Kris clomped over to take the limp bag from Jillian and unzipped it. “It’s gone, all right.”
“What’s gone?” Laurie Beth asked.
“The sealed envelope,” Kris said.
“The one his Grandpa Matt left him,” Nolan said.
Laurie Beth looked up the mountain. Jillian followed her gaze through the gray sky and snowflakes dampening everyone’s outerwear. Nolan was at the back of the Tahoe now, pulling his skis out.
“So a sealed envelope from Grandpa Matt has something to do with why Tucker wants to be an idiot on this mountain,” Laurie Beth said. “And you’ve all been trying to figure out why. Am I up to speed now?”
“Pretty much,” Jillian said.
“Then the only thing I want to say is thank you, and I don’t care how much money he spent buying fancy skis for a woman he just met.”
“Then you’ll be glad to know he bought me the fancy climbing skins too,” Kris said. “I can still see his tracks, but not for long. I’m going to climb as fast as I can. You all keep up the best you can.”
CHAPTER TWENTY–SEVEN
Kris’s skis and bindings were made for backcountry climbing, and she was half Nolan’s age, so he didn’t try to match her pace. On an uphill climb, even cross-country skis would have been more efficient than what Nolan had on his feet, but he persisted. In some stretches, he made a V formation in the snow with his skis, stabbing his poles into the snowpack and moving forward one foot at a time. In others, sidestepping up the incline seemed to work better. In stretches of flat surface, he could ski more smoothly. With each exhaling effort, he also offered a breath prayer for the real reason he hoped his skis would not be needed—gingerly navigating down the more treacherous slope in search of an injured Tucker.
Patrick surprised him. He’d always had big feet, and they came in handy now as he walked ahead of Jillian and Laurie Beth and dragged his boots just enough to clear a path that made their progress easier.
“I don’t see Kris anymore.” Laurie Beth’s breath came heavy.
The terrain was not a direct upward incline. Kris occasionally dipped out of sight or went behind a cluster of trees.
“She’s there,” Nolan said. “Do you need to stop and catch your breath?”
Laurie Beth shook her head. “I can’t. Not with Tucker up there.” But she bent over, hands on knees.
“You haven’t had time to adjust to the altitude.” Canyon Mines was a good seven thousand feet higher than St. Louis. Under normal circumstances, Laurie Beth should have had a day or two to adjust before attempting this level of exertion. They hadn’t even grabbed water bottles.
“Eat some snow,” Jillian said. “Hydration is number one up here.”
Laurie Beth made a face but complied.
“Go on, Dad,” Jillian said. “I’ll stay with her until she’s ready.”
“Yes,” Patrick said. “Someone has to stay with Kris’s tracks.”
“We should stay together,” Nolan said.
“Kris is already on her own,” Jillian said. “Someone should try to have eyes on her.”
“I’m sorry,” Laurie Beth said. “I think I’m going to be okay.”
Jillian took off a glove and pushed up the cuff of Laurie Beth’s jacket to put a finger on her wrist. “Pretty fast pulse still. Please go, Dad. For Kris and Tucker.”
“I’m so sorry,” Laurie Beth said.
“It’s all right,” Nolan said. “You just need some time.” A fallen log for her to sit on would have been handy, but any in the vicinity were long buried under the snowpack.
“Eat more snow,” Jillian urged. “Dad, what are you doing still here?”
“Patrick,” he said.
“I’ve got this,” Patrick said.
Nolan pulled a flare out of his jacket. “At least keep this. Just in case.”
“Dad, please,” Jillian said. “You have the other one, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Kris doesn’t have one. And neither does Tucker. So go.”
Nolan set his skis and poles and pushed upward, searching for a glimpse of purple. The new snow had let up during the moments they’d stopped for Laurie Beth. Visibility in the sky was still a dingy gray, but Kris’s path on the ground was clear enough to follow, and even traces of Tucker’s that she had let be her guide.
As Nolan climbed, so did his heart rate. His mind’s eye saw the careful draftsman’s lettering of the topography map indicating the elevation rises between the lines curving around the mountain. Laurie Beth would insist on pressing ahead, unaware of what the impact of the altitude could be. Jillian and Patrick would have to pace her and take advantage of the flat stretches to let her heart rate adjust. Nolan pushed his own speed enough to catch glimpses of Kris’s purple jacket against the white expanses, while balancing his concern with being able to look back at the trio of colors advancing more slowly behind him.
The moment of decision came though. Nolan could see neither Kris ahead nor Jillian and the others behind him. He paused, catching his breath and considering options. The path Tucker and Kris had skied remained visible, and he was adding his tracks as well. He dug for his phone and tried calling Jillian but got no answer. Exhaling, he chose not to read too much into the lack of response. She could be in a spot where her phone wasn’t picking up a signal. Between the layers of winter gear and the wind, she might not have heard the phone. Her hands might have been busy helping Laurie Beth. Nolan left a message and chose to continue upward. Now he made an extra effort to dig the edges of his skis into the snow and leave deeper tracks.
He finally crested and caught up with the vision of purple planted uncomfortably close to the edge of the mountain.
But Kris was facing away from the view and into Tucker’s face. She’d gotten there in time.
“You brought reinforcements, I see,” Tucker said.
On more level terrain, Nolan glided closer. Tucker was ready, the skins off his skis, goggles on, fists gripping his poles. Nolan had never been this high up on this mountain, so far above the innocuous spring and summer hiking options. It was a sheer, pristine drop. A skier pushing off from this spot would have immediate high, long lift. It would require incredible aim to land in the narrow path between the trees. Nolan’s stomach dropped just thinking of the sensation. He slid into position beside Kris. Tucker would have to get past the two of them now in order to do anything rash, and Nolan didn’t believe he would risk sending them sliding down the mountain.
“Look at the state o’ you.” Nolan gasped for breath. “We’re going to have more company in a few minutes. Wish I had thought to bring the party snacks.”
“A thermos of hot chocolate would be nice right about now,” Kris said.
“That’s your department.”
“You guys are a riot,” Tucker said. “I’m impressed you got up here, Nolan.”
“Hey, you were the one with the great remedial tips about how to climb efficiently.” Nolan lifted his phone, searching for the bars that showed he had a signal. “Oh good. Service.”
He removed a glove and thumbed a text message. AT THE TOP. KRIS FOUND TUCKER. COMING? The message was taking a long time to go through.
“Why can’t you just let me have this one last ski?” Tucker picked up a pole and jammed it again into the snowpack, but not in a way that threatened imminent departure. Nevertheless, Nolan held his position.
“Because we’d like you to have many more years of exciting but slightly more sensible skiing,” Nolan said.
“Like with a helmet,” Kris said.
Tucker glared.
“There’s a fallen log right over there,” Nolan said. “Why don’t we get out of our bindings, clear it off, and sit?” Finally, the message showed it was delivered.
“I didn’t climb all the way up here just for the vistas.” Tucker adjusted both his gloves.
Nolan’s phone pinged with a message from Jillian. COMING. LB BETTER ENOUGH TO KEEP GOING. P IS A HUMAN SNOWPLOW.
/> “I will kick those poles out from under you with these new fancy skis if I have to,” Kris said. “You need to wait.”
“What for?” Tucker said.
“You just do.”
“That’s no logic.”
“We have a surprise for you,” Nolan said.
“Maybe another day.”
“It would be a shame to miss her.”
“Her?”
“Let’s sit, Tucker.”
“I prefer to remain ready to ski, thank you.”
Nolan’s phone pinged again. I SEE YOU. ALMOST THERE.
Patrick plowed across the flat space just then. Nolan eased out his breath. Jillian and Laurie Beth could not be far behind.
“Meet my brother,” Nolan said. “Patrick.”
Tucker leaned away from his poles. “The one your grandfather liked best?”
“Guilty as charged.” Patrick grinned. “Somebody had to be the favorite.”
“I get it,” Tucker said. “I’m in that club. Hey, what are you doing up here with no skis?”
“Chasing my little brother, who for some reason is chasing you.”
“He shouldn’t have bothered.” Tucker looked at Nolan. “This is not a ‘her.’”
“That part of the surprise is still coming.” Nolan glanced at the ridge. Two hooded heads crested. “Here we go.”
Tucker turned only his head, his skis still aimed for the hill. “Laurie Beth! What are you doing here?”
“I should write a song,” Laurie Beth said. “Fly anywhere, climb any mountain, just to reach you.”
“Are you all right?” Tucker asked.
“The locals tell me I’m having trouble with the altitude, and I tend to believe them.” Laurie Beth trudged closer to him, breathing hard. “Maybe that will be a good bridge in my love ballad.”
Tucker’s eyes went from Laurie Beth to Kris, clouding with confusion.
“Yes, I’ve met your ski partner,” Laurie Beth said. “We’ve all been worried about you. Especially me. It’s not like you to be so out of touch.”
“I’m sorry for not calling,” Tucker said, “but as you can see, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Kris said.
“What she said,” Laurie Beth added.
Tucker’s exhale swirled in the cold air around his face.
“We’re here to help,” Nolan said.
“You can’t help me ski with your old equipment,” Tucker said. “Kris could come.”
“You know that’s not what they mean,” Laurie Beth said.
“As the nonskier in the bunch,” Jillian said, “please let me say that they just want to help you not ski for all the right reasons.”
Tucker pulled his poles out of the snow to reposition them. “It’s my decision. It’s terrific to have a cheering section when I take off, but you need to move out of the way.”
“We’re not moving,” Kris said. “We’ll cheer when you climb down the safe path with us, back to the cars.”
“Now you’re getting bossy. That’s not like you.”
“You have people who care about you,” Nolan said. “Whatever you’re facing, remember that. Your mother, your family. Laurie Beth tracked you down and came all this way. We’ve only known you a few days, but we care.”
“You don’t understand.”
“We want to. As exciting as Hidden Run sounds, it’s not worth it. You can’t see the rocks it’s littered with even if you find a path through the trees. The run is literally hidden.”
“I’ve been staring at it. Planning my route. That’s the only reason I was still here. Where I could push off, where I’d likely land, calculating speed based on the height of the lift, where I’d have to adjust in the air, and how fast I’d have to find the clear space through. I can do it.”
“What about the boulders you can’t see?” Kris said. “There’s a lot of fresh powder hiding obstacles.”
“That’s why I have backcountry skis,” Tucker said.
“And the reason you left your helmet behind to ski a heavily wooded rugged run?”
Tucker’s response was to pull the goggles off the top of his head and position them over his eyes.
“What about me, Tucker?” Laurie Beth wanted to know. “We made promises to each other when we got engaged.”
He hesitated, his jawline softening.
Laurie Beth moved from beside him to in front of him, straddling his skis. With her right hand she removed the goggles from his face and with her left she stroked his cheek. Then she kissed him unabashedly, lingering, unselfconsciously.
“Why didn’t I try that?” Kris muttered.
Nolan laughed softly. “Because you don’t have that rock on your finger.”
When Laurie Beth stepped back, Tucker’s composure was less adamant, but his feet had not moved.
“Where’s the envelope, Tucker?” Kris asked.
“And why does she know about the envelope and I don’t?” Laurie Beth said.
“I’ll explain that later.” Tucker unzipped his jacket a few inches, exposing the envelope trapped between layers of clothing.
“Have you opened it?” Kris asked.
“Nope.” Tucker zipped his jacket, sealing the packet away again.
“You’ve been carrying it around ever since you got to Canyon Mines.”
“I know. Grandpa Matt left me that… that… ridiculous letter. And this. I just wanted to do this one thing first.”
“Whatever is in there,” Jillian said, “must really scare you.”
“Whatever is in there,” Laurie Beth said, “we’ll face it together. You and me. Just like we promised. We’ve always said we were already completely committed, heart-to-heart, just waiting for our wedding day.”
“See,” Nolan said. “You are not alone. Love upholds you.”
“This is not fair,” Tucker said. “Five against one.”
“We are Team Tucker,” Jillian said, “and we don’t give up. And I talked to Jackson today. He wants to see you.”
“Jackson?” Tucker’s eyes flickered.
“Yep.”
“You leave me no option then.”
Tucker’s feet moved at last. He picked up one ski and repositioned it in the laborious way required for taking steps with legs attached to six-foot appendages. Laurie Beth stepped out of the way, back from the edge as Tucker seemed to be swinging his feet around. The tension in Nolan’s muscles eased. Beside him, Kris repositioned her poles to allow Tucker some space.
Nolan didn’t see Patrick coming, but suddenly he was there, knocking the poles out of Tucker’s hands and sending his feet flying.
“Uncle Patrick!” Jillian rushed toward Tucker, now flat on his back.
“What in the world?” Nolan said.
Patrick was half astride Tucker, wrestling for control of the poles.
“I can’t believe you were going to do that!” Laurie Beth dropped to her knees beside Tucker.
“Do what?” Nolan snatched the poles from Patrick for safekeeping.
“We fell for it, Nolan,” Kris said. “He had Laurie Beth out of the way, and we were just about to give him all the clearance he needed to glide right around us and take off.”
Laurie Beth dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Whatever pain is inside you is huge, Tucker, but it’s not so huge that it scares me away. So get used to it. You’re stuck with me.”
Nolan handed his poles and Tucker’s to Jillian. “Maybe these will help you and Laurie Beth on the climb down. Patrick and I will take Tucker.” The two of them lifted him to his feet and steadied him between them. “And if it’s all the same to you, ski man, I’ll drive back into town, so hand over the keys right now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY–EIGHT
Maple Turn, Missouri, 1989
Alyce walked with her arm slung casually through Matthew’s, not because she needed his support but because she still enjoyed letting everyone know he was her son. With pride beaming in her face, an expression Matthew knew meant a
ll was well, she walked erect down the hall from the dining room to her apartment.
“That’s my good Mattie,” she said.
“Did you get enough to eat?”
She ducked her glance. “They are always feeding us around here. Haven’t you noticed that? Someone will be along soon enough to knock on my door and see if I want to come out for an afternoon smoothie.”
“Well, Mama, you do like smoothies.”
She smiled. “I can’t argue with you there. Occasionally they even get imaginative with the fruits they put in them.”
They reached her apartment, and Alyce turned the key in the lock.
“Do you need anything before I go?” Matthew asked.
“Not a thing. You get back to work,” she said. “I’m going to put my feet up with a book for a few minutes.”
This was code for taking a nap in the recliner in her living room. As long as she didn’t go into the bedroom and get under the blankets, Alyce didn’t consider it sleeping, but whoever knocked on her door in a couple of hours was likely to find that she’d dozed off with the book in her lap. She was eighty-five years old. If she wanted an after-lunch nap, there was no reason she shouldn’t have one.
“Tell Jane I found a new quilt block pattern in a magazine in the common room,” Alyce said. “I clipped it for the next time I see her.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to clip things out of magazines in the common room, Mama.”
She waved him off. “People do it all the time. No one cares.”
“I’ll tell her.” Matthew leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Enjoy your book. I’ll bring groceries on Saturday.”
“Don’t forget creamer. I like the vanilla-flavored one.”
“I’ll remember.”
“That’s my good Mattie.”
Alyce withdrew into the apartment, and Matthew turned to stride toward the main entrance.
Judd had been gone ten years, lost within moments to a massive heart attack after dinner at the age of eighty-one. After a brief transition period at Ryder Manufacturing, during which he publicly handed the reins over to his son, in retirement Judd had paid close attention to Alyce. For twenty years, he tended closely to her and made her exquisitely happy. Matthew could not deny those two decades were perhaps the most content of his mother’s life. Judd was always there, always attentive, always companionable. No more trips. No more wondering. She sensed the shift and was relieved at long last.
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