Mariah The Scientist Quotes

Rachel laughed about the same time she realized that the sound she just heard was the sound of water being turned off. Probably the shower. Probably Sam . . . Before she could utter an uh-oh, a door had opened below. “Sam!” she called to him, to let him know that she was there. “It’s Rachel.” “Why, so it is.” He stood at the foot of the steps, holding a white towel in front of him, grinning and taking his time to wrap it around his tanned waist. “I guess you just stopped by to say ‘hey.’” “No, actually, I brought my sketches over.” Rachel eyed him steadily, as if oblivious to the fact that the only thing that prevented her from getting a glimpse of Sam in all his glory was a bit of terrycloth. Feeling a flush spread from her neck to her hairline, she turned her back and made a show of casually unzipping the backpack and sliding the sketches onto the table. “Oh? What sketches are they?” He still stood in the doorway at the bottom of the steps, his arms folded across his considerable chest, as if in no hurry to do anything about the fact that he was wearing nothing more than a towel and a few errant drops of water. “My sketches of the Melrose.” “You want to show me your sketches?” The hint of amusement in his voice was unmistakable. “I’m flattered, Rachel, I truly am. And here all this time I thought you didn’t like me.” “I didn’t.” She looked up a bit too sharply. “I don’t. But we have a job to do. And it would make much more sense if there was one set of sketches. After all, we don’t want to end up with two versions of the wreck site. You’ll forget things, I’ll forget things . . .” Sam nodded and started up the steps. “I couldn’t agree more. I’m all for collaboration.” “Sam. Aren’t you forgetting something?” “What’s that?” He crossed the cabin in three slow strides and was within inches of her before she knew it. “Your clothes.” “Oh. The towel thing bothers you? I’m surprised, Rachel, you being a scientist of sorts.” He stretched an arm out toward her and she ducked. Sam laughed and reached behind her to open one of the overhead storage cabinets.

The scientists who tell us that dogs are simple creatures have never owned sled dog teams. They have never tried to organize twelve minds and forty-eight canine legs into a unit that moves forward with conviction. The physical differences in dogs are sometimes the least of the musher’s worries when matching up a team. He must consider the dogs’ personality quirks and varying degrees of dedication. When a well-trained team glides quietly down the trail, spectators may think the sport looks easy, but I guarantee that the driver of that team has put in his time.