A Sister Would Know

by C. J. Carmichael

  “Oh, my Lord.” Amalie thought of Helena and felt behind herself for something stable to lean against. She found the security of a wall and continued to listen as Heidi carried on with her tale.

  “The one thing they’d done right was to wear transceivers. The surviving guy started searching right away, and finally located a signal about eight hundred meters down the hill. By the time he dug the fellow out, about fifteen minutes had passed.”

  “And?”

  “It was too late. He signaled for help, then tried to resuscitate his partner for over half an hour, but it did no good.”

  Davin gulped. “He died?”

  “He died,” Heidi confirmed. “Now, you two be real careful out there. Stick to the trail, you hear? And remember to wear transceivers.”

  HEIDI’S STORY WAS an unneeded warning for Amalie, who was already terrified about tackling the snow on these mountains. But hearing about the skiing tragedy was good for Davin, reminding him that he wasn’t as invincible as he thought.

  “Why do you suppose those guys went out on the mountain when they knew it was dangerous?” he asked Amalie.

  She had no answer. But she did find it odd that in some respects his reaction to the story Heidi had told them had been more emotional than his response to the news about his mother.

  Maybe because his mother had been such a distant figure in his life her death hadn’t really touched him. It hurt Amalie to realize this, but in a way the same could be said of her. Her grief over her sister’s death wasn’t as strong now as it would have been eleven years ago. Time and distance had come between them, and while it had always seemed Helena was the one building the walls, now Amalie wondered if she herself couldn’t have done more to keep in touch.

  At the ski store they were fitted with cross-country skis, boots and poles, and Amalie negotiated a special weekly rate. Then they drove the forty minutes back along the Trans-Canada Highway to the information center, where they were given pamphlets describing some of the easier, safer trails they could try.

  After pocketing the information, Davin insisted they cross the highway to the Glacier Park warden’s office.

  “I have to start my research sometime.”

  “I guess that’s true.”

  The office was on the second story of a low brick compound. There was no formal reception area, just a long narrow corridor, with a number of rooms off it. They found Grant at his desk, in front of a computer screen. Today he was wearing jeans with his standard blue shirt.

  “We were just at the information center, looking for a nice safe cross-country skiing route for tomorrow,” Amalie explained.

  She was relieved that far from appearing annoyed, Grant was obviously pleased they’d dropped by.

  His hair was neater today, she noticed, which only emphasized the uneven length around his ears. His fresh blue shirt, worn with a white T-shirt underneath, had a neat line of white buttons this time, although again, it hadn’t been ironed.

  Still, none of these details detracted one iota from his very masculine appeal. In fact, she liked that he obviously didn’t fuss over his appearance.

  “Whatcha doing?” Davin asked, running up and peering over his shoulder.

  “Checking out the weather reports. At our remote stations we rely on computer transmissions to keep abreast of the current conditions. I always review them in the morning before I do the Back-country Bulletin, but sometimes I do an update during the day. Like just now, I had a call from some people who’re planning an expedition along the Copperstain Trail, out behind old Bald Mountain. They want to know what kind of weather to expect.”

  “Where’s Copperstain Trail?”

  Grant pointed to a dotted line on the topographical map that was pinned to the wall.

  Amalie searched for the area that Heidi had told them about. She found Bruins Pass on the northwest side of Cheopps Mountain and gently touched her finger to the place on the map. “What about bears, Grant? Do you have many of them in the mountains?”

  “Sure. Both black bears and grizzlies.” He noticed her shudder. “They generally avoid humans. Avalanches and rock slides present a much bigger risk, although most backpackers don’t seem to realize it.”

  “Rock slides?” Davin’s interest had been captured. “Has anyone died from a rock slide?”

  “Mountain climbers are always at risk,” Grant explained. “Quite a few years back we had a tragic case. A man and woman were driving along the highway, when some loose rock tumbled down from the mountain. One piece broke through the car window, struck the woman on the head. And yes, Davin, she died.”

  “What are the odds…” Amalie was stunned to think how an accident like that could happen.

  “It was a freak event.” Grant’s tone was meant to reassure.

  But the underlying point, it seemed to Amalie, was that there was danger everywhere in these mountains.

  “Have you cross-country-skied before?” Grant asked.

  “No. We’ve only gone downhill. We plan to stick to the shorter, level trails around town.”

  “To start out with,” Davin interjected.

  Amalie raised her eyebrows. “You say that after the story Mrs. Eitelbach just told us?”

  Grant tapped a few keys on the computer, and the screen went blank. “What story was that?”

  “It was about a backcountry skiing accident that happened in 1993—”

  “One guy died,” Davin said excitedly. “The other guy tried to save him, but he was too late. My aunt says I can do a report on avalanches for school, instead of on China. Will you help me?”

  This came out in such a rush Amalie was surprised Grant followed any of it.

  “I remember that accident all too well. A couple of our men were on the scene within a few hours.”

  To pull out the dead body. He didn’t have to finish his sentence for Amalie to know what had happened. She thought of Helena. And Ramsey. And wondered how Grant could stand it.

  “As for your project, Davin, it sounds real interesting. And you’re sure in the right place if you want to learn about avalanches. I’ve got this pamphlet you ought to start with.”

  He pulled a soft-covered booklet from a desk drawer. On the front was a photograph of a section of the Trans-Canada Highway that looked covered in blockages from avalanched snow. Closer observation revealed strategically placed wooden sheds beneath that snow. The man-made tunnels allowed traffic to travel freely, unimpeded by the heavy drifts overhead.

  “Wow! Are these the tunnels we drove through coming from Calgary?”

  “Not tunnels. Snow sheds.”

  “Snow sheds. Right.”

  “You can borrow this,” Grant said, passing it to the boy. “Use one of the empty desks in the next room if you want to get started right away.”

  “Sweet!” Davin left the room, his head already tucked between the pages.

  Amalie watched in wonder. “I haven’t seen him so excited by a book in his life.”

  “Maybe he’s caught the bug. This place can be addictive, you know.”

  “Are you serious?” Obviously some people, Grant included, were happy here. She couldn’t understand it. The desolate landscape, bleak weather and isolated location were hardly inviting.

  What was it Grant found so appealing? Was it the challenge of his job? “Grant, have you ever had to haul dead bodies off these mountains?”

  “Yes,” he admitted. “But we pride ourselves on the safety record in this park. Over the years we’ve had very few fatalities, especially along the highway and train tracks.”

  As if pulled by the mighty mountain peaks outside, Amalie went to the window and stared at the awesome structures. “I guess my sister was one of the unlucky ones.”

  “Yes. She and Ramsey were unlucky. But bad luck was only one ingredient. Poor judgment was the main culprit.”

  Amalie turned from the mountain view and thought about what he’d just said. “Why was the accident their fault?”

  Grant came
up beside her and leaned against the windowsill. “Avalanche conditions were rated high to extreme—Helen and Ramsey had no business on that mountain. A warm spell at the beginning of the week was followed by a heavy blizzard. Any abrupt change in temperature can affect the stability of a weak layer in the snowpack. The added pressure of new snow only increases the risk. Ramsey knew all this.”

  “But Helena wouldn’t have necessarily.”

  He conceded that point. “Their major mistake, however, was the route they chose. If they’d stuck to the high ridge, they would probably have been okay. Skiing into the steep bowl was suicide.”

  Amalie moved to the map on the wall, tracing a finger along the Asulkan Brook. She was beginning to know the route well, at least on paper. Grant leaned in from behind her and guided her finger with his hand.

  “Here’s the hut where they stayed the night. And this is the Pterodactyl.”

  He released her finger, but she could still feel him behind her, his chest brushing the back of her shoulders. The heat from that one point of contact ran down her body like a shock wave.

  “You think Helena skied off the ridge onto the Pterodactyl first?”

  His voice came quietly but confidently from behind her. “I know she did.”

  Amalie took a moment to assimilate this latest revelation, before twisting to face him. “So you blame Helena for the avalanche, and…and for Ramsey’s death.”

  “I guess I do.”

  It was so unfair! “But you just admitted that Ramsey had the knowledge to recognize the avalanche danger. Not Helena.”

  “He would have warned her away from that bowl.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  Their gazes clashed and held. She thought she should hate him for taking such a hard line with respect to her sister.

  But she couldn’t. He was being honest with her, even if he was mistaken, and that was something she valued. “This is the other reason you didn’t like my sister.”

  “Yes.” After a few seconds, the hard line of his mouth softened, and she glimpsed the expression he’d worn last night as they were standing by the door.

  “But I like you, Amalie,” he surprised her by saying. “In fact,” he added, “I think I’m starting to like you too much.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  AMALIE STEPPED OUT OF THE SHOWER, remembering the last occasion she’d gone on a date. It had been at least six months ago. The man—a newly divorced X-ray technician—had been introduced by mutual friends, but his reaction to Davin when he arrived to pick her up had ensured that the first date would also be the last.

  He hadn’t known she had a son.

  But Grant did.

  Of course, her date with Grant wasn’t really a date. He was just taking her to the bar so she could find out more about her sister. As she thought about the outing from that angle, Amalie’s anticipation did a nosedive into anxiety.

  What would she discover about her sister tonight? From all accounts, she couldn’t expect to hear anything good. But at least she’d have a few more pieces of the puzzle.

  And she would be with Grant Thorlow….

  Amalie stood at the mirror, blow-drying her hair. All afternoon, his parting words had stuck with her. What had he meant when he said he was starting to like her too much?

  It was as if he resented liking her, as if he’d expected he wouldn’t. Because of Helena, she supposed.

  The real puzzler, of course, wasn’t why Grant seemed to like her, but how she could be attracted to him. He was being so totally unfair where Helena was concerned. About the avalanche, and about Ramsey, too. Ramsey had been the married one; why should Helena shoulder the blame for their affair?

  Amalie crossed the hall to her bedroom, slipped into her jeans, then tugged a black sweater over her head. Last summer, before the X-ray technician, she’d gone to a party with a man her friends at work had set her up with. He’d called a couple of times after the party, but each time she’d been busy.

  Wasn’t she always? Work at the hospital and Davin kept her weeks full. Then most weekends she and Davin were out of town visiting her parents. Where was she supposed to squeeze in a date with that schedule?

  Face it, her life had turned out exactly as her mother had predicted: “If you adopt that boy, you’ll never find a husband, never have a family of your own.”

  Amalie sectioned off a piece of her fine hair and began French-braiding. As long as she lived she’d never understand their attitude. Although he was their own flesh and blood, they’d pushed hard for an outside adoption.

  Usually Amalie fell in with their decisions, preferring to keep the peace in the family. But this had been too important. Davin was family; he belonged to them. And so she’d defied her parents, expecting that eventually they’d come to see that she’d been right.

  So far, though, it hadn’t happened. Oh, outwardly they accepted Davin just fine. But they showed him no warmth, no special care. Of course her parents by nature weren’t very affectionate people.

  With an elastic, she finished off her hair, then did her makeup. When she surveyed herself in the mirror, it was as if Helena looked back at her. Don’t believe them, Amalie. They just don’t understand.

  Amalie blinked, put a hand to her forehead. She hated to admit it, but she was losing faith with her own sister. And it wasn’t right. Helena was dead. If she didn’t defend her, who would?

  A knock at the front door shot Amalie’s pulse rate skyward. She pulled off the small plastic stopper on a trial size of her favorite perfume and dabbed scent against her wrists, behind her ears. Carefully she replaced the stopper and went to the door.

  Grant filled the entryway. No man she’d ever known, let alone dated, could come close to him in terms of masculinity or strength. Although he was sometimes outspoken and awkward with words, he had the kind of physical assurance that came from having pitted himself against one of the strongest forces of nature—and won.

  The idea that this man could be somehow fighting an attraction for her was suddenly ridiculous.

  “You’re out of uniform,” she said, realizing he wasn’t wearing his standard light-blue shirt. Instead, he had on a leather coat, which he wore open, revealing a black corduroy shirt buttoned over a black T-shirt. Formfitting jeans tapered at his waist and bulged at his thighs. Dark blue and stiff, they must have been new.

  “I guess I am.” He was looking at her, as if her black sweater and jeans were somehow special. She noticed a scattering of droplets on his shoulder. “Still snowing?”

  He nodded. “Perfectly formed little stellars.”

  “Huh?”

  “Those pretty star-shaped snowflakes. You know, the kind you cut out of paper as a kid.”

  “Don’t all snowflakes look like that?”

  “Depends on the temperature. If it was warmer outside we’d be seeing more of a needle-shaped crystal formation.”

  Grant scanned the room. “So where’s Davin?”

  “He’s over at Heidi’s for the night.”

  “Heidi’s?” Grant pulled back a step. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” Amalie grabbed her jacket, locked the door behind her and followed Grant to his truck, explaining as they walked.

  “They seem to have taken a shine to each other. Davin was fascinated by that story she told us. When I asked Heidi if she knew of any baby-sitters, she offered to have him herself. She’ll probably fill his head with more details of gruesome backcountry avalanche accidents.”

  Grant laughed. “He sure has the bug, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes…” Amalie wasn’t sure she approved. The last thing she wanted for Davin was a career as dangerous as Grant’s.

  Not that it was very likely. At age three Davin had been equally obsessed with firefighters. But that had passed. So, in a couple of years he’d probably have a new fascination. Hopefully, by the time he reached college age, it would be for something practical like law or accounting. Practical and safe.


  THE ROCK SLIDE SALOON was busy this Friday night. As Amalie had expected, most of the people were wearing jeans and drinking beer, and the music that pulsed from the cheap sound system was pure country.

  “Let’s start with the bartender,” Grant suggested, using his shoulder to break a path through the crowd.

  Amalie felt as if everyone in the room watched her make her way to the bar. Open stares, covert glances and a localized hush marked her slow progress to the tall wooden counter, where a balding man, probably in his forties, was passing out glasses of beer.

  “Toby!” Grant raised his voice to be heard above the din.

  “Hey, Thorlow.” The bartender answered casually, until he glanced up and noticed Amalie. Then he whistled.

  “Man. I heard you were the spitting image, but this is incredible.”

  Amalie felt like an item on auction as he came out from behind the bar and walked around her. He whistled again, then held out his hand. It was soft, warm and sweaty and she pulled her own back quickly.

  “Toby Ward,” he said, introducing himself. “You aren’t here looking for a job, are you?”

  Amalie smiled uncertainly. Was the man kidding? It appeared he was, as he slapped her on the back.

  “Boy, do we miss your sister. Bad break about the accident. Must have been a bit of a shock, hey?”

  Amalie blinked as she realized these clumsy words were the first gestures of true sympathy she’d received since she’d arrived in Revelstoke.

  “Yeah, your sister was quite the woman.” Toby clapped her on the back one more time before returning behind the bar. “First drink is on me. What’ll it be?”

  They both ordered draft beer, and while they waited for Toby to fill glasses, Amalie wondered what “quite the woman” actually meant.

  “Sexiest lady this side of the Pacific Ocean.” Toby clarified as he passed them their drinks, obviously checking how well Amalie filled out her sweater at the same time.

  Grant moved closer to Amalie, positioning one shoulder to block Toby’s view. “Amalie hadn’t seen her sister in a while. She was kind of curious to talk to some of her friends….”