by Karen Ball
“Mike, you and Brad stay here—”
“Brad’s gone.”
A quick look told Josh that Mike was right. “Okay, you stay here until Jim gets back. I’ll send Eric back if I need more help.” He didn’t wait for a response. “Let’s go, Eric.” He broke into a run.
Brad raced down the path, his eyes narrowed, searching. Five minutes away from the clearing, he spotted two sets of tracks in the snow leading into the woods, away from the path.
“Stupid! Stupid, stupid kids!”
He followed the tracks, jumping brush and dodging low-hanging branches as he ran. He burst out of the woods and slammed to a halt. What he saw made his blood run cold.
He stood at the edge of a steep drop-off. Below was an icy slope, and at the bottom were huge scattered boulders. To his left was a narrow ledge that followed the mountainside. From what Brad could tell, the ledge, which was barely two feet wide, was primarily made of ice. And there, fifteen feet out on the ledge, was Billy, face pressed to the rocky mountainside, tears running down his red cheeks.
“Oh, man …” Brad breathed. “What have I done?”
Standing just behind Brad, Josh heard the young man’s horrified whisper.
“Good question.” He knew his voice was low and angry, but he didn’t care. Brad spun around to face him. He’d been so focused on Billy, he hadn’t heard Josh and Eric come up.
Josh stepped past Brad without giving him a chance to respond. “Billy.” He kept his voice calm. “Billy, you hear me?”
The boy didn’t answer. He just stood, shaking, plastering himself against the frozen mountain.
“I told him not to go there.” Eric’s voice was choked with tears. “But he said he could do it. He was just going to go out and come right back. But when he started to turn around, he got scared …”
Josh looked below the ledge, noting the ice and the boulders.
Now that would be a nasty fall. And a deadly one.
“I’m gonna get him.” Brad started to move toward the ledge, but Josh’s hand shot out to grasp his sleeve.
“No!”
Brad turned on him. “It’s my fault he’s there! I’m going after him.”
Josh held him fast. “Listen to me. I can’t let you go out there, so forget it.” When Brad moved to shake his hand off, Josh gripped him more firmly. His blue eyes locked with Brad’s dark, angry gaze.
“You want to help?” Josh’s voice was low. “Then stay here. Watch Eric and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. And stay close to the edge.”
Brad’s eyes narrowed. “Close to the edge?”
Josh looked at Billy, studying the ledge he was perched on. “I’ll do what I can to bring him back safely.” His gaze swiveled back to Brad’s. “But if I can’t, if that ledge goes, I’ll throw Billy your way. He’s small. If we can get close enough, I should be able to get him to you. But I need you there to catch him.”
Brad’s eyes held Josh’s for a moment, then gave a curt nod. “I’ll be there.”
Josh’s grip on the boy’s arms slackened. “Okay. Good.” He let go and moved toward the ledge.
“What about you?” Brad’s question was hoarse, almost desperate.
“I’ll be okay.”
“Yeah? You Superman or something?” Brad turned a meaningful glance to the boulders below.
If the situation hadn’t been so critical, Josh would have laughed. He just shook his head. “No. Not hardly. But I’ve got God with me. No matter what happens to me, I’ll be with him. I know where I’m spending eternity.” He stepped onto the ledge. “That’s another reason I’m going out here and not you.”
Brad was incredulous. “You’re going out there because you don’t think I’m going to heaven?”
“Not entirely.” Josh moved cautiously along the narrow shelf. Now the kid wanted to talk about God? He paused and drew a deep breath. There was barely enough room for him. He had to plaster his back against the mountainside, his arms spread out, his hands flat against the rough, cold stone. Help me, Lord. Don’t let that little boy fall. Please.
“Not entirely?” Brad echoed.
Keeping his eyes on the ledge beneath his feet, Josh inched his way toward the spot where Billy stood in terrified silence. “I’m doing this,” he responded, “because Billy needs help. And I won’t let you do it because I don’t know where you stand with God. I’m not willing to risk losing you for eternity.”
He tossed a quick glance back at Brad. The boy was standing in silence, his dark eyes mirroring the tortured dullness of disbelief.
Josh took another step closer. “Brad, God cares about you. Whatever you think, whatever you’ve been told, the only truth is that God cares about you.”
Brad flinched and looked down. “Okay.” He spoke so quietly that Josh wasn’t sure for a moment if he’d really spoken. “Okay, I hear you.” Brad looked up again, his expression one of entreaty. “But I’ve had enough of this little lesson, you know? So get Billy and get back here.”
“Believe me, that’s exactly what I intend to do.” Now Josh was only a few feet away. He could see the way Billy was trembling, the way his fingers were trying to dig into the dirt and rock of the mountainside.
“Billy, I’m right here.” Josh brought his hand down and rested it gently on the slim, trembling shoulder. “We’re going to be okay, son.”
The boy turned his face to look at Josh. Tears had left streaks across his dirt-smudged cheeks, and his eyes were red and swollen—and filled with fear.
“One step at a time, buddy. Just hold onto my hand and inch your feet along.” Josh smiled. “We’ll be back on solid ground in no time, okay?”
“O-okay …” He sounded terrified. Josh couldn’t blame him.
“That’s the spirit.” Josh reached out to take the boy’s small hand. It was like ice. Josh gave him a smile, doing his best to appear unconcerned. “Ready?”
Billy kept his eyes fixed on Josh. “I—I guess so.”
Josh started to take a step toward safety, but he felt Billy stiffen.
“I’m scared!”
“I know. Me, too. But we’re going to do this to-gether, okay? You and me and God.”
Billy swallowed, then nodded. Together, they started back toward solid ground. Each step was an exercise in terror and prayer, but soon relieved laughter bubbled from Josh’s throat. They were only three feet away. They were going to make it.
“I’ll tell you one thing, guys,” Josh grinned. “This fresh air is getting to me. I’m so hungry I could—”
He froze. Every ounce of awareness raced to focus on his foot, on the spot where he’d just stepped … the spot that had shifted, sank—and a chill of terrible understanding touched Josh’s spine.
“Josh?” Billy’s voice was small, terrified.
Josh’s eyes flew to meet Brad’s disbelieving gaze.
“No!”
Brad’s horrified denial washed over Josh, and he surged into action. Jerking Billy into his arms, Josh slid his hands under the boy’s armpits and lifted him as he threw his back against the mountainside. The ledge shuddered, and Josh threw Billy as hard as he could.
Billy screamed as he went airborne, his arms and legs windmilling. He landed with a thud in Brad’s outstretched arms, and the two of them fell backward in a tangled heap. In the next second, Brad sprang to his feet, scrambling back to the edge, reaching for Josh.
He was too late.
The ledge seemed to dissolve beneath Josh’s feet, and in one blazing flash of terrible clarity, Josh knew what was coming. An odd mixture of anticipation and regret flooded him.
He was going home.
He was going to break his promise to Taylor.
Jesus! The prayer bolted from Josh’s mind as everything seemed to go into slow motion. Don’t let Brad go! Don’t lose him!
For a second Josh seemed suspended in midair, almost as though he were hovering, and then he fell.
“Noooo!” Brad’s scream pierced the air, following Jos
h as he plummeted toward the boulders.
Father, take care of Taylor. It was Josh’s last thought before everything went black.
ONE
TAYLOR SORENSEN COULDN’T REMEMBER A SPRING THIS HOT IN years.
She shifted her weight in the saddle, pulled off her hat, and fanned herself as she squinted against the merciless sun to study the hills in front of her.
What a rotten day.
How appropriate. She shoved her hat back in place and let an angry huff escape. The hottest May in decades and I’m out here. You’d better appreciate this, Josh.
Pushing her sunglasses back up her nose, she took up the reins and urged Topaz, her ten-year-old buckskin, forward. The two of them had been together since Topaz was a yearling, and the trust they had in each other was implicit. Taylor knew if any horse could make it to Reunion in this blistering heat, it was Topaz. And he’d do it without a complaint.
Why couldn’t men be more like horses?
Choosing his steps with both caution and confidence, the gelding climbed the rocky rise. Taylor breathed a small sigh of relief when they reached the top. Now there was only the descent left. Tricky, but nothing they hadn’t done hundreds of times.
Never for this reason, though. The thought came unbidden, unwelcome. As did the tears.
Josh, how could you do this to me? How could you—
A sudden jerk pulled Taylor from her thoughts, and her eyes widened. Topaz whinnied once—a piercing sound—and then Taylor was airborne.
She landed with a thud on the rocky ground, her momentum causing her to roll a few feet until she came to a halt in a breathless pile at the edge of the grass. Taylor lay still, panting, wondering if anything was broken. She moved, one limb at a time. When she was sure her arms and legs were only bruised, she pushed herself into a sitting position, testing her back and shoulders. She’d be sore, no doubt about that, but at least she was in one piece. With a sigh, she leaned back on her elbows and drew in a calming breath, then glanced at Topaz. The buckskin was regarding her with a decidedly sheepish expression.
“Got a little careless those last few steps, did we?”
He tossed his head, then stepped forward to lower his nose and nudge her.
With a moan she sat up, then stood. She brushed herself off, straightened her shoulders, and looked around. The beauty of this valley never failed to stir her. No one would ever imagine it was here, nestled in the rocky outcropping. She’d found it when she was a teen, riding aimlessly, exploring her parents’ Wyoming ranch.
The majesty and ruggedness of northwestern Wyoming had always awed her. Her parents’ ranch, Galloway Glen, was just east of the Grand Tetons and just south of Yellowstone. Its location was so remote that it was almost wilderness. Here, Taylor had seen nature in all its splendor—and all its power—for as long as she could remember. But discovering the hidden lushness of the valley had been like tripping over a two-pound nugget of solid gold: unexpected and wonderful.
It wasn’t large—no more than 150 feet long and about 80 feet wide—but every inch was a feast for the senses. The steep path leading to the valley floor ended at a carpet of emerald grass dotted with wildflowers. Lupine, phlox, and wild iris danced in the breeze. Small stands of lodgepole pine and other conifers bordered a clear, deep, spring-fed pool.
Over the years Taylor had enjoyed every aspect of the pool, from using it to quench her thirst after a long ride to letting it cool her skin with a refreshing swim. Then she’d discovered a treasure within a treasure: a cave, located on the far side of the pool. The entrance had been concealed by brush and trees, which Taylor’s unending curiosity had prompted her to push aside.
There was a main chamber, then a narrow corridor branching off to the right. The corridor turned and opened up into another small chamber—a perfect hiding place.
She hadn’t told anyone about the valley; it was hers and hers alone.
Until Josh.
They had met in college, in November during her senior year. The first time their gazes met she’d known something monumental had happened. Apparently he’d felt the same, for within six months they were married.
She could recall that day with vivid clarity. They’d come to Galloway Glen during spring break when the colors of spring were exploding everywhere. She remembered the emotions that flooded her as she placed her hand in Josh’s and vowed to love, honor, and cherish him. It was the happiest day of her life.
May 6. Eight years ago today.
And with those vows, Taylor’s life had suddenly taken on a dimension she’d never imagined was possible. Without even trying, Josh had managed to pull her out of her reclusive shell and help her see how incredible life could be when you opened yourself to someone. He brought her love and laughter and the certainty that life was good.
Or at least it used to be.
All that had changed six months ago on the youth group camping trip.
She remembered the last words he’d spoken to her on the morning he left for the trip. “Pray for me.”
She’d done that.
“I’ll see you soon.”
She’d believed him. She had no reason not to. No solid explanation for the gnawing apprehension that seemed to hover on the edge of her awareness for the next several days. Numerous times she stared at the phone, willing it to ring, willing Josh to be on the other end.
The call never came. But a knock at the door did. Taylor peered out the peephole, and when she saw Jim Wilson standing there with her parents and her brother, Ryan, her heart seemed to freeze in her chest. She’d rested her head against the door for a moment as the niggling apprehension became a wave of dread.
“God …” she whispered, “please.” Then she drew a deep breath and pulled open the door to the news that had changed her life forever.
She didn’t remember much of what Jim had told her. From the moment he’d said Josh was dead, she’d stopped listening. It wasn’t until days later that she’d been able to take in the facts and had learned of Brad Momadey’s part in her husband’s accident.
Rage washed over her again. Brad hadn’t been to church since the accident, but Taylor couldn’t find any regret in her heart. She was glad he was gone. He should have been the one to go out on that ledge, Lord. He should have been the one to die.
Taylor drew a deep breath, fighting against the fear and anger that threatened to overwhelm her.
She believed in God, believed with her whole heart. And yet belief didn’t keep her heart from breaking or from crying out that if God were in control, why would he allow someone so alive, so vibrant and loving, to die? Why would he take away the only person outside of her family who had ever made Taylor feel as though she belonged?
The pain of her memories cut at her heart, and Taylor turned from them, her eyes scanning the sun-kissed valley.
Stop it. Stop thinking. Stop remembering.
She went to Topaz’s side, lifted the flap on the saddlebag, and reached in. Her hand closed around the cool ceramic container she’d slipped into the bag earlier that morning. The container holding Josh’s ashes.
She moved through the small stand of conifers that surrounded the water, oblivious for once to their beauty and grace. She stopped at the edge of the pool.
“Well, Josh.” Her voice was deep and dusty. “Here we are. At Reunion. I wonder if you knew when you named this place how appropriate that name would be.” Tears begged for release, but she pushed them away. “This was supposed to be our retreat, our spot of restoration. Nothing was going to be allowed here that would keep us apart.” A humorless laugh escaped her, and she was almost startled by the sound. Shivering, she closed her eyes. The valley had always seemed to hold a remarkable peace, and she stood for a few moments, willing herself to feel it now.
But it wasn’t there. All she felt was … empty. Hollow.
She brushed at her eyes with the back of her hand. I trusted you, Josh, gave you my heart … and you risked it all.… Pain shot through her, and she hugged
the ceramic container tightly. You risked it, and I lost. How is that right? How do I live without you?
Silence answered her, and she felt a wretchedness of mind and spirit that she’d never known before. It was as though icy fingers seeped into every pore and left something deep within her—some part that had been vital and living—brittle, fragile, ready to shatter.
“Get a grip, Taylor!” She willed herself to ignore the deep, stubborn pain in her chest.
There was silence all around her, as though even the birds and wind had stilled with regret. Then, almost in dreamlike slow-motion, she removed the lid, lifted the container, and turned it upside down. The ashes spilled out into the water with a slight whoosh, and Taylor chuckled through her tears. Even in death Josh was in a hurry to get where he was going.
She sank to the ground, setting the container beside her and pulling her knees to her chest. Resting her forehead on her knees, she surrendered at last to the grief she’d been wrestling for the last six months.
It was growing dark by the time Taylor lifted her head, her eyes sore from weeping and her cheeks still wet with tears. Her head ached and her throat felt tight and raw. She’d always heard that crying was healthy, cathartic, the beginning of healing—so why didn’t she feel better? Maybe some pain went so deep that even tears couldn’t touch it.
Listlessly she stared across the pool, her gaze resting, unseeing, on the cave … and then she froze.
She was being watched.
There, at the edge of the rock face, on the rise just above the cave entrance, sat a wolf.
So this is what it’s like to go crazy. Taylor stared, her mouth hanging open. There weren’t any wolves in Wyoming. Hadn’t been for sixty years. There was no possible way she could be seeing one now.
She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again.
The wolf was still there, his head held high, his ears perked, his amber gaze fixed on her. Apparently he didn’t know he was an impossibility.
Taylor leaned forward, and the animal crouched slightly, as though ready to flee. She stilled, and after a moment he seemed to relax. His haunting, penetrating eyes were intelligent, startlingly compelling.