by Sable Hunter
“I had a mastectomy the day after we spent our first night together. My recovery didn’t go well, and that was why I didn’t take the job right away.”
She watched his face in the dancing firelight. Jensen could tell he was shocked. His body jerked the slightest bit as if he’d been jolted with electricity.
When she couldn’t look at him anymore, she stared at the fire – waiting for him to say something. Anything.
“A mastectomy,” he finally repeated the word softly. His voice was different. Stilted.
“Yes. I only have one breast now.”
Jensen watched him move away from her, he actually pushed back from where he was sitting. Worse than the distance he was putting between them was the look on his face. She refused to put it into words.
“I can understand how you feel,” she began.
He rose to his feet. “You have cancer?”
Have cancer. Had cancer. She hoped the past tense applied. “I found a lump and it turned out to be malignant.”
“How are you now?”
The question echoed in the stillness of the night. “I wish I could say I’m cured, but that’s not how it works. The term the doctors use is remission. I looked the word up for myself, it means a temporary recovery.”
Clint walked around the fire, looking toward the mountains. “That was why you wouldn’t let me touch you. That was why you wore lingerie that made me think of armor.”
His comment hurt her. “Armor?” She laughed wryly. “If you only knew how hard I tried to find something sexy, something that would entice you – and still cover up my…deficiencies.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“When? Before we made love the first time?”
“Yes. Why didn’t you?”
She felt guilty all over again. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted to be with you one last time while I was whole. Complete.”
“You mean you wanted to have sex and I was handy. If I hadn’t come along, would anyone have done?”
Now, she could add anger to the guilt. Clint wasn’t saying the right things to her. She wanted him to tell her that it didn’t matter that she only had one breast. That he would want her anyway. That she was just right – just the way she was.
“I don’t know,” she told him truthfully. “That was a decision I didn’t have to make. You came along, our being together seemed like it was meant to be.”
“That’s what I’d been saying for years!” he grated the words out to her. “Yet, you…you told me you couldn’t be with me because of my career. Because of football.”
“I don’t approve of football. And the first time we met, you were heading to Houston and I was going for my residency. None of that seems important now.”
“You’re right, it’s not important now and it wasn’t important then!”
She watched him; his amazing body silhouetted by the fire. She tried to imagine this perfect man touching her flat chest, his fingers caressing the puckered scar – and she couldn’t. Seeing Clint’s reaction now, there was no way she could let him see her. She might have the courage to climb mountains, but be intimate with Clint again? Watch his face as she revealed her imperfect body to him? Not in a million years.
“I’m sorry, Clint.” When she looked up at him, she was disturbed to see he wasn’t looking at her face – he was staring at her chest. Without hesitation, she crossed her arms, hiding herself from view.
“Are you wearing something?”
“Yes. A prothesis. A form that adheres to my skin and moves with me. Mine is custom made with a pretty design. I don’t like to look at my scar either.”
“Are you going to have it fixed?”
His question stung. “Reconstruction? I’ve thought about it. I had such a rough time with the surgery and its aftermath, I dread going through it again.” Especially by herself.
Again, she wanted him to tell her it didn’t matter. That she was still a desirable woman – one breast or two.
“When you take off the form…?”
“It’s flat. There’s just a slash. An ugly red scar where my breast used to be.” A bitter taste formed in her mouth. “I remember how you enjoyed my breasts that night. You’re a breast man, aren’t you?”
“Yes!” He spat out the word. “Should I feel guilty?”
“No. Should I?”
“Did you wear that outfit with other men?”
“What other men?” she frowned. “There haven’t been any other men. The last two times I’ve had sex has been with you.”
This news appeared to confound Clint.
Before he could question her further, she laid the truth bare. “I told you this to explain my actions. I knew you thought I was being…fickle, toying with you. I wasn’t. That connection you felt to me, I felt the same for you. I kept you at arm’s length to protect you.”
Clint cursed. “Protect me? I don’t think so. I think you were protecting yourself.”
Okay. She’d had enough. She was tired of waiting for him to make some grand gesture of acceptance. “I told you this so we could part on amicable terms. So…you wouldn’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” he said the words with a tired voice. “I just wish you’d been honest with me from the beginning.”
He didn’t have to say more, she could hear the rest unspoken.
It would have saved us both a lot of trouble.
Jensen knew if he’d known the truth, he would’ve never chosen to make love to her in the first place.
Looking around, she wished there was some place for her to go. Hell, she might as well be stuck in an elevator with him, there was just no chance of escape.
Buzz! Buzz!
The satellite phone began to ring. Saved by the bell.
She reached to pick it up, figuring this would be news on Conrad. “Hello?”
“Jensen, this is Tennessee. We’ve got a problem.”
“Oh?” She looked at Clint. “Is this about Conrad?”
“No. He’s stable. This is about my sister, Pepper. She and her husband were flying back from Vancouver. According to their flight plan, they were headed to Minneapolis-St. Paul and…” His voice shook. “It looks like they went down over Glacier National Park. You’re the closest of anyone to them. We’ll be sending others, but they need help now. Would you go looking for them, please?”
“Of course we will. Can you give us any indication of where in the park they might be?” She held the phone so Clint could hear.
“The radar signal disappeared at 48.6966° N, 113.7182° W.” As he gave her the latitude and longitude, Clint pressed the numbers into the app on his phone.
“Near Logan Pass,” he whispered.
“That’s close to Logan Pass, Tennessee.” She stood to her feet. “Just as soon as we pack up our gear, we’ll be heading that way.”
“Thanks. And please call me when you find out anything.”
“We will.”
By the time she hung up the phone, Clint was already on the move – storing the gear and saddling the horses. Jensen pitched in and in no time at all, they were headed back into the depths of the park. As they rode, she plotted their path. “We can cut north to Hidden Lake Trail and follow it east to Logan Pass.”
“Will it be rough going?”
Jensen shook her head. “The off-trail portion will be challenging. We might have to abandon the horses at some point.”
“I hope not,” Clint murmured. “God, I can’t believe this. Pepper is such a good woman.”
“Tell me about her.” Jensen thought it would help Clint to talk.
“I haven’t known her long, but she’s been more than gracious and welcoming to my family. She a beautiful girl, looks a lot like Colleen. She’s married to Judah James, an Austin 6th Street musician who’s made it big. Now, they’ve got a love story for the ages.”
“How do you mean?”
“I guess it’s common knowledge, if you follow the music gossip.”
&nb
sp; “I don’t,” Jensen stated, “but please, go ahead.”
“Judah suffers from high functioning schizophrenia.”
This shocked Jensen, but she hid it well. “I’m not sure what that means.”
“He is aware of his problem and deals well with the symptoms. He once told me some of his best songs come from the hallucinations he experiences.” Clint chuckled. “Even though he loved her, Judah tried to protect Pepper from his situation. He didn’t think she should be saddled with someone with such a diagnosis, but my cousin was relentless. Nothing was going to stand in the way of their love – not even a mental illness which would be taboo for some folks. She just wouldn’t give up on him.”
“Pepper sounds amazing.” Jensen fought the feeling of jealousy that threatened to bring tears to her eyes. If someone could overlook such a challenging condition as schizophrenia, why would the absence of a breast be so daunting?
Hell, it wasn’t the same and she knew it. Men wanted a woman with two breasts and all the other important parts.
“She is a wonderful person. She does a lot of volunteer work at the hospital where Jaxson has his…” He pulled his horse up short. “Support group. That’s where you were the day of the tornado. You were with Libby at Jaxson’s support group.”
“I was. Yes.” She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. In fact, their conversation died down. Due to the lateness of the hour and the precariousness of their journey, staying on course needed to be the priority anyway. Jensen didn’t mention it, but she kept an eye on the horizon, grateful for every moment they didn’t see an explosion lighting up the sky.
Just the thought of a plane crash terrified her. She’d done her share of flying, but it was not something she ever really got used to. Other modes of transportation were more dangerous but being so high in the air made her feel especially vulnerable. When her car crashed, she got out and walked off. If a plane crashed, there was no crawling out and walking away – you just fell and fell. She shivered at the thought.
“I feel helpless. This is going to take forever.”
Clint’s statement caused Jensen to jerk to attention. “At night, spotting them by plane is impossible. We’re closer than anyone else and no matter who came to search, they’d have to go through the same thing we’re doing. There is just no short-cut for something like this. Once we reach Logan Pass Visitor’s Center we’ll go the rest of the way on foot.”
“That makes sense. Thank you, Jensen.”
“You don’t have to thank me. This is what we signed up for.” As they continued, Jensen called the number for the trail ride group and made arrangements for them to bring a trailer and meet them at the Visitor’s Center.
Once she finished the call, Clint shifted in his saddle, feeling stiff as a board. “I pray they’re alive and not badly injured. I guess our main goal is to locate the plane, give them emergency care, and monitor them until help arrives.”
“Exactly.”
The journey was a slow one. They couldn’t afford to go fast. The ground was uneven, there were ridges and ledges where one misstep could send them plunging to their death. At least the moon was bright, giving them enough light to keep moving.
“Talk to me, Jensen. It’s too damn quiet.”
His request made her want to cry. She kept playing over and over in her head what he said after the bear attack – Will you please stop doing things that make me love you more! Had he meant it? Did he love her? He sure hadn’t said so when she made her great confession. Maybe his love was past tense also.
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Anything. Nothing serious. Tell me some silly things about yourself I don’t know.”
“Huh.” She thought for a moment, wondering at the wisdom of this exchange. “Okay. I like to eat peanut butter out of the jar while I’m watching television.”
“Smooth or crunchy?”
“Crunchy, of course.”
“Good choice. Next?”
“I subscribe to Reader’s Digest just for the jokes.”
“Tell me your favorite joke.”
“Warning, it’s silly.” Jensen cleared her throat. “There were two drunks walking down the railroad track. The first one said – ‘these stairs are killing me’.” She made her voice sound strained and deep. “The second one said, ‘these stairs aren’t so bad, what’s getting to me is this low handrail.’” She told the joke, then laughed out loud.
Her self-amusement tickled him. “That’s a terrible joke.”
“I know. I know. Let’s see. The third thing would be that I sleep with the television playing You-tube videos. No picture, just a black screen, and a voice reading scary stories.”
“That is weird. Doesn’t it make you nervous?”
“No, I just like the noise. I don’t usually hear more than half a story before I fall asleep.”
“Would you need to do that if you had a partner?”
Jensen’s chest tightened. “Probably not, it’s more so I won’t be lonely.” She hurried on before he could say more about the subject. “I had an imaginary friend when I was a little girl. Her name was Sally. She was my constant companion. My parents would get so frustrated with me because I wanted her to have a place set at the table and I wanted them to tell her goodnight.”
“Could you see her?”
Jensen thought. “Yes, I still remember how she looked. She had long brown hair she wore in pigtails. The first time I saw her was when I had pneumonia. I think I was five at the time. She appeared at my bedside and offered to keep me company. After that, she was always around when I needed her.”
“When did you stop seeing her?”
“When we moved. I think I was eight.”
“Did you ever stop to think she wasn’t imaginary? That she was a spirit?”
Jensen’s mouth dropped open. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
This made Clint laugh. “Well, ghosts might believe in you.”
“Weird.” She shivered. “Okay, your turn to talk. Tell me about your sister. Which one is the chef?”
“Cassidy. She’s a trip. She has this really dry sense of humor and she’s never happier than when she’s in the kitchen. If I hadn’t moved away from home when I did, I’d weigh four hundred pounds. The sad thing is – she’s a diabetic and allergic to everything you can think of. Rarely can she eat the dishes she’s becoming famous for.”
“How sad? How does she manage? I thought chefs had to taste their food to make sure it’s good.”
“Sometimes she can, it all depends on the ingredients. Other times, she uses her sous chef as a taste tester.”
“Does she have a boyfriend?”
“No. She’s dated a few guys. To tell you the truth, I think she might be gay. Or bi.”
“Really? Why do you think that?”
“I barged into her room once and caught her kissing one of her friends. A girl.”
“Oh, no. What did you do?”
“I backed out quickly and never mentioned it again.”
This made Jensen laugh. “Maybe they were just experimenting.”
Clint looked over his shoulder. “Have you ever experimented with another girl?”
“No. Sorry. I know that’s a guy’s fantasy, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Does it bother you to think Cassidy might like girls?”
“No. Not as long as she’s happy.”
“Good answer.”
In the next few minutes, they could see the lights of the Logan Pass visitor center twinkling in the distance. “We’re getting close.” Clint urged his horse to pick up the pace and Jensen followed suit.
“According to the GPS on the satellite phone, it’s two tenths of a mile from the visitor’s center to the pass. From there, we can follow the Highline Loop trail deeper into the interior.”
“Easier said than done, I’m sure.”
Jensen was afraid he was right.
Once they arrived at the Vis
itor’s Center, Clint saw the trail ride folks parked at a grassy area near the building. “I’ll meet them and unpack our gear.” He pointed at a side building with bathrooms. “You’d better make a pitstop.”
“I think I will.” Jensen took off, grateful for the reprieve. Keeping the tears at bay was proving more difficult by the day.
Clint paused to look at her longingly as she turned away. The news she’d given him didn’t seem real and with the turmoil of the moment – he couldn’t think.
Shaking off his upset, he turned to the waiting men. “Thanks for coming so late, guys. Let me unpack the gear and remove the saddles and you can be off.”
One of the cowboys stepped up to help. “You all need to be careful. There’s a storm blowing in later tonight. It could turn into a blizzard.”
“Great.” Why wasn’t he surprised?
When they finished, he thanked the men again and waved them on their way. In a few minutes, Jensen rejoined him. She stepped up and wordlessly helped Clint divide the gear so they could strap as much as possible to their backpacks.
“I hope we have whatever is necessary to help them.”
“Yea, me too.”
Clint hoisted the heavy pack onto his back. He’d made certain she carried the lighter items. “This feels different, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” she agreed. “Even though Conrad was in need of a rescue, knowing we’re headed to the site of a plane crash is intimidating.” She moved around the side of the building to locate the boardwalk. “We can follow this as far as it goes.”
“While we’re here and the signal is good, I think I’ll give Joseph a call. I know they’re probably setting up the SAR from their end. They may know something we don’t.”
As he made the call, Jensen led the way up the boardwalk. She slowed her pace to make it easier for him to talk.
“Joseph, Clint. Any word?”
“I was just about to call you. The FAA is picking up a beacon signal now. They couldn’t find it at first. Let me give you the specific coordinates.” He rattled them off and Clint repeated them for Jensen.
She plugged the numbers into the GPS. “That’s on the Highline Trail near the Garden Wall.”
Clint echoed the location to Joseph. “Any other word? How many people were onboard?”