Page 51 of One Last Promise

“Stormi?” his mom said.

“The woman with the dog?” Tillie asked.

“Yes,” Moose said. “She’s on her way with Dad. Rome is a tracking dog. Do you have anything of Hazel’s?—”

“Of course.” Tillie had pulled on the pants and wool socks and now headed down the stairs. She returned with an old, ratty stuffed dog.

“Perfect,” his mother said and pulled it to herself. Closed her eyes.

Praying, probably.

Tillie took a breath and sat, pulling on the boots near her chair. His mother’s hiking boots.

She then grabbed the jacket and the walkie. “Shouldn’t we bring a jacket for Hazel?”

“I’ll wrap her in the blanket and carry her,” Moose said, reaching for the door. “Mom, I’m going to check in every fifteen minutes. You don’t hear from me, you call Axel.”

She gave him a look of chagrin. “I already didthat.”

Well, okay then.

He looked at Tillie. “Let’s find Hazel.” Then he headed out the door.

“Great view, huh?” Oaken came up behind him, and Shep turned and took the proffered cup of coffee.

Shep stood at the massive two-story A-frame window of Oaken’s new chalet-style home, staring out at the jewel-colored mountains around him. In the distance, the ski resort with its wide, green slopes, a few peaks at the top chilled with a fresh layer of snow, almost called his name. Ski lifts hung as if frozen, waiting for the first layer of crisp white snow.

How he loved autumn, the sense of anticipation stirring inside him as he waited for the first snowfall. He could already hear the swish of his skis slicing through the snow echoing inside him.

“Thanks for being willing to keep an eye on the place.” Oaken grabbed his own mug of coffee.

“Sacrifices. It’s a tough gig, but someone needs to do it.” Shep held out his mug to Oaken for a toast. “You do know that I’ll have to use the sauna and hot tub.”

“Knock yourself out.” Oaken wore a pair of faded jeans, a flannel shirt, and wool socks. A real Alaskan, apparently, despite his only-recent move north. “I’m glad you told me about this place.”

“Drove by it every day last winter. Seemed perfect for you, and I knew the view would be worth every penny. I’m glad it was still on the market.” He turned back to the window. Glanced at the dark clouds over Denali in the distance, then tried to see if he could spot his place down the road, along the highway. A modern, boxy townhome that sat with other boxes on the side of a mountain. He’d gotten it in foreclosure, gutted it, and remodeled it into something he liked coming hometo.

Most of the time.

“Better than living out of a motorhome.”

Oaken looked at him.

“My parents were ski bums in the winter, park guides and climbers in the summer. Well, sort of. My dad was a street preacher too. But we lived an unrooted life, traveling where God led them. It was just me and my older sister. Homeschooled, although I’d call it more like unschooled. We learned a lot about life, though.”

Oaken took a sip of coffee. “Sounds cool. Where are your parents now?”

“The last text I got, they were headed to Snowbasin, in Ogden, Utah.”

“How long have you been with the team? I never asked.” Oaken set his cup down on a nearby glass table. A local interior-design place had furnished the digs. The place had a mix of modern and woodsy, with glass-and-black iron-side tables, deep brown leather sofas, a mix of furry bearskins on the wooden floor, and an oversized coffee table made from the trunk of a redwood, and it all sat in front of a soaring whitewashed stone fireplace.

A couple of contemporary Alaskan animal prints—moose and bear—hung on either side of the fireplace. Oaken picked up the remote control and aimed it at the hearth, causing it to flash into perfectly contained flames.

“Two years. Spent a year on a rescue team in Montana before moving here. Had a cousin who recommended Moose’s team to me. We have relatives that live in Montana.”

Oaken walked over to the kitchen, where a massive leathered black granite island held enough chairs for the first line of a hockey team, and opened the two-door Sub-Zero. “I have some fresh blueberry pie from the Skyport Diner.” He pulled out a box. “Boo and I ate there last night. Want a piece?”

Shep had eaten alone last night at the Tooth after working out, also alone, and trying not to let himself believe that London mightbe avoiding him.

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