Alaskan Hideaway

The next item in the box was a plain brown envelope with Andi’s name on it. Her personal items. Mac swallowed. These were the things she’d had on her when the police found her. Silver earrings, a watch and a charm bracelet.

The bracelet had been her mother’s. Mac bought the silver chain with a jingle bell heart charm while he was on shore leave in Thailand and sent it to Carla, hoping it would make her smile. He never knew if it did. A year later, after she died, he found it in her jewelry box, beside her wedding ring.

When Andi was five, Mac had come across the bracelet again and decided to give it to his daughter. He’d added an elephant charm after she saw her first live elephants at the zoo, and many more charms over the years. Andi had loved that bracelet. She’d worn it every day. Mac set the envelope aside.

The next item he unwrapped turned out to be a clutch of pens and pencils in the lopsided mug Andi had made in pottery class and given him for Father’s Day one year. He carried it into the kitchen and used one of the pens to finish his shopping list. He was flattening out the newspapers to add to the recycling bin when an opinion piece caught his eye.

The article questioned the ethics of releasing violent books and movies, and whether society as a whole became more violent when exposed to fictional violence. As an example, the columnist used a popular movie involving a serial killer, saying that although the main character was on the side of good, the serial killer was a complex and powerful character in his own right. Some moviegoers might identify with the villain more than the hero, which could encourage them to act upon their violent tendencies.

Mac read the entire article twice. Then he picked up the paper and ripped it in half. And ripped those pieces in half, again and again, until the newspaper page had been reduced to confetti at his feet. He hoped to God the person who wrote that article was wrong. Because the movie he’d mentioned was based on one of Mac’s books.

* * *

URSULA DROPPED A birthday card for a friend in her mailbox and put up the flag before heading out to Anchorage to stock up on essentials and visit her adorable grandson. She pulled onto the highway and headed toward the turnoff to Mac’s cabin. Should she stop and offer to pick up anything he needed in Anchorage? She’d always collected Betty’s prescriptions for her. It would be the neighborly thing to do.

But who was she kidding? Mac was perfectly capable of running his own errands, and judging by the lean muscles of his forearms, healthy and fit. He said he’d once been a cowboy, and she could picture it. As they’d talked yesterday and he’d started to relax, a hint of Oklahoma drawl crept into his speech. Now, she was hoping for another chance to talk with him, and not about selling her the property or allowing the trail to cut through. She’d seen the pain in his eyes when he talked about his daughter.

The man was suffering. And she suspected it wasn’t just the pain of loss. She’d been there, when Tommy died. She knew how hard it was to go on while missing someone you loved. But there was something else going on inside his head, and she was afraid she recognized it. His eyes held the same haunted look as her father’s had after her little brother died. That look had never gone away.

She slowed, debating whether to check on him. But Mac was clear. He was after solitude. She had no right to badger him while he grieved. If he wanted to be alone with his daughter’s dog, she wouldn’t bother him.

The sound of frantic barking changed her mind. Blossom was at the fence line near the road, dashing forward and jumping back. She seemed to have some sort of animal cornered. Ursula pulled her car over and jumped out, running along the driveway and slipping through the gate for a closer look. A bald eagle had somehow gotten a wing caught in the fence. Blossom jumped back, a trickle of blood running from her nose. Those talons could be lethal.

The eagle screeched. Ursula plunged into the snow and struggled toward the fence. “Blossom. Come.”

The dog looked toward her but didn’t seem inclined to leave the fight. Ursula stopped and used her most commanding voice. “Come. Now.”

From the corner of her eye, Ursula saw Mac running toward them, but she kept her gaze on Blossom. With one last defiant bark in the direction of the eagle, the pit bull bounded through the snow to Ursula. “Good girl.” Ursula grabbed her collar and bent to inspect her nose.

“What’s going on?” Mac pushed his way through the snow toward them.

“Blossom was in an altercation with an eagle.”

“Eagle?” Mac caught up with Ursula. “Is everybody all right?” He peered toward the fence.

“Blossom has a nasty scratch on her muzzle, but she’ll be okay. Judging by the way the eagle is holding his wing, it’s broken.”

“Oh, no.” Mac’s eyebrows knit together. “Can it live like that? Or would it be kinder just to...”

“I’m on my way to Anchorage. If we can get it out of the fence, I can take it to the bird rescue center there.”

“There’s a bird rescue in Anchorage? That’s great.” He reached for Blossom’s collar. “Let me lock up the dog, and I’ll be right back.”

“Bring wire cutters. There should be some in the tool chest under the bench seat in the kitchen. And a heavy blanket or rug. When animals are hurt, they sometimes lash out at people who are trying to help them.”

Mac gave her an odd look but obeyed. A few minutes later, he returned with the things she’d asked for, plus a large dog kennel. “I thought you could transport it in this.”

“Good idea.” She studied the bird, who stared back, unblinking. When she took a step closer, the eagle gave a jerk but couldn’t seem to get loose from the fence. “Do you think you can throw the blanket over it and hold it still while I cut the wire?”

Mac nodded. “I think so. Here, I brought us both leather gloves. Why don’t you try to distract it from the right, and I’ll approach from the left?”

The distraction plan was only marginally effective, but after three tries, Mac was able to throw the blanket over it and hug the bird so that it couldn’t get its beak or talons loose to fight them. Ursula went to work, cutting the thick wires that formed the fence.

“I’ve dealt with a few animals tangled in fences on the ranch, but a bald eagle is a first for me.” The bird struggled, but Mac managed to maintain his hold. “How do you think it happened?”

“Some of these wires are rusted. I suspect a rabbit or something ran through this break in the fence to get away from the eagle. He must have hit it pretty hard.” Ursula cut the last wire.

The eagle flapped the now freed wing awkwardly at Mac’s face, but he hung on. “Can you open the kennel?”

Ursula unlatched the kennel door, and together they shoved the bird inside, blanket and all. Ursula latched the door shut. The eagle shook the blanket off and glared at them. Mac lifted the kennel, carefully avoiding putting his hands too close to any airholes, and carried it to Ursula’s Subaru. She opened the back, and he slid the kennel inside.

He turned to face her. “Thank you. Blossom could have been hurt a lot worse if you hadn’t stopped.”

“No problem. I think she’ll be fine, but if you want to have her checked out, there’s a vet in Seward.”

“I will if I think she needs it. I hope the eagle will be okay.”

“Me, too. I’ll let you know.”

* * *

THE SCRATCH ON Blossom’s muzzle wasn’t too bad. Mac had just finished cleaning it, despite Blossom’s protests, when the internet installer arrived. While Mac had waited for him to finish, he’d gotten caught up in a book on the history of the Alaska gold rush he found on the living room shelf. He didn’t remember about the groceries until later that afternoon, so he locked Blossom in the cabin and drove into Seward.

He returned to find the empty dog kennel in his driveway. A roll of lamb wire rested beside it. That was nice of Ursula. He hadn’t even thought about how he was going to repair the fence. Funny, back when he was a kid on the ranch, one of the constant chores was working on fences. Life seemed to have come full circle.

Once he had the groceries put away, he’d give Ursula a call to find out what the rescue people said about the eagle. He opened the liftgate and reached to load the kennel. A note was taped to the top. I have your dog. —Ursula.

What? He’d left Blossom in the house. He drove the rest of the way down the driveway and unlocked the front door. No nails clicked across the floor to greet him. The back door was also locked. The windows were closed—it was winter after all. So how did Blossom get out?

The key. That was the only answer. Ursula had known exactly where he would find a toolbox containing wire cutters. He hadn’t even realized the built-in bench lifted up, much less that there was a toolbox underneath. She was obviously friends with the woman who had owned the place before him. Ergo, she would have a key.

But why would Ursula take Blossom? It wasn’t as though he’d neglected her. He was only gone an hour or so. Ursula had to know he’d never let anything happen to Andi’s dog.

Maybe that’s what she was counting on. She’d fed him muffins and listened to him talk the other morning to get him to trust her. She’d helped with the eagle and even brought him wire to repair the fence. Now she was going to “rescue” the dog, because she knew Blossom was important to him. And he would be so grateful, he’d give her access to the trails, or maybe even sell her the property. Classic manipulation.

But she’d missed one little detail. She should have left the back door open. Mac couldn’t be expected to believe Blossom had closed and locked the door behind her. Yeah, if Ursula thought her little plan was going to work on him, she had another think coming.

He jumped into the SUV and turned around. Could she have arranged the injured eagle, too? He couldn’t imagine her trapping an eagle and somehow getting it stuck in the fence without injuring herself. But then, the woman had a tame squirrel. For all he knew, she might have a pet eagle trained to pretend it had a broken wing.

He pulled up in front of her porch, jumped out and ran up the steps. He reached up to pound on the door, but paused to take a breath. Better to let her carry through on this charade, see exactly what she was up to. He rang the bell.

A minute later, Ursula’s smiling face greeted him. “Oh, good. You got my note. Come in.”

He stepped in far enough to allow her to shut the door. Across the room, Blossom lay on a rug in front of the fire, getting belly rubs from Rory. She rolled to her feet and ran to greet him, pushing her head against his hand. He rubbed her ears.

Rory chased after her. “Me and Blossom were playing. And I gave her a dog biscuit. But I didn’t share my cookie ’cause chocolate is bad for dogs.”

Ursula put an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “I found Blossom running along the highway. She must have taken advantage of that hole in the fence. You found the fencing I left?”

“Yes.” Mac kept his gaze on the dog, so Ursula wouldn’t read his face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m pretty sure there’s a roll of bailing wire in your toolbox. If not, I have some you can use.”

“Uh-huh. How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. I was picking up a few other things.”

He met her eyes. “I pay my debts. How much for the fencing?”

Oh, she was good. Her expression was the perfect mix of surprise and hurt at his brusque tone. This wasn’t playing into her plan to have him indebted to her. “About twenty dollars, I think. I’ll find the receipt.”

“And the key.”

“Key?” Wide-eyed innocence. She could be a professional actress with those skills. Maybe the whole time she’d let him babble on about Andi, she’d known exactly who he was and what happened. Getting him to sell his property might not even be her end game. She might be planning to sell his story to the tabloids.

“The key to my house. You have one, don’t you?”

“Oh. Yes, I do. I’ll get it.” She left him standing beside the door and disappeared into her kitchen, returning a few minutes later carrying a key and a slip of paper. “Nineteen ninety-five. Here’s your key.” A paper tag attached to the key identified it as “Betty’s House.”

Mac nodded. “Is this the only copy?”

Ursula narrowed her eyes. “As far as I know. I only have it because I used to water Betty’s plants when she visited her granddaughter in the lower forty-eight. I don’t know if she gave keys to anyone else.”

Mac nodded. “I’m having the locks changed anyway, so if you find other copies, you can throw them away.” He put a subtle emphasis on find. She noticed, judging by the way she stiffened. He opened his wallet and pulled out a twenty. “Thank you for picking up the lamb wire.”

“I’ll get your change.” She turned.

“That’s okay.”

She ignored him and crossed the room to fish a coin from a pottery bowl on the mantle. She returned and handed him a nickel. “I pay my debts, too.”

“I’m sure you do.” He slipped the nickel into his pocket. He should go, but he had to ask, “What happened with the eagle?”

“They think he’ll make a full recovery and they’ll be able to release him eventually.”

“That’s good news.”

“Yes.” She stood perfectly still, watching him. The girl looked back and forth between them, her eyebrows drawn together as though she couldn’t quite decipher what was happening.

“I appreciate you both taking care of the dog.” Which he did. Even if Blossom had never been in any real danger, at least they had cared for her. And the little girl had no way of knowing what her godmother was up to. With a smile for Rory and a curt nod for Ursula, he stepped through the door. Blossom cocked her head and stayed where she was, obviously reluctant to leave. He had to call her twice before she came and jumped into the SUV.

He glanced over at the inn before he put the car in gear. Ursula stood on the porch with Rory in front of her, her arms wrapped around the girl’s shoulders. He couldn’t quite read the expression on her face, but what should it matter? If he had his way, he’d never see either of them again. Mac shifted into gear and drove away.

CHAPTER FOUR

MAC SAT IN his living room, holding his knife in one hand and a piece of birch in the other, but he wasn’t carving. Instead, he stared at the flames dancing behind the glass window of the woodstove. Was he missing something? Ursula’s reaction when she handed him the key didn’t quite fit. She’d looked...hurt.

He shrugged. Of course she did. She was an expert manipulator. She knew exactly what buttons to push, what expressions to adopt. He’d learned a few things in the little over half a century he’d been on earth, much of it from sad experience. Fame and money attracted con artists and moochers like ants to a picnic. He seldom even wasted the energy resenting them, just wrote it off as an occupational hazard.

So why was he so disappointed in Ursula? Maybe it was because she’d seemed real. She was attractive, but not in an obvious way. Just classic bone structure, healthy skin and an infectious smile. He liked her hair, the way she’d left in the natural silver, short but still feminine. She was a good listener. And she seemed to care. Of course, that was stock in trade for people like her. Listen, learn and take advantage.

Blossom rose from her bed and stretched, head low over her front paws, tail poking into the air. She padded into the kitchen and took a long and sloppy drink from her bowl. Her nails clicked across the vinyl floor into the laundry room beyond, where she made a scratching noise.

Mac stood and followed her without bothering to slip on his shoes, wondering why she didn’t scratch on the front door. When he got to the kitchen, enough light filtered into the laundry room to see her on her back legs, pawing at the back door latch. What was she up to?

He’d noticed the levers on the doors looked much more modern than the rest of the house. Probably easier for arthritic hands to operate than the original doorknobs. Within a minute, Blossom had managed to catch the lever with her paw and pull it down. The door swung open, and she ran outside. When the heck did she learn to do that?

He flipped on a light and went to examine the door. Before he reached it, a gust of wind banged it shut. Just as he thought, the latch was turned to the lock position. What he hadn’t realized was the inside lever still operated. He reached outside without letting the door shut and tried it. Sure enough, from the outside, it was locked.

Blossom pranced to the door, head held high. Mac let her inside and locked the door behind her, this time using the deadbolt. He hadn’t bothered with the deadbolts before, since he didn’t have a key, but that was before he realized he had a canine Houdini on his hands. Tomorrow, he’d call a locksmith. And fix that hole in the fence.

He followed Blossom into the living room. “You have some ’splaining to do, young lady.”

She wagged her tail, reminding him of Andi when she was five and had just learned to tie her own shoelaces. Blossom seemed so pleased with herself, it was almost a shame he had to shut down her new game.

And it was an even bigger shame he’d jumped to conclusions. There wasn’t much he hated more than the taste of crow, but he was going to have to eat a big helping.

* * *

“THERE’S ANOTHER EXTENSION cord in the hall closet if you need it.” Ursula held a folding table steady while her friend Catherine folded out the legs.

“Thanks. I’m sure someone will need it. You’d think after doing this so many times, we’d have it down, but someone always forgets something.” Catherine grabbed the far end of the table and together they set it in place. “There. That’s the last one.”

Ursula checked her watch. Four o’clock. Some of the quilters would no doubt take off work early on a Friday afternoon. “They’ll be arriving soon. I’ve got a big batch of brownies in the kitchen.”

“The girls will love that.” The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it. It’s probably our guest speaker. She’s going to talk about wool appliqué.”

“Okay. I’ll put those brownies on a platter.” Ursula started for the kitchen.

Catherine opened the door. “Well, hello there, beautiful,” she crooned in her dog-and-baby voice. Ursula was betting dog. Possibly a black-and-white pit bull.

She paused at the kitchen door listening to the murmur of voices. She wasn’t sure if she wanted it to be Mac or not. She thought they’d made friends, but she’d sensed a definite hostility when he picked up Blossom yesterday. That hint of cowboy drawl was gone, and he was back to his formal voice. She couldn’t imagine what she’d done to upset him, after helping him with his eagle, picking up wire to fix his fence and rescuing his dog from traffic. Maybe he was embarrassed about the dog getting out. Or maybe he was just moody.

Whatever his reasons, she had better things to do with her time than spend it with a bad-tempered hermit. She’d be better off staying far away from him. And yet, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Ursula sighed. Who was she kidding? She’d seen his pain. She could no more walk away from him than she could have left the eagle in the fence to die. And just like with the eagle, if she wasn’t careful, she was going to get hurt.

“Ursula. Your friend Mac is here to see you.” The lilt in her voice made it clear Catherine would be demanding details later. Ursula crossed to the door.

Mac stood on the porch, holding what looked like the local grocer’s entire stock of mixed flowers. “Hi. Do you have a minute to talk?”

“I’ll just go see about those brownies,” Catherine murmured. “Come on, Blossom. I’ll bet we could find you a dog biscuit.”

“Come in.” Ursula stepped back from the door to allow Mac inside.

He handed her the cellophane-wrapped bundles. “For you.”

Ursula gathered the three, no, four bouquets in her arms. “Thank you, but why are you bringing me flowers?”

“I want to apologize.” Actually, from the pained expression on his face, the last thing he wanted was to apologize, but he was doing it anyway. This should be good.

“Come with me.” Ursula led him through the maze of tables and power cords littering the living room.

“What’s going on?”

“A quilt retreat. Twice a year, Catherine and a dozen or so of her friends reserve the whole inn and spend the weekend sewing. It’s a lot of fun.”

“Do you quilt?”

“I dabble, but I’m not a serious quilter like these ladies. My job is to keep everyone fed and happy.” Ursula gestured for him to sit on the couch near the fireplace and laid the flowers in a basket on the coffee table. She sat in a chair directly across from him and leaned forward. “Okay, shoot.”

“Shoot what?”

“The apology. You said you wanted to apologize. I’m ready.”

He chuckled. “You’re not making this easy.”

“Well, I’m curious exactly what you’re apologizing for. Blocking access to the ski trails without giving me notice? Siccing your dog on me? Threatening to have me arrested for trespassing? If it involves this many flowers, it must be serious.”

“Actually, none of those things. Well, all those things, but they’re not the main reason I’m here.” He took a long breath. “I was rude to you yesterday because I blamed you for something of which I’ve since learned you were innocent.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Say again?”

“Yesterday. When I found your note that you had the dog.” He explained, and as he talked, Ursula started to smile. By the time he’d finished, she was laughing out loud.

“You really thought I’d sneaked into your house and kidnapped your dog just so I could bug you about the right-of-way.” She shook her head. “You have some imagination.”

“Occupational hazard, I suppose.”

“What occupation is that?”

“I’m a writer.”

“Are you? That’s exciting. What do you write?”

“Thrillers.”

“Ah. I don’t read a lot of those. Too scary. I would have thought growing up on a ranch, you’d write Westerns.”

Mac shook his head. “No. Growing up on a ranch means I know too much to write pretty little stories about cowboys.”

“That bad?”

“No.” He paused and just for a moment his gaze went past her toward some remembered place. “Rather wonderful actually. It was losing the ranch that was hard. My dad never really got over it. He died young. They both did.” He gave a sudden smile. “But I didn’t come to talk about myself. I came to say I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology.”

“Good. Well then, if I can find my dog, I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.”

“I’ll get her.” She gathered up the bouquets before starting for the kitchen. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely.”

“I’m glad you like them. Thank you for delivering the eagle and picking up the fencing wire. And for your patience.”

“You’re welcome. See you around.” Before she could get to the kitchen, the door opened and Blossom ran past her to Mac.

Catherine followed, carrying a tray. “Mac, take one of these brownies before you go. Ursula made them. She’s a fantastic cook.”

“Yes, I know.” Mac nodded before accepting a brownie and taking his leave.

Ursula carried the flowers into the kitchen. She was on a step stool, retrieving vases from the highest shelves when Catherine bustled in. “So what was that all about?”