A Matter of Trust

by Susan May Warren

  “Brette!” She heard Ty’s voice even as she hit the floor, landing hard on her hands and knees.

  Suddenly a trash can appeared in front of her and she lost her meager breakfast in it. Sweat pooled on her forehead as the emptying of her stomach turned her weak.

  Then Ty was there, crouched beside her, holding a wet washcloth. She pressed it over her face and leaned back against the sofa.

  “I’m okay,” she whispered, her body shaking.

  Jess had crouched beside her, was snapping on gloves. “I’m just going to palpate your stomach, okay?”

  Brette took the washcloth off her face and stared at Jess as she touched her stomach, moving down from the center to her lower right abdomen. “Does this—”

  “Ow! Stop!” Brette grabbed her hand away.

  “It could be her appendix,” Jess said to Ty as she took off her gloves. “Maybe you should bring her into Kalispell Regional to get an ultrasound.” She reached for the garbage can. “I’ll clean this up.”

  When Jess stood up, she gave Brette such a look of compassion, all her accusations screeched to a halt.

  No. She couldn’t be Selene Taggert. Selene was a high-brow Wharton grad who’d lived the life of a fashionista. A pampered rich-and-famous who wouldn’t think of cleaning up vomit, unless maybe it had come from a night of partying. No—even then she would have summoned her hired help.

  Someone like Brette’s mother.

  Jess looked at Ty. “I’ll call you if we hear anything from Gage.”

  Ty nodded.

  And then, suddenly, and without asking, he scooped Brette into his arms.

  His amazingly strong arms, because she was no lightweight.

  “No—wait. Ty. I can’t go to the hospital.”

  “Yes, you can. I’ll drive you—”

  “No!” She wanted to push against him and wiggle out of his embrace, but he was so solid, so strong, she couldn’t help but sink against him. “I can’t—I don’t have insurance.”

  A blink, and something shifted in his eyes. And she wanted to look away, a sort of shame creeping through her.

  “I can’t afford it. It’s cheaper to pay the penalty.”

  “It’s okay, Brette. We’ll figure out something—”

  “No, I can’t! I don’t want to be a charity case. Please.”

  “Shh. You’re shaking, you have a fever, and even though I’m not a doctor, I can see you’re in bad shape.”

  She cringed.

  “It’ll be okay,” he said quietly and wore such a look of worry on his face that she looked away before he could see the tears glaze her eyes. Then pain wrapped around her body like tentacles and she could barely speak, let alone protest as Pete wrapped a blanket around her and Ty carried her out to his truck and settled her inside. He closed her door and went around to the driver’s side.

  Apparently, she’d let her sickness separate her from her common sense. And her flimsy checkbook. She leaned her head against the cool window. Saw Jess come out, stand on the porch, also wearing an expression of worry.

  “Don’t worry, Brette, everything is going to be fine,” Ty said as he pulled out.

  And despite her better sense, she wanted to believe him.

  Time was of the essence, and Gage saw it fading the longer it took Jess and Pete to stabilize Bradley’s leg, move him onto the stretcher, and pack him up for delivery to the PEAK chopper hovering outside.

  Four hours—Gage checked his watch again, just to confirm—but yeah, it had taken nearly four hours from the time he’d called HQ, waited for Kacey to arrive and the EMTs to descend and then assess Bradley’s condition. They’d even called his dad over in Whitefish for a heads-up and to ask if they should relocate the knee on scene.

  In the end, they packed it with an inflatable splint, did the same for his ankle, administered an IV of fluids, then tucked him into a litter.

  Gage helped the team carry Bradley out to the snowfield and attach the litter to the suspended lines. Jess attached her harness to another line, and Pete radioed up to Kacey to start the lift. Jess rode it up, and while she got Bradley settled, Pete pulled Gage aside, back into the cave, out of the wind. Ella was packing up the tent, and when Pete pitched his voice low, Gage suspected trouble.

  “Ella’s friend Brette collapsed just before we got your call. Ty took her to the hospital.”

  “What? Why?”

  “We don’t know. Could be appendicitis. Maybe just stress . . .” He glanced at Ella. “We could make room in the chopper for her.”

  Gage glanced at Ella, who’d said little since Bradley’s revelation of Oliver’s fall. Her lips pressed together in a tight line of worry.

  He should send her back with Pete. It was the logical, safe thing to do. With the day on the backside of lunch, he had maybe two, possibly three hours of daylight left. He’d have to ski fast to catch Ollie.

  Gage thought the slide would have rattled her, slowed her down, or turned her timid. Instead, she seemed to bloom, staying on his tread, hot on his neck as he skied down.

  She had even nearly overtaken him as they’d barreled down the flank of the cave wall.

  “How’s she doing?” Pete asked, as if reading his thoughts.

  “She’s good. She’s . . . really good. But, yeah, we have Angel’s Wings and Cathedral Canyon coming up, and . . .”

  “It’s not going to get any easier,” Pete said.

  Ella was tucking the tent into the case, and if she heard them, she didn’t make a move to glance his direction. Still, she radiated worry in her tight, fast movements.

  He could just imagine the fight she’d wage against him if he suggested her leaving.

  Still . . .

  “I don’t know. If I find him, I might need her help. Especially if we have to ski him down.”

  A voice cut through the radio. “Brooks, this is Chopper One., we’re ready for you. Better hurry, the wind’s picking up again.”

  “Do we have another storm front heading in?” Gage asked.

  “Winds, maybe some snow, but nothing like last night,” Pete said. “Hopefully, however, you won’t have to spend another night in the rough.” He picked up his walkie, looked at Gage. “Should I request a ride for two?”

  “It’s up to Gage.” Ella had come up, her backpack over her shoulder.

  Gage stared at her. “Did you hear us?”

  “We’re in a cave. Acoustics are amazing.” She looked at Gage. “I trust you. I trust your decision, and I trust the fact that if you want me to go home, then you’ll get Ollie out.”

  But he saw the red around her eyes, what it cost her to say that.

  And for a second, he saw her waving from the chopper, leaving him alone on the hill.

  He hated to admit it, but he liked her with him, following him, occasionally whooping when she took a cliff, or stopping next to him to marvel at the scenery. And yeah, while urgency pressed a hand to his back, he’d felt something loosen inside him as they’d ridden down. Since she’d looked at him with those beautiful blue-gray eyes and said, “I won’t get hurt. You’ll keep me safe.”

  “We have a couple pretty intense areas coming up,” he said to her.

  “I know. I saw the video of Angel’s Wings, but . . . I can do it. I promise. But only if . . . only if you want me to come with you.”

  When she put it like that . . . “I want you to come with me,” he said softly. “But we’re going to ski fast and hard—”

  “I know. And I don’t want to be in your way.”

  “You’re not in my way, you’re . . .” The reason I’m here. In fact, knowing he was cutting her a line made him ski better, the responsibility of keeping her safe making him more cautious.

  He probably should have had her in his life from the beginning. Because, with the exception of the slide, this might be the best line he’d ever carved.

  For the first time in three years, he didn’t look backward and see his failures.

  Now Gage looked at her standing there, h
olding the pack, her beautiful hair curling out from her headband, her eyes in his, trusting him.

  He took a breath. “You should know—your friend Brette? She collapsed. Ty took her to the hospital.”

  So maybe Ella hadn’t heard everything. Her mouth opened, and she turned to Pete. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Upset stomach.”

  She breathed out, nodding. “She has that a lot. Had an ulcer a few years ago in college. She’ll be okay.” She looked at Gage. “It’s up to you. I’ll go back if you think I should.”

  Huh. “I admit, I thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

  She took a breath, then shook her head. “As much as I want to go with you—you know that—I trust you, Gage. I trust you to find my brother and bring him home.”

  He nearly pulled her into his arms and kissed her again. However, if he did, he might never stop.

  Instead, he looked at Pete. “That’s a ride for one.”

  13

  IT TOOK GAGE A MOMENT to center upon the feeling, to give it a name and let the realization find his bones.

  Fear.

  Gage stood at the apex of Angel’s Wings, listening to his pulse pump in his ears, trying not to betray the sweat that beaded along his neck, the fact his hard breathing might be because he’d forgotten the deep terror this section of the mountain induced.

  He’d been young and oh so stupid the first time he’d run this. Hadn’t given a thought to broken bones or his body smashing against granite—

  “It’s nearly straight down,” said Ella next to him. She was standing a few feet away, balanced back from the edge.

  “I named it Angel’s Wings because the two granite slabs look like wings jutting out from the rock.” He pointed to the tiny prick of light almost two hundred yards down the trail between the wings. “That’s about five feet across. The wings narrow on the way down, and by then you have so much speed you simply fly out of the opening into this great white shelf.”

  A slick, sudden memory of careening out of the space, so much air between him and the ground that he’d actually felt like he was flying. Only by God’s grace did he not end up on his face. Or going over the cliff. His line had him cutting hard, slowing, then curving around the ridgeline and dropping into a beautiful, spongy white field before he hit Cathedral Canyon.

  He must have been caught in the memory too long because he suddenly felt a hand on his arm. “Gage? Are you okay?”

  He nodded, his mouth dry.

  More than any of the other perils, this run had his number. He wasn’t exactly afraid of heights, but the sheer drop, the speed . . .

  But he’d negotiated it before, and Ella was right. If they found her brother, and his friend, hurt, he’d need her help.

  He wanted to take his helmet off, wipe away the sweat trickling down his temple.

  They were losing sun. An hour of hard skiing over drops, along ridges, into mini-bowls, and around stands of pine, and Ella had stayed right with him.

  In fact, she’d nearly beat him here, pulling up right on his tail.

  Probably worried about Oliver. Which he was too. He couldn’t imagine what kind of injury the kid had sustained to destroy his helmet. The fact that he went for help suggested Oliver had the stuff of real heroism, not just the recklessness of a big mountain snowboarder.

  Now to find him before night fell.

  Ella still had her hand on his arm, and now gave a squeeze. “Take your time.”

  Sadly, he didn’t need any time to find a line—there was no line here. Just a straight drop into speed, and one wrong shift of weight would careen them into the side of the wall.

  A spectacular and fatal crash. Oh, why had he brought them this way? He looked at Ella, and she smiled at him.

  He should have sent her home. To safety. His words from this morning shuddered through him. “I’ll be disastrous for you.” Never did that feel more true as she stood there, grinning, poised at the edge of a cliff.

  More, he was very much in danger of losing his heart to her, careening full speed into something he’d been trying to forget, trying to deny, for three years. Just twenty-four hours with her had him right back where he’d been at the Outlaw resort, longing to figure out a way to see her after they got down off the mountain. The words had been forming inside him all day. “So, how terrible is it if I follow you back to Vermont? I’d like to see you when this craziness is over. In Vermont, or wherever.”

  “Gage—”

  “I’m just . . .”

  “Are you freaking out?”

  He looked at her, a little afraid she could read his mind, maybe see right through him to his heart.

  “Because if you are, it’s okay. It’s . . . well, if I didn’t have you with me, I’d be trying to figure out a way to walk down. But we don’t have time. And I know you can get me down safely.”

  He stared back at the run. Right.

  He closed his eyes. God, I could use a little help. The prayer emerged, unbidden, but he latched on to it. I want to believe that you’re on my side, just like Ella said, despite my mistakes.

  The wind lifted a gust of snow, swirled it at his feet and down the gully.

  “What if we slarve the line?” Gage said, the thought coming to him fast. Of course. “Not a slide, but not carving our way either. It’ll keep us going slower, and we’ll weave our way down. And we’ll just stay on the fall line, closed turns all the way until it narrows up. “

  She was silent beside him. For so long, in fact, that he looked at her.

  “What aren’t you telling me, Gage?”

  He pulled his goggles off then, wanting her to see his eyes. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m freaked out. And not just about the run or your brother, but maybe what happens when we get back to base. But we don’t have time to talk about it right now. Right now, I’m just trying to figure out how to not get our necks broken. Because last time I barely made it out alive. And this time—”

  “Yeah, let’s slarve it,” she said. “There’s no GoPros, no circling choppers watching us. We take it at our speed, okay?”

  He nodded.

  “How about if I go first,” she said. “That way, if I fall, you can pick up the litter.”

  “That’s not funny,” he said. “But yeah. Good idea.”

  She could take her time, inch her way down.

  Ella took off, scooting over the edge before he was ready. Arms out, she traversed the hill, leaning back, keeping her board flat, the nose out of the powder as she traversed the fall line, then cut hard, a thick carve the other direction.

  Nothing epic, but yeah, at their pace.

  He edged over the lip and headed down, following her wide, easy, beautiful line.

  The weave shortened as she descended, as the gully narrowed, until she finally opened it up and glided down the last forty yards, through the five-foot slit out into the open.

  He followed, taking his time, his heartbeat slowing, his thighs burning as he skidded down the hill. He broke free near the bottom and sailed through the crack at a speed that might still break his neck but didn’t tear his heart from his chest. He emerged into the bright white, carving hard on her trail, pulling up behind her.

  She had stopped and was breathing hard. “My legs are on fire.”

  His too, but his heartbeat had settled into something reasonable. Or slightly so, because as he looked at her, he just wanted to pull her to himself, kiss her.

  Tell her that they didn’t have to take it too slow.

  “Never thought I’d have Gage Watson following my line,” she said.

  Baby, I’ll follow you anywhere. The words were almost on his lips when he saw her smile dim. She bent down and unclipped her bindings, then took off, up the snowfield, back toward the base of the chute.

  He followed her, a few steps behind. “What do you see?”

  But he answered his own question as he came up beside her.

  A puddle, where someone, after racing down that chute, might drop t
o their knees and lose it. Yellow bile and a pool of dark red blood stained the whitened snow.

  “Oh no,” Ella said.

  Gage grabbed her hand and pulled her up. “It might be internal bleeding. Let’s get going.”

  Ella simply didn’t care if she got impaled by a pine tree. She should have taken Angel’s Wings faster, maybe.

  Her fears, holding her back.

  In fact, she probably should have gotten on that chopper. She still couldn’t believe that Gage had agreed to let her keep going.

  But she planned on keeping up. Gage had located Ollie’s trail and now led them into the clutter of the thick piney forest, moving carefully but steadily.

  She tried to keep his words in her head.

  “Don’t focus on the trees, or you’ll hug wood. Watch for the white spaces.”

  “Stay low, crouched, and your knees loose.”

  “Point your board downhill, and remember, speed is your friend. You need momentum to turn.”

  “Keep your weight on your back leg, nose pointed up, like a surfer.”

  “And stay close to me. Very close.”

  No problem. She kept his jacket in sight. However, the falling sun made the trees cast lethal shadows, hiding gullies and rock, turning the maze of forest treacherous.

  And exhausting. Twice, she’d gotten stuck, slamming into a tree, hugging it for a long second before shouting.

  Gage had stopped, waited for her.

  Once, he’d bent down to unsnap his bindings, but she wiggled free and dialed back into the line.

  The danger of skiing in the trees was the tree wells, the deep powder that fell around the tree but not to the trunk, leaving a deep cavern around it. She’d heard of skiers falling headfirst into these traps and, unable to get out, freezing to death.

  Not unlike being caught in a slide. Both left the skier entombed in snow.

  Gage stopped in a clearing and kneeled in the snow, breathing hard. She pulled up beside him.

  “How could he go through this with internal injuries?”