CA 35 Christmas Past (8 page)

           
Molly waited patiently
for him to continue. She knew this was difficult for him.

           
“The trail you and I
started today was one of her favorites.”

           
“I can understand that.
It’s a beautiful place.”

           
“The weather had been
particularly bad that winter. We shouldn’t have gone.”

           
He fell silent again.

           
She didn’t push him.
She already knew the story. But that he would tell her about it indicated some
amount of trust.

           
“We went anyway. We
reached the summit. She…her harness gave out. Faulty equipment they said.”

           
“You tried to save
her?” That would be an easy guess for anyone.

           
He nodded. “But I
failed.”

           
“Do you feel
responsible for what happened?”

           
He closed his eyes,
took a breath. “Logically—” he opened his eyes once more “—I understand that it
wasn’t my fault, but I can’t say that I don’t feel responsible.”

           
“That’s normal, I
think.”

           
He searched her eyes as
if trying to understand the reasoning behind her pursuit of the subject.

           
“My mom had a heart
attack,” she went on. “I feel guilty to this day that I stopped at a
convenience store on the way home and didn’t get there in time to help her
before it was too late.”

           
“Sorry about your mom.”
He turned his attention back to the view out the window.

           
“The point is,” she
added, “I don’t let that guilt stop me from going on with my life. My mom
wouldn’t want that.”

           
“You should know,” he
said quietly, “I have these…panic attacks. Whenever I’m in a stressful
situation, they hit. I keep checking off activities from the list of things I
can do. Pretty soon there’s going to be nothing left.”

           
“Did that happen
today?”

           
His gaze collided with
hers.
“Yeah.
I froze. Couldn’t do what I knew exactly
how to do. What I’m fully capable of doing. I just couldn’t do it.”

           
“But you haven’t had to
check off racing? You can still do that.”

           
He laughed; the sound
was strained. “That’s the strangest part. That’s the only place I really feel
normal. When I’m behind that wheel flying around the track, I feel like me.
The old me.”

           
“I can’t say that I’ve
ever had a panic attack, but it seems to me that it’s a mind-over-matter thing.
Kind of like getting back on the horse that threw you.”

           
“Sounds easy, doesn’t
it?”

           
He was right. “I’m
certain it’s not easy. I didn’t mean to insinuate that it was. But you have to
keep trying. If you stop—” her gaze collided with his “—then you’ll never get
started again.”

           
“You really think it’s
that simple?”

           
“No.” She shook her
head. “But it’s like that whole trust thing they do, when you fall back and let
someone else catch you. It’s really hard at first, but once you’ve done it a
couple of times, it’s easy. Maybe if you climb that mountain, the way you
started to today, maybe you’ll break through some kind of barrier and the panic
won’t have control anymore.”

           
“I tried to do that
today, in case you’ve forgotten, and I failed.”

           
“But you didn’t have a
coach today.” She smiled broadly when his gaze met hers once more.

           
“I’m not sure I want to
know what that means.”

           
“I tell you what,
Fewell
,” she challenged. “You go back out with me tomorrow
and I guarantee you’ll climb that mountain. We won’t come back until it’s
done.”

           
He searched her eyes
for a long moment, a glimmer of hope in his. “We’ll have to start early. Be
prepared for every possible scenario.”

           
“All good climbers are
prepared,” she countered.

           
He offered his hand.
“Deal?”

           
She smiled and placed
her hand in his.
“Deal.”

           
CHAPTER SEVEN

           
Two Days before
Christmas, 9:00 a.m.

           
JASON STOOD STONE
STILL.

           
The traverse from the
trail proper had been pure hell. Molly had kept a gung-ho attitude despite his
foul mood. The local papers had slashed his name across the headlines with
questions about the accident three years ago.

           
He shouldn’t have come
back here.

           
“Let’s get moving,
Fewell
,” Molly said, coming up beside him. “We’ve got a
long ways to go and daylight is running out.” She pulled her ice axe from her
bag. “Don’t back out on me now.”

           
His movements stilted,
he reached into his pack and retrieved his own ice axe. The climb would move
from the sloped basin to the east face couloirs upward to the ridges above.
Achieving the Bell Chord proper was the next goal.

           
She moved forward.

           
He forced his feet to
follow her movements.

           
“Stay focused on what’s
right in front of you,” Molly called back to him. “Don’t look beyond your next
few moves.”

           
Jason rolled the
details over in his mind. They had all the equipment they needed. Rope, pickets
and gear for bunking down for the night if necessary. He knew the drill.
Understood exactly what each move should be.

           
His heart rate
escalated with each step. Sweat leached on to his skin beneath the layers of
protective wear.

           
Comfortable angle, he
told himself.
About forty-five degrees.
Keep moving.
You
can do it.

           
They hit a narrow,
treacherous section of the
couloir
, moved cautiously
beyond it.

           
And they climbed.

           
The alternating sounds
of ice axes digging in, gloves ferreting out handholds, boots finding traction
and footing reverberated around him.

           
“Hear that,” she said.
“It’s a rhythm.”

           
Crack, rub, grind.

           
“Focus on the rhythm,”
she prompted. “Focus on the next step.”

           
They climbed and
climbed, stopping for occasional breaks to rest their muscles and catch their
breaths.

           
Jason’s heart rate
slowed to a more expected level for the physical exertion. His ability to
concentrate cleared, allowed for better focus.

           
He saw the head of the
couloir
and the sky beyond. Relief trickled inside him.
They’d made the first major hurdle.

           
“Sit,” Molly
instructed. “Let’s enjoy the view.”

           
Jason settled next to
her. He allowed his respiration to slow naturally. No extra effort required.
Just
breathe.
Felt…good.

           
“Here.” She passed him
a granola bar and bottle of water.
“Brunch.”

           
He smiled at the small
granola bar. “I hope there’s more.” He tore open the wrapper and took a bite.
The taste of oats and cherries filled his mouth. Tasted better than anything
he’d forced himself to chew in a really long time.

           
She passed him another
bar.
“How you holding up?”

           
“Good.” He settled his
attention on her. All geared up with her face protected by dark glasses and a
ski mask. But he knew the line of her jaw by heart…the shape of her soft lips.
Looking at her was far more appealing than the magnificent mountain views all
around them. He hadn’t enjoyed looking at anything other than the finish line
for a long time.

           
“Let’s leave some of the
stuff we won’t need here,” she suggested. “We can do a pickup on the way back.
The next stretch is tough. Light is better.”

           
He suffered a twinge of
panic but refused to let it take root. “You’re the boss.”

           
She laughed as she
shoved aside their crampons and other nonessentials for the next leg of the
trip. The sound of her laughter prompted his determination.
He could do it.
He tucked his water bottle back into his pack and stood.

           
“Let’s do this thing.”
The words were strong. It felt good to say them.

           
A few feet of ice
was
the first challenge. The going was, as she said, tough.
The ground beneath the snow was
ledgy
with lots of
loose rock and snow, a ready mix for slides. Handholds were few and far between
and less than optimal. The wind had picked up, whipping with enough force to
steal the best balance. Slow but steady progress finally gained them the
summit.

           
The eyewear came off
and for long moments they stood there, high atop the valley below and with some
of the most breathtaking mountains on the planet sprawling before them.
Snow-covered and grand.

           
Truly
magnificent.

           
Molly smiled at him.
“You made it. You conquered the beast.”

           
He pulled off his
helmet and ski mask. She did the same. The wind sent wisps of hair across her
cheeks; he removed his glove and brushed them away.

           
“Thank you, Molly
Clark.”

           
She stared into his
eyes, her own filled with satisfaction. “Don’t thank me,
Fewell
.
You had it in you all along.”

           
He kissed her. There
was simply no other way to properly show his gratitude.

           
Thanks to her undying
spirit and ambitious belief in him, he had conquered the beast.

           
MOLLY DIDN’T WANT the kiss to
end. But the wind was freezing their faces.

           
When they drew apart,
they quickly donned their ski masks once more.

           
Gloves and eyewear in place,
he took the lead. “When we get back to town,” he called back to her, “we’re
celebrating.
Dinner, champagne, the works.”

           
“Sounds
good to me.
I’m always hungry.”

           
They made a slow and
careful descent, burying their ice axes as necessary.
Fewell
stayed in the lead. Molly was proud of him. Truth was
,
she’d gotten way too close to this guy in the past forty-eight hours.

           
And that kiss…well, she
was reasonably sure she had never been kissed quite like that.
Definitely not fourteen thousand feet above sea level.

           
They picked up their
gear on the way down. Once they reached the gentler slopes, they moved a little
faster. Molly was pumped. The day had gone off without a hitch. Surely this
accomplishment would allow
Fewell
to get a hold on
the panic attacks.

           
The beginning, she
decided.
The beginning of finding his footing in life again.

           
BACK AT THE SUV, they stripped
off their parkas and the other outer gear no longer needed. He stole another
kiss and Molly let him. She liked the way he kissed.
Liked
the feel of his lips moving over hers.
She could get used to this…all
too easily.