Anne Duquette - The Replacement

“I know this bed is more yours than mine, Ginger,” she said softly. “And I know I’m not who you want in it. But maybe we can share, okay? I promise to take good care of you…no strings attached. Fresh starts for us both, okay? You’re still alive and kicking, right?” Lindsey stood and patted the bottom of the bed. “Come on, girl. Let’s hit the sack.”

Ginger watched her warily. Lindsey climbed under the covers, then patted the bed again. “The carpet’s nothing like a down-filled comforter. Awfully cold on that floor. Eva wouldn’t want you to be cold, you know.” The dog remained on the rug.

“Suit yourself, Ginger. The invitation’s open.” Lindsey turned out the small light by the side of the bed, her disappointment at Eric’s coolness compounded by the dog’s rejection. “Good night, girl. Sleep tight. Don’t let the snow fleas bite. Yosemite does have snow fleas, you know. When’s the last time you had a new flea collar?” Lindsey yawned. “I’ll check tomorrow. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

Lindsey burrowed under the bed linens, noticing that the sheets smelled faintly of laundry soap and fabric softener. A fresh herb sachet lay underneath the pillow. Only Naomi made those. Eric’s sister had been surprisingly kind. Lindsey made a mental note to thank her, then lifted her head from the pillow for one last comment.

“Good night, pooch.”

Silence in the room. Lindsey sighed, tucked one of her cold feet under the other and waited to warm up enough so she could sleep. She waited in vain. She felt cold inside, cold outside, cold through and through. Maybe she should get up and find Eva’s arctic sleeping bag. That meant she’d have to strip to her skin and sleep in the bag atop the bed for maximum warmth. But she didn’t know where the bag was—nor did she have the energy to search.

Tomorrow I’ll check out this cabin in daylight. Everything feels better in daylight, Lindsey reassured herself, ducking her head under the covers. Even my nose is cold. Immediately she popped her head out. It reminded her too much of Eva’s death, buried under the deadly weight of killing snow. Her ring caught on a thermal-weave pocket, snagging and making a tearing sound in the blanket.

“Dammit!” Lindsey tried to yank off the ring. It was stuck because of the higher altitude and the puffiness of her fingers. Lindsey licked her ring finger and tried one last time. Nothing. She gave up the attempt, burrowed back down into the covers and forced herself to relax, willing her body to adjust to the cold of the sheets. “Some replacement I am,” she said aloud, extremely grateful that her new cabinmates—especially Eric—didn’t realize how weak and vulnerable she felt. Worse, loneliness seemed to make her feel colder.

Fine. Feel sorry for yourself—but only for tonight. Tomorrow, chin up. I’m not a coward. At least, I never used to be.

Exhausted and overtired, she tossed and turned until she felt Ginger climb up on the bed to stretch out alongside her, the dog’s head resting on her shoulder. She smiled, and only then fell into a deep sleep, so deep that she didn’t hear Naomi enter the room an hour later, followed by Eric.

“One short evening—and the mutt’s literally eating out of her hand. None of us could get the dog to budge,” Eric said in an undertone.

“She has a way with living things.” Naomi quietly pulled off her winter boots and socks. “She always has.”

Ginger, who had lifted her head at their arrival, laid it back down again. Lindsey moved in her sleep at the motion. Eric watched as Lindsey’s right arm came out from the covers to settle around the golden neck. Both dog and new mistress relaxed and were motionless again.

Brother and sister stared at the diamond solitaire on Lindsey’s finger. “No wedding band, yet, twin. It’s not to late to fight for what you want—if you still want it.”

Eric smiled, a predatory smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, I still want it,” he said. “I need to know if she does.”

Naomi’s eyes opened wide in amazement. “You didn’t tell me that!”

“I don’t tell you everything. Nor do I want you blabbing to Lindsey.”

“I won’t. Not until her wedding, anyway,” Naomi said.

“If there’s a wedding, I intend to be the groom. Me—not the bastard who gave her that ring.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Keep hoping.” Eric faced the opposite bed again and shook his head. “Lindsey and those animals. Some things never change.”

“Maybe you should do the changing,” Naomi suggested with a sibling’s frankness. “We both should. Start with calling Ginger by name and not ‘the mutt’ or ‘the damn dog.’ She’s been with us four years. And don’t rag Lindsey about putting the dog first. I won’t, either. The last time we did—”

“Don’t remind me. Still…I’ve got three months until the snow melts. I don’t intend to make the same mistake twice.”

“Three months…” Naomi echoed. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Eric stared one last time at the ring. “But I believe we make our own luck.”

And that’s why I told Jack Hunter that Lindsey Nelson should be our replacement.

Rangers’ winter cabin

Day 2, sunrise

THE SMELL OF PANCAKES, maple syrup and fresh biscuits greeted Lindsey’s nose, while the golden retriever greeted Lindsey’s ears with a particularly high-pitched yip.

“All right, all right!” Lindsey groaned. “I’m awake.”

Ginger jumped down from the bed to prance near the closed bedroom door.

“Let me guess. You need to go out.”

This was followed by a full-fledged bark. Lindsey sat up and winced as skiing muscles, long unused, protested. The dog barked again, and there was a knock at the door.

“Come in. I’m decent.”

Eric poked his head in. “Morning.”

“What time is it?” Lindsey asked in a sleep-hoarse voice.

“Eight. We let you two sleep in. Want me to walk the dog for you?”

“Please, and keep her on the leash,” Lindsey said, rubbing at a sore shoulder. “Just in case she doesn’t come back.”

“Will do, but she’ll come back,” Eric said confidently.

Just like I did.

“Breakfast is ready.” He and Ginger both left, Eric closing the door behind him.

The meal was a quick affair. Ginger bolted her food, and Lindsey finished her pancakes and eggs almost as quickly, but with more delicacy. Soon Lindsey and Eric skied away from the cabin, Ginger at their heels, out into the crisp, pure air of Yosemite.

The crystal-blue clearness of unpolluted high altitudes against the vivid whites and pine greens soothed her soul. The wide-open spaces of Yosemite echoed with the sound of their newly waxed cross-country skis cutting through the crisp snow. Lindsey remembered earlier, happier times, when the silent, brooding man ahead of her had smiled and skied at her side and another dog bounded at her heels. She pushed those dangerous thoughts away. Instead, she took in a deep breath of air tinged with pine, then slowly exhaled. She soaked in the stark beauty of the ancient granite and continued to follow Eric on the packed cross-country ski trail. Ginger trotted between the two of them, easily keeping up with Eric’s slow, relaxed pace.

Lindsey smiled, remembering Eric’s usual brisk rate of travel. She suspected he was making allowances for her sore muscles, since a dragging pace in anything wasn’t his style. In bed he’d made love to her with an easy energy that fully complemented Lindsey’s more easygoing approach to life.

Wade was only partially compatible. She never felt the deep satisfaction that went past physical pleasure. Only Eric could satisfy her emotionally and mentally—probably because he was the only one she’d ever trusted emotionally and physically. With Wade, that trust barely extended to the physical level, although both he and her parents believed otherwise. Her sisters, however, weren’t deceived. They knew she still had feelings for Eric, no matter how happy she seemed with Wade.