After a brief visit with Shane, Liz followed Lauren to the she-shed that served as both her office and his storage room. Part of the reason she’d never liked the sport was that it required so much technical expertise. To her, that took the fun out of just being with the dogs. She also hated bossing them around, even though the dogs enjoyed it.
That much was obvious as Lauren hooked them onto the line.
“So, where’s the sled?” Liz asked as she helped double-check each harness.
“With the snow.” Lauren chuckled. “As in, not here. Not today. We only use the sleds when we’re racing—not so much when training—and this is training season.”
Liz stared at the strange setup—a large four-wheeler hooked up with a huge dog line. Twenty dogs pulled the line taut and were jumping and barking for joy. She’d never ridden like this before, but maybe the strangeness of it would help keep her mind occupied. Maybe the dogs would pull them so fast it would feel like she was flying away from her problems, leaving them all behind.
Lauren raised an eyebrow before coming back around to Liz’s side. “You know, with as long as you’ve been around the sport, you haven’t learned much, have you?”
“I know a bit. But not that mush,” Liz answered reflexively, using one of her dad’s old jokes about mushing.
“Wow, that’s awful,” Lauren said, but laughed all the same.
Liz shrugged. She hadn’t meant to joke just then, but it was what she said whenever a well-intentioned racer asked her when she was going to get behind the sled and run her own team. It was far nicer than answering with a frown and saying “never.”
“Never mind all that,” Lauren chided, waving her hand in front of her face to clear away a small cloud of mosquitos. “Hop on, and hold tight. You’re about to experience something that most people never do.”
They sat together on the large ATV, Lauren already beaming with joy. She unlocked the handbrake and held it closed. “Would you like to do the honors?”
“Umm, sure.” Liz let off the brake, but nothing happened. Not yet.
“Hike, hike, hike!” Lauren cried since Liz had forgotten that part, and with a jolt, the four-wheeler quickly picked up speed. In no time, they were cruising through the woods around Puffin Ridge faster than she could run on her own.
Perhaps if she just focused on all the sensations, on all the steps needed to keep the sled moving along, Liz could put Warwick out of her mind. At least until she could find a way to get to him in the city—or until Scarlett called with news.
They took another turn, and Lauren launched into a story, her voice practically booming in the otherwise quiet woods. It seemed she, too, understood how much Liz needed to clear her mind. To just be.
“When I first started,” Lauren said, “I had no idea how strong these dogs are. And—this stays out here—the first time we switched from ATV to sled, I kept the same amount of dogs on the line. I knew I must’ve been doing something wrong, because Shane just looked at me with that twinkle he gets in his eyes whenever I’m about to make one of his famous mistakes.”
Liz realized her friend was waiting for her to join in the conversation, so she said, “He lets you make mistakes he’s already made?”
“’It’s the only way to truly learn,’” Lauren said as she approximated Shane’s grumpy voice.
Liz laughed and it felt good, like something heavy had started to leave her body. She knew it would be back as soon as her feet returned to solid ground, but at least for now she could escape. She could fly.
“Well, this speed is all well and good. I’ve got a lot of control with the steering back here, and there’s a lot more friction slowing the dogs down. Sleds are a different story. Almost no friction. No weight to them, either. And no steering. I shot off like I’d been fired from a cannon. We went about a mile and a half before the first turn, and the whole sled dumped into a large snowbank.”
“Oh my gosh!” Liz cried as she wondered what it would feel like to fall at this speed. Could the physical pain take away the mental anguish of the past two weeks?
“It gets better,” Lauren said, doing her best to keep Liz focused. “The snow hook got dislodged and my boot got caught in it. Those dogs dragged me for another half mile before I could finally get them to stop. I had some serious ice burn after all that.”
“What did Shane say?” Liz asked, knowing she was expected to speak whenever Lauren fell silent. She was definitely doing her best to keep her distracted, and Liz loved her for it.
Lauren laughed again, and that happy expression she took on whenever she thought of Shane flashed across her face. “He said I learned two lessons: be careful when you switch seasons, and always make sure the snow hook is properly secured.”
These lessons were nice and fine for Lauren, but had no bearing on Liz. She didn’t really know what to say, but luckily, Lauren spoke again before she had to figure out a response.
“It’s just the way he is when he’s teaching. He’s made every mistake out there, but he knows his mistakes only really teach lessons to him. He can’t pass that experience on through a lecture or a brochure. Some mistakes you just have to make for yourself. His job was making sure that I would still be around to learn from those mistakes.”
Mistakes. Like going to see Warwick. That was probably a mistake, but it was one she needed to make for herself. Just like Lauren and her change of seasons. The seasons were changing for Liz, too, but she had no idea what the forecast looked like.
“Seems like it all turned out okay,” Liz said amiably. “You’re one of the top racers out there now, and you did marry the guy.”
Lauren laughed. She always laughed. Liz hadn’t known her when she’d struggled with her new life and the secrets from her own past. She wondered if she’d feel closer to Lauren now if she had. Right now, she envied her friend’s serenity, her easy belonging in life.
“You got me there,” Lauren said before switching topics. She could talk about racing forever if she had to. “There are times that we only see people from one angle or only doing one thing, so we tend to think of them that way. Take Samson, for example. He’s a big, fluffy teddy bear of a dog that loves being your pet. Do you think he’d like doing something like this?”
“What? No. He loves just lying on the couch and being lazy with me.” Liz was glad for it, too. Lately, she’d needed lots of extra cuddles from Samson, and he was always happy to oblige her.
Lauren pulled the brake and slowed the dogs down to a stop. “Here, switch with me,” she said, hopping up and jumping on the back of the ATV.
Liz scooted up on the seat and saw a large, black Akita face looking up at her, his purplish tongue lolling out in happiness. “Samson!”
“He might not be the best at pulling, but he loves running with his friends. Now let off the handbrake, and let’s get back home. I’m sure this guy will need a rest.”
Samson had never been harnessed to a sled before, but he knew just what to do. He knew just who he was, even though it had been kept from him for all these years. She tried to picture Samson as a true sled dog but couldn’t make the image stick. Sometimes you’re born to a certain life, but it’s not the one you were meant for. Not really.
What if the same were true of Liz? Was she always destined for her Anchorage life, or would she have been happier in Charleston?
And how could she ever know for sure?