Never Too Late

by Robyn Carr

  Sarah expertly maneuvered, shushing around the trees, the barrage getting ever closer. Inside her mind was screaming, Please, Jason, please. Run, run, run. Outrun it. She cut left, right, left, right, barely dodging the trees. She felt the wind of the falling tonnage of snow whip at her from the side—it must be right next to her. She was clear of it or it would have buried her by now, but the bottom was not yet in sight. And then it happened; all the dust from the snow was blinding. A whiteout. She could barely see and was too close to the trees to continue skiing. She slowed, came up to the tree line and hung on to a trunk. She looked to her right. If it wasn’t passing her, she was toast. She heard the rumble as it roared by.

  The avalanche seemed to have spared the very left side of the slope, which meant only half of that weak shelf had let go. She prayed Jason had cut across to safety, but she highly doubted he would dare the trees. And if he had, he might not be able to handle them as well as she had; he was getting good, but not that good. She must get down and see if he made it. It was hard to see. It would be a little like skiing by braille. And she’d have to get out of the trees.

  She pushed off and was moving through the trees when her ski went over something—a rock hidden in the snow perhaps—giving her left ski a fast, erratic turn. And she felt it—her knee seemed to pop and snap. She went down. A tendon, she thought immediately. Probably a torn anterior cruciate ligament, a very common skiing injury.

  She dragged herself against a tree. If any more of that snow shelf let go, she was sunk. Trapped. Dead. The trees wouldn’t keep her safe; there was no shelter out here. She was going to rest a minute before doing anything. She thought about going down on one ski—she could do that. Or maybe it would be better to slide. She could sit on her skis—but it was impossible to bend her knee. Maybe she could crawl or roll the rest of the way. But at the moment there was just too much pain. And she still couldn’t see anything as the whiteout slowly, so slowly, settled to the ground.

  Sam saw Jason and Sarah take off like the seats of their pants were on fire, but it was only a few seconds before their images were obscured by the dust of the rapidly descending flood of snow. He saw Sarah’s bright pink jacket as she cut left, toward the trees, but he lost sight of Jason in the white cloud.

  As soon as the thunder subsided, he keyed his radio. “Control, I made one skier and one snowboarder on Big Bear, trying to outrun the avalanche.” The air was thick with snow, slowly settling to the ground, but so gradually he still couldn’t see anything down there. The fallout hung in the air for what seemed like forever. He waited until he could see a path near the top, and it was the longest few minutes of his life. By the time the cloud was somewhat settled, there were two more ski patrols off the lift and beside him.

  His radio answered him. He tipped his head to the left to listen to the transmitter attached to his shoulder. “We don’t have them down here. Yet.”

  “Damn it,” he muttered.

  “It was a boy on a snowboard and a woman on skis,” he told the patrols. “The woman cut left and I lost the boy. She might’ve taken refuge in the trees. I’m going down.”

  “It’s unstable, man,” one of the patrols said. “You shouldn’t chance it.”

  “Yeah, well, if she’s down there, I’m going to get her out of there before the rest of it goes,” he said.

  “We’ll go down The Crown and work our way up with a toboggan and search poles,” the other patrol said.

  Sam didn’t even bother to respond. Enough of the snow had settled so that it looked more like thick fog than a whiteout. He pushed off and skied down. He prayed as he went, and he skied as slowly as he could make himself. He didn’t want to miss her; he didn’t want to hit a tree. Those trees, he found himself thinking, just have no give. The powder was deep and too soft, the air was white with fallout from the avalanche. He stayed close to the tree line. At about the place he thought he’d seen her cut over, he slowed to a near stop and peered into the trees. He was afraid to shout, afraid he might create an echo that would dislodge more of the weak shelf.

  If I lose her, I’ll die, was all he could think. I can’t live like that. I’ll never make it without her. Not now.

  The fresh dusting of snow had covered any tracks, and then he saw a couple. Around this tree, around that. Damn, she was good. At the speed she was going, to clear those trees in the middle of that horrendous avalanche was astonishing. Then he saw a flash of bright pink, crumpled up against a tree. “Skier versus tree,” he said into his radio.

  He made his way cautiously into the trees, shushing between them slowly. Her head was down, one knee bent up and the other leg straight. Move, he was thinking. Let me see you move! It seemed to take forever to get to her, but at last he was next to her. He knelt down. “Sarah!” he whispered.

  She looked up at his face, tears of pain streaming down her cheeks. “’Bout time,” she said. “The service around here sucks.”

  He put his gloved hands on her face. “God, Sarah! What were you doing?”

  “Going after my nephew. Please. Tell me he made it.”

  “I lost sight of you both, but I saw you cut toward the trees. I died a hundred times. Did you hit the tree? Your head? Anything?”

  “No. I was doing pretty good, then my knee went out. I think I blew a tendon or ligament. Oh man, it hurts.”

  “Thank God it’s just your knee. We gotta get out of here,” he said. “A big piece of that weak shelf broke off. It’s just a matter of time before the rest of it goes.”

  “I can’t ski. Sam, you shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous.”

  “You think I could leave you? Come on, up on the good leg. We can’t wait for rescue—we’re gonna do this the old-fashioned way.” He picked her up and leaned her against a tree, balanced on her good leg. He popped the bindings on her skis and once off, they began to slide down the hill. He braced himself against the tree and said, “Put your arms around my neck, and let me do the work—if you try to help, we’ll fall.” He lifted her into his arms. She let a small yelp of pain escape as her knee bent over his arm. He kept his shoulder against the tree. He kissed her cheek. “Just trust me, Sarah. Stay very still.”

  “You’re crazy. You just skied into the path of an avalanche.”

  “I’m crazy? When we get off this stupid hill, you’re going to stop doing these insane things. I can’t take it.” Then more quietly he said, “Aw, baby. You scared me so bad.”

  “Sam, put me down. We should slide. Or roll.”

  “We’re going to do this, Sarah. I’m getting you down.”

  “But it’s so hard to see.”

  “Then don’t look. I know this hill,” he said. “You just hang on and try not to move, try not to throw me off balance.”

  She buried her face in his jacket. There wasn’t a wind and the air began to slowly clear. He pushed off the tree carefully, putting him out on the run. Heavier now with his burden and without the use of his poles, the soft snow nearly covered his skis and their progress down the hill was agonizingly slow. “I don’t know what you were thinking,” he said. “Don’t you know how much I love you?”

  She kept her face buried against his chest. He nearly lost his balance once, but Sarah, trusting him, remained perfectly still as he straightened again.

  “I know you need time to figure this out, but damn it, I can’t live without you. It’s too late for me to change course now—I need you. I’ve never…” He stopped talking as he wobbled slightly. “Halfway, honey. Stay still. That’s my girl.”

  She tightened her arms around his neck. “I never thought I’d have anything like this in my life,” he said. “If I lost you, I don’t know what I’d do. You’re my world, Sarah.”

  The two ski patrols he’d left up top were making their way up the slope from the bottom on a snowmobile dragging a rescue toboggan. He met them halfway and decided not to hand her over. “She’s pregnant,” he said. “Bouncing down on the toboggan or snowmobile isn’t going to cut it. Follow me down.�
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  “We gotta get off this hill,” one of them said.

  He continued his slow, careful descent. “If you want to go ahead, I’ll understand,” he told them.

  They stayed behind him, braving another avalanche to pick them up if they fell. But Sam exercised all the caution he could muster, kept his speed slow and went carefully down the hill. “Almost there, Sarah,” he whispered. “Almost there.”

  At the bottom of the slope he stopped. One of the patrols jumped off his snowmobile and stooped to pop off Sam’s bindings. Sam stepped out of the skis and left the patrol to pick them up. He settled Sarah against his chest. Carrying her now on terra firma, he walked as quickly as he could away from the offending hill. The snowmobiles carrying the other patrols whizzed by, one with Sam’s skis balanced over his shoulder.

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” she said to him.

  “And why can’t you?” he asked. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I couldn’t do anything else.”

  Sam saw that the area had been evacuated and the skiers were all down, gathered around the lodge. An ambulance stood waiting, its red lights a strobe on the white hills. At the front of the crowd he made out Jason and Stan with Clare. “They made it down, honey. They’re fine.” He headed for the lodge as quickly as he could.

  “Thank God,” she said in a breath. She looked up at his face and said, “We’re safe now, Sam. Put me down. I’m too heavy.”

  “I’m not putting you down.” He kissed her forehead as he walked. “God, I was scared to death.” He glanced at her tearstained face. “Is the pain terrible?” he asked her.

  “I don’t have any pain.” She touched his frosty cheek. “I love you, too. I can’t live without you, either.”

  He hugged her tighter. “Then why do you make me beg?” he asked.

  “I like the sight of a good man groveling,” she said through her tears.

  “Well, then you must be ecstatic. I’m completely desperate for you. All I want is to lie beside you every night for the rest of my life. Sarah, I love you so much.”

  She put her hand against his cheek and just drank in his beautiful face. But Sam didn’t hesitate—he didn’t waste any time looking dreamily into her eyes. He made fast tracks toward the lodge.

  There was a loud crack, a boom, and Sam turned back toward the dangerous slope to see the rest of the weak snow shelf let go and fall with explosive force to the hill below, its weight and girth crashing into the trees where only a few minutes before, Sarah had heard the words that made her life seem complete. The voices of the skiers gathered in front of the lodge rose as one in awe of the avalanche’s power.

  Sarah grabbed the front of Sam’s jacket and gave it a hard yank to get his attention. She kissed him. Long and deep. Then she said, “Okay, then. Marry me. Right away. I want to do it now. Before you change your mind.”

  “I’m never going to change my mind, baby,” he said. “Never.”

  Epilogue

  November

  Football games have a special significance, when you’re in love with the coach. Plus, Clare considered Homecoming to be a kind of anniversary, even though it didn’t fall on the same day as the year before when her love affair with Pete had come into full bloom. And what a year—so full and lush.

  Many things had fallen neatly into place. Roger proved himself to be a dedicated parent, something he was better at now than during their marriage. Sam and Sarah brought into the family a son, Casey. Jason traded Stan for a young lady, Beth, who seemed to have a more positive impact on his manners, his grades, his appearance.

  But for Clare, the highlight of the past year was learning about Pete all over again. He gave so much of himself, worked so hard, was so completely dedicated. He was greatly loved in the town, in the school, and not just during football season. The students and other teachers depended on him, the community took pride in him. Rather than being boastful, he was humble. But he wasn’t modest about his team, his boys—he brought them to victory after crashing victory and celebrated every win as if it were their first.

  The entire McCarthy family, even Roger, sat in a tight, proud knot in the bleachers, right down front, for every game. George lived for them and even baby Casey was there, packed tightly against his father’s chest, warm and snug in an infant sling. If Clare didn’t know better she’d think they were all as proud of Pete as she. But that was impossible. She loved watching him in action; she loved it when he turned from the field, found her in her usual spot and smiled at her. And as she became known as his steady, his woman, his love, she glowed. It seemed as though their families, their friends, were as pleased as they were.

  Watching the town light up at Homecoming held new excitement for her, for her man was at center stage. The electricity in the air, the exuberance of the teenagers, the fun and happiness that seemed to radiate through the whole town—it filled her up. Something about this brought her full circle—her life with him had begun in high school and although it had been derailed for a decade or two, when they rediscovered each other, the pure intensity of their new love made up for lost time.

  Another Homecoming, another new year, another gathering of family, and she stood and cheered her lungs out at every good play, every touchdown. She shivered through her whole body when he turned her way and briefly, so briefly, met her eyes. She beamed with nostalgia when the floats came out at halftime, when the Homecoming King and Queen strutted their adolescent stuff in front of the bleachers, when the marching band claimed the field and blasted out their game music.

  Then suddenly, she saw Pete standing in front of the bleachers, looking up at her. He was out of the locker room a little early; he usually didn’t come back on the field with the team until after halftime. He stood, hands in his pockets, head tilted up, watching her, while behind him, the marching band played.

  “Clare,” Maggie said from behind her. “Clare, look.” Maggie pointed over Clare’s shoulder toward the scoreboard.

  CLARE—MARRY ME!

  It brought her slowly to her feet, her mouth open in surprise. She looked down at him and dipped her chin in a little nod.

  Pete jogged toward the bleachers, grabbed the rail and hefted himself up and over. He reached for her hand, pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth in a powerful kiss. The fans erupted in a loud and wild cheer. He didn’t let go quickly; for all the heat in his kiss, they might have been alone. When he did release her lips, he hung on to her still and whispered, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Of course, yes.”

  “Good. See you after the game.”

  He kissed her again, more quickly. He jumped over the bleacher rail and ran back toward the field, his arms stretched up over his head just as his team came running out.

  On the scoreboard it flashed, SHE SAID YES!!

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-3835-7

  NEVER TOO LATE

  Copyright © 2006 by Robyn Carr.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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