anymore.
She looked out on the strange, white world and was struck by the purity of it all.
Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow.
She would never think of those holy words the same way again.
Thank You, Lord, for Your love and forgiveness. And thank You for bringing me here. At last.
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she sniffed and blinked them back. She scooped Nugget into her arms. “How would you like to go for our first walk in the snow?”
The hotel lobby was even busier than the night before and, save for the numerous dead animals on the walls, it seemed everyone had an official Gold Rush Trail name tag hanging around their neck. Clementine almost felt naked without one. A huge banner that read “Welcome Gold Rush Trail Volunteers!” was hoisted above a smooth, lacquered counter at the foot of the staircase. Behind the counter, a map of Alaska covered the wall, floor-to-ceiling. The trail the sled dog teams would cover during the race was marked out in red dashes, all the way from Aurora to the village of Nome, close to the Arctic Circle.
Look at that! I’m almost at the top of the world!
“Can I help you?” A tall woman wearing a neon-orange skullcap greeted her from behind the desk.
“Oh, sure.” Clementine took a step closer to the counter, and Nugget followed along at the end of her pink leather leash.
“Cute dog.” The woman, whose name was Bea, according to her name tag, smiled down at the Pomeranian. “We’re all dog lovers around here, although we don’t often see ones that are so tiny.”
Clementine’s thoughts immediately turned to the handsome man she’d met the night before—Kodiak’s dad. He was so rugged, so Alaskan. She remembered with less fondness his warning about Nugget looking more like a snack than a canine. And his reprimand about her shoes. “I’ll keep a close eye on her.”
“Good idea.” Bea nodded. “Are you a volunteer? Can I help get you checked in?”
“Yes. My name is Clementine Phillips from Houston, Texas. I’m a researcher for Nature World magazine. They sent me to volunteer and report back about the race.”
Bea flipped through the box of name badges on the countertop until she found the right one. “So you’re volunteering as a…sled dog handler?”
Her gaze flitted to Nugget once again, and her lips twitched into a smirk.
Clementine tightened her grip on Nugget’s leash. “Yes.”
“Have you ever worked with sled dogs before?” Bea appeared to be putting forth great effort to not look directly at Nugget anymore.
“Um, not exactly.” Did sifting through photos of sled dogs for Nature World count? She certainly wasn’t going to mention that she’d never actually seen one in the flesh—er, fur—until last night. “But there’s a training class, right?”
“Yes.” Bea’s voice turned dead serious. “The class is mandatory if you don’t already have your sled dog handler certification card.”
“I’ll be there. I’ve already registered for the class.”
“Good. It’s mandatory.”
“I understand.” What was her problem?
“Even if you have a Ph.D. in dog, you’ve got to take the class.” She held out Clementine’s name tag but didn’t appear willing to let it go.
Clementine tugged on it a few times until she finally managed to wrestle it out of Bea’s reluctant fingers. Good grief! “Thanks again for the reminder. I’ll be at the class. It’s tomorrow afternoon, right?”
“Tomorrow at noon.” She glanced down at Clementine’s pink UGGs. “Dress warm. You’ll be spending an hour or two outside in the parking lot.”
Clementine resisted the urge to salute and say “Yes, ma’am.” She said a silent prayer of thanks for Bea’s neon hat. At least she would be able to see her coming from a distance, and she could run in the other direction. “Okay.”
“Here’s your volunteer hat and T-shirt.” She slid them across the counter with no small amount of reluctance.
Clementine took the items and slipped her lanyard over her head, with her name tag facing outward. There! She looked as official as all of the other people milling about. “Thank you.”
“You know…” Bea called out to her as she turned to go. “You can always change your mind. We have plenty of other volunteer jobs. Like filing. Or answering phones.”
Clementine’s face burned, and it was a struggle to keep her voice even. “No, thank you. I’m here to work with the dogs.”
Honestly. Filing? Answering telephones? Those wouldn’t exactly make fascinating topics for an article in the magazine. She might as well be sitting back in her cubicle in Texas.
Even as the thought crossed her mind, her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and examined the screen.
Sure enough, her cubicle had managed to follow her to Alaska.
She cleared her throat, just in case it was her boss. If she didn’t come off as confident, he’d never send her anywhere again. He most certainly didn’t need to know the race personnel were trying to talk her into answering phones. “Hello?”
“Clementine, thank goodness. You made it in one piece.” Natalie Marshall, her officemate, sighed into the phone.
Clementine’s heart lifted at the sound of her voice. In addition to sharing a cubicle, she and Natalie were good friends. As close as two people who spend forty-plus hours a week within five feet of one another could be.
She settled on one of the brown leather sofas in the lobby and scooped Nugget into her lap. “I’m here.”
“Are you frozen solid?”
Clementine laughed. “Almost.”
“You asked for it. Remember? Over and over and over again, as I recall.”
“Oh, I recall.” Clementine’s voice turned wistful as she thought about all the times she’d begged to go on one of the plum research assignments out in the field, and the grim look on her fiancé’s face last year when she told him she’d finally gotten the one in Alaska.
It hadn’t been the first sign of trouble in their engagement, but it had been the one that really got her attention. Then, six short months later, there was no engagement.
Natalie whispered into the phone, signaling her call wasn’t all about work. “Listen, you will not believe what I saw driving down Memorial Drive this morning.”
Clementine took a wild guess. “A car?”
“No. I mean there were cars, obviously, but that’s not what I’m talking about,” Natalie huffed.
