by Sarah Gay
Dax had never known his grandfather to be cruel. “Grandpa disowned you?”
“No. In fact, after we were married, he transferred me enough money for us to buy your father’s parent’s home at full price.”
“I thought they gave you guys that house.”
She raised her eyebrows. “So did everyone else.”
“They lied to me?” The anger swelled in his gut.
“Eat your meat.” She cut a piece of her steak and moaned as she chewed. “Nothing like a Brazilian steak.”
Dax reluctantly cut into his meat and took a hearty bite. He caught himself before he released his own satisfied moan. The buttery steak practically dissolved as he chewed. “How do they do it?”
“Patience,” his mother said with a smile. “This meat is hung and dry-aged for several weeks. Time intensifies the flavor and tenderness but also shrinks the meat, so you won’t find this in your grocery stores in America. It’s too costly to process.” She snapped her fingers. “That’s one difference in our cultures. Americans want everything in an instant, but with patience comes tenderness.”
“I like that statement.” With food in his system, he found himself more positive and better able to handle the difficult conversation.
“The cultural differences between our families was the difficult part of my marriage.”
“Is that why you left?”
She cringed. “It was one of the many things your father and I couldn’t work through. From the beginning, I felt like I was placed in a box that I didn’t belong in, the doting wife who lives to care for her husband. I felt trapped. Looking back, I can see how I also placed myself in that box. I wasn’t strong enough and hadn’t experienced enough of life to know who I was and what I wanted.”
He popped a warm, cheesy roll in his mouth. “You left to find yourself,” he stated somberly.
“Yes. I was lost.” She pushed around the steamed vegetables on her plate. “And I couldn’t get over Baker’s death.”
“Baker?” Memories of his dog being pulled from the icy water shot chills through his body.
“My brain couldn’t process it.” She shivered. “We were out of town at your soccer tournament in Las Vegas and your aunt hosted the family Thanksgiving dinner at our house while we were away.”
“Why would Aunt Carrie use our house when we were gone?”
“Exactly. When I told her we wouldn’t be there, she said they would miss us. It was no use arguing with your dad about it, so we gave them instructions not to let Baker out of his kennel. I had a neighbor coming by to take care of him. Your grandfather grew impatient at his barking, and, with the assistance of Carrie, let him out. She later explained to me they assumed the neighbor would let him back in.”
“That was a few days before my fifteenth birthday.” Suddenly his mother’s pain was his own.
She wiped the tears from her face. “Do you remember your fifteenth birthday? Aunt Carrie took you to lunch. When she dropped you at home, I could smell alcohol on her breath. That’s when I lost it.”
“Was Dad upset?”
“Yes—but he was more upset with me for having argued with Carrie over them taking advantage of us, killing our dog, and nearly killing you.” Her face lit with satisfaction. “I did let her have it, maybe I was a little harsh, but I had hoped that your father would stand up for me, stand up with me, cleave unto me. I did find out later that Carrie had been pregnant at Thanksgiving.” She waved her hand in the air. “And a child can change a person. Perhaps she isn’t as selfish as she used to be.”
Aunt Carrie hadn’t changed much.
“Something burst open in me,” his mother continued. “I broke free.”
“I had no idea.” Suddenly Dax saw his father in an entirely different light.
“You’re hearing my side.” She shook her head. “Your father would tell it differently. He’s a good man and has always wanted what’s best for you. When I calmed down from my fit and finished mourning Baker, I came back to make amends, but the locks on the house had been changed and I found my belongings in the garage with a note that I was never to speak to you again. I hired an amazing attorney, but I could see how the divorce battle was hurting you. You had told me you never wanted to see me again, so I dropped everything and left.” She placed her hand over his. “I shouldn’t have given up that easily, but I needed that time of introspection to realize who I was and where I belonged. In hindsight, I should have stayed. I should have fought harder for you, even if you didn’t want me.”
“Want you?” Dax had said those things to his mother, but it had been a defensive mechanism. He didn’t want her to leave. “And the house?”
She cupped his cheek in her hand. “Do you really think I cared about that stupid old house? All I ever wanted out of the divorce was you.”
Tears burned his cheeks as they flowed unabated and unashamed. An indescribable love for his mother filled his soul. He stared into his mother’s dark eyes and witnessed sparks of light glimmering to the surface which continued to light her face in a soft glow. He had an epiphany; to see light in others, he had to seek and impart charity, the purest love.
“To go back to your question about this girl sticking around, you need to ask yourself if she knows herself, if she can and will promise to commit to you, but most importantly if you are willing and ready to cleave unto her and no one else. I believe there is wisdom in the bible that a man should leave his family and cleave unto his wife.”
He leaned over and kissed her forehead, “I’m proud to be your son. Thank you for helping me see the light in others.”
12
Dax’s chest burned as it filled with the frigid Salt Lake City air. At forty degrees and windy, it was typical northern Utah weather, but for a guy coming from balmy, tropical Brazil, it may as well have been glacial Antarctica.
He stretched his back as he stepped onto the crosswalk in front of the airport. At three o’clock in the afternoon, the heavy traffic moved at a snail’s pace; good thing, because, after the last twenty-four hours of sitting on his butt, his body was stiffer than a medical stretcher. He needed extra time to walk to the pick-up zone.
Dax scanned the street for Blue’s car. Julia had offered to pick him up, but he didn’t want her to waste an hour of her birthday driving. He could also use a shower before meeting her parents and asking her the most important question he would ever ask in his life. No pressure. For the majority to the flight—when he wasn’t knocked out from his sleeping pills—he mulled over how he should ask her; as if the act of flying itself didn’t stress him out enough. He had nearly wet his pants when they hit turbulence over the Rockies.
Blue’s deep laugh split the cold air. “Dude, you tired or what?” Blue’s tricked-up, black diesel truck sat a foot in front of Dax. “Couldn’t see or hear this thing?”
“Sorry. Yeah.” Dax threw his bag in the back seat and jumped up front. “I guess I’m out of it.”
“We work tomorrow morning. I’d say go get some rest, but something tells me resting isn’t on the agenda this evening.” He punched Dax in the arm. “Julia’s been missing you. But don’t worry, Nikola has been keeping her busy.”
“Not funny.” Dax gave him a look of caution.
“Just joshing. That girl is crazy about you. You know how girls talk. She’s started hanging with Lucy. Thanks, by the way. She said you talked to her grandmother and now her parents are actually communicating with her grandparents.”
Dax shrugged as he blew on his fingernails. “Some of us just have it.” He gave a sideways glance at Blue, who unsuccessfully stifled a laugh.
“The guys found you on Facebook last night. What’s up with not accepting their friend requests?”
“What are you talking about?” Dax gave him a look of disbelief. “I hate social media. You know that.”
Blue handed Dax his phone. “Open up Facebook and search Lucius Domitius.”
“Lucius Domitius? Descended from Julia, Cesar Augustus’ only b
iological child? AKA Nero—the Roman who burned Christians alive? Who would be sick enough to use that name?”
Blue wrinkled his face. “What are you, a Roman history junkie?”
Dax shrugged. “So, I like history.” Dax scrolled through the profile photos from his search. “People actually want to associate with that name?”
Most of the profile pics were of Nero’s bust but a few were normal photos of your average Joe. Dax’s blood ran cold when his calendar photo appeared next to the name. He clicked on it. “Eight hundred friends?” He scrolled through the friends, hoping he wouldn’t find her. “Julia,” he whispered as he brought up her profile. His chest threatened to explode. “Blue, how fast can this truck go?”
Dax pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Julia. It clicked straight to voicemail. He feverishly dialed Abi.
It picked up. “Hey, Dax. You back?”
“Yeah.” He tried to sound relaxed, but his voice shook. “Are you with Julia? She’s not answering her phone.”
“She may not have reception. She left about an hour ago.”
Dax’s respirations grew rapid and shallow. “Do you know where she went?”
“I’ll drop you a pin. We had a sick snowstorm the other day and I think she’s back country skiing in our normal place.”
“Thanks. If she calls, could you please have her call me right away?”
“Sure thing. Glad you’re back.”
There was no reason to frighten Abi, not yet.
“I’m an idiot.” Dax pressed his forehead into the cold window as he pulled at his ear. “I shouldn’t have left her.”
Blue leaned forward in his seat, concentrating on the curves in the road. “Stone has spent the good part of the week with Julia and Abi after you gave him that heads up about the guy in the woods behind their house, but they haven’t seen anything since.” He glanced over at Dax. “If a call doesn’t make it through, sometimes a text will.”
“You’re right.” Dax shook his head. “I’m not thinking straight.”
He sent Julia a quick text message. I’m back. Need to talk to you ASAP. Please text or call.
Familiar sirens blared behind them. Blue whacked his steering wheel in frustration as he slowed and pulled to the side of the road. By how the officer strutted up to the truck, it wasn’t a friendly pull-over.
Dax had the window rolled down with Blue’s license and registration in hand before the officer reached the passenger door.
“Where’s the fire?” The officer took the cards and raised an eyebrow at Blue. “You were going twenty miles over the speed limit. I don’t normally pull over fellow first responders, but your driving was bordering on reckless.”
“I understand officer,” Blue responded. “We haven’t been able to reach a good friend of ours who’s being stalked by someone we feel is dangerous.”
The officer’s brows knit together as he sighed out. “Has she filed a police report or a restraining order?”
“No,” Dax answered. “But she knows the system. Her name is Julia Newel. She’s a public defender.”
“Julia!” The officer’s face flushed. “I had no idea she had a stalker.” He gave them a nod. “Where are you headed? I’ll make you a path.”
Dax handed him his phone. “Put your number in and I’ll drop you the pin.”
The officer rapped at the bottom of Dax’s window with a nervous pulse after he handed Dax back his phone. “When this is all over, will you put a good word in for me with Julia? She doesn’t date cops.”
“She doesn’t date firemen either,” Dax said, dropping the pin. “But that won’t stop me from asking her to marry me.” Dax took the ring out of his pocket and waved it between them. “If she says no, then I’ll set the two of you up myself.”
The officer shook his head. “You’re a brave man.” He let out a low whistle as he ran back to his car. Within a few seconds, the officer had pulled out and raced in front of them with his lights flashing.
Blue kicked his truck into gear and they sped up Parley’s Canyon to Julia in silence, their speech limited by the intensity of the moment. They pulled off the road a few miles from the summit at a designated overlook that doubled as a local sledding hill. The hill sloped down, met a ravine, then rose sharply up the side of the mountain, the perfect skiing terrain.
A few other cars dotted the parking lot, most likely belonging to the twenty or so sledders on the hill. Dax jumped from the truck the moment Blue hit his breaks. He scanned the mountainside for any sign of Julia.
A dot of red traversed down the steep slope, leaving perfect figure eight ski tracks. Dax tensed, praying it was her. A lone skier, it had to be her. He lifted his phone to utilize the zoom feature of his camera and began filming to verify her identity.
A loud whumph sound, followed by slow rumblings similar to a thunderstorm, sent a shot of adrenaline through Dax’s veins. He knew that sound. The hillside behind Julia suddenly collapsed. She’d triggered an avalanche. Her speed increased as she veered to the left.
“Blue, grab your shovels and PIEPS beacon!” Dax yelled as he trudged his way down the sledding hill. He kept his camera focused on Julia. Hopefully the film footage would capture her slide and, worst case scenario, burial. An accurate last known location was vital to an effective rescue.
Julia hit a jump and flew into the air, executing a flawless 360, then landed into the avalanche which continued to cascade down the hill for a few seconds, burying her under an unknown depth of snow. Dax ran over to where a ski pole stuck out of the snow, praying she was within reach. He struggled to her as his strides became heavy and labored, his jeans absorbing the wet snow that froze to his skin like ice blocks. Cotton kills ran through his mind.
“Julia, can you hear me? I’ll have you out of there in a minute.”
Blue came to Dax’s side with his two shovels and they began their furious dig. They had to be quick. Her chest wouldn’t have space to expand, and if by some miracle it did, she’d asphyxiate on her own CO2 in a matter of minutes. Dax dug in harder. The stats running through his head tormented him.
At last they reached a white helmet.
“Julia!”
“Ethan,” a young male voice responded. “Thanks for digging me out.”
Dax’s heart sank, but—in a way—he was relieved; Julia hadn’t been buried in an avalanche.
“Ethan, how’re you feeling?”
“Amazing!” He was breathing in short, shallow breaths. The packed snow still held his chest like concrete. “Did you see that sick jump?”
“See it?” Dax laughed out. “I filmed it.” He continued to uncover the boy who held firm to the pole sticking out of the snow. “Are you in any pain?”
“I think I jacked up my elbow. And it hurts when I breathe in.”
He could have sustained a collapsed lung. “Ethan, how tall are you?”
“Almost six feet.”
It didn’t take much trauma for someone with Ethan’s tall, thin build to sustain pneumothorax.
The police officer made his way to their side. “A medical helicopter is on its way to transport him to Primary’s.” He stared down at the young man. “Hey Ethan, I thought we talked about you not back country skiing anymore. How are you going to make it into the Olympics if you’re dead?”
Dax raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t the first time you’ve outrun an avalanche?”
Ethan shrugged. “My mom’s gonna freak.”
“Tori Terrence,” the officer sighed out with a shake of his head. “She’s another one I let get away. Hey, I thought Julia would be here.”
Dax pulled his phone from his pocket to send her another text. “Where is she?”
13
The slush beneath Julia’s feet squished out from under her traction cleats. She had almost reached the half-way point on her five-mile, round trip afternoon run along the scenic dirt road that wound along icy Porcupine Creek.
That morning, she had contemplated heading out for a stellar
backcountry ski day, but with the recent thaw, freeze, then fresh layer of snow, it spelled avalanche; and a tumble in an avalanche could land her in the grave, if not in the hospital, and she’d do just about anything to stay out of that wretched place.
Julia stopped in front of the red-roofed barn, her usual rest area, and splayed into a lunge to stretch her tight thigh muscles. She’d take her water break here before running back to the house. There were bounteous trails behind her neighborhood, providing her and her friends miles of playground when they were younger, but this road had always been her favorite. In the summer it was perfect for biking. Not to mention the winter months, where she and Abi enjoyed bouncing on an inflatable tube behind their dad’s green Chevy truck.
She held the sport’s water bottle above her head, tilted her face to the sky, and squeezed the bottle, directing the cool refreshing flow into her gaping mouth. She enjoyed how the misty water particles splashed out onto her welcoming skin. Her runs always heated her body to crazy high temperatures. She would have stuck her head in the stream if she thought she wouldn’t freeze on the return run home.
Her phone vibrated in her arm sleeve. Cell service was another reason she used this spot as a rest area; it was one of the only places on the road that had reception. She tugged the phone from the tight, mesh fabric and opened her text messages. Eight of the twelve new messages were from Dax. She jumped up and down with excitement. He was back, and possibly at his house by now.
She cursed herself for having lost track of the time.
According to his first text message, he wanted to know where she was. She snapped a quick photo of the barn and shot it off to him.
An unusually loud bird call resembling an owl originated from behind the barn. Julia took a few steps toward the building when she noticed letters spray painted in the snow. Happy Birthday Julia. Will you be my Valentine? She swooned. That little sneak; he’d planned this.
She spun in quick circles, scanning the area for any sign of Dax. None. A large box wrapped in red cellophane sat in the snow beside the message. She took a photo of the gift box and sent Dax a thank you message along with the photo and several heart emojis.