by Donna Alward
She considered for a moment. There were days that she was brave enough to tackle some black diamonds, but Dan only skied occasionally and she wasn’t sure of his level. “Let’s go up the express and warm up with a green run. Then we’ll see, okay?” One thing she particularly liked about this hill was the abundance of long, leisurely runs. There were lots of beginner and intermediate trails that ran from top to bottom.
They got on the lift and then off again at the top, taking a moment to enjoy the view. “God, it’s gorgeous up here,” he said, letting out a big breath. “Like you’re on top of the world.”
She laughed. “There’s a lift that goes up higher, actually. And another on the back bowl. There’s a green run to go down the back side, but black diamond on this face.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Not sure I want to tackle that today. Anyway, let’s go down this one.” She pointed to the green sign. “I have to find my legs before I get too crazy.”
He laughed, put down his goggles and away they went.
She’d needed this badly, she realized, as she made graceful turns down the groomed trail. There was something about the rush of speed—not too much—that was exhilarating, and the fresh air that made her feel free and strong. Dan was just ahead of her, his form only slightly shaky with his knees a bit wide but firmly planted over his skis. He moved with confidence, and she was glad. A day of blue and green runs would be fun. Maybe an expert level thrown in before the end of the day, before their legs got too tired. Her cough had dwindled to the occasional scratch, and her energy was back. She attributed her recovery to sleep and power smoothies.
They reached the bottom with a final swish and a laugh. “Oh, that was really nice,” she said, putting up her goggles. “A few centimeters of new snow last night made the trail just right.”
“You’re not a powder girl?”
She shook her head. “I always find it too unpredictable. I get a bit of a rhythm going, then hit a puff of powder and the change in speed throws me off. I don’t enjoy it as much.”
They took the lift up again, and took another trail down. Then a different lift and some other trails, until Adele wondered what time it was. She hadn’t brought her phone with her on the hill because she didn’t want to fall and chance breaking it. Dan had left his in the car for the same reason, so on their next trip to the bottom, they took a break at the lodge and went inside to check.
It was twelve thirty, so they each grabbed a bowl of chili at the cafeteria and found a seat. After lunch they went up the backside and down a long, meandering green run. After that they tried a black diamond. Dan managed okay, with a few tense turns on the narrow run, but she found it more challenging than enjoyable, her thighs burning and her heart pounding when she reached the bottom. While she enjoyed speed, there was a fine line between in control and out of it, and she didn’t often enjoy riding that line. The last thing she wanted to do was have a big crash today.
The sun moved around and Adele took off her goggles in favor of sunglasses. They zoomed down some blue runs, just challenging enough to keep it interesting, and as the light started to dim behind the peaks, they met at the bottom and caught the lift up to the top again.
“Tired?” Dan asked.
“Getting there. Last run, maybe? If you’ve had enough.”
He nodded. “It’s been a good day.”
It had. They sat in silence for a bit, listening to the whir of the lift, looking down at the trees and snow below them as their feet dangled in the air.
Adele looked over at Dan, marveling that they’d spent a whole day together without talking about the past. She supposed that was because they’d been busy, always moving, with not much time to talk. There’d been a few laughs and some moments to appreciate the scenery.
But the day was drawing to an end, and there was a drive back to Banff and reality staring them in the face.
“Do you want to do that easy run? Might be a nice cooldown before we go.”
She nodded. Her legs were starting to feel tired, and all the fresh air and exercise told her she’d sleep well tonight. “That sounds good.”
“Ready to put the bar up?”
They lifted the bar as the end of the lift approached. A slight push with her hand had her sliding away from the lift, coming to a stop about twenty feet away, waiting for Dan to come up beside her. Once he did, she smiled and then pushed off with her poles.
The groomed run was a little rougher now after a day of activity. The little bit of fresh snow had been packed down, and there were tiny icy ruts here and there. It presented no problem, but as Adele took lovely sweeping turns, she had the thought that the run was looking as tired as she felt.
A young girl in a pink jacket was up ahead, taking smaller turns and looking a little more uncertain on her skis. Adele went to move to the left to give her lots of room, but two other skiers had come up behind her and were taking the slot, making it impossible for her to move much. No matter. As long as the girl stayed consistent, Adele could slip right by and leave her behind.
She was nearly there, ready to shift her weight onto her left ski for a turn, when the girl wobbled, made a big cut and darted into Adele’s path.
Adele pivoted quickly, performing her own sharp turn, but her balance was off, and she executed another sharp turn to the right to avoid other skiers on her left. When she did, the edge of her ski caught a rut and she felt herself going down.
She hit hard, chest and face hitting the packed snow, her skis sprawled out behind her, poles dangling from her wrists by the straps.
“Delly! You okay?”
She pushed herself up on her hands, a bit dazed and winded. She then swiveled her ungainly skis around so they were at her side and she was on her right hip. “I am. Caught an edge.” She looked up into his concerned face, his skis parked right beside her. “On a green run. Embarrassing.”
“It shouldn’t be. That was some pretty impressive evasive action.” He chuckled and moved to her side so he could offer her a hand to get up.
When she was upright on her skis again, he frowned. “Del, you’re bleeding.”
“What?”
He took off his gloves and stuck them between his knees. He then reached for her sunglasses and removed them carefully. “Damn, Del. You hit your face so hard, the piece on your glasses cut your nose.”
She lifted her hand to her face, and when she withdrew it again, her mitten had blood on it. “Oh.”
“You feel okay? Dizzy or dazed or anything?”
“Not really. Just...tired. I do think it’s time to go.”
“No kidding. Let me put these in your pocket.” He tucked her glasses into her pocket and zipped it up again. “You sure you’re okay to go down the hill?”
She pushed away his hand. “Of course I am. Don’t worry, it’s just a minor flesh wound,” she joked. She bent to pick up her poles and tried to ignore the heavy feeling behind her eyes. She was going to end up with a headache. Good thing this was the last run.
They made it to the base without incident, but as Adele took off her skis, she had to admit she was feeling a bit off. She’d “had her bell rung” as her grandfather had used to say, and a look at her reflection in a window showed a streak of blood down her nose.
She went to the bathroom while Dan was returning his equipment, and wiped the blood away with a wet paper towel. The fall put a damper on an otherwise lovely day, and she was feeling a bit grumpy because of it.
When she came out again, Dan frowned. “Why don’t you let me drive back? You’re looking a little pale. You might have given your head a real bump.”
She should insist on driving, but instead she unzipped her inside pocket and handed him the keys. “Okay.”
Taking off her ski boots and putting on her regular ones was a pain, and she finally buckled her seat belt and leaned back against the headrest. “I normally wouldn’t hand ove
r my keys, you know,” she said as Dan started the engine. “But I’m tired and that tumble knocked the starch right out of me.”
He laughed at her saying and put the car in gear. “It’s no big deal, Delly. It was a fun day. You chill. I think we’re both going to sleep well tonight.”
Forget tonight. The hum of the tires sounded on the highway and Adele decided she’d close her eyes just for a moment.
CHAPTER TEN
DAN LOOKED OVER at Adele, not wanting to wake her. She’d been asleep for nearly twenty minutes and he was actually worried about her having a concussion. They were nearly to the Banff exit, and he didn’t know how to get to her house. He was going to have to wake her.
“Adele.” When she didn’t move, he said a little louder, “Delly.” He put his hand on her leg and gave it a little shake.
She came to with several blinks. “Oh,” she said softly. “We’re almost home.”
Home.
Her home, not his, but the simple statement took him back several years to when they’d traveled outside the city to visit his family or go on a day trip. She’d always been one to fall asleep in the car, and he’d awakened her several times in the way he had just now.
“I need directions to your place.”
She sat up straighter. “Oh. Just go to the hotel. I can drop you off.”
He frowned a little. “Well, I can take a cab from your place. You hit your head pretty hard, and fell asleep as soon as we hit the highway. I’d rather know you’re home, safe and sound.”
“I don’t have a concussion,” she said, rolling her neck. “I’m just really tired. But okay. I won’t fight you on it. I don’t think I’d win, anyway.” She sent him a sideways smile and then gave him directions to get to her house.
It was a little thing, set back on a side street, with a cute little sign out front that simply said Hawthorne Weddings. He pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. “I’ll help you get your stuff inside.”
She nodded and opened the door. “Thanks, Dan.”
“Don’t thank me.” He grinned at her. “I saw you fall. I’m gonna get some mileage out of that graceful endeavor.”
The look on her face wiped the smile off his. Of course he wouldn’t get mileage out of it. In a few days, he’d be gone, back to his life, leaving her here in hers. A knot formed in his chest at the thought. Now that they’d made peace, he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with the idea of never speaking to her ever again. But what was the alternative?
“Forget I said that.” He reached up and took her skis off the rack. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s okay. I know what you meant.” She smiled back but her eyes seemed sad. “I know I’m not graceful.”
“That fall wasn’t graceful. I didn’t say anything about you, Del.”
She shouldered her boot bag and led the way to a side set of steps that led upstairs to her living space. Her entry was a bit crowded, particularly when she stood her skis up on a mat and put her boot bag beside it. “They’ll need to dry,” she said, shrugging out of her coat. Mr. Num-Nums came rushing around the corner to see her, but halted with a comical look when he saw Dan standing in the doorway. The cat’s tail fluffed up with alarm.
“It’s okay, buddy,” she said quietly. She looked at Dan. “He’s a bit shy of strangers.”
One of the skis shifted a little and the cat took off. “Sorry.”
“Oh, it’s fine. He’ll come back out in a bit. It just takes him a while to warm up to people. He’s much better now than when I first adopted him.”
“I’ll call a cab. You sure you don’t need something for your head? I think you’ve got a scab forming there already.”
She lifted her fingers to her nose and found the little cut already crusting over a bit. “It’s not bleeding anymore. And truly, I don’t have a headache. I really am just tired. It’s all the fresh air.”
He nodded and then reached into his pocket for his cell. He didn’t want to go. Didn’t want the day to end. Didn’t know what to say, either, or where they went from here. He’d just brought up a browser to look for a local cab company number when she put her hand on his arm.
“You want some dinner? We just had chili for lunch, and you’ve been eating hotel food all week. I can make us something.”
He met her gaze, wondering what was behind the invitation, wondering if he cared. “I’d like that. But I can help. I’m a decent cook.”
“I remember,” she said, and the little licks of awareness flickered again. “Come on in. I’ll see what’s in the freezer.”
He followed her inside and immediately felt at home. A flick of a switch turned on a pair of lamps, bathing the room in a cozy glow. Her sofa and chairs were a warm gold fabric, dotted with deep red and cream-colored throw pillows. The hardwood gleamed, while a coffee table stood on a rug with the same cream, gold and raspberry colors in it. “Have a seat,” she called from the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?” She came back around the corner holding a bottle of red wine in her hand. “Since you’re not driving.”
“Sure,” he replied, but instead of sitting, he followed her into the kitchen. It, too, was cozy, but not cluttered. Cream walls, stainless steel appliances, cupboards in smooth cherry. “I like your place. It suits you.”
She smiled as she got out a corkscrew. “Thanks. I painted when I bought the place. I know cream is a little dull, but I can do a lot with it with furniture and decorations. It’s like my canvas.” She pulled the cork out with a pop. “Particularly if I change my mind about colors. I’ve actually considered doing something with tan and light blue, kind of an aqua. Or I can leave the walls cream. Airy and light. But I haven’t decided yet.”
He took the glass she offered and sipped while she opened the freezer at the bottom of her fridge. “How do you feel about beef medallions?”
“I have warm, fuzzy feelings,” he admitted, and grinned. For a moment, he’d actually forgotten that she’d trampled his heart.
Her brows came together when she stood up and looked at him, the package of beef in her hands. “What is it? Do you not like the wine?”
It’s in the past, he reminded himself. This is a friendly dinner, nothing more.
“The wine’s great. It’s just a little bit strange, is all. Me being here. With you. Sometimes I forget, and then—”
“Sometimes you’re reminded,” she finished for him. “I know. I’ve had that feeling all day. And then I remind myself that we’re not starting over. We’re making peace and letting go. And that’s a good thing, Dan. I can’t tell you how good it feels to have told you the truth.”
He took a long drink of wine. This conversation wasn’t a light one, and he felt as if he needed fortification. “I can’t say it feels good to me, really,” he said honestly. “I mean, I’m trying to not be angry anymore. And I understand a lot. But it’s been painful, Delly. I’m not going to pretend it hasn’t.”
Her face softened. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Would you change the past if you could?”
She swallowed. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter, because I can’t. We can just deal with the present. And right now my present says I’m glad we’re not fighting anymore, and it’s also saying that in an hour I’m going to be starving, so we should get started on this.”
She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He got it; they’d pretty much beaten the subject to death over the last few days. That he had lingering feelings about it was natural, he supposed. Not wanting to retread the same conversation ad nauseam was also natural.
As the meat was defrosting, Adele gave him potatoes to peel, while she mixed up some sort of sauce. Before long, the potatoes were on the stove and the medallions were waiting for the cast-iron pan to heat. Together they built a salad, and then Adele mixed ingredients for a vinaigrette in a bottle.
“Ever
ything from scratch,” he remarked.
“Not always, but I do like to cook. And it’s nice to cook for someone else, too, and not just me.” She grinned. “I’ve gotten quite good at working with oils and herbs and vegetable combinations. Harper’s a vegetarian and comes by usually once a week for dinner.”
“The photographer, right?” He remembered her. She had laughing eyes and a bright smile.
She nodded. “Harper’s my best friend, really. We met through the business, when I was looking for a local photographer for a wedding. We hit it off and I recommend her quite often now, unless clients have a preference already in mind. She’s one of the sweetest, most giving people I know.”
He topped up his wine, and hers, too. “That’s nice. It’s how I feel about Pete, you know?”
“Except you also have brothers and sisters that you’re close to. I don’t.”
He wondered if she ever spoke to her mother, but didn’t want to ask. Her upbringing had always been a bit of a sore spot. Her dad had abandoned her mom before Adele was born, and her mom had worked her fingers to the bone to provide for the two of them. As a result, Adele had been on her own a lot as a kid. On her own and lonely.
“True,” he said easily, watching her place the medallions in the pan. The hot sizzle of the meat made his stomach growl.
She seared each side and then added sliced mushrooms. She moved around the kitchen with efficiency and confidence. After draining the potatoes, she put the balsamic glaze she’d mixed up into the pan, and while it began to reduce, she whipped the potatoes and piped them through a bag onto a baking sheet. “You’re getting fancy on me,” he said, intrigued.
“I love Duchess potatoes,” she admitted, sliding the pan into the oven. “Crispy on the outside, but creamy and delicious on the inside. It won’t be long now.”
She got out plates and cutlery and handed them to him, along with a couple of placemats. “You can set the table.”
“Yes, boss.” He gave a mock salute and grinned. She’d always had confidence, but now it was different. It was backed up by a self-assurance, a maturity he liked. A lot. She’d been the same way at the wedding, even when things had gone wrong. As if she’d handled tough days before and knew she could do so again.