Alaska Heart Read Free

opportunity wasted, right?”
    “Right. I know you’re right.”
    She was placating me. I could tell.
    “Tonight why don’t we each draft up our proposals separately, then we’ll swap them tomorrow. Help each other out. No rules against doing that.”
    This perked Meg up a bit. “Okay. Another good idea, Cormac.”
    I patted myself on the back, and Meg laughed. She’d write the proposal even if only to make me happy. Probably wrong to manipulate our friendship like that, but I didn’t want Meg to let her fears get the best of her.
    Like I was one to talk.
    Shaking my head, I gathered my trash and stood. “I’ve got to finish my habitat story before I even consider writing a proposal. See you later.”
    Meg saluted me, and I left her to bury myself in my cube. I worked for about two hours and then hopped online. Accessing my personal email account, I deleted the junk and, with an anxious glimpse around my cube, composed an email.
    gaia-girl706:
    Know anything about Denali?
    I let out a little squeak when a new message dinged back right away.
    sled-dog16:
    I know everything about Denali. Why?
    gaia-girl706:
    Might be doing a story on it. Wanted the inside scoop. Interested in helping a gal out?
    sled-dog16:
    If the gal is you, yes. If not, forget it.
    Why was it suddenly so warm in my cube? I peeled off my suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of my blouse.
    gaia-girl706:
    The gal IS me, punk. Helping me could mean a big promotion. I’d really appreciate it. If you’re not too busy sleeping, of course. ☺
    sled-dog16:
    Never too busy for you. Besides I’m climbing the walls now that the race is over and I’m “resting.” I hate resting.
    And I’m not a punk.
    I laughed quietly in my cube, somehow feeling that sled-dog16 was right there with me and not clear across the country. Why was it so easy to talk and joke with him, a stranger? I didn’t even know what color his eyes were. It took little effort to imagine meeting him face-to-face though.
    gaia-girl706:
    Okay, because you’re going to help me, I’ll retract the punk statement. For now.
    sled-dog16:
    Who’s the punk now?
    What do you want to know about Denali?
    gaia-girl706:
    I’ll send you a list of specific questions, but whatever you can think of would be awesome.
    sled-dog16:
    No prob. If you came up here, I could SHOW you Denali. Hint, hint. ☺ Nothing like seeing it in person.
    gaia-girl706:
    I’ll bet. Still, you could be a psycho, so we’ll stick to you answering my questions via email for now.
    sled-dog16:
    You could call me. You know, on the telephone. Wonderful invention. I can’t kill you over the phone. Totally safe.
    Call him? Yikes. Curiosity did have me wondering what his voice, his laugh, would sound like. How would my name roll off his tongue?
    “What are you thinking, Cormac?” I shook my head and tapped away on my keyboard.
    gaia-girl706:
    I could, but then I’d miss the excitement of opening my email and finding messages from you. Wouldn’t want to deprive myself.
    sled-dog16:
    Have it your way, wimp. I shall await your questions, O Big Important Magazine Writer.
    gaia-girl706:
    Thanks. Talk to you later, He Who Sleds with Dogs.
    Reluctant to end the conversation, I closed my email and spent the rest of the day working on my urban habitat story. Technically, only half my brain was devoted to that story. The other half visualized seeing Denali with an Iditarod winner.
    ****
    Nestled in the folds of my chocolate-colored, suede couch, garbed in my favorite sweatpants and T-shirt, I ate the salad and pizza I’d bought from Rita’s, a small Italian place one block from my apartment. Everything was right in the world when I had a slice of Rita’s cheese and pepperoni pizza in my hands. As right as it could be when you’re totally alone in your living room.
    With my precious flat screen TV on to fill the silence, I munched and jotted ideas for the Denali piece. Soon, I had a decent list assembled. From the list, I constructed