Deep in the Alaskan Woods Read online

  “We’re not far from early hard frosts next month. Just dig up a few of the plants crowded in by the front door of the lodge—or your little Spenser will. Out there, near the tree line, is our shed, and it’s loaded with planters and pots we don’t use.”

  Suze headed out the door. Alex blinked back tears again at how kind everyone was, how helpful and generous. At home, at least since working at the vet clinic and catering to Lyle’s schedule and demands, she seemed to have no close friends but only acquaintances. She should have realized she was in trouble since her best friend was her dog. Lyle had been a lover but never really a friend, because he was always her superior and let her know it. Now that she thought about it from this distance, it was as if she were his pet to be coddled but controlled—kept on a leash.

  She shuddered, grateful she was safe and free, then, after assessing her own life, took a moment to assess the stock here in the store. Mosquito spray in bright metal cans. She’d overheard more than once last night that it was only the alder wood smoke keeping the “little buggers” at bay and that “real” Alaskans used more subtle, natural ways to ward off insects. Also, someone had joked that mosquitoes were the official state insect.

  She saw some rustic antiques here. Over to the far side were displayed an antique-looking Antiques sign, a copper kettle and a lovely array of hand-carved duck decoys. There were examples of scrimshaw and beautiful baskets of several sizes, several made with what was labeled as porcupine quills. She’d have to keep an eye on Spenser so he didn’t try to chase porcupines, if they lived nearby. Despite his small size and one eye, like his breed, he was strong-willed and could be fierce.

  She fingered quilted or woven place mats on a counter that also held a display of small, charming, wood-framed paintings Suze had done of scenes in both warm weather and the dead of winter.

  And now, she thought, her own prettily packaged products would be put on display. She bent to unpack her first box. Then, hopefully with help from a tech-savvy computer person, she could lock down her website against any hacking and figure out how to erase her digital footprint, or at least smudge it. That way Lyle couldn’t ever find and harm it—or her.

  6

  Alex was on her knees, still unpacking products, when a long shadow fell across her feet. She looked up, expecting Suze was back, thinking her little watchdog should have barked, though he had his head up and his ears on alert.

  A tall form filled the door she’d left open for fresh air. She blinked into the light while Spenser got up and gave a single bark of greeting, not of warning.

  “Sorry to startle you,” Quinn Mantell said. “I needed to drop off these DVDs of our TV show, because they sold out and—ah, some of these are new episodes.” He glanced at Spenser. “Okay for a pickup? Spenser, I mean. Is it okay if I pick him up?”

  “Sure. He seems to like you and he’s often wary of new people—or someone he doesn’t like. I appreciate your remembering his name,” she said, getting to her feet but thinking how different this was from the way the little guy would have greeted Lyle.

  “So, not to be nosy, but how did he lose an eye?” he asked as he scooped up the dog, wagging tail and all. Only then did she realize she hadn’t unhooked his leash, so she stepped forward to do that. Again, Quinn smelled of fresh air and pine—freedom.

  “He’s a rescue,” she explained, stepping back and putting the leash on the counter. “I’m not sure exactly what happened, but his first owner hurt him, then more or less abandoned him. I was afraid no one would want him from the shelter. It’s a tough world for little animals, even domestic ones. I would have taken in more rescues or strays, but where I lived had a one-dog rule. And my living in one bedroom here means it’s just Spenser and me for now.”

  Had she overexplained? Rattled on too much?

  Their eyes met. His were like green lasers, totally focused on her before he looked down at the dog again. She watched as his big hand, the one still holding the sack, stroked Spenser’s head. A big, tanned hand. She remembered the feel of his rough skin when they shook hands yesterday. She liked that he wasn’t someone who had to fill the air with talk, so that what he said seemed to really matter.

  “Here, let me take your DVDs.” He passed the paper sack to her. “I know right where they go. So what was your Scottie’s name when you were growing up?”

  He hesitated a moment, almost as if he couldn’t remember or had made that up, but no—he just looked sad and almost as if he couldn’t speak. He probably still missed the dog. She could surely understand that.

  “It wasn’t very original or imaginative, but I do have a good imagination now,” he added with a slight crimp of his lips. “It was Scottie. He died too early, and I—I never replaced him.”

  Quinn’s voice snagged. Some childhood nightmare buried deep, she thought.

  “So,” he went on, clearing his throat when she could have kicked herself for not saying something to change the subject, “I hear you sell herbal beauty products. I like things natural and raw.” He picked up one of the jars of Dandelion Body Butter she’d stacked on the counter because they were on top of the first carton.

  She watched as he squinted at the small print and lifted one dark eyebrow. He read aloud, “Body butters are rich, so remember that a little bit goes a long way.” Like some silly teenager, she started to blush again. She could feel it coming on, darn it.

  When she thought he might tease her or even say something suggestive when he looked over at her again, he said instead, “About natural products. Take all these cans of mosquito spray,” he said, gesturing and bouncing Spenser a bit as if he were a baby. “The savvy locals simply use cedar wood or smoke to keep bugs away. Mint, yarrow and sage work the same way but not as well.”

  She was impressed with his knowledge of that. She had a lot to learn here, about herbs and flowers she could use, about everything. And she was touched by how he handled Spenser. But she kept seeing a big, flashing Beware! sign in her head. Lyle had started out chatty, clever, though Spenser had seemed to see right through him from the first.

  In the awkward silence, she blurted, “What is the one key thing you tell your students about tracking?”

  “Just one thing? Pick up your feet when you walk, don’t shuffle. Americans, especially, shuffle. In the wilds, it leaves a trail, and makes noise and slows you down. It’s one of the things I can use to track someone, though. Drag marks and footprints can be read like—like labeling on a jar of body butter. How fast the person is moving, if they are getting tired, if they limp, lots more.”

  “Impressive. Okay. And in return for that, and for being so kind to Spenser, I hope you will accept a jar of Sunflower Skin Cream. For someone who is outside as much as you, it’s great. It doesn’t have a flowery scent, because I didn’t add lilac or rose essence to this one, so it’s not feminine. Just the opposite.”

  She kneeled again and scrabbled around in the carton at her feet, producing a jar.

  He extended his hand for it—no, actually, he helped her up before he took the jar. “In exchange I’ll take you for a beginner’s walk in the woods sometime these next two days before my new class starts. Deal?”

  “Just around here? With Spenser?”

  “Over to Falls Lake but not with our friend Spenser until I point out some things about having a beloved pet in these woods—for safety’s sake.”

  “He likes Chip. I bet he’ll take him for a while. Do you know my favorite saying by Thoreau? He wrote, ‘I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.’”

  She was astounded he seemed so easily, so suddenly, moved by that quote, more so than he had been earlier when she asked his childhood dog’s name. His eyes filled with tears that speckled his lashes when he blinked, but he did not try to brush
the tears away.

  “Sorry,” he said, putting Spenser in her arms but keeping the cream. “The woods—and dying. My father and my dog were mauled and killed by a bear in the woods about fifty miles from here when I was seven and had disobeyed and run on ahead, hiding from them. They were looking for me when...when it happened. I—sorry,” he repeated, and wiped a big index finger under one eye.

  She felt she’d been punched in the stomach. “Just a kid, you didn’t know,” she tried to comfort him, but her voice broke, too. She hadn’t meant to trigger such a terrible memory. “I—I’m new here and maybe others knew about your tragedy. I realize I have a lot to learn.”

  “Hey, over fifty percent of the population wasn’t born here,” he said, seeming back in control already or wanting to change the subject. “They say it’s a state full of renegades and thrill seekers, but it’s also a place for runaways.”

  She just stared up at him, strangely feeling as if she were looking at another astounding natural Alaskan scene. What to say, but he held up a hand like a traffic cop. “No, that’s all right. Don’t apologize. You know,” he added with a single sniff, “even a brief walk in the woods can restore us. I like that Thoreau quote. I’ll look it up, because it rings true for me. So, I’ve got guests coming in from New York today and gotta go pick them up at the airport in Anchorage. He’s my producer and one of two key investors, flies into town on his private jet, no less. I’ll send his wife, who doesn’t usually come, over here to check out your products, because she’s pretty well connected there, and you never know. After all, who knew that a guy like me would end up on TV? See you then, Alex and Spenser.” He lifted a hand in farewell and walked away down the stone path toward the lodge.

  She had the feeling he was going to say more, to ask her something else. But he’d mentioned a walk in the woods. At least he hadn’t probed about why she was here, maybe what she was running from.

  But what rattled her the most when she had decided to absolutely swear off men at least for several years was that the big stranger really got to her, and suddenly didn’t seem like a stranger at all. And he’d shared a tragedy from his past, and maybe, since he’d run on ahead to hide that day his dad died, he somehow blamed himself for what had happened.

  She totally understood that and felt for him. She missed a twin sister she had never known whom she may have unintentionally hurt but would love eternally.

  * * *

  “So anything new around here to cover or uncover?” Geoff Baldwin asked Quinn while Ginger was still in the guest bedroom. The two men sat out on the small, screened-in porch Quinn had built on the back of his cabin. It faced the rain forest that hugged his land, so thick with trees that you could not so much as glimpse the lake from here. They each had a tumbler partially filled with Scottish whiskey they kept sipping.

  Quinn liked to sit out here at night, and the screens kept the mosquitoes away. He even liked sitting here in the pitch-black night to listen to the forest sounds. He could hear the loons on the lake and, from the distant tundra, the martens’ squeaking shouts during mating season.

  His mind skipped to Alex Collister. New topics to cover or uncover? Geoff had asked. Quinn wanted to know her better, get closer in more ways than one, but she seemed to put up an invisible barrier. And he didn’t want her to bolt if he moved too fast. He had a good sense of tracking, but women were especially hard to read and she—

  “Quinn?” Geoff’s voice broke in. “You okay? Been working too hard again?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  “Your ratings are, I’ll tell you that. Makes it easier to attract new sponsors, maybe get a better spot than ten p.m. Eastern Standard Time one night a week. Brent tells me Ryker’s doing a great job with the camera and audio, though we still need you to dub some voice-overs in the studio when you get to New York next time. Man, I wish the LA woman wasn’t hanging around. Ryker told me she was coming for a weekend, and she talks him into shopping in Anchorage today before I could tell him to join us here. You let me know if he starts slipping up in other ways, though, since he really knows the ropes, I’d hate to replace him. We’ve got to listen to Brent’s advice, too, and he thinks this Val is a ditz and a distraction.”

  “Ryker’s work has not slipped. But yeah, she does want him to leave Podunk, as I heard her call Falls Lake. You usually don’t send Brent Bayer, your lawyer, fixer and main investor, in without you. He’s still a happy camper, isn’t he?”

  “For sure, wants to expand the show, bigger and better, always. He likes visiting here and treats the Q-Man franchise as if it were his baby, so I’m grateful for that. You know he likes to keep an eye on things, just like he does his other cable TV investments, though those are mostly in Hollywood.”

  “I worry that Val wants Ryker to try his skills in California, which would not suit him at all. He really loves the wilderness shoots, and I appreciate that.”

  “Well, as long as he keeps sending the studio-quality digital material. I take it she won’t go out to film with you guys.”

  “No, I think she’d hate it out in the wilds, anyway, definitely a city girl.”

  Ginger joined them with her glass of wine. She was as lightly red-haired as Geoff was blond. Though both Baldwins were midfifties, she looked more like a thin model, a natural beauty like...like the woman who made Natural Beauty products. He’d actually tried some of the Sunflower Skin Cream. Smooth. He wondered if she used it on her skin. Just her hands? All over?

  Ginger was saying, “This sure is a far cry from the view of skyscrapers and the Hudson River. Quinn, did I ever tell you I had a twentieth-floor, ringside seat to that so-called Miracle on the Hudson? You know, where that pilot landed on the water and saved his crew and passengers? Oh, but you were telling me one of the women who run the lodge lost her husband in a plane crash, so I won’t repeat that around here again.”

  Geoff sighed heavily, so Quinn guessed she told almost everyone about that famous event she had witnessed firsthand, something exciting in her daily life. Hell, she should move here where there was never a dull moment. At least Ginger appreciated the scenery and could tell her Manhattan friends she’d been to raw Alaska, seen wild animals, met the primitive species of the area, including Q-Man Mantell.

  Quinn reminded himself to be sure Ginger stopped by Alex’s Gifts and More to check out her products. He’d take both of them over. Alex had quoted Thoreau on why he went to the woods. Quinn had to admit he had a new reason to go to the woods, to take a walk and have more time together.

  * * *

  Alex, with Chip and Spenser in tow, enjoyed her personal tour of the lodge by the twins that evening. There was a large, mounted TV in the common room, though not any in the bedrooms. Maybe Alaskans and visitors weren’t as hung up on the news or newest shows here. Books and magazines were stashed in one corner with comfy leather chairs. Other seating arrangements were grouped to look out the back windows facing thick forest and the distant Talkeetna Mountains. She knew Falls Lake was out there, too, but you had to hike a ways to see it.

  They showed her around the back service rooms, especially the kitchen where they had a cook come in to fix lunches and dinners, though the twins did some of that, too. Suze handled a hearty breakfast buffet and Meg oversaw their two maids and their handyman—Sam’s brother, Josh—whom she had met. There was a small break room for the staff near a partly empty storage room where she could wedge in a worktable and electric burners to make her products. It had a window with a view of the gift shop.

  Alex formally met the lodge dogs—King, a cocker spaniel, and a boxer mix named Buffy, a stray from town. She could see the boxer had an ear infection, which she’d soon clear up with a spray bottle of apple cider vinegar and water and a hot compress. Then, too, she should probably make some sort of collar cone for a few days so the dog would stop scratching it. She was so glad she could contribute in any way.

  She quickly lear
ned that Chip had small plastic toys he secreted under furniture and behind planters when he saw his mother coming, so Meg was evidently strict on keeping the place picked up and neat. Alone in the common room that night, Alex peeked under a sofa where she’d seen him stash something. Just a Luke Skywalker flier and some other Star Wars space vehicles, quite beat up. Oh, and a World War II‒era plastic bomber that had seen better days, too. She wondered if these had been gifts from his father, but she knew better than to ask, at least right now.

  Out in the common room, four guests were sitting at tables playing poker and talking about what it would be like to check in at Quinn’s camp tomorrow. Three other men had turned on the huge TV screen, and there was Quinn, almost life-size, pointing out different types of animal tracks and how to read where the animals were headed and how much they weighed.

  She was surprised to see Josh go by this late with a mop and bucket. He just shook his head at the men glued to the TV. He looked a lot like Sam, but smaller—and then there was that tattoo. He didn’t greet anyone, but was probably intent on his work. She wondered if he got paid by the hour or had a set salary. Well, she had a lot to learn around here, let alone in Alaska in general.

  She looked back at Quinn on the large screen. She had to admit the man was, well, telegenic. He often looked straight into the camera, and his voice was deep and clear. And the scenery was stunning, if she could make herself look away from him.

  Stop it! she told herself. The last thing in the universe you need right now is to get attracted to some man. One horrific mistake in judgment does not have to lead to another.

  “So, you ready to turn in?” Suze asked. “Beddy-bye awaits. He kind of makes you think of that, doesn’t he?” She sighed and nodded at the TV. “You should watch his episode on making an emergency camp and a warm bed and getting a good night’s sleep.”

  They both smiled, and Alex playfully punched Suze’s arm as they said good night and went their own ways. Suze had the first bedroom down the hall in the opposite direction from Alex, whereas Meg had the first one on this side of the common room, a room adjoining Chip’s. Suze had said Meg and Ryan Metzler had owned a house in town, which Meg could not afford to keep after he died. So in a couple of weeks, Chip would be riding a school bus rather than just walking to his new first grade class in town.