by Beverly Long
She pressed her fingers against her forehead. She had a splitting headache. Always did when she didn’t get enough sleep.
She knew what had awakened her at three. Memories.
Of the relief on Blaine Colton’s face when she’d told him that she’d lost the baby. It had been crystal clear in that moment that he felt as if he’d been given a second chance to get it right.
And get it right really meant get the heck out of Roaring Springs. He’d left in less than a week. And in the months that followed, when he’d taken the time to send a quick email, it had been easy to see that he was terribly happy with the ways things had turned out.
Every time she’d gotten one of those messages, she’d cried for days.
Over the years, she’d heard a few things. War hero. Promoted over and over again. A freakin’ Green Beret. She might even have been happy for him. Had told herself that things certainly had worked out for the best.
Tilda said goodbye to Raeann, walked out of the school and into the parking lot. Teachers parked in the front two rows. She got into her SUV, fastened her seatbelt and drove. Her house was less than ten minutes west of the school. Josh went to the middle school that was seven blocks east of their house and had permission to walk home. They generally arrived within minutes of one another. If he beat her, he’d have the television on and the chips already open. But if she got there first, she’d insist upon cutting up some apple slices and cheddar cheese instead.
The house was blessedly quiet when she walked in. She hung up her coat and tossed her briefcase onto the counter. Normally, she graded papers at night, while Josh was doing his homework. But tonight, because there was no school tomorrow, she’d be hard-pressed to get him to focus on doing anything. Instead, they would shop for an hour or so, grab dinner at the food court, and come home and watch a movie.
And tomorrow, he’d be back at The Lodge. She’d spoken to Isaac’s parents early this morning. They offered to do drop-off if she could pick the boys up. She’d readily agreed, knowing that she needed to be smarter now that Blaine was back and apparently teaching snowboarding classes. She’d arrange to meet the kids outside the main lobby, a five-minute walk from where she’d seen Blaine yesterday. The Lodge was huge. They didn’t need to run into each other.
She heard Josh outside the front door. He walked in, half dragging his backpack, leaving the heavy wooden door open behind him.
“Close the door,” she reminded him. “And lock it.” Roaring Springs was a safe place. It was one of the reasons that she’d stayed here to raise her son when there had been many reasons to go. But the world was changing and, like any parent, she wanted her child to always be safe. The recent discovery of a dead body on Blaine’s brother Wyatt Colton’s land had been terribly upsetting. Tilda had thought about the young woman for days and had been relieved when the newspaper had finally reported that the killer had committed suicide.
Josh went right for the cupboard, grabbing a bag of trail mix that they’d made on Saturday. “We still going shopping?” he asked, his mouth full.
“Chew, swallow, then talk,” she reminded him. “And, yes. How was your day?”
He made a production out of chewing and swallowing, looking and sounding a bit like a skinny cow. “Pretty good. Mrs. Armstrong is losing it, though. In history, she went over the same stuff that she did last Friday. We were halfway through class before she realized it. Then she started making all kinds of lame excuses.”
Helen Armstrong was nearing retirement age and, quite frankly, probably should have quit at the end of the previous year. But she was delightful and was still able to control her classroom. “You know what they say,” Tilda deadpanned. “History repeats itself.”
Josh groaned. “Oh, Mom. Please do not try to be funny. It’s too painful.”
She swatted his arm. “I’ll show you what’s painful. You wearing pants that are too small. We leave here in five minutes. Get going.”
* * *
When Tilda woke up on Tuesday morning, she could already hear Josh moving around in his room. Any other day, she’d have to wake him up at least three times before he stumbled out of bed to go to school.
He was so excited about going back to The Lodge. Conversation during last night’s dinner at his favorite hamburger joint had been all about bowls, jigs and half-pipes. A few times, he mentioned Blaine and how cool he was.
“That’s Mr. Colton to you, right?” she said. There needed to be some formality between Blaine and her son.
“He said we could call him Blaine,” Josh told her. “You know, one of the other guys in our group said he was some kind of war hero. That’s pretty cool.”
With that, she’d put a hand on his arm. “You know, Josh. War is never cool. It’s not fun.”
“I know that,” he said. “But if we have to have them, then I’m glad there are people like Blaine Colton, if it’s true that he was a hero.”
She didn’t doubt it for a minute. Even in high school, he’d taken a stand, even when it put him crossways with his friends. He ran with a bunch of other rich kids, who had nice clothes and new cars, and life seemed to generally just go their way. Everybody else who wasn’t in their crowd really wanted to be. But that kind of social power went to some of the kids’ heads, and they could cross the line at times, both in and out of school. And they generally had each other’s backs.
However, one time, just days before prom, when somebody in his group was picking on one of the underclassmen who walked with leg braces, she’d seen Blaine get in his friend’s face. For a minute, it had looked like it might erupt into a fight, but Blaine hadn’t backed down. And pretty soon, his friend had been offering up an apology to the younger kid.
That’s why she hadn’t been all that surprised when he’d pretty quickly gotten over his shock that she was pregnant and had been back at her house, offering up a marriage proposal. He was determined to do right by her.
She got out of bed, stretched and headed for the kitchen. On the way, she knocked on Josh’s door. She waited for the Come in before she opened the door. “Good morning,” she said.
He was sitting on the floor, his snowboard next to him. “I started the coffee,” he said.
He’d been eleven when she’d taught him how to do that. With just the two of them in the house, they needed to watch out for one another. “Bless you, my son,” she said.
He smiled, a grin that lit up his whole face. “I felt sorry for you because you have to go to school today and I don’t.”
She raised a corner of her mouth in a sneer, gathered her long hair up in her hand and rubbed the back of her neck. She yawned. “More proof that it’s not always great to be the adult. Enjoy being a kid.” She’d had to grow up so fast. Didn’t regret any of the decisions she’d made, but man, it hadn’t been easy. She wanted something different for Josh. “Want some breakfast?”
“Sure. Scrambled eggs and bacon?” he asked, sounding hopeful.
“Because you made the coffee,” she said agreeably. “Ten minutes.” She went to the kitchen, poured herself some java and sipped it while she pulled eggs and bacon from the refrigerator. Josh was skinny as a rail, even though he seemed to always be eating. With that in mind, she cooked him three eggs to her two and three slices of bacon while she skipped that altogether. He got two pieces of sourdough toast to her one. The last thing she did was pour him a big glass of milk and put an orange next to his plate.
“It’s ready,” she yelled.
A few moments later, he slid into his chair and attacked his food.
“Breathe,” she reminded him.
He loudly blew out a puff of air. “This is going to be the best day! There was more snow last night.”
“Just be careful,” she said. Two years ago, he’d broken his collarbone at a friend’s house. Somehow they’d managed to fall off a garage roof. She could still remember getting that ca
ll from the friend’s mom, saying they were on their way to the emergency room.
It had been a relatively minor injury that could have been much worse. That realization had given her a few nightmares. Josh was everything she had. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.
“Josh,” she said.
The seriousness of her tone caught his attention. “Yeah, Mom?”
She wanted to warn him to stay away from Blaine. To not give him any details about their lives. But there was no way she could do that without sounding crazy. “You’re going to need some lunch money,” she said instead.
“Yeah, I guess,” he replied, sounding puzzled.
She got up fast, fumbled around in her purse and handed him a twenty. Then wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. “Be safe, my boy,” she said. “And have fun,” she added. Then she turned and hurried back to her bedroom before he could see the tears in her eyes.
Teenage boys simply didn’t know what to do with crying moms. Wasn’t in their wheelhouse. And she didn’t want to do anything to spoil his day. He was such a good, hardworking kid, and he deserved to have a fun day off from school.
And Blaine would have lots of other kids on the slopes today to worry about. There was no reason to focus on her son.
Chapter 3
Blaine had three instructors in various areas of the mountain, and he was going to take three classes himself. He told himself that it meant nothing, absolutely nothing, that he took the time to preview the list of class participants in advance and then just so happened to pick the class that Josh Stoll was in.
At precisely one o’clock, he met the same group of six kids that he’d had that previous Sunday. Isaac and Josh were side by side, laughing, as he approached. They had not yet put their helmets on. He slowed, studying Josh’s face.
And felt his heart start to beat a little faster. Because, crazy as it seemed, in those few seconds, he’d seen a glimpse of something that reminded him very much of his brother Decker when he’d been a kid.
He tore his eyes away, trying to make sense of everything. It was probably just being back in Roaring Springs that was messing with his head. Making him think about paths not taken when he should be thinking about what came next for him. He wasn’t going to stay in Roaring Springs, that was for sure. He had other options. With his skills, he could join any number of firms that provided services to the government. He could get right back into the thick of things, fighting for his country, only this time, as a private citizen as opposed to being in the military. It would be different, but that didn’t necessarily mean bad.
“Afternoon, gentlemen,” he said to the boys.
“Hey, Mr. Colton,” Josh replied.
On Sunday, the kid had called him Blaine. But that was before the brief, but oddly tense, interaction with Tilda when she’d come to pick Josh up. Had Tilda said something afterwards to make Josh think of him in a less friendly way? “Just Blaine is fine,” he told him.
“My mom said I should call you Mr. Colton. That it was more respectful.”
“His mom’s a teacher. A cool one, but still, things like that are important to her,” Isaac said, as if that explained it.
Maybe that was it. Or was it even possible that she was somehow angry with him for what had happened? Hell, they’d both just been kids. And it seemed as if her life had worked out okay. “Whatever works for you,” he conceded, smiling at Josh. He didn’t want to get between the kid and his mom. “Get your helmets on. Let’s hit the slopes.”
And for the next two hours, tasked with the responsibility of watching six kids who had various levels of proficiency, he was too busy to dwell on Tilda Deeds. At the end of the lesson, he started to walk the group back to The Lodge. “Your mom picking you up?” he asked, turning to Josh.
“She has to be at school until four. So we’ve got another couple hours. We’re going to rent some skis for the rest of the day.”
In the old days, when he’d been Josh’s age, it was an us versus them kind of mentality between snowboarders and skiers. Kids were generally in one camp or another. But Decker had told him on his first day that had changed in the last five years. Now, it wasn’t unusual for guests at The Lodge to do both. In fact, to encourage it, participants in either a snowboarding or skiing class could rent both types of equipment at a steep discount on that same day. “Okay,” Blaine said. “Be careful,” he added as he watched Josh and Isaac veer off toward the ski-rental area.
He murmured goodbye to the other kids in the group, telling them that he’d be offering another class on Sunday if they were still interested. He’d looked ahead at the weather, and there was every indication that the snow would continue to be good for at least another week.
Then he crossed the room and headed for his office. There was always paperwork to push through at the end of a busy day. And he wanted to check tomorrow’s schedule to make sure he had everything covered. After stripping off his outerwear and making himself a cup of coffee, he sat at his desk, opened his laptop and found the spreadsheet he was looking for. Clicked a key to pull in new data.
And thought about Josh and his friend on the slope. They would be fine. He’d certainly skied by himself when he was a kid. He glanced out his window, across the wide expanse of mountain.
Beautiful.
But even beauty could be dangerous.
Surely they were smart enough to pay attention to any warning signs that were posted. There were a couple areas that were closed due to avalanche risk.
He shut his laptop and pushed back from the desk. In another minute, he had his ski clothes back on. Then opened his corner closet and pulled out his skis, boots and poles.
There was no reason why he couldn’t spend a little time on the slopes. If, in the process, he made sure that Josh and his friend didn’t do anything stupid, that would be okay. He told himself that his motivation was to prevent anything that would put him at odds with Tilda Deeds. They had history, if nothing else. But, in truth, he felt a need to watch over Josh. Couldn’t explain it. But had learned a long time ago not to ignore his gut.
In less than five minutes, he was outside with his ski boots on. He got in line for the chairlift and, when it swung up behind him, sat down fast. As it rose in the air, he scanned the slopes, looking for Josh’s bright red coat. He didn’t see him but wasn’t surprised. From where the chairlift dumped out, there were four different paths that a skier could take. Only one of those paths ran under this particular lift.
When he got to the top, he considered the remaining three options. River Bend, which was a nice, relatively easy path, with smooth curves reminiscent of a winding river. Tree Glory, which was exactly what it sounded like—a challenging path with large scatterings of pines along the way. And finally, Devil’s Leap, a steep decline with a fair number of moguls.
And he knew, without a doubt, that Josh and Isaac had likely looked at their choices and decided that Devil’s Leap was the one. Unfortunately, it was also the closest to Wicked, a slope that had been closed due to avalanche risk.
If they were careful and stayed on the path, they would be fine.
Blaine set off, aggressively banking his skis every so often to slow down his speed. He kept his eyes peeled. About a third of the way down, he saw them. They were another four hundred yards down, but he was confident it was them. Two bodies, one in red, the other in black, moving in tandem.
The black coat was in the lead, straying very close to an area they had no business going.
He pushed off, tucked in and flew down the slope. He made a sharp turn, sending up a shower of powder.
“Hey,” Josh shouted, sounding mad. “Mr. Colton?” His tone had changed from anger to surprise.
He’d surprised them. Good. “What are you two doing?”
“We’re going to ski Wicked,” Isaac said. “It’s got some super-cool moguls. I skied it a couple
weeks ago.”
That was before several of the recent snowstorms that had led them to close the trail due to avalanche risk. “Those warning signs aren’t up for decoration,” he admonished.
Josh looked uncomfortable.
“We’re not going to do anything to start an avalanche,” Isaac said.
They could. Without a doubt. A person’s body weight was enough to set it off. “How fast have you ever gone in a car?” he asked.
Josh looked surprised at the question. “Maybe eighty miles an hour. That’s the speed on the interstate, right?”
“Yeah. Imagine going that speed without the benefit of a car frame and air bags. Because that’s how fast an avalanche of fresh powder can go. People are buried by the snow in seconds. And then you know what happens? The snow settles around them, just like concrete, making it almost impossible for a person to dig themselves out. And your only hope is that someone comes along and rescues you.” Pausing briefly to let his words sink in, he went on to say, “If that doesn’t happen, you’ve got about fifteen minutes before it all goes south fast.”
“We studied avalanches in science class,” Josh said. “Our teacher said to swim with the snow.”
“Good advice.” A person’s body weight would pull them down into the snow, making it impossible to find them. If they could swim to the snow’s surface and get a hand up in the air, their chances of being located were better. “Better advice is to pay attention to the warning signs and to stay in bounds. If you’re going to be doing anything off-trail, make sure that you’re wearing a transponder and that everybody is carrying a probe and a shovel in their packs.”
“Sorry, Mr. Colton,” Josh said.
“No problem,” he answered. His goal was not to bust the kids’ chops but to make sure they stayed safe. “I’ll see you at the bottom.” He took off, leaving the boys where they were, demonstrating that he had faith that they would heed his warning. And sure enough, by the time he reached the end of the slope and turned, he could easily see them coming his way.