But then a troubled expression fills his face, as if he’s remembering something that perturbs him.
“Is something wrong?” I echo his question of a few moments ago.
“No, nothing. Just …” Turning onto his back once again, he studies the tent’s ceiling, his breathing measured and slow. “I should get up. I have a long way to the finish line, and my dogs need all my focus.”
As opposed to giving some of it to the infatuated veterinarian who is eager to climb onto your lap.
I smile, even as my discontent stirs. “You’re right, they do.” We can always pick this up back home, after the race. “Get out of here already and let me sleep.”
He climbs out of his sleeping bag with a stretch.
I watch him as he collects his bedroll and sleeping bag, securing them to tuck back into his sled. Too fast, he has all his outer gear on and is pulling on his hat.
Is it just me, or does he seem eager to get away?
He’s peeling back the zipper when Karen’s reedy voice carries. “You’ve already had your ration, Hopper!”
She must be chasing him out of the hut again. It makes me laugh, despite my disappointment.
Tyler watches the debacle outside unfold. “Any idea what’s for lunch?”
“Soup and a sandwich.”
“That sounds perfect.”
Not as perfect as if Tyler turned around and slid into my sleeping bag for a few hours. “I’ll see you later?”
He falters. “You know where to find me.” With that, he’s gone, shuttering the tent and leaving me alone.
Sleep evades me.
*
The cacophony of dogs barking and tugging on their harnesses has the nearby teams howling in protest. They all want to run, but after a full twenty-four-hour rest, Tyler’s dogs are heading toward the trail.
Tyler and my paths danced around each other all afternoon without ever crossing. Or maybe it was my path that weaved in and out, looking for a reasonable opportunity to cut in while he toiled away on his sled, replacing the runners, tightening bolts, taking full inventory and rearranging. I never did find the right time, wanting to respect his space while he prepared to leave.
But now he’s about to take off, across the tundra and along the Bering Sea, and I feel the overwhelming urge to speak to him one more time before he leaves.
“Counting down the minutes?”
“Basically.” He checks his watch, his mood subdued. I guess mine would be, too, if I had days and another four hundred miles ahead of me.
My gaze floats off into the waning sun. There’s a lot of nothing out there. Anywhere from ten to thirteen hours of snow and stunted trees, depending on how fast he travels until he reaches the next checkpoint in Ruby. Hours of just him and his dogs and his drifting thoughts. Some mushers have claimed traversing those flat plains are the most challenging.
Gary is heading this way with a clipboard to take down information to feed into the official race, which means Tyler’s time at this checkpoint has come to an end.
“Good luck, stay safe, and call me when you’re back in town. We can grab a coffee or dinner or something.” It’s as overt an invitation as I can collect the nerve to offer.
“Yeah …” The smile I get back is not the playful smirk I was growing used to. It’s sad and full of resignation. “I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot. Again. This was fun, Marie, and you’re an incredible woman, but I don’t want to make it more than it is.”
An uncomfortable, cold feeling washes over me.
Tyler searches the expanse of wilderness. “I can’t get into it because I’m about to go out there with my dogs, and my head has to be one hundred percent focused on them, but the truth is, I was married once and now I’m widowed, and my life is the way I want it. Uncomplicated.”
I force a wide smile. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” How else do I respond, after that shutdown?
What the hell happened?
“I won’t change my mind. Not about this.” His intense eyes lock on mine. “But friends, I can do. I’d really like to do. I think you’re pretty cool.”
“Friends. Great.”
Friends.
Great.
He tugs on his fur-lined mittens. “Come by the kennel sometime. I’ll give you that tour I didn’t want to give you before.”
I can’t tell if he’s serious or if it’s a vacant offer—I don’t have his number to call ahead so he’ll unlock the gate—but I nod, anyway.