Bear (2 page)

Lizzie unbuckled her seat belt, slid the door open, and started to hop out of the van. “Careful!” Mom warned. “It might be sli —”

Too late. Lizzie slipped and slid on the snow-and-ice-packed driveway. She lost her balance but caught herself before she fell. “Whoa!” She grabbed the door handle.

“Watch it.” The woman had picked her way close enough to grab the puppy and scoop him up. “Are you okay?”

Lizzie nodded, but she wasn’t looking at the woman. She gazed at the adorable puppy in the woman’s arms. He was so cute! His fur was fluffy, mostly black and gray with white markings. He had a pointy nose like the Big Bad
Wolf’s, and triangular ears, one of which stood up while the other flopped over. His face was mostly white, with black around the eyes so that he looked as if he were wearing an old-fashioned burglar’s mask. And the most amazing thing? One eye was brown, and the other was bright blue. Lizzie could not stop staring.

The woman laughed. “I know, isn’t he cute? This is Bear.” By then, Dad and Charles had climbed out of the van, and Mom was helping the Bean out of his car seat.

“You must be the Petersons. I’m Cordelia Harris.” The woman smiled around at everyone. “I’m the sister who paints.”

Lizzie remembered Mom mentioning that the bed-and-breakfast was run by two sisters, one who was a painter and one who was a musician. She liked Cordelia Harris right away. Cordelia had red cheeks and long, thick brown braids, and she wore a big, fuzzy, multicolored sweater.

“Dorothy is inside, practicing. And she just finished baking some cookies,” Cordelia went on.

“Cookies!” The Bean’s face lit up. “Gimme cookies!”

“What do you say?” Mom reminded him.

“Lots
of cookies!” yelled the Bean. Then, when Mom gave him a look, he added, “Please?” He gave Cordelia his best “aren’t-I-the-cutest?” smile.

“You can have as many cookies as your mom and dad allow,” said Cordelia. “Now, come on in, everybody, before you all freeze!” She led the way up the snowy front walk, still carrying the puppy.

Inside, it was deliciously warm. Lizzie stopped to pull off her jacket. She heard the sound of a tinkling piano — and then silence. In a moment, a woman appeared. She looked just like Cordelia, except that her braids were more gray than brown. “Welcome,” she said. “I’m Dorothy. Please,
come on into the parlor.” She led them into a room full of overstuffed armchairs, with paintings on the walls and richly colored rugs on the floor. A big fire crackled away in a giant stone fireplace. A piano stood in one corner, and there were shelves and shelves full of books. Lizzie spotted a plate of chocolate-chip cookies on a big round wooden table, with a teapot and mugs beside it.

“Now this looks relaxing.” Mom beamed as Cordelia waved them in and invited them to sit down.

Just then, the little husky pup wriggled out of Cordelia’s arms, jumped down onto the floor, wandered over to the fireplace, and curled up for a nap.

“Awww!” Lizzie could not believe how cute he was. “He’s sleepy!”

“Lazy is more like it.” Dorothy snorted. “That’s why he’s here.”

“What do you mean?” Dad asked.

“We’re just taking care of Bear,” said Cordelia. “He doesn’t belong to us. In fact, he’s looking for a home.”

Lizzie and Charles stared at each other. They had come all the way to Vermont, only to meet a puppy like all the others they had fostered back home — a puppy who needed a forever family. “What does laziness have to do with it?” Lizzie went over to sit in front of the fire near Bear and stroke his long, soft fur.

“A musher friend of ours dropped Bear off a couple of weeks ago,” Dorothy said.

“Musher?” Charles asked. “Like — oatmeal?”

Cordelia laughed. “Up here, musher means sled-dog racer. You know, like ‘Mush! Mush!’ Only, they don’t really say that to get their dogs moving. That’s kind of a myth.”

Dorothy passed the plate of cookies. “So Bruce, our friend, raises sled dogs and races them. Bear was part of the last litter of puppies, and Bruce felt that he just really didn’t fit in. He said Bear
was too unmotivated and would never make a good sled dog.”

Lizzie drew in a breath. “That’s mean.”

“Actually, it’s just the truth.” Cordelia shrugged. “You can see for yourself. He likes to greet our guests, but besides that, all he wants to do is eat and sleep.”

“There’s another reason our friend had to leave him with us,” said Dorothy. “He couldn’t take care of a puppy right now. Bruce had to leave town —”

“That’s no excuse for abandoning a puppy —” Lizzie began.

But Dorothy finished, “— because he’s headed for Alaska, to run the Iditarod.”

Lizzie’s jaw fell open. “Really? That’s — that’s so cool! My class just did a whole unit on the Iditarod.”

“Ibibabob!” echoed the Bean, dancing around excitedly. “Dabibalod! Gaboogidog!”

“The
what
?” Charles asked.

“Eye-
dit
-uh-rod,” Lizzie pronounced the word carefully. “It’s a race. The longest, wildest sled-dog race in the world.”

“That’s right.” Dorothy nodded. “It goes from Anchorage to Nome, through some of the deepest wilderness in the world.”

“The race is over a thousand miles long!” said Lizzie. “And it’s very historical. A long time ago there was this disease called — um —”

“Diphtheria,” Dorothy put in. “It was a bad disease, especially for young people. And there was no way to get the medicine to those who needed it way up in Nome. So they sent it by dogsled.”

“Yeah.” Lizzie remembered the whole story. “And it was, like, forty below zero, and it took six days! And one of the dogs was named Balto. There’s a statue of him in New York City.”

“That’s right,” said Dorothy. “And nowadays they run the Iditarod as a race every year, to honor Balto and the other brave dogs.”

“Cool,” said Charles.

“Very good, Lizzie,” said Mom. “Sounds like you really learned about this topic.”

Lizzie always had an excellent memory for anything that had to do with dogs. She patted Bear again, and he yawned and licked her hand. His fluffy fur was warm from the fire. No way was this sleepy puppy ready to help pull a dogsled for over one thousand miles. “I guess Bear does need another home,” she said. “Maybe we can help find him one!”

“I still can’t believe you managed to find a puppy to foster all the way up here in Vermont.” Mom shook her head at Lizzie the next morning.

Lizzie sat by the fireplace with a belly full of the best waffles she’d ever had. She brushed Bear gently, combing tiny snarls out of his coat. “I know!” Lizzie grinned. “Isn’t it great?”

Mom sighed. “Well, it’s not necessarily what I would choose for
my
vacation, but I know it makes you happy to have a puppy to care for. And I must admit he’s very cute. Being around him helps me miss Buddy a little less.”

She came over to pat Bear. “Hi, Beary.” Mom spoke softly. “You’re a little sweetie, aren’t you?”

Bear yawned.

Whatever you say. Can I go back to my nap now?

“Cordelia says that even if he is lazy, he’s smart,” Lizzie reported. “She said he’s completely house-trained — he goes right out into the snow to do his business. She said he doesn’t mind the snow and cold at all — that he would probably
live
outside, if he could.”

Mom raised her eyebrows. “Bear may like the cold, but he sure seems to like snoozing by the fireplace, too!” She laughed. “I can relate. I could almost curl up for a nap on that couch over there. It’s so cozy in here.”

Just then Dad came downstairs, all dressed for cross-country skiing in wool pants and a puffy red vest over a gray wool sweater. Behind him were Charles and the Bean, who were also bundled up and ready to go. “Let’s hit the trails!” Dad looked eager. “I’ve got our skis all ready.”

Lizzie groaned. She really just wanted to lie by the fire, tickling Bear’s pink puppy belly.

“Come on.” Dad ignored the groan. “It’ll be fun. It’s supposed to start snowing really hard later today, so now’s the perfect time to learn the basics. Then tomorrow we’ll have a whole pile of beautiful new snow to play in.”

“Come on.” Mom poked Lizzie with her foot. “We’ll have a good time. And Bear will be right here waiting for you when we get back.”

Lizzie gave Bear one more kiss. “Okay.” She was already mostly dressed — all she had to do was pull on her snow pants and jacket and she’d be ready. When Dad saw how terrible she was at skiing, maybe she could spend the rest of the vacation playing with Bear.

“Have fun.” Cordelia waved from her painting studio on the sunporch as the Petersons headed out the back door.

“Don’t forget your trail map.” Dorothy ran after
them with a pamphlet in her hand. “Our trail goes right through the woods until it meets a snowmobile trail that you can follow for miles.”

“Thanks.” Dad put the map in his pocket. “Cordelia showed me the best route this morning. We should be back by lunchtime. If we’re not, send out the Mounties.”

“Keep an eye on the sky.” Dorothy squinted up at the low gray clouds overhead. “I have a feeling that storm may begin a little earlier than the weatherman said.”

Great. Now Lizzie had to worry about getting lost in a blizzard, on top of everything else.

Mom began to settle the Bean into the little sled he’d be riding in, towed behind her or Dad. And Dad helped Charles and Lizzie put on their skis. “Just step down right here.” He guided the toe of Lizzie’s ski boot into the ski’s binding. “Hear that click? That means you’re all locked in and ready to roll.”

Charles had both skis on in no time. He started sliding around the yard like a maniac. “Look at me! Look at me! I’m doing it!”

Show-off,
Lizzie thought. Then, without any warning, she fell down. She hadn’t even been doing anything. Just standing there! Now, she was on her side in the snow, with her legs and feet and skis all tangled up. She couldn’t even begin to figure out how to untangle them. Not only that, but Dad was laughing at her.

She glared at him, and he stopped. He helped her untangle her legs and held out a hand so he could help haul her to her feet. “Sorry.” He was still smiling. “It’s just that I’ve done that exact thing myself so many times. It’s embarrassing. But kind of funny, really. One minute you’re standing there, the next you’re not.” He helped her get her hat back on straight and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Try again. It’s really not so hard. All you do is push off with one foot and
glide on the other ski. See?” He started to ski around her in a big circle. “Kick, glide. Kick, glide.” He made it look easy.

Lizzie grabbed her ski poles, which seemed way too long and in the way, and tried to shove off. Kick, glide. How hard could it be? Charles and Mom, towing the Bean, were already on their way down the trail that led through the woods in back of the farmhouse. Dad waited patiently. “That’s it,” he called. “You’ve got it!”

For a second, Lizzie felt her skis glide silently over the silky snow. For a second, she felt the crisp, cold winter air against her cheeks. For a second, she flew!

Oof. Down she went again.

Dad came over to help her up.

They continued that way for what seemed like hours. Lizzie fell every few minutes and Dad helped her up but they kept moving along. Soon it started to snow. Suddenly, big snowflakes swirled all around, so thickly that Lizzie couldn’t
even see Charles and Mom up ahead anymore. She could barely make out the trees on either side of the trail. She felt like she was inside her own giant-sized snow globe.

“You know what?” Lizzie began, after she fell for the fortieth time. She was about to tell Dad that maybe he should go on without her. She had tried, but it was obvious that cross-country skiing was not her thing. Really, she would rather sit by the fire with Bear in her lap. And wouldn’t Dad rather be off kicking and gliding with the others, instead of constantly untangling her and picking her up off the snow?

But before Lizzie could say a thing, Dorothy zoomed up to them, racing fast on her own long wooden skis, her braids flying behind her.

“Have you seen Bear?” Her face was bright red and her eyes were bright. “He’s lost!”

“Lost? Oh, no! What do you mean, Bear is lost?” Lizzie didn’t understand.

“I was welcoming some new guests, and Bear ran out of the house” — Dorothy gasped, a little out of breath — “just like he did yesterday. This time I had clipped on his little red leash, but he pulled it out of my hands. By the time I got the guests settled inside, Bear was — he was nowhere to be found. I thought he might have followed you, but there’s no sign of him along the trail.”

“We’ll find him,” Dad said. “Don’t worry. How far could he have gone?” He turned to Lizzie. “You head on back with Dorothy. I’ll go tell Mom and Charles what’s up.” He skied off fast, disappearing into the flying snow.

Lizzie didn’t know how she managed, but she skied back to Harris House without falling. Maybe she was getting the hang of it. Or maybe she was just so worried about Bear that her fear kept her going. “Could Bear have wandered into the road?” she asked.

“I don’t even want to think about that.” Dorothy closed her eyes tightly. “Maybe he’ll be safe and sound inside when we get back.”

But he wasn’t.

Cordelia met them at the back door. “Any sign of Bear?” She wrung her hands.

Dorothy shook her head. “It’s snowing too hard. Any trail he would have left is already covered.” She reached down to undo her ski bindings. “Can you grab a few pairs of snowshoes?” Cordelia disappeared inside.

Dorothy helped Lizzie out of her skis. “Snowshoes will be easier to get around on.”

Cordelia reappeared with an armful of big wooden snowshoes. “I’ll set the extras out here.”
She piled several pairs by the back door. “I called Tim Carter. He’s busy, but he said he’d send his daughter over to help.”

“Neighbors.” Dorothy showed Lizzie how to strap on a pair of snowshoes. “They live down the road. We all help one another out up here.”

By the time Lizzie and Cordelia had gotten their snowshoes on, Dad was back. “Mom and Charles are on their way.” He was panting a little. “Where should I start looking?”

“Maybe you could ski the other way down the trail, toward town.” Cordelia pointed. “The rest of us will search the woods around the house. Oh, good, here’s Fern.”

A teenage girl dashed around the corner of the farmhouse, wearing snowshoes — sleek, modern metal ones with red bindings — and a bright red jacket. “Dad said your dog is lost.”

“Not our dog —” Dorothy began to explain that they were just taking care of Bear temporarily,
but then she shook her head. “Yes. A little husky pup. Named Bear. Lizzie, this is Fern Carter. Fern, Lizzie Peterson. Why don’t you two search around the back of the barn and in the apple orchard?”

“Umm . . .” Lizzie was about to say she didn’t know where the apple orchard was, but Fern was already on her way toward the big red barn.

“She knows her way around.” Dorothy gave Lizzie a little push. “Stick with Fern and you won’t get lost in the snow.”

Lizzie remembered a scene in
The Long Winter,
one of her favorite Laura Ingalls Wilder books, where there was a big blizzard, with snow so thick and heavy that Laura had to hang on to a rope to find her way between the house and the barn. Fern’s red jacket had almost disappeared into the swirling flakes. “Wait up!” Lizzie yelled. She took three steps on her snowshoes and fell face-first into the snow. “Argh!”

“Take it easy at first.” Dorothy helped Lizzie
up. “You’ll get used to those snowshoes quickly. But it’s a little different from walking normally. You have to walk kind of like a duck, with your feet apart.” She demonstrated with a few waddling steps. “Now, let’s find that pup.”

“Bear!” Lizzie waddled after Fern, trying to keep the red jacket in sight. “Beary boy! Where are you? Come, Bear!”

Lizzie caught up to Fern and they snowshoed all the way around the barn. Then they went along an old stone wall that ran by a group of small trees with twisty, tangled branches, just like the scary apple trees that come to life in
The Wizard of Oz.
They yelled and yelled, calling Bear’s name over and over.

Lizzie only fell once, but that was embarrassing enough. “Graceful.” Fern said it with a smile, but Lizzie felt like an idiot. Fern ran around on her snowshoes as if she’d been doing it all her life, which she probably had. It wasn’t very nice of her to make fun of people who were new at it. But
there was no time to stew about hurt feelings. They had to find Bear.

“Let’s look inside the barn.” Fern pushed the big door open. “He might have wriggled inside somehow, looking for shelter.” Lizzie peeked over Fern’s shoulder. It was very dark and very quiet in there, and it smelled just like the horse barn where Lizzie sometimes rode with her friend Maria. Like old, dusty hay and animals. The smell reminded Lizzie of Rascal, the wild little puppy who had found a wonderful home at that stable. She smiled for just a second — then she remembered about Bear.

“I don’t think he’s in here.” Lizzie shook her head. “He’d come running if he heard us. Or we’d hear him crying if he was stuck somewhere.”

“Anyway, it’s too dark to search without a flashlight. We can come back later if we need to. But let’s go back to the house and see if there’s any news yet,” Fern suggested. They headed toward the parking area near the front door.

Lizzie looked at the house. She remembered how Bear had run out to greet them the day before. Where, oh, where, was that cute little puppy now? She felt her throat close up and she blinked back some tears. Then she remembered something else. The house had looked different yesterday. Or at least the
roof
had.

“Fern.” She tugged on the sleeve of the older girl’s jacket. “Look!” Lizzie pointed toward the green metal roof over the front door.

“What?” Fern asked. “Do you see Bear?”

Lizzie shook her head. “No. But yesterday, when we got here, that green roof wasn’t showing. It was covered with snow. And now look!” She pointed to a huge mountain of snow that must have just slid off the roof. It came all the way up to the parlor windows. “What if Bear was right by the door when —”

But Fern wasn’t even listening anymore. She charged toward the house.