Alaska Heart

by Christine DePetrillo

A faraway grin stretched across her lips, and though her eyes were still on the TV, she was so not watching it.

  “Uh-oh,” I teased.

  “No. No uh-oh.” She flicked a peek toward me that was a mix between I love him and I’m scared to love him.

  “You’ve already seen him more times than most guys, haven’t you? And you went away with him.”

  Meg nodded. “Matt is…different. Or maybe I’m different. I don’t know.” She stretched out her legs and rested her feet on the coffee table. “I guess I’m tired of club Meg and want to be girlfriend Meg. Is that stupid?”

  “No. We’re not as young as we like to think we are, Meg. I think we’re getting past the club scene.”

  “You’ve been past the club scene for years now. What took me so long?”

  “Just waiting for your Prince Charming, I guess.”

  “Whom I found in a bookstore.”

  Whom I met in Alaska.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  My cube on Monday morning was a jail cell. Meg had spent all weekend trying to cheer me up and, though we had laughs—it was impossible to spend time around Meg without cracking up—I wasn’t feeling much better about leaving Alaska. The whole woe-is-me crap was ticking me off now too.

  “Snap out of it, Cormac. Get on with things.” But I wasn’t sure what things to get on with. I had polished the final draft of my article and emailed it to Evelynne on Saturday. I had a few ideas for a new piece, but honestly, I wasn’t in the mood today.

  I scanned my desktop. The lime green sticky note stuck to my desk calendar caused me to freeze.

  “Report to me directly when you come in,” it read.

  Had Evelynne already made her decision? Had Hirsh and Zemmans handed in their stories? Had she picked one of them? Did I want her to pick one of them?

  Grabbing the crutches, I sighed and scuttled down the hall toward Evelynne’s office. No sense in letting my list of questions get any larger.

  A few hellos and welcome backs emanated from cubicles along the way, and I returned the greetings. No one had to know I was a mere shell of a person. I could keep up the charade.

  Evelynne’s secretary waved to me as I approached her desk.

  “Alanna, dear. It’s so good to see you.” She got up from her seat and pumped my hand enthusiastically. “Your poor ankle. Aside from that, how was Alaska?”

  Ouch. “Wonderful, Becky. Trip of a lifetime.” No one besides Meg knew the real story of my ankle. Everyone thought I had hurt it once I got home to New York. Just easier.

  “I keep telling Ralph we have to go there, but he never listens to me.”

  “His loss,” I said.

  “Indeed.” Becky put her hands on her hips and stepped back behind her desk. “Evelynne’s inside. Go ahead in.”

  Nodding to Becky, I shuffled to Evelynne’s door and rapped my knuckles against it.

  “Come in,” Evelynne’s muffled voice sang out.

  She was sitting, the pointed tips of her green high heels peeking out from underneath her desk.

  “Welcome home, Alanna.”

  Home. Why didn’t it feel like home anymore?

  “So sorry to hear about your ankle. Guess you had gotten used to traipsing around rough terrain in hiking boots, huh? The dry, level New York sidewalks caught you by surprise.”

  “I’m my own worst enemy,” I said, feigning embarrassment at the clumsiness she thought I suffered from. She gestured to the chair in front of me, and I sat.

  “Give yourself time to get back into the way things roll here in New York. I imagine it’s a different way of life in Alaska.”

  “Very different.” Wonderfully different. Life-changingly different.

  “Read your piece. Saw the pictures.” Evelynne extracted a mint green file folder from a neat stack on her desk. For a moment, I imagined her telling me she hated all of my work and I was fired.

  Why didn’t that scare me to death?

  “I’m in love with this,” she said.

  Damn. Too competent for my own good.

  “The images you captured in Denali are impressive. Your facts, as usual, are in order, and your personal reactions are poetic, Alanna. Looking at what you’ve given me, I feel as if I’ve been to Denali.”

  “Thanks, Evelynne. It’s easy to be poetic when you’re surrounded by natural beauty as powerful as Denali’s.” A hot Alaskan musher as your tour guide doesn’t hurt either.

  “I can tell you fell in love with Alaska.”

  No. I fell in love in Alaska. “It’s a wonderful place.” With wonderful people.

  Evelynne studied me for an uncomfortable moment. “Come with me.” She stood and smoothed her crisp, jade green blouse. “I want to show you something.”

  I pulled myself to my feet and wobbled along behind her. She led me out of her office, past her secretary, and to an office one door down from hers. Opening the door, she motioned for me to follow her inside.

  The office was empty save for a wide oak desk, a high backed executive chair covered in brown leather, and a file cabinet. Two walls were floor to ceiling oak bookcases, totally bare. I contained the drool, but it wasn’t easy. The urge to fill those shelves was primal. The other two walls were painted a deep yellow. The sunlight streaming in from the wide windows on either side of the desk cast a golden glow over the room. Though it was sparse, an undeniable warmth radiated from the office.

  Evelynne pulled out the chair behind the desk and pointed to it. “Sit.”

  My eyes met hers and she nodded, gesturing again to the chair. In four awkward swings, the crutches took me to the other side of the desk. The cushioned back and bottom of the chair molded to my body like lying on beach sand would. A satisfied groan escaped from my lips, and I clamped my hand over my mouth.

  “It’s okay, Alanna. It is a great chair.” Evelynne placed her palms on the end of the desk. She lowered her head and stared into my eyes. “It’s your chair.”

  “What?” The muscles in my mouth failed as my jaw hung open.

  “You deserve this office, and everything that goes along with it. You’ve earned it, Alanna. Not just because of the Alaska story either. I’ve had my eye on you for a while now. Every story you do is top quality. I’m pleased to give the promotion to you.”

  She extended her hand, and I shakily took it. “Th-thank you.” How often does one’s boss make a speech like that? “What about Hirsh and Zemmans?”

  “Their stories were well done, but don’t have half the heart yours does. Our readers will be transported by your article and that’s exactly what we want.” She gave my hand one solid pump and then sat on the edge of the desk. My desk. “Open the top drawer there.”

  I mechanically did as she said. Inside the drawer were two file folders. After opening the first one, I read the top sheet of paper inside. It outlined my new position and my new salary.

  “Yikes!”

  “I know.” Evelynne’s eyes glimmered with amusement.

  In the second folder was a budget indicating the money I could spend on furnishing the rest of my new office.

  “Yikes, again.” I closed both folders. “Evelynne, I don’t—”

  “Need all this. I knew you were going to say that. And no, you probably don’t need all of it, but Gaia wouldn’t be the magazine it is today without writers of your caliber.” She walked toward the office door. Shit, I had an office door!

  “I’ll have Becky get the maintenance crew to move your stuff in here,” Evelynne said over her shoulder. “You sit there and soak it all in.”

  She left, and I did sit there. The chair was ultra comfortable, and the room was a blank slate I could have a field day decorating. Those empty shelves on the bookcases were my empty shelves to fill. The salary in the file folder still beneath my hand was also mine and completely ridiculous.

  I reread the job description. I would have people underneath me to boss around and generally make nervous with sticky notes of my own. Maybe yellow ones. I could make deadlines and s
end people wherever I wanted to work on stories I invented for them. I myself could work on anything I wished.

  But at the end of the day, I’d still have to go home and be alone.

  “So what?” I mumbled. “This is what you want, Cormac. Don’t be stupid. Don’t be emotional.”

  “Ladies first,” Meg hollered outside the…I mean, my office. She pushed past two technicians who were bringing in my computer. “Ho-ly shit.”

  “You got that right.” I wheeled the chair back away from the desk to get up.

  “No! Wait!” Meg yelled. “Stay right there. Be right back.” As she sped past the techs, one turned to get a good look at her retreating backside. When she came back inside, she waved her camera at me.

  “Meg, I don’t—”

  “I don’t care. We’re doing it.” She leveled the camera and blinded me—several times—with the flash. “This is it, kid. You made the big time!”

  “I guess I did.”

  “Jeez, Alanna. Try to hold back your enthusiasm.” Meg pursed her lips and shook her head. “This is what you wanted, remember?”

  “Yeah. I’m excited. I am.” I wasn’t even convincing myself.

  “This Alaska trip was a blessing and a curse, I think.” Meg leaned against the desk and bent so her face was inches from mine. “It got you this job, but it broke your heart.”

  “I’m okay, Meg. Or I’ll be okay. At some point. Down the line.” Way down the line if the ache in my chest was any indication of how long it would take to recover.

  “Hmmm. We’ll see.” Meg snapped one more photo and left.

  The tech crew was nearly done hooking up my computer and as they finished, the maintenance staff hauled in the rest of my junk.

  “You folks don’t waste any time, huh?” I said.

  “Evelynne Seaton doesn’t like wasted time,” one tech answered, eliciting chuckles from her coworkers and the maintenance staff.

  “Any particular spots you want this stuff in?” one of them asked.

  “No. Put it anywhere for now.” I waved my hand around the room, feeling a little like Evelynne already.

  They made a neat pile of my few belongings in the center of the room. Getting up from the chair, I hopped over to the pile and sat on the floor beside it. I dug in the closest box, which contained the stuff that was on my former desk in my former cubicle. My father and I smiled from the picture taken on the Tower of Terror in Disney World about ten years ago. Both of our mouths were open, hands up in the air. My father was about taking chances, and he had taught me to do the same.

  Right now, though, I didn’t know which chance to take—the new job chance or the new love chance.

  “You’re here, aren’t you? You’ve already chosen,” I said into the emptiness of my new office.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon putting my things away and planning out what else I’d need to make the office an inspiring place to work. At home, I nibbled on pizza from Rita’s. Not exactly the quality of Ram’s cooking, but a good New York attempt at it.

  After a shower and an ice pack on the ankle, I pulled my computer onto my lap and opened my personal email. Hoping.

  “Yes.”

  sled-dog16:

  Holy shit. Know it’s only been a couple of days, but this is hard. Dad told me I look like a lost puppy. Umm, probably because I feel like one.

  You left a sweatshirt behind. Gypsy, Zynk, and I are fighting over it.

  Went to the library and Gwen helped me find all the books they had on New York. Thought it would make me feel close to you, but it only made me feel farther away.

  Did you get the promotion? Is it wrong for me to wish you didn’t?

  As I traced a finger over his words on the screen, a tear-filled haze surrounded me. His voice echoed in my head as I reread his message. I minimized the email and studied my desktop wallpaper where Dale and the dogs smiled back at me.

  gaia-girl706:

  I did get the promotion. Also had a fleeting wish that I was getting fired instead. No such twisted luck.

  New York’s supposed to be warmer than Alaska, but I have my doubts. Haven’t been able to get rid of this chill deep inside since leaving you.

  Wondered what happened to that sweatshirt. Hope Gypsy and Zynk let you keep it.

  I hit send and turned on the TV to have noise in my apartment. The quiet was deafening. Weird. I’d lived with that silence for a while, but tonight it was giving me a headache.

  A beep from my laptop shifted my attention from the TV to the computer screen. Dale was online.

  sled-dog16:

  Congrats on the job! I mean it.

  gaia-girl706:

  Thanks. What have you been doing?

  sled-dog16:

  Working at Ram’s Den. Training again. Building new addition to Ram’s Den. Dreaming about you every night. You?

  gaia-girl706:

  Writing. Organizing my new office. Eating large amounts of cookie dough ice cream. Icing my ankle. Longing for your touch. Stuff like that.

  How’s Jake? Your wrist?

  sled-dog16:

  Jake is up and around. Slow going for now. My wrist is bugging the crap out of me. I can only do so much work on the addition to the tavern. I hate having to slow down because of it.

  Your ankle?

  gaia-girl706:

  It’s better. Overdid it today, my first entire day on it. Have an appointment tomorrow to get it checked.

  I jumped when the phone rang on the end table beside me.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi.”

  “Dale?”

  “Uh-huh. I’m typing along, and then decided I’d much rather hear your actual voice.”

  “I can second that notion. Maybe we need to invest in web cams, because I’d much rather see you as well.”

  His husky laugh, even over the phone, made my skin tingle. “Close your eyes.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Just do it.” He waited for me to do as he’d asked.

  “Okay. They’re closed.”

  “I’m wearing gray sweatpants with a black T-shirt and gray socks. Gypsy is, once again, pinning me to the couch with her body over my lap, and Zynk is in the recliner. Can you picture us?”

  “Yeah. I totally can. You look tasty in my mental picture, by the way.”

  Another skin-tingling laugh. “I am tasty. Now describe yourself to me.”

  “Red and black checkered shorts, black T-shirt that says, ‘Don’t Poke the Beast’ in red letters across the fr—”

  Dale’s laughter cut me off. So musical, so soothing. I could listen to it for…for a lifetime.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, regaining control. “That’s a great shirt, and for some reason it makes me want to poke you all the more.”

  “You poked me just fine in my black silk underwear. You don’t need suggestions on T-shirts.”

  “True.” He was quiet for a moment.

  “Are you picturing the black silk underwear?”

  “Yep. Can’t help it. And even if it’s not, I’m picturing that golden mane of hair all around your shoulders and down your back. Your eyes are bluer than a summer sky, and your hands are dying to touch me everywhere. How’d I do?”

  “You’re a damn psychic.”

  “I’m working on teleportation next.”

  “I really hope you master it.”

  We chatted about a few other topics before Dale said, “Good night, Alanna.”

  “Night. I’ll call you next time if that’d be okay.”

  “Be better than okay.”

  We hung up and I sat on my couch, wondering if talking to him on the phone was better or worse than not talking to him at all. How would I ever get over him if his voice was always fresh in my head, in my heart? Did I want to get over him?

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The week trudged on. I went through the motions at work, pretending to be enthralled by my new position. I think I did a fairly good job fooling everyone. I may have even fooled
myself a few times as I got lost in a story idea or held a meeting with the writers working under me. Couldn’t fool Meg, however, who could read me like a book. I did complete substantial amounts of work. Depression tends to do that sometimes. You become overproductive in one area of your life to conquer the gaping holes in the other areas.

  My gaping hole widened each night I went to bed alone. I spent most nights wide awake thinking of Dale. When sleep did come, nightmares of Brian littered it. These horrid dreams played out every possible way I could have wound up dead because of him.

  On Thursday afternoon, Meg sauntered into my office, or our office as she had begun to call it, and sat on the end of my desk. Open-toed, leopard print heels dangled off her feet as she crossed her legs.

  “So, about your birthday tonight,” she said.

  I held up my palm to stop her. “Meg, there is no way—”

  “There is no way I’m going to ignore it, Alanna. Miserable as you are right now, I’m not looking forward to it, but we’re going out to dinner.”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “We can skip it, and ouch on the ‘miserable as you are right now’ comment.”

  “No. Skipping it only makes you more pathetic. We’re going to Berlina’s. Meet me there. Seven o’clock. Wear something that doesn’t look funeral-esque.”

  Before I could protest, Meg slid off my desk and click-clacked out of my office.

  Sometimes Meg could be such a tyrant.

  ****

  I hobbled into Berlina’s without the crutches. My doctor downscaled me to an ankle brace earlier in the week, which looked lovely with my little black dress, by the way. Scanning the crowded tables, I found Meg and headed toward her. As I approached, I also found Matt huddled next to Meg, nipping on her earlobe.

  Just what I needed. Third-wheel syndrome on my birthday. Fan-freaking-tastic.

  Huffing out a long breath, I sadistically continued on my way to the table. I cleared my throat. Meg and Matt looked up as if they’d just realized they were out in public.

  “Happy Birthday!” Meg got up and threw her arms around my neck.

  Matt stood and pulled out a chair for me. “Happy Birthday, Alanna.”

  “Thanks, Matt. It’s good to see you.” I painted on my best fake smile and sat in the chair he offered.