Sharing Spaces (18 page)

Charlie called after her but she paid him no heed. Jack cursed the day he'd ever set eyes on that creature, but for lack of anything else to do, he plunged after her, holding his rifle and the flashlight up as he waded through bog water that sometimes reached mid-thigh. He could hear Charlie thrashing close on his heels as he kept his eyes fixed on the dark little dog that was steadily drawing away from them. The crackie's bearing was true. Sure enough, she was going after the
wolf. In his helpless rage, Jack hoped the wolf ate the useless beast.

The crackie gained higher ground and quickly disappeared from view. By the time they reached the place where she had vanished a good five minutes had passed. Chances were they'd never see her again because if she had gone after that wolf, she was done for. Jack bent over his knees and struggled to catch his breath while Charlie called the dog over and over again, unable to believe that she was truly gone.

“You're wasting your time,” Jack said, straightening. And then he heard another sound. Very faint. Almost imagined. He held up his hand to silence Charlie's calls. “Did you hear that?” he said. And then without waiting for an answer he bellowed Senna's name as loudly as he could.

He waited, hardly daring to hope. But there! Over there! The sound came again, very faint but unmistakably human.

“Which direction do you make that?” he said, knowing the boy's senses were keener, and Charlie pointed. The boy knew the wilderness the way city kids knew city streets. Jack immediately set off in the direction Charlie had indicated, stopping every few hundred feet to holler again and wait for a response. The faint sound became gradually louder, until he could hear that she was calling out his name every time he called out hers. By now he was half running, his forearm shielding his eyes from any unseen branches in the murky light. He fell twice on the rough ground and forced himself to slow down. Wouldn't do if he busted a leg now.

It took forever to reach her, and when he did he stopped so abruptly that Charlie rammed into him from
behind. Senna was kneeling with her arms around the little black crackie in front of what looked like a pile of brush. “Jack!” she cried when she spotted him, and suddenly she was in his arms, plastered against him, holding him tightly. “I knew you'd come. I knew you would!”

“Are you all right?” Jack handed his rifle to Charlie and held Senna as tightly as she was holding him, weak with relief that she was alive, that she was in his arms. She was soaking wet and after a few moments he felt her begin to shake. “We'll get you warmed up,” he said. “Are you hurt?” Her face gleamed up at him, as pale as the moon and laced with scratches from her journey through the woods.

“I knew you'd come, Jack,” she repeated. “I knew you'd find me.”

Charlie, unbidden, was already building a fire. He used the dried moss hanging on the dead black spruce limbs for kindling, and a few wax scrapings from a candle stuffed in his pocket to ignite it. While Jack swiftly rigged the rope and tarp between two trees, Charlie fed bigger and bigger pieces of kindling into the flames until the wetness of the wood no longer mattered and the fire leapt high, reflecting its light and warmth.

“I brought dry clothes,” Jack said, pushing Senna under the tarp and uncapping the thermos. “I want you to change into them, but drink this first.” She took the cup with trembling hands and sipped. “Drink all of it,” he ordered, pulling the clothing out of the pack.

“I thought I heard a wolf,” she said. “And when I slept, I dreamt about one standing right outside my shelter, looking in.”

“Keep drinking.”

She obediently sipped, and then her whole body was gripped by convulsive shivers. “Oh, God, I'm so cold.”

“Keep shivering, that's a good sign. You're more than a little hypothermic. Okay, hand over that cup and strip out of those wet things while Charlie and I get more wood for the fire. The clothes I brought'll be huge on you, but they're dry.”

Beyond the light cast from the fire Jack stood in the rain, his knees weak. He was shaking as badly as she was. He caught sight of the crackie hovering on the edge of the firelight and called her to him, dropping to the ground to embrace her. “All the laying hens you can eat, girl, and steak once a week,” he muttered gratefully into the little dog's ear, his voice hoarse with emotion.

 

S
ENNA DIDN'T REMEMBER MUCH
at all about their trip out of the woods four hours later in the predawn light. She had no sense of how long it took, only that her legs wouldn't work right and Jack ended up carrying her most of the way through that wretched bog while she kept repeating, over and over, “Put me down. I can walk.”

She was still saying it as he carried her along the narrow game path to the river, down the brush-choked shore, and up the steep ramp to the lodge one slow step at a time. Still mumbling it when he bypassed the dark lodge and kicked open the door to the guides' cabin, hollering to Charlie to fire up the woodstove while he lowered her gently onto the bottom bunk. He lit the lamp, and Senna gazed at his rugged, handsome profile in the golden light. “I could have walked,” she said.

“Charlie, get that stove as hot as you can while I get
the plane ready. I'll fly her into Goose Bay, there's a good hospital there.”

“I'm fine,” Senna insisted. “I was fine the moment you found me. Being lost isn't a fatal disease.”

What on earth was the matter with him? Jack acted as if she were dying. There was so much to do at the lodge but she'd wasted an entire day and her feet hurt and nothing had been accomplished except she'd gotten big blisters on her heels. Her legs ached. Cold. It was so cold in here…. She heard the cabin door open and close.

“Jack?”

“I'm right here.” Good to have him moving close, bending near. His hand brushed the hair back from her forehead. Hand rough with callouses. Strong hand. Tender gesture. Sweet. She closed her own hand around his wrist, relishing the warmth.

“I knew you'd come, Jack.”

“You're safe now, Senna. It's over.”

“Did you see the wolf?”

“No, but we heard it howl.”

“I'm not sure I really saw it. I think I must have dreamt it.”

His hand brushed her forehead again. “Charlie showed me the tracks. That wolf looked right into the shelter you built, and if it hadn't howled when it did, Ula might not have found you, though she brought us damn close. Now sit up for me and drink another cup of my special brew while I get the plane ready.” He helped to prop her against some pillows, pressed a hot mug into her hand, then turned to leave.

“Jack?” Senna said as he opened the cabin door. He paused and looked back, questioningly. “I'm not going
anywhere,” she said. “I'm cold and tired, but I'll be fine just as soon as the cabin warms up. If you'll just let me stay here for a little while, I'll be fine….”

Fifteen minutes later the cabin's temperature was at least a hundred degrees, Senna had finished the mug of his special brew, and she was lying on her side as the warmth worked its way through her, inside and out, watching Jack boil up a pot of oatmeal. He was talking about the benefits of oatmeal with honey and raisins, narrating as he cooked. His voice soothed and comforted and lulled her toward sleep. She closed her eyes, intending to continue listening until the oatmeal was done, but when she opened them again sunlight was streaming through the cabin window. She lay very still for a moment, relishing both the warmth of her bed and the feeling of safety that she felt in this little cabin. Gradually her gaze focused on Jack, who was slumped at the table, head cradled in the curve of his arm, asleep.

Charlie was in his bunk, the crackie curled at his feet, but the bunk above her was empty. Jack could have slept there, but he obviously hadn't made it that far. Senna moved her legs and felt the weariness in her muscles. She could only imagine what Jack would feel like when he wakened, after the extreme exertion he'd made hours earlier. He looked so vulnerable, sleeping like that. So much like a boy, yet there was nothing boyish about him, except maybe that brash grin of his, and his naive enthusiasm when it came to this place.

She pushed the blankets back, noting that he'd added another while she slept. Four blankets, all wool. No way had he taken any chances on her getting cold again. She swung her legs over the edge of the bunk and stretched. The crackie lifted her head and gazed at her
with those sharp black eyes. “Hey, little girl,” Senna said softly. “You have my undying gratitude.”

Ula studied her a moment longer and then dropped her head back onto her paws and heaved a weary sigh. Senna stood, and stared down at the clothes she was wearing; they hung off her like dish rags off pot hooks. Jack's clothes. Huge. Long johns, ragg-wool socks, stiff wool shirt and matching thick wool Swedish army pants. She bent down and rolled the pant cuffs up enough so that she could walk, and then moved to the stove. A deep bed of embers still glowed within, and she fed a few sticks into the firebox, filled the coffeepot with fresh water, and measured coffee into the basket.

Within minutes the water was boiling and the smell of coffee permeated the cabin. Senna put a frying pan onto the stovetop and rummaged through the icebox for anything to eat. Gordina's horrific cooking had inspired Jack to keep his own stash of food on hand, and Senna found everything she needed to make a fine breakfast in his cooler. Soon the smell of hickory smoked bacon joined the fragrant plumes of coffee steaming out of the pot, and Jack awoke. He did so with a jerk, lifting his head off his arms and sitting up suddenly. For a moment he stared at her without reaction, but then he slumped forward onto his elbows and rubbed his hand over his face. “You should be in bed,” he said, pushing away from the table to rise. “I'll fix you something to eat and then feed the dogs.”

Senna dropped her hand onto his shoulder and pressed him back down into the chair. “I'm perfectly fine, and it's my turn to cook.”

Senna filled two mugs with coffee and handed one to Jack, who was studying her in that maddening way
of his. “Don't take this the wrong way, because without a doubt you're the toughest, smartest, and most beautiful business partner I could ever hope for,” he said as he accepted the mug of coffee, “but the next time you decide to follow a set of fresh wolf tracks, at least take a map, a compass and waterproof matches. Better yet, take me.”

Senna lifted her hand. “Say no more. I learned that lesson the hard way.”

Jack blew the steam off the top of his mug, eyes narrowing. “You did good, building that shelter the way you did and staying put. That was smart. Most people who get lost in a big wilderness get so scared they start running and can't stop.”

“Believe me, my little adventure started out that way.”

He slouched back in his chair, hair tousled and unshaven face still showing deep weariness. “Just please don't go running off like that again. That escapade took ten years off my life.”

“I'm sorry. You shouldn't have carried me the whole way.”

“You don't weigh much more than a minute.”

“I could have walked.”

“If the going had been easier, maybe, but it was pretty dark and getting through that damn bog was nasty. Believe me.
Nasty.
”

“Believe
me,
I know. I went through it many times myself, over and over like a human eggbeater trying to thrash my way out,” Senna said.

“Maybe I should have let you walk, but you were rambling on about all this stuff that didn't make any
sense at all and I knew I had to get you back here and warmed up as fast as possible.”

“Well, thank you.” Senna dropped her eyes to hide her feelings, because suddenly, embarrassingly, unbearably, what she wanted to do at that moment, even with Charlie asleep on his bed, was lean over and kiss him. “I promise I won't go chasing after wolves again any time soon.”

“Chase after them all you want, just promise to take me with you.” He shook his head, studying her again. “It's not every woman who has a wolf come to her door.”

“I'm still not sure that wasn't a dream,” she said.

“Dreams don't leave tracks.” He scraped his chair back and stood, stretching. He moved to the stove and fed another stick into it. Even after all he'd been through, he still moved in that confident, athletic way. The man was enormously strong to have carried her so far. Senna wished she could remember more of that awful journey but it was all a blur. She'd have to get Ula some special treat, and Jack…what could she ever do to repay him? She was wise enough to realize that if he and Charlie's crackie hadn't found her, she would have been in serious trouble.

“How many eggs?” she asked, holding the carton in her hand.

“Between the two of us we can take care of a dozen, easy,” he replied. “Throw 'em all in the bacon fat, woman. I'm going to wash up and shave and dish the dogs up some breakfast. Poor bastards were neglected yesterday. Didn't get their supper.”

He returned just as she was taking the bacon out of the pan. His hair was still dripping and his freshly
shaven jaw was razor-burned from his brisk scrub-up in the river. “I met an old friend of your grandfather's in Goose Bay yesterday. George Pilgrim,” he said, pouring himself another mug of coffee. “Retired ranger, and the best guide and outdoorsman I've ever known.” Jack dropped back into his chair. “Fact is, he's the reason I was late getting back here. We had lunch together. He was having surgery today for some intestinal thing, and I told him he could come here to recuperate. I hope that's okay with you.”

Senna glanced at him over her shoulder, spatula in hand. “Of course it is. You'll need to find out from his doctors exactly what he needs, because out here, you better have what's important when you need it.”

Jack nodded. “I'll make sure.”