Breaking the Ice (31 page)

Bryson tucked the stack of clean plates into the cupboard. “I’ve considered it. Long and hard. Sure, a big part of me would be willing to sacrifice just about anything to keep from losing her. But I’d be giving up everything else that’s important to me if I moved away from Alaska. A big city isn’t for me. I’d suffocate. And what would I do there?” Leaving the wilderness, her mountains, and the cabin she had built with her own hands was unimaginable, as was giving up being a bush pilot. “I’m afraid one day I’d resent Karla for forcing me to make that choice.”

Maggie dried her hands with a towel and wrapped one arm around Bryson’s waist. “I wish I could do more for the two of you, but I’ll have to settle for giving up my sister for a few days.”

“What are you saying?”

“Lars and I can take care of things from here on. Carry her home, spoil her rotten, and cherish the time she has left. But bring her back for Christmas and give us a chance to say good-bye, okay?”

Bryson grinned and kissed Maggie on the cheek. “Have I told you lately how fabulous you are?”

“Not often enough. Now get her packed up and out of here. You don’t have much daylight left.”

Bryson gave her another quick peck, then hurried over to Karla, who was settling Karson back into her crib. She wrapped her arms around Karla’s waist from behind and whispered into her ear, “Have you any idea what you do to me when you bend over like that?”

Karla inhaled sharply. “Mean. Mean. Mean,” she grumbled. “Why are you getting me all stirred up when we don’t have a chance for some private time to do anything about it?”

“Oh, but there is. Maggie suggested I take you home with me until Christmas. You up for that?”

Karla turned in her arms, grinning. “Really?”

“How fast can you pack?”

“Just watch me.”

*

They spent the bulk of the next few days in bed, with short forays out for meals and walks. On the morning of Christmas Eve, Karla was awakened by kisses and opened her eyes to find a breakfast tray loaded with her favorite foods. “Mmm. You’re up early. How did you do all this without waking me?”

“I tried to be quiet.” Bryson reached for a slice of toast. “But frankly, I’ve discovered you sleep like the dead if I thoroughly exhaust you the night before.”

“Night before?” Karla laughed. “Morning, noon, and night before, you mean.”

“Not that I’m getting tired of our routine, you understand, but are you up for a little adventure today? I’ve got something special planned. It’ll involve going up in the Cub, but it’s only a short flight.”

She’d probably never fully embrace the idea of getting into Bryson’s plane, but the prospect made her less anxious than it once did. She’d come to trust that Bryson’s skill as a pilot was exceptional. “That’s all you’re going to tell me, isn’t it?”

“Yup. It’s a surprise.”

“Okay, then. I’m all yours. So far, I have to say that your surprises have been more than satisfying.” She glanced meaningfully toward the bedside table, where Bryson had stashed the strap-on that had gotten frequent use lately.

Bryson’s cheeks flamed red. “Stop that. We’ll never get out of here. Now eat up and get dressed. Put on the warmest things you have.”

“Yes, ma’am. I so love it when you get all forceful like that.”

At first light, Bryson flew them to Bettles. She steered Karla toward a small building tucked behind the post office. The sign outside read Arctic Independent Outfitters.

“Oh. This is where you and Lars work, right?”

Bryson nodded. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

The door led to a small waiting area, with chairs and a television and a host of older magazines scattered about. At one end was a reception desk and a hallway leading to more rooms. An attractive woman Karla didn’t recognize stood behind the desk, talking on the phone. She was five-ten or so and athletically built, with shoulder-length brown hair cut in a shag. Probably in her early forties. She hailed Bryson with a wave and cut short her conversation as soon as they approached.

“Hey, Bryson. Long time.” When she rounded the desk and embraced Bryson, Karla felt a twinge of jealousy.

“Too long,” Bryson replied, hugging the woman back with equal enthusiasm. “You ready to give up your day job and join the competition?”

The stranger laughed. “No, and no. But we should do dinner before classes resume. Have a lot of catching up to do.”

“You’re on. I’d like that.”

Karla forced herself to smile as Bryson turned to make introductions. Her heart sank at the realization she wasn’t even gone yet, and Bryson was already making plans with an ex.

“Karla, this is a dear friend, Chaz Herrick. Chaz, Karla Edwards.”

Chaz stuck out her hand and grinned at Karla. “Really happy to meet you, Karla. Bryson’s told me a lot about you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Karla returned the handshake. She wanted to punch herself for feeling jealous and resentful of the fact that Bryson had never mentioned Chaz. After all, what did she expect? She had no claim on Bryson. She’d be leaving the day after tomorrow, and Bryson would go on with her life.

“Everything set?” Bryson asked Chaz.

“Yup. Just like you asked.” Chaz winked at Bryson, who grinned. Karla felt another twinge of envy at their close camaraderie.

“I owe you. Come on, Karla. Let’s get you suited up.” Bryson took her elbow and led her toward one of the back rooms.

“Suited up? What’s going on?”

“I’m not taking any chances on you getting frostbite again.” Bryson showed her into a room filled with extreme-cold-weather gear—thermal parkas with fur-lined hoods, thick arctic gloves and face masks, and the white vapor-barrier “Mickey Mouse” boots designed for the U.S. military.

“Where are we going?” Karla asked as Bryson fitted her with an entire ensemble.

“You’ll see.”

Once they were both appropriately decked out, Bryson led them out the back entrance. Three dozen or more dogs, mostly huskies and malamutes, were chained beside small individual plywood dog houses. Another half-dozen dogs were hitched to a sled, standing off to one side.

Upon seeing the women, the dogs burst into a frenzy of excitement, straining at their chains and barking furiously.

“Oh, wow. We’re going dogsledding?”

Bryson wrapped an arm around her. “Okay surprise?”

“The best. I can’t wait.”

“Come on, then.” Bryson led her to the sled, which had a built-in seat in front, surrounded on either side by canvas to block the wind. Once Karla was comfortably settled in, with a thick lap blanket and her feet propped up on a cooler, Bryson climbed behind her to drive the sled.

As soon as Bryson put her weight on the rear footboards, the dogs went crazy, straining at their harnesses and barking to be underway. The sled bounced up and down a few inches, but stayed fast, thanks to a large metal claw-like hook that was deeply embedded in the packed snow.

“All set?” Bryson shouted over the cacophony from the dogs, as she placed one hand on the handlebar and reached down to grab the snow hook with the other.

“Let’s go,” Karla hollered back.

The sled took off along a well-packed snowmobile track heading north. The dogs were running flat-out, going twenty miles an hour, but it felt more like fifty. The only sounds were their pants for breath and the
shoosh
of the runners on the snow. In the distance was the Brooks Range. The days were the shortest of the year, the sun clearing the horizon for only a couple of hours before it disappeared again. When it could be seen, the world around them seemed always in twilight, with long, deep shadows stretching from every mountaintop and tree. Karla was almost afraid to speak, because she felt as though they were in some vast natural cathedral.

“Enjoying yourself?” Bryson asked after they’d gone a handful of miles.

She half turned to look up at Bryson, smiling and rosy-cheeked, the flaps of her fleece-lined bomber’s cap flapping in the breeze. The perfect picture of the confident outdoorswoman, blissfully content in her wild, untamed environment. “This is incredible. Thank you for arranging it.”

“My pleasure. We have Chaz to thank. She packed everything and got the dogs ready to go. Just sorry we couldn’t spend some time with her. I think you’d like her a lot.”

She doubted that
.
“I don’t remember seeing her name on the Web site.”

“She’s helping out, she’s not one of our regular guides. Chaz works for Orion Outfitters out of Winterwolf, leading kayak and backpack trips during the summer. The rest of the year she’s a biology professor at the University of Alaska in Fairbanks. We became best buds when I went to school there. Chaz is a lot like me—endures the city but flees to the bush every chance she gets. Every Christmas break she and her partner Megan come up and spend a few weeks in Bettles leading sled-dog trips.”

“Her partner? She’s gay?”

“Yeah. They met when Megan was a client on one of Chaz’s kayak trips. Megan was a vice president for World News Central in Chicago, but when they fell in love, she took a different job to move up here and be with Chaz.”

“How long have they been together?”

“Three—no, almost four years, I think. They went to Canada to get married a few months ago. I stop in at their cabin north of Fairbanks when I’m in the area.”

Karla went quiet, thinking about the similarities. This Megan had given up a great job and big-city lifestyle to move to Alaska for love, and apparently with no regrets if she and Chaz were still happily together. Could she do that? Change her whole way of life, leave all her friends and job behind and start over with Bryson and her new family here? Somehow, the challenge seemed less daunting than it should. Though her job in the ER was satisfying—she felt she was making an important contribution in people’s lives—it also took a heavy toll. Too many of her patients were victims of urban violence: shootings, stabbings, rape, bar fights, carjackings. She saw the worst of what people could do to each other.

Alaska’s beauty had soothed her troubled soul and helped her find the perspective she needed. The people here seemed to genuinely care about each other, so much they’d leave their doors unlocked to a stranger. Most important, though she’d only been here a matter of weeks, Bryson had completely captured her heart. She couldn’t imagine being happier with anyone else.

But even if she could make such a drastic change, what did Bryson want? They hadn’t discussed what would happen after she went back to Atlanta. Bryson seemed as caught up in their relationship as she was, yet she hadn’t asked for more than these precious few days together and hadn’t declared her love. Perhaps Bryson was this way with every woman she was involved with. Was she foolish to even be considering such a thing?

They were racing down a frozen river when Bryson laid a hand on her shoulder and pointed to a particularly spectacular group of rugged mountain tops. “Arrigetch Peaks. The entrance to the Gates of the Arctic National Park.”

“Arrigetch?”

“It translates as ‘fingers of the outstretched hand.’ An Eskimo legend says their creator stuck his glove here, and the frozen fingers turned into granite to remind them of him. Cool, huh?”

“Stunning.” The day was so clear she could see for miles in every direction. “How big is the park?”

“Thirteen thousand square miles,” Bryson said. “Roughly the size of Switzerland.”

“That boggles the mind. It makes me feel so small and insignificant.”

“Kind of the opposite for me. Native people have lived here for fifteen thousand years or more, and not much has changed in all that time. I half expect to see woolly mammoths and saber-toothed tigers around the next bend. Being here makes me feel ageless, like I’m part of the whole history and evolution of the earth. Like I’m making time stand still.”

Karla realized even more how much Bryson could never leave Alaska. It had formed who she was and was as necessary to her happiness and well-being as the clean air and crystal-clear water. If they were ever to be together, it would have to be here. Bryson wouldn’t be Bryson anywhere else, certainly not in a concrete jungle that rarely saw snow.

They sped along in silence for another half hour, absorbing the ever-changing view, until they came to the first sign of civilization—a fabric-covered Quonset hut that had been erected next to the trail. Bryson slowed the dogs to a stop and set the snow hook. “Ready for some lunch?”

“Starving. What’s this place?” Karla got out of the sled and stretched.

“It’s one of the stopping points for our sled-dog trips into the Brooks Range. Got a little heater inside and some cots.” Bryson took the cooler off the sled and led them into the hut. Chaz had packed them a small feast—chicken-salad sandwiches and coleslaw, a bottle of white wine, and brownies for dessert.

As they packed up to leave, Bryson looked at her watch.

“Are we heading back now?” Karla didn’t want their adventure to end.

“Yes, we should. It’ll be dark soon.”

“Is it safe to be on the trail at night?”

“It’s well-packed, so the dogs will follow it naturally. And I have a good headlamp. We’ll be fine.” Bryson secured the cooler to the sled. “It’s all according to plan. There’s one more sight I want you to take home with you, so you won’t forget us too soon.”