Chapter 21: The Form

I found a pencil stub in my duffel, and Astrid wrote her name with it on the line Tom had typed.

Her hand shook, and the C came out crooked.

She looked at the signature for a long moment, and then she set the pencil down.

"That's done," she said.

"Are you sure?"

"I've never been so sure of something I was so afraid of."

I kissed her hair, and she leaned into me, wrapped in a blanket with her feet bare on the cold floor.

At seven I turned on the radio myself.

"Seagull Creek," I said. "I need the feed mill."

The dispatcher took a minute to patch the line, and the same warm voice came through the static.

"Bea! You've decided."

"I have. I'm sorry. I won't be running the race."

There was a short silence on the other end.

"Is it the dogs?" she asked. "We can lease more."

"It's not the dogs. I ran twenty miles yesterday and I loved every one."

"Then why?"

"Because I want to run them here," I said. "With someone. I found out what I was missing, and it wasn't the race."

The woman laughed, a little wetly.

"Well," she said. "That's the best reason I've heard in six years. Is there anything we can do?"

I looked at Astrid, who was sitting very still.

"The forest district is starting a winter patrol dog team," I said. "They'll need food."

"Tell them to call me. We'll feed any team you drive for as long as you drive it."

"Thank you," I said, and the dispatcher cut in with a gentle, "Seagull Creek, that's the end of your call."

Astrid said nothing until the radio was off.

"You gave up three hundred miles," she said.

"I gave up a race. I kept the miles."

She put her forehead against mine.

At noon an engine whined across the lake.

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