Bridge To Happiness (18 page)

The bright morning sunshine
at nine thousand feet didn’t do a thing for my blinding headache. Of course Mickey was on my mind, but he hadn’t said much since he’d joined us about a half an hour ago and now stood about thirty feet away talking with some of the professional boarders. I felt a distinct chill that had nothing to do with the weather and could only hope Spider had discouraged him.

I’d expected the cold shoulder from Molly, but she acted as if nothing had happened between us the night before, something for which I was grateful.

All of the
Cantrells
, my daughter, sons, their wives and kids, Rob and both generations of his family, were gathered at the top of the mountain, Cantrell boards littered all over the snow, while we waited to descend
en masse
down the main run, which had been groomed and was closed to the public for the final events.

Starting ahead of us were some of the best known names in snowboarding and the winter sports business, along with international and Olympic champions from every freestyle event, carrying huge flags with the Cantrell logo, and behind them the family would board down the run together holding bundles of bright helium balloons that would float up into the sky.

From now on, the first of the most prestigious annual snowboard meets would be the Mike Cantrell Memorial Global Open. When I’d received the phone call to tell me what everyone in the snowboarding industry wanted to do for Mike, I cried. Not on the phone, but just as I hung up. I cried alone.

It was important to me to pretend I wasn’t dying in inside. It was important for me to look strong to everyone else. There was nothing I hated more than the image of me as a sniveling, weak widow who couldn’t hold it together. And I was still new to the process of recreating myself.

Someone blew a whistle, and we dutifully stepped into our bindings and accepted the bouquets of balloons. Scott was going to carry Tyler down the mountain and was juggling him from arm to arm in order to secure the balloons, while his son giggled and batted at them so they bounced off his daddy’s head.

One of the balloon girls tried to give Phil more than one bundle and laughing, he said, “No thanks.” He slung his arm around
Keely’s
shoulders and turned to us. “Hey, did any of you see that news story about the guy in Oregon who tied a bunch of heavy duty helium balloons to his lawn chair and flew up to thirteen thousand feet?”

“Tyler, stop hitting me in the head.” Scott grabbed his son’s hand and glanced at Phil. “You’re kidding.”

“No way. The guy had a GPS system, wind gauges, a camcorder, and used heavy water jugs for ballast. He’d turn on the water spigot or release helium from the balloons to raise and lower himself. Apparently he’d tried to fly via helium balloons once before, and when he let go of some of the balloons to adjust his altitude, he fell like a rock and had to use a parachute.”

While my older sons were talking, my gaze drifted up to the sky and for one brief and fanciful moment, I wondered if I could gather every balloon on that mountain and fly right up to heaven.

“Where’s Renee?” Scott was looking around the group.

“I don’t know,” Molly said, searching, too. “She was here a few moments ago.”

“Mommy’s sick again,” Miranda said and pointed toward a work shed behind the lift. “She’s over there behind the building throwing up her breakfast. Like she did all the time with Tyler. Are we going to have another baby, Daddy? Another baby? Mommy said she’d talk to me about it later. I want a sister this time. A baby girl would be perfectly perfect.”

Molly looked at me with wide eyes that said, oh no . . . . I didn’t know until then she was in on the secret. She was very close to
Keely
. That Scott and Renee felt they had to hide their wonderful news was tough and not something either Phil or
Keely
would want, especially with so much loss. Suddenly we were standing in the midst of one of those family moments where you don’t know what to say.

But I knew
Keely
must have been reeling inside. The blood had drained from her face and she stared off bleakly at the shed. Phillip dropped his arm and faced Scott. “Is Renee pregnant again?”

The word again said more about what he felt than any other, and I hoped no one but me caught it. Scott, however, looked completely uncomfortable. With guilt in his eyes, he glanced to me as if for help, then back at
Keely
and his brother. Resigned, he nodded.

“That’s great, big bro.” Phillip was genuinely happy for him and went to shake Scott’s hand but between Tyler and the balloons, he had to clap him on the shoulder instead.

“I’ll go check on Renee,”
Keely
said hurriedly, her voice sounding higher-pitched than normal, and she took off toward the shed before anyone could stop her. Phillip watched her slide down the grade with a pensive look.

“I’ll go, too.” I started to step into my board and follow, but Phil grabbed my arm.

“No. Stay here, Mom.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” My eyes were on
Keely
who leaned against the shed, clearly talking to Renee, who was still hidden from view.

“It’s fine,” Phil said. “Let her help Renee. She needs to help her. Renee needs to know we know.”

With perfect twenty-twenty hindsight, I understood then that trying to protect
Keely
was the wrong approach. I couldn’t blame Renee or Scott. Instinctively no one wanted to hurt
Keely
, but hiding the news so she found out this way was not fair to her.

I could only guess at what kind of conversation she would have with Phillip later. For all his jokes, and chatter, and clowning around, Phillip, with his vulnerable and gentle heart could be the kindest, most sensitive of all my boys. Often he was more tuned into the colors of my moods than anyone else in the family, certainly better than Mike was at gauging me.

With perfectly lousy timing, some official blew the damned whistle again and announced we had to follow the others down the mountain. Renee and
Keely
joined us together by then, but Renee’s pallor was still grayish. “I’m sorry,” she said, clearly out of sorts.

“Are you going to be okay?” Scott asked her before I could.

“Renee,” I said. “You do not have to go down that mountain.”

“I want to, Mom. I’m okay now. Really I am. Someone hand me some balloons. I won’t get sick again.” She laughed facetiously. “There’s nothing left in my stomach.”

“Except a baby,” Miranda said brightly, tugging on her mother’s jacket. “I want a girl, Mommy. One stupid brother is enough.”

“Boy, isn’t that the truth,” Molly said to Miranda. “I’m plagued with stupid brothers. So is your Aunt
Keely
. Give me your hand, sweetie. You come down the hill with us and we’ll tell you some of the tricks they played on us so you can be prepared for when Tyler gets bigger.”

Across a sea of knitted beanies, I saw Mickey extract himself from a gaggle of balloon girls and plod across the packed snow in his boots. He had the biggest feet of all the Cantrell men, size thirteen, and was already six foot three.

“Glad to see you could pull yourself away from all the snow bunnies, Casanova,” Phil said, teasing him.

“Jealous, old man?”

“I don’t have to be jealous. I have the most gorgeous woman on the mountain,” Phil said, and he rubbed
Keely
on the behind. The grateful look she gave him told me things would be okay for them. Phil would do what he needed to do to make things right for her.

“Here’s my favorite snow bunny.” Mickey pulled me into a hug, resting his chin on the top of my head the same way his father used to do. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

“I will be now,” I said. For just that moment I let him hold me in his lanky arms the way his father had so many times, my cheek against his shoulder, thankful and trying not to get choked up and silly at my youngest son’s moment of thoughtfulness.
Please go to college. Please don’t be an idiot. Please , , , please . . .
please . . .

A little while later we released those balloons. Without a plan to do so, all of us stopped mid-run, and we linked arms, a daisy chain of
Cantrells
, as we watched all those huge and brightly colored balloons drift higher and higher. The crowds below us, the ones held back by the ropes along the run, cheered and whistled and applauded when balloons of every color filled the skies.

One of my favorite lines in the Nora Ephron film
You’ve Got Mail
, was when Meg Ryan’s character told Tom Hanks she thought daisies were happy flowers. It was a simple truth: there were certain things in this world that were happy solely because they existed. In a tender moment of enlightenment, I realized that balloons were just happy, like Meg Ryan’s daisies. And because Mike existed, both in my life and in this great confusing and impossible world, he made me incredibly happy for more years than I could count.

The official renaming of the annual winter event was announced from the network television box after we all reached the bottom of the run, and for a short while, we mingled together until the start of the boarding events drew close. My family had disbursed into the crowd when I caught Spider Olsen’s eye and walked up to him.

“How did it go with Mickey?” I asked.

“We talked. I let him ask questions. But I had called Seth and some of the others late last night, after I left you, and told them what I needed from them. They met us this morning. I told Mickey he needed to talk to all of us to make a solid decision. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. None of us painted the kind of glory and guts picture Mickey was dreaming about. Those boys were blunt. I think Mickey walked away believing half of them wanted to quit the circuit now. The last thing your son said to me was that he wasn’t going to let his dad down.”

Joy spread through me like warm sunshine. Everything would be okay. Mickey would be okay. My youngest was made for college, the smartest of the bunch, grades and studies came almost too easily for him. With his SATs and GPA, his apps letter, community service and outside activities, he was almost assured of getting into one of his top three picks, and there had been no more pranks involving the police.

“Thank you.” I threw my arms around his neck and gave him a huge hug. Laughing with relief, I pulled back, but he loosely held my hands in his.

“I was glad to do it. For you and for Mike. He was a good guy.” Spider paused and then said, “My biggest regret is that Mike didn’t take me up on my offer that night—to fly home on the network jet the following day—but he was in a hurry to get home.”

I stood there with my stomach somewhere near my feet. His words sank deeper into me, wounded me even more than I thought words could. I was bleeding inside. He was still holding my hands, but I was in shock and couldn’t pull them away, and I couldn’t believe what he had just said to me. His biggest regret?

A flash of familiar red hair stepped into my line of sight and Molly elbowed right between us, breaking contract. My hands felt scolded and I stared down at them.

“Scott’s looking for you, Mother,” she said sharply.

“I didn’t move.

“Mother!”

I looked up at her, frowning. What did she say?

His biggest regret was echoing in my head and I could barely hear anything else.

“Scott. He’s over by the stands.” Molly spun around, clearly dismissing me, but not before I caught her expression, a mulish one I knew all too well and had seen only the night before.

The network jet? The next day?

“I want to talk to you,” she said and grabbed Spider’s arm, pulling him away with her, but not before I heard her say, “You need to stay away from my mother.”

“Whoa . . . Wait a second.” Spider held up his hands. “You’ve got this all wrong.”

“Mom!” I turned slowly at the sound of Scott’s voice. He waved at me and was threading his way around the crowds toward the sideline ropes, and stepped under them. “I know we were supposed to go home tonight, but Renee’s sick again and I think I need to get her home now. Mickey wants to stay for all the events and so does Phil.”