by Peggy Webb
Emily could see the pain that talking about the accident was causing her mother.
“Mom, you don’t have to talk about it.”
“Facts are facts, Emily. Avoiding the truth won’t change them.”
“I know, but still—”
“Jake will need you, Emily, and you will need him.”
“What should I do? What can I say?”
“Make your plane reservations, that’s what you should do. He’ll be home any day now. As for the rest, you’ll know what to say when the time comes.”
When his plane touched down in Atlanta, Jake thought about going straight to the ticket counter and buying another ticket to Southern California or Mexico or even Hawaii. Somewhere as far away from mountains as he could get. Also someplace where the phone wouldn’t ring, reporters wouldn’t camp outside his door, and well-meaning neighbors wouldn’t ask nosy questions.
The more he thought about that option, the more he liked it. To heck with his checked luggage. He’d get that after he got his ticket.
To Mexico. That was it. He’d cross the border, drink tequila and try to forget.
He was emerging from the jetway when he saw her. Emily. The person he wanted to see most in the world.
And least.
He wasn’t ready for her. Not yet. Maybe not ever again.
Flying halfway around the world gave a man plenty of time to think, and the conclusion he’d come to was that he was jinxed. It had all started around the time he’d met Emily, and maybe that was the universe’s way of telling him that he was not meant to have somebody in his life. Maybe that was fate saying, You’re supposed to be alone, and you knew it all the time.
She’d already seen him, of course. He stood head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd coming off the plane. There was no way he could duck and run.
Besides, it would be cowardly.
What to do? What to say?
She smiled at him, then gave a little two-fingered wave. Smart girl. She didn’t call attention to him by shouting out his name.
Not that any reporters knew he was on the plane. Still…
“I’m glad you’re home,” Emily said.
She stood quietly in front of him and touched his hand. That was all. A sweet, simple touch that electrified him.
How was he ever going to leave her?
“Thank you.” What else was there to say?
He hadn’t expected her to be there. When he’d called to tell her he was safe, she hadn’t said anything about meeting his plane, nor had he asked. In fact, he’d been very careful not to mention seeing her at all.
As much as he wanted to. As much as he wanted to hold on to her and never let go.
“I drove,” she said. “There are groceries in the car. I thought you’d want to be quiet for a few days.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Jake…” She looked at him for a long time, then shook her head. “We’ll talk later. Let’s get your bags and go home.”
This was the part Jake dreaded. He’d pictured himself going home and crashing. And then later, before he deplaned he’d imagined himself running off to Mexico.
She stood quietly beside him while he got his bags, and for that, he was grateful.
When they were in the car, she said, “You must be exhausted. I’ll drive. Just give me directions.”
He said, “Good,” then told her how to get to his apartment and leaned his head against the seat.
“I don’t remember ever being this tired,” he said, and the next thing he knew they were at his apartment and she was leaning over him with this wonderful, loving look on her face.
For a moment Jake thought he was in her bed at the cabin in Mississippi, and he cupped her face and kissed her softly on the lips.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hello, right back.”
Her smile was a beautiful thing, blooming across her face with such hope and love he wanted to cry. Because that was when he remembered Dapsang. That was when he remembered Jamal, who had smiled bravely at him and said, “It’s not your fault, Jake. The mountain takes what she wants, and she wanted part of me.”
It was too late to take back the kiss, and so Jake made light of it.
“You’re nicer than an alarm clock. Where were you when I needed you in Dapsang?”
He should have stopped with the alarm-clock comment, but he hadn’t, and he didn’t know why. Fatigue, maybe. Or such gut-deep truth that it wouldn’t be denied.
He had wanted her in Dapsang. That last day on the mountain right before he’d found Rosalee and Jamal, when he’d known he would die if he extended the search beyond the next few hours, he’d found himself whispering her name over and over, whispering her name and needing her with an intensity that was almost painful.
“I was right there beside you, Jake, every step of the way.” She placed one hand over her heart and another over his. “In my heart and yours.”
She spoke the truth. It was a truth Jake had skirted around for months now, and if he had been in top form both physically and mentally, he’d have skirted it once again. But in his vulnerable condition, it pierced straight through him, and he knew he loved her. Had loved her from the moment he met her, standing on the lawn at Belle Rose with a skunk peering around her long, tanned legs.
With every atom in his body he yearned to tell her. But he couldn’t. A vast, unforgiving mountain stood in the way. Two mountains, really. Dapsang and Everest. Twin burdens of guilt.
Emily was watching him with such sweet concern he wanted to weep. And maybe he would. Later. Alone in the dark. Maybe that was what he needed.
“Let’s go inside,” she said, and Jake got the bags from the car. “I’m going to make chicken soup. Grandmother Beaufort says it’s good for the soul.”
“Just what I need.”
“Plus this.” Emily stood on tiptoe and leaned her head against his chest, then hugged him. Simply hugged him. Without expectations.
And Jake understood the miracle of being in love with a giving woman.
“You rest,” she said. “I’ll cook.”
“I’ll just take a short nap.”
He kissed her on the cheek, then went into his bedroom, closed the door and fell into the blessed oblivion of sleep.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Jake’s soup was stone cold. Plus, Emily had already had three servings. She’d heard that was how people got fat, eating because they were nervous and didn’t know what else to do.
Jake had been asleep five hours. What time was it?
Emily looked at the clock for the fortieth time. It was almost eleven. She was getting sleepy, herself. And grumpy.
Should she get a blanket and stretch out on the sofa, or should she go into Jake’s bedroom and risk waking him? She puttered around the kitchen, cleaning countertops that were already so clean you could do surgery on them, straightening teacups in the cabinet. That sort of thing.
Well, if this had been BD, before Dapsang, she’d have gone straight to his bedroom without a single qualm. And so that was what she was going to do. Trust her instincts.
And every instinct she had was screaming at her, If you wait for a sign from Jake, you’ll be waiting forever.
She eased open the door and stood in the doorway until her eyes adjusted to the dark. Jake was sleeping on his side with one arm flung over his face. Fully clothed.
Emily tiptoed to the bed and lay down beside him. The bedsprings squeaked but he didn’t stir. That was a good thing. What would he think?
Well, it was too late to wonder about that now. She was already in his bed, and so she did the next natural thing. She spooned herself against his back and put her arms around him.
This was right. She could tell by the sense of peace that stole over her, the feeling that she’d come home after a long and difficult journey. What did it matter that he hadn’t invited her or that he hadn’t said a single thing about loving her and wanting her there with him? She knew. That was all.
> A woman can always tell whether a man loves her. She can feel it in her bones.
Emily sighed, and then she and her contented bones drifted into sleep.
Jake woke up, stretched, then felt the soft weight against his back. Emily. He stopped in midstretch and eased away so he could see her. She was still in her jeans, and her shirt was crumpled unmercifully. In the half-light of dawn he could see a reddish spot on her cheek where it had rubbed against a seam of his shirt.
The tenderness he felt was a dangerous thing. For both of them.
Jake eased out of bed, being careful not to wake her, then went to the bathroom and closed the door. He didn’t even turn on the light, but splashed water on his face and his neck, trying to wake up and cool down at the same time.
The thing that most surprised him was not his tenderness, but his passion. It was not only surprising, but damned inconvenient.
How could he be strong in the face of such a wise and loving woman when his own body insisted on betraying him?
He was easing through the bedroom when he noticed that he’d pulled the covers off Emily, so he went back to the bed and was in the process of pulling them back up when she startled awake.
“Jake?” Her arms were around him immediately, her face pressed into his neck. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Was she dreaming? Was he?
“Shh, it was only a dream.”
“Mmm,” she murmured, then her body went slack and he lowered her back to the bed and covered her with the quilt.
He was sweating when he got to the kitchen. Was it because of his narrow escape or because he’d become so acclimated to the cold that his house in Atlanta felt like a hotbox? Probably some of both.
Jake went into the hall and adjusted the thermostat. Then, feeling guilty, he tiptoed into the bedroom and pulled another quilt out of the closet to cover Emily.
Back in the kitchen he put on coffee, got himself a cup, rambled in the refrigerator for cream and found the soup. She’d made soup for him and he hadn’t even had the courtesy to eat it.
“I’m sorry,” he said, then felt like a fool for apologizing to a plastic-covered dish of cold soup.
He would have breakfast. That always made him feel better. Eating nutritious foods. Starting the day right.
Emily had stocked his cabinets with three varieties of cereal, plus bagels, and his refrigerator with bacon and eggs, plus cream cheese.
Well, he had no reason to complain. And yet the sight of all that food made him feel even guiltier. And surly. It made him want to go down to the deli on the corner and stuff himself with sugar-glazed doughnuts dripping with grease, and then down three cups of black coffee so strong it would put a bitter taste in his mouth for two hours.
She’d probably wake up while he was gone and wonder where he was, and eventually when he got back he’d feel guiltier still.
Jake sighed. Maybe he ought to just go back to sleep. Maybe he could sleep for the next week or two, and when he woke up Michael would be out of his coma and Jamal would miraculously be ensconced in some new job that paid twice what he’d earned on the mountain, and he would call to say, “Losing my right hand and a leg was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Maybe that was what would happen. And maybe pigs could fly.
Jake poured too much cream in his coffee and was trying to decide whether to pour it down the drain and start over when Emily said, “Jake—”
He dropped his cup. Coffee went everywhere and the cup shattered on the kitchen floor.
They both grabbed dishcloths and knelt at the same time. Their shoulders clashed and their arms got tangled.
“I’ll get it,” she said.
“No! I’ll do it.” She jumped as if he’d slapped her. “Just sit over there… Please.”
She sat down at the table and didn’t say anything while he wiped up the coffee. Well…that was a rotten way to start the day.
The mood he was in, Jake figured things would go downhill from there.
“I’m sorry, Em. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“That’s all right.”
“No, it’s not.” He flung the dishcloth into the sink, then leaned back against the cabinet and faced her. “I’m acting like a jerk, and there’s no excuse for it.”
“After what you’ve been through, I don’t wonder.”
“It’s no more than what dozens of climbers have already been through, and what dozens more will go through. Danger, tragedy, disaster—it’s all part of my job, Emily, and if I can’t handle it, then I might as well get off the mountain and stay home.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Is it what you want, Em? For me to quit climbing?”
She didn’t say anything. Just watched him with wide, wet-looking eyes.
“Is that why you came here? To convince me to give up this foolishness and do something that’s safe and sane?”
“I don’t deserve that, Jake.”
“No, you don’t. You deserve someone who will be there at night when you go to bed and still be there when you wake up in the morning.”
“Why are you doing this? Why are you saying these things?”
“I’m just telling the truth.”
They stared at each other, and the silence was so thick you could almost see it.
“I came here because I love you, Jake. I want you to know that. I love you no matter what you decide to do. I’ll always love you.”
She waited. Hoping, he supposed, that he would return her declarations. It would be so easy. All he had to do was tell her how he felt.
“Disaster is dogging my footsteps, Em. I won’t subject you to that any longer.”
She took a deep, trembling breath. He could see the effort it took to keep her composure. He had to admire that.
Further, he was having a hard time keeping his hands off her. That was the last thing she needed. For that matter, it was the last thing he needed, too.
He couldn’t afford to let passion cloud the issue. Until he felt whole again, he wasn’t fit company for man nor beast. And certainly not a fit companion for a wonderful woman like Emily.
Maybe he should say all those things to her, but why give her false hope? Why have her waiting for something that might never happen?
“Are you saying you want me to leave? Is that what you’re telling me, Jake?”
“Stay as long as you like, Emily, but please don’t expect anything of me. I have nothing left to give.”
Her heart was in her eyes when she looked at him. He almost caved in and went to her. He almost begged her to stay.
“Take care, Jake,” she finally said, then she picked up her purse and walked out the door.
He could hear her car starting up in the driveway. Jake shoved himself off the cabinet and bolted for the front door.
“Em?” he called. “Emily!”
But she had already gone. He went back in to the house and closed the door. If he had been in Mexico, he’d have gotten drunk on tequila.
Emily didn’t stop driving until she’d reached her cabin in the woods. Empty silence echoed through her house. There was no little skunk to greet her. She didn’t even have any animals in the holding area for rehabilitation.
Without unpacking her bag, she changed clothes, then tromped through the woods looking for an animal to rescue. Not that she wanted one to be hurt or caught in a trap. Quite the contrary, she was always delighted when her searches yielded nothing.
She just needed something to do, that was all. She needed something to occupy her mind.
When she reached the stream where Gwendolyn had left her, Emily sat down and waited, very still. Once she thought she caught a glimpse of two black-and-white tails, but then she saw it was only a bush blowing in the breeze.
It was going to rain. Good. At least the long drought would finally end.
Emily sat in the woods until the first drops began to fall. Then she went back into the house, shut the door, closed the blinds, called h
er mom, turned the phone ringer off and went to bed.
She wished she could sleep until it was all over. Whatever it was.
Jake didn’t go to Mexico and get drunk on tequila. He flew to Alaska and climbed Mount McKinley. Solo.
He’d climbed McKinley many times, but standing on the summit of South Peak never failed to stir him. It was called the top of the continent for a good reason. Not only was it the highest point in North America, but it offered a sweeping vista of the surrounding national park that took his breath away.
With his face to the east he took a silver-framed photograph sealed in a plastic bag out of his pocket and placed it on a small outcropping of rock. His trusted right-hand man smiled back at him.
“Jamal, this one’s for you.”
Jake knelt in the ice and snow and said a prayer for his friend, then began his descent down the mountain.
A golden eagle soared over him, and on the lower slopes moose and caribou lifted their massive heads to see who was invading their terrain.
“It’s all right, big guys. We’re here for the same reason,” Jake said, and suddenly he knew it was true. Just as the mountains sustained the wildlife, they sustained him.
When he reached the base he turned and saluted the mighty giant of Denali, then turned his face south toward home.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The day Gwendolyn came to visit was the day Jake came home. That was the way Emily would always remember it.
She was on her knees pulling weeds out of the wild-flower bed she’d cultivated in front of her cabin when Gwendolyn poked her nose under her arm.
“Well, hello, sweetcakes.” Emily rubbed her head, then her tummy. “Getting fat, aren’t you.” There was a stirring in the bushes, and she glanced over her shoulder to find Gwendolyn’s companion hiding there, peering out with his beady little black eyes.
That was when the truth hit Emily.
“You’re pregnant! Why, you sassy little old thing.”