Alaska Heart (3 page)

With my precious flat screen TV on to fill the silence, I munched and jotted ideas for the Denali piece. Soon, I had a decent list assembled. From the list, I constructed a series of questions to send to sled-dog16. I indulged in daydreaming that we sat across from one another, mugs of hot cocoa wafting steam between us while I asked and he answered. He was right. It would be easier to call him and conduct an official interview as I would for any other story. Something about that notion, however, made me feel as if I’d be turning a corner—one I wasn’t ready to face.

After emailing the questions, I spent another two hours drafting my Denali proposal. Fresh excitement built as it all took shape. I visited a few sites online to garner preliminary information. Then I sketched an opening paragraph, just for fun. The pictures I found were unbelievable. I itched to hike over the pinecone-ridden trails, crisp air filling my city-scarred lungs.

As I marveled over these photos, each one drawing me deeper into nature’s perfection, a ding snapped me back to real time.

sled-dog16:

Got your questions. Answering them right now while lazing in my favorite recliner. Want photos too?

Could someone be deemed adorable purely by the way he phrased an email?

gaia-girl706:

I’ll take anything you’re willing to share.

sled-dog16:

Anything?

gaia-girl706:

Anything about Denali.

sled-dog16:

Damn.
☺
I tried.

Can I ask you a question?

Uh-oh. A question. Where was this going?

gaia-girl706:

As long as I have the option to not answer.

sled-dog16:

Always.

gaia-girl706:

Ask away then.

sled-dog16:

What are you wearing right now?

Laughter overpowered the TV’s volume as I read sled-dog16’s question. Looking down at my sweats, I made a decision.

gaia-girl706:

Who said I was wearing anything right now?

My response was so Meg-ish that I had to laugh. Hanging with her did give me a window into what worked and what didn’t when it came to men. I usually had no desire to test my observations, but with sled-dog16 it was different. We would never meet, never fall head over heels in love with each other. Never mean so much to each other that when one of us did something supremely stupid, the other was left to live with a huge hole where her heart used to be.

No. With sled-dog16 it was fun and games. Nothing heavy. Just the way I wanted it.

sled-dog16:

Naked in NY. I like it. I’d do the same, but it’s too cold for casual nudity in Fairbanks.

I’ll have these questions answered in about an hour. That okay?

gaia-girl706:

Perfect. Thanks again.

sled-dog16:

No, thank you. I’ve got a good image of a naked writer in my head now. Very inspirational.

gaia-girl706:

Depends on which naked writer you have in your head.

sled-dog16:

Had to spoil it, didn’t you? Now I can’t get a naked Edgar Allan Poe out of my head.

Later.

Funny guy, that sled-dog16. What else was he?

I shut down my laptop, watched a TV documentary about the psychology of a killer, and got seriously freaked. Another reason to not meet Internet “friends” regardless of how humorous they were in their emails.

After a hot shower, I dragged my laptop into the bedroom and got under the covers. Felt inclined to keep a kitchen knife on the nightstand after the documentary, but didn’t. Instead, I busied myself reading sled-dog16’s responses to my questions.

The man was thorough, adding personal anecdotes about his trips to Denali to the factual details. He had supplied me with enough information to write a kick-ass article. Even if Evelynne didn’t pick my proposal, I would have to write the story anyway. The pictures sled-dog16 supplied—none that included himself—called to me, demanded to be made into something for
Gaia
readers to experience.

I dreamed of Denali all night and woke the next morning to the sound of a black-capped chickadee whistling on the fire escape. When I padded to the window and opened it, the bird hopped over. I kept a jar full of seeds in my bedroom for feathered visitors. The chickadee ate the seeds from my cupped palm and then skittered off. What could I get to eat out of my hand in Denali? Would I be a Snow White there too?

At work, Meg swung by my cube. The bright yellow dress she wore nearly blinded me.

“You ready to swap?” She tapped the file folder she held.

“Sure.” I dug out my proposal and handed it to her. She smelled it, turned it around, pretended to weigh it in her hands.

“Feels like a winner,” she announced as she walked out.

“Yours too,” I called.

She snickered.

Over lunch, Meg slid my proposal toward me. “I love this, Alanna. It could be a commercial for visiting Denali. Where did you get all your info?”

“I have my sources.” I took an enormous bite of my tuna sandwich to avoid speaking any more about the subject. I pointed to Meg’s proposal and finished chewing. “This sounds like impressive shit.”

“It is,” she said, “but the scientist I talked to about the program operated on a level way over my head. I spent most of the night trying to wrap my underdeveloped brain around the information.”

“I’ll bet you could charm him down to your level.”

Meg fluttered her eyelashes, a small upward curl at the corner of her mouth. “Thanks. I think.”

I gestured to the folders. “Nothing left to do now but drop these puppies onto Evelynne’s desk.”

“Yep.” Meg stared at her file folder.

“No gamble, no gain.”

“Yep.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay.”

We sat in silence for a long moment, staring at our proposals and fiddling with things on our lunch trays. Finally, we had to end our lunch and get back to work. Upstairs at my cube, Meg gathered up our proposals.

“I’ll run these over to Becky, and the rest is up to Fate.”

Accepting my brief nod as agreement, Meg turned on her calf-high, brown leather boots and tap-tapped down to Evelynne’s secretary. I peeked from my cube as Meg and Becky conversed. The proposals changed hands, and Becky hugged the file folders to her chest. Too late to turn back now. All I could do was hope I’d win and have a shot at the promotion of a lifetime.

For the record, I’d never won anything.

I hardly slept the night after I’d handed in my proposal. I kept thinking of things I should have included, different angles, different hooks. The more I dwelled on the proposal, the more I convinced myself I didn’t have a shot in hell at the promotion. Six years at
Gaia
was nothing. Other writers had put in more time. Their work was edgier, new wave. I wrote about the beauty of nature. I was all poems and pretty pictures. In fact, I should just go ahead and use Snow White as my pen name.

Of course, I was blowing this way out of proportion. My stories did have hard-core facts and were always well researched. Solid writing accompanied the poetry and pretty pictures. Still, the chances of Evelynne picking me were slim. Better to be realistic and prepare for disappointment. Took the sting out. Sometimes.

So when a green sticky note that read, “We need to chat,” adorned my computer screen about a week later, I had trouble swallowing. Meg found me in the beginning stages of an anxiety attack.

“Why is your face so white?” she asked.

I flapped the sticky note at Meg. She walked deeper into my cube and plucked it from my fingers.

“Is this about your proposal?” Her eyebrows angled up as she waved the note at me.

“I don’t know.”

“It can only be about your proposal.” She grabbed my hand, shocking me out of my panic. “C’mon, kid. Go see her. Right now.”

Meg pulled on my arm, rather roughly, until I stumbled out from behind my desk.

“Meg, I—”

“Hush,” she interrupted. “Move.” She pointed toward Evelynne’s office. “And I want to hear everything as soon as you get out of there.”

Meg nudged me forward until my own legs took over the duty of carrying me along. Suddenly the hallway leading to Becky’s desk just outside Evelynne’s office seemed infinitely long. My feet kept moving, but I wasn’t getting any closer.

When I finally found myself staring into the thick lenses of Becky’s eyeglasses, I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Becky waited for thirty seconds, letting me mime painfully, until she said, “Go right in, Alanna.”

I nodded and walked stiffly to Evelynne’s door. Next barrier. I stood there for another thirty seconds before Becky appeared beside me.

“Works better this way, dear.” She rapped on the door.

“Come in,” Evelynne called.

“See,” Becky said. “Gets results every time.”

Any other time, Becky’s humor would have been appreciated. Not today. My stomach felt as if I’d swallowed a pail full of rocks. I mechanically closed my fingers around the doorknob.

Inside, Evelynne looked green as usual. This time she had on a sea green pantsuit with a cream sweater underneath. The necklace that hugged her throat appeared to be made from bits of sea glass and silver wire. Though she carried the green obsession a bit too far, she always looked like a magazine cover.

I looked down at my own attire. Khaki pants, blue sweater, brown clogs. Not very creative. Not very “you deserve a promotion” either. Shit.

“Morning, Alanna,” Evelynne said, slithering into the chair behind her desk. “Have a seat.”

I tried to slither into the chair she’d indicated, but my slithering didn’t look anything like her slithering. It was more of a gloppy pouring of burned oatmeal, but I’d tried.

Evelynne opened a file folder on her desk and leveled her gray eyes at me. “This,” she said, waving a hand over the contents of the folder, “is just what I was looking for.”

Say what?

“Your description had me wanting to know more about Denali.” Evelynne paused to look at me. “Your outline is well constructed, tight. Logical. This is the kind of story that will let the reader travel to Denali without leaving the comfort of his or her favorite chair.”

“Thanks.” The word squeaked out.

“You’re one of my top three choices, Alanna. Hirsh and Zemmans are my other two, but they haven’t been brave enough to come see me yet.” At this she smirked and arched an eyebrow. “I know everyone’s afraid to come in here. As it should be. I am the boss after all.”

Funny how she looked completely un-scary to me with laugh lines creasing her eyes and mouth.

“Hirsh and Zemmans proposed local pieces meaning that you, darling, get to go on location.”

Wait. What?

“On location?” I asked, my voice cracking like an adolescent boy’s.

“This piece is screaming for you to go to Denali, Alanna.” She clapped her hands together and rubbed them back and forth. “Don’t you think?”

“I…I…” Couldn’t remember a single word of the English language.

Evelynne laughed. “Take a minute to let it sink in. Then take tonight and tomorrow night to pack. Get your head on straight, and then off you go to write a story that just might change your life.” She laid a plane ticket, a hotel reservation, and a corporate credit card on her desktop.

“You’ll fly into Fairbanks International Airport,” Evelynne said, tapping the plane ticket with her index finger.

“Fairbanks?” I said.

“Fairbanks, yes.”

“Fairbanks, Alaska?”

Evelynne narrowed her eyes. A kid-in-the-principal’s-office feeling washed over me. “Hard to do a story on Denali if you’re not in Alaska, Alanna. Is there a problem with Fairbanks, Alaska?”

Yes. Maybe.

“No. No problem, Evelynne.”

“Good. You pull this off, Alanna, and you’ll make a name for yourself here at
Gaia
. Hirsh and Zemmans have good ideas, but yours is something special. I can feel it. It’s bigger-stories, bigger-office, bigger-paycheck worthy.”

She was saying all the right things. Things I’d been working for. Things I deserved. I’d paid my dues.

But
Fairbanks
? Holy shit.

“You get two weeks in Alaska to gather your facts and photos and a week back here to pull it all together.”

She nudged the paperwork toward me. I lifted my hand robotically and took it. Evelynne stood and walked around to my side of her desk. She laid a hand on my shoulder, and I jumped.

“Congratulations, Alanna. This is your chance to go to the top. Win the race.”

Race? Sled dog races?

“Y-yes.” I stood slowly. “Yes. Thank you, Evelynne. It’s a fantastic opportunity. I won’t let you down.”

“That’s why I picked you, Alanna. You never let me down. You’re skilled. Top-notch.” Her smile was warm as she walked me to her office door.

I wobbled out of her office, past Meg’s cube. I didn’t stop even when Meg called out to me. After entering my own cube, I slumped into my seat and stared at the plane ticket atop the pile of paperwork Evelynne had given me.

“Alanna?”

“Huh?” I looked from the plane ticket to Meg’s dark eyes.

“What happened? Oh, my God…” Her voice trailed off as she rushed toward my desk. “You…you didn’t get fired, did you?”

“No.” I managed a strained laugh. “She picked me as one of the three.”

“Hurray!” Meg did a little dance in the middle of my cube. “Jeez, Alanna. You had me worried.”

“Sorry.”

Meg dropped into the chair across from me. She played with the fringe on the hem of her shirt—a funky-looking purple tunic today.

“Do you know who the other two are?” She looked up at me, her brown eyes wide and bottomless.

I nodded, not wanting to tell her she wasn’t one of them. Luckily, Meg understood without me having to say anything.

“Right. Okay. Good.” She straightened in the chair, mentally filing away her disappointment not to ruin my moment. Man, she was the best.

“I’ve got to go there.” I locked my eyes on the ticket.