff.
"All right," Lainey conceded. "I'll think about it." Scotch opened her mouth to say something, and Lainey interrupted her. "I'll think about it! Right now, though, I'm starved. Let's get some lunch!"
"That sounds like a great idea," Howry said, moving toward the back deck. Scotch grinned and nodded, dropping whatever she had been planning to say.
Lainey followed both of them, relief coursing through her. She had known exactly what Scotch was going to say. Despite Lainey's recent pledge to avoid awkward situations with Scotch, there was no way she could deny her if she offered to apply ointment.
And that would be a bad, bad idea.
Scotch idled in front of the fire, her feet propped up on an old footstool she had liberated from a thrift store years ago. She wiggled her sock covered toes, and sipped a cup of hot chocolate.
The first snowfall of the season had been a good one. If things held up like this, training would be a breeze. She recalled the winter before last, unseasonably warm, and no major flurries to speak of. It had been bad enough that snow had to be trucked into Anchorage for the ceremonial start of the race. The first third of the journey had been treacherous with bared ground and free running water. A lot of mushers had been forced to scratch the race from injuries to their animals and broken equipment.
Not this year. Scotch relished her contentment. Even if it warmed up a bit, chances were it would not interfere with the hardening trails. After lunch, they had gone another round, packing the trails down for future runs. Tomorrow the sleds would come out and the training would begin in earnest.
The cabin door opened and Lainey stomped inside. A draft followed her, but Scotch was warm enough that the cool air felt nice.
"Still snowing?"
Lainey glanced over her shoulder as she hung her jacket on a peg. "No. It finally stopped." She saw Scotch's face and laughed as she moved down the stairs to return to the couch. "Give it a rest, Fuller! We got two feet today, maybe more."
Scotch's petulant frown eased into a smile. "Yeah, I guess."
Snorting, Lainey kicked off her boots, tucking her feet back underneath a quilt. She leaned forward to retrieve her mug of tea and sank back with a sigh. "You know, there's something I've been meaning to ask you," she said, staring into her cup.
Sudden wariness disrupted Scotch's composure. She had been expecting this all day. Initially she had hoped that Lainey had not realized how close Scotch had come to kissing her. As the day progressed, however, there had been several moments where it seemed she wanted to discuss something. What was Scotch going to say when she asked what had happened? Sorry about the pass, but I've got a crush on you that just won't quit?
Her silence was noticed, and she looked up to see Lainey watching her. "Uh, yeah?" she asked.
"Have you ever considered the benefits of chamber pots as opposed to out houses?"
Scotch stared at Lainey, her mind stuttering to a halt. She blinked and shook her head.
"What . . .?"
Lainey grinned and sat up. "Chamber pots. You know. Porcelain pots that you squat in rather than shuffle around in the dark and cold, baring your ass to freezing temperatures." She gave her friend a wave. "I, of all people, understand the rustic life here. I've lived and worked in third world countries. But even in Africa they have a version of the chamber pot. Why don't you?"
Her trepidation faded, replaced with a healthy dose of relief and amusement as she registered what Lainey said. Scotch ruefully ran her hand through her hair. "They're called honey pots around here, and I don't know why I haven't got one. Can't say it's ever come up in conversation."
"Well, it is now," Lainey replied in crisp tones.
Warming to the conversation, Scotch shifted in her chair. "What do you suggest, O Worldly One?"
Lainey stuck out her tongue, causing Scotch to laugh.
"Funny you should ask. I happen to have noticed that there are a lot of five gallon buckets over by the dog barn. I think one of those would make a wonderful indoor privy for those of us without ice in our veins."
"It's you that's cold blooded."
Lainey's brow furrowed. "How do you figure?"
"It's a scientific fact that cold blooded animals get sluggish in lower temperatures. If that doesn't describe you in the morning, I don't know what does."
Lainey stuck out her tongue again.
Scotch barely refrained from asking her if she was offering her services. She blushed and shied away from where that would lead the conversation. "So what are you wanting? My permission to set up a honey pot in the cabin?"
"You live here, too," Lainey said. "I realize that no matter how often it's emptied or how clean I keep it, there'll be some odor involved."
Shrugging one shoulder, Scotch said, "It really won't be that bad." She gave Lainey an inquisitive look, receiving a nod in return. "We could go into town tomorrow after lunch and pick up plastic bags and some lye or something to help control the smell."
Lainey's smile was beautiful. "That'll be great!"
Broken Trails Page 12
