Sharing Spaces

Senna rinsed the plate and put it in the dish rack with a sudden twinge of guilt. She’d forgotten to call her mother. She’d promised to let her know the moment she arrived and now it was almost eight o’clock. She wiped her hands on the dish towel, retrieved her cell phone from the rental car and walked out onto the dock to give herself the best wide-open shot at reception before dialing. Nothing happened. No call went through. The little screen on the cell phone’s face said, “No Signal” and the tiny bar codes that indicated the signal strength didn’t even begin to register. She tried several more times before giving up.

Damn! She’d have to drive clear into North West River just to call her mother to let her know she was okay. She entered the house at the same time Jack was descending the stairs and they met head-on. “That was a mighty quick shower,” she said, taken aback by the suddenness of his appearance. He’d shaved, nicking himself in a couple of spots. His hair was damp and disheveled. He was wearing a reasonably clean set of clothes along the same lines as the original—jeans, undershirt with a flannel shirt pulled over, unbuttoned down the front and sleeves rolled back He looked virile and disturbingly handsome.

“Mighty quick and mighty cold,” he agreed amiably. “You used up every last drop of hot water cleaning the kitchen.”

“Oh!” Senna felt her cheeks burn. “I’m sorry….”

“Don’t be. The kitchen looks great.” He glanced at the cell phone she held. “Were you trying to call someone?”

“Yes,” Senna said. She kept recalling the heart-stopping sight of that mountain lion she’d seen, that wild, powerful symbol of strength and grace that reminded her so much of Jack Hanson.

“Why not use the house phone?” Jack asked, one eyebrow raised. “You’ll get a helluva lot better reception. Cell phones don’t work here. No towers.”

“I didn’t know there was a regular phone.”

“In the living room on the end table.”

“If there’s a phone, where are the phone lines? I saw no telephone poles for the last half mile of road.”

“Underground cable. The admiral didn’t like the idea of wires strung everywhere. The electric and phone cable was expensive, but considering the wild storms we get up here on the Labrador, it was a good idea.”

“I see.” Senna stared at him for a moment more, unable to help herself. He possessed an animal magnetism that was stronger than anything she’d ever encountered. “Supper will be a little late. I’ll get started right after this phone call.”

He nodded, brushing past her on his way to the kitchen. He smelled faintly of soap, and the residual scents of wood smoke and mosquito repellent that clung to his clothing. He smelled good.

Senna wandered into the living room, the next room on her cleaning agenda. It was a masculine room whose focal point was a big stone fireplace flanked by deep bookshelves. The wall of large windows overlooked the lake, and the comfortable rustic furnishings were well suited to the lake house’s character. She located the phone and sank down on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her as she lifted the receiver. Moments later she was speaking to her mother, who was anxious to hear about everything. Senna heard the screen door bang and craned to look out the window. She spied Jack walking out toward the dock, Chilkat by his side. Good. He wouldn’t overhear.

She abruptly interrupted their staid conversation about legal matters and as quickly as she could she filled her mother in on the true state of her grandfather’s Labrador affairs. “This is going to be much more complicated than I expected, given the fact that everything was co-owned in a full business partnership,” Senna concluded. “Tomorrow Jack’s flying me out to see the lodge. I only hope it’s in good repair and won’t take too long to sell.”

“What’s he like?” her mother asked.

“Jack? Oh, he’s okay, I guess, a little younger than I expected….”

“Why doesn’t he just buy out your grandfather’s half of the business?”

“He told me the banks wouldn’t look twice at him.”

“You hardly know this man, Senna. Do you think he’s safe to fly with?”

“Mom, don’t worry. I have a feeling he’s a very good pilot. I’ll call you tomorrow night. Right now I have to get supper started. I promised I’d cook if he showed me how to tend the sled dogs.”

“Sled dogs?”

“Huskies. The real thing. Twenty of them.”

“Goodness. Senna, Tim called. He tried to reach you at your apartment and got worried when he couldn’t. I told him about your grandfather dying and that you had to go to Labrador. He sounds pretty down.”

“I’ll call him. Bye, Mom. Love you.” Senna sat for a moment after hanging up and then dialed Tim’s number, peering out the window once again while the call went through. Jack was doing something with the airplane. The door was open and he was inside. Good, twice over. She especially didn’t want him to hear this conversation.

Tim answered on the third ring. “I’m sorry I bothered your mother, but I was worried,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“Fine. My grandfather’s death was unexpected and he named me as his executor. I’ll probably be here for two weeks settling his estate. It’s very beautiful and remote country.”

“I can imagine,” he commented. “They probably still travel by dog team there.” After an awkward pause, he said, “How’s everything going?”

“As well as can be expected. My grandfather owned half shares in a business that includes a lake house, a fishing lodge and an airplane, which complicates things. Somehow I have to find a buyer for his shares. How are things with you?”

“Okay. I landed that big account I’ve been working on. Ameri-Dyne. You know, the huge dental practice off Forest Ave.”

“Wow, that’s great news, Tim,” she said. “Congratulations. I know how hard you’ve been working for that.” Senna caught a flash of movement outside the window and saw Jack and Chilkat walking toward the house. “Tim? I have to go. I have a meeting with my grandfather’s business partner.”

“I miss you, Senna. Let me know if you need anything at all,” he said, sounding forlorn.

“I will,” she promised.

Senna was sick with guilt as she attacked supper preparations in the kitchen. Sooner or later Tim would realize that their relationship was over. But that didn’t ease the pain he was feeling now, and she was the cause of it. He adored her. Was she wrong to break things off? Why couldn’t she love him the way he loved her? Senna gave herself a mental shake. This was no time to be dwelling on her relationship with Tim. She had a meal to prepare. Caribou steaks, russet potatoes scrounged from a musty sack of sprouting spuds she found in a lower cupboard, and canned corn. In the refrigerator she unearthed two sticks of butter, several fist-sized chunks of mold that might once have been vegetables, endless half-empty jars of condiments and a container of very sour milk. This wouldn’t pass for a gourmet meal by any standards, but Senna realized as she slipped the scrubbed potatoes into the oven that such standards no longer mattered. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and was ravenous.

By the time Jack wandered into the house, carrying what looked like a shapeless snarl of nylon webbing, things were reasonably under control. “It’ll be another forty-five minutes,” she called out as he dropped into a chair in the living room, the webbing in his lap, and began threading a large curved needle from a spool of dental floss. “I hope you can wait that long.”

“That’s just about right,” he replied, concentrating as he drew the floss through the needle. “Mending these harnesses will probably take that long or better.” He picked up a piece of webbing that had been chewed in half and lit a match to melt the ragged ends before beginning to stitch the harness back together. “So,” he said, jabbing the needle into the thick webbing. “Have you given any thought to keeping your share of the business?”

Senna moved toward the living room, crossed her arms in front of her and leaned against the door frame. “No. I mean, yes, I have, but no, I don’t want to own half of a fishing lodge, thank you very much. Don’t you have a friend or relative who might be interested in buying my grandfather’s share?”

“Nope.” He drew the floss through the harness, pulled the thread tight and cast a brief glance in her direction. “There aren’t that many people out there as crazy as the admiral and me. What about your brothers? You have two of them, don’t you?”

“Yes. Billy’s a computer programmer for a large engineering firm in Boston, and Bryce is a market analyst living in New York City.”

“Do they fish?”

“No, nor are they or their wives particularly outdoorsy.”

His shoulders slumped. “That explains it, then.”

“Explains what?”

“Why the admiral named you as his executor. You were his last great hope.”

Senna felt a flush of anger heat her blood. “Are you certain the banks won’t loan you the money?”

“I’ve already looked into it. Even if the bank appraisal came in high enough, there’s no surety there. I don’t have a steady job, and the fishing lodge hasn’t generated any income yet. I’d have to have a co-signor to get any sort of mortgage, and I can’t think of a soul on earth who’d be crazy enough to co-sign a loan for me.” He paused for a moment, needle poised in mid-air, eyes fixed on a point somewhere between Senna and Baffin Island, then shook his head in a gesture of defeat and returned his attention to mending the harness.

“Why did my grandfather keep sled dogs?” Senna asked, abruptly changing the subject to avoid further jabs from Hanson.

“He liked them. He met a trapper from a village near Mud Lake who was selling his team. The admiral bought the dogs, the komatik and a bunch of traps. He decided he was going to make some money on furs.”

Senna felt a twist of revulsion as she pictured the pained and frightened creatures caught in the steel leg-hold traps. “I think trapping’s cruel and awful and ought to be outlawed.”

Jack uttered a short laugh. “So did he, after about a month of it. It was brutal work. The snow here is so damn deep and unpackable that the dogs had to swim through it hauling that heavy sled. The admiral would try to break the trail on snowshoes, but he couldn’t keep ahead of the team. The leaders would run up on the tails of his shoes and he’d pitch head first into the snow. So he recruited me as his trail breaker, but my trapping career spanned less than a day. I tell you what, it’s not easy getting out of deep snow when you fall facefirst into it. A couple of times I was sure I was going to suffocate.”