Read Online Blood and Chrysanthemums by Nancy Baker - Free Book Online
Authors: Nancy Baker
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looked back at her, resolutely ignoring the darkness below them. “So here we are. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
“Why?”
“Because it’ll pass the time. Because I’d like to know.” For a moment, the words shivered through Ardeth’s mind like an echo. She heard her own voice saying them to Rozokov, deep in the nightmare of their captivity.
“All right,” she said carefully, at last. “What do you want to know?”
“Where are you from?”
“Toronto.”
“What are you doing in Banff?”
“Getting away from Toronto.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story.”
“It’ll be a long night.”
“Not that long.” Her voice scraped along the rock beneath them, sharp and sudden. It left a moment of tense silence in its wake, then she saw Mark shrug.
“OK. What’s your favourite colour?”
“Cobalt blue,” Ardeth answered after a bewildered moment. The abrupt change of tone had almost startled her into answering in the past tense, as if her colour preferences had died along with her body. She spent one ludicrous yet terrifying moment trying to decide whether they had.
“Damn. I was betting on black.” That brought the laughter back and restored her wits.
“My turn. Where are you from?”
“Brantford, Ontario. Birthplace of Alexander Graham Bell and Wayne Gretzky. I played hockey with him when I was a kid, by the way.”
“Really? Is that why you ended up in Banff?” It was his turn to laugh.
“Not really. Though it made the hockey games kind of boring—whichever team had Wayne always won. No, I came out here about ten years ago.”
“Why?”
“I’d done a year of university but decided it really wasn’t my thing. I got a job tree-planting in B.C. for the summer and when it ended I came here.”
“Do you ever thing of going back?”
“Never. Too flat. Why did you decide to try climbing?”
Lies flittered through her mind, easy believable. “My life is very complicated right now,” she said at last. “I needed something simple. And because I could.”
“I’d wondered. You don’t look like the climbing type.”
There was a question waiting there, at the end of that statement. Ardeth knew she shouldn’t ask it, that it veered too close to the cliff-edge of flirtation. “What type do I look like?” She felt the weight of Mark’s silence and wished she had held her tongue.
“That’s a tough one. You dress like a punk but you’re not one. You’re very strong but I don’t know how. In other words, you look like a mystery,” he said at last, softly, and Ardeth closed her eyes. She could feel a fall waiting, the beginnings of the same mad seductive urge to leap that sometimes touched her when she stood a long way from the ground.
“Mysteries can be dangerous.” The warning sounded half-hearted even to her own ears.
“So can climbing. That’s part of why we do it.”
Then the moon swept out the last of the clouds and coated the cliff in silver light. The mechanics of moving took over, secrets and seduction forgotten as they worked their way across the stone towards the final pitches. The moon did not desert them again.
At last, Ardeth hauled herself up on the flat outcrop of rock that marked the top of the cliff. Mark was standing up, looking out over the valley below them. Ardeth rose beside him, following his gaze. The forest was a silver tipped darkness beneath them, leading to the lights of Banff Springs Hotel, looking like a fairy tale castle, to her right. On Sulphur Mountain, a light winked in the restaurant at the top of the gondola station. To her left, the valley vanished into the darkness, bisected by the icy ribbon of the Bow River. Above them, the moon kissed the edge of the mountains, the stars spread out across the sky like a scatter of diamonds. For a moment, it seemed that they were high enough to touch them. She wondered suddenly if Rozokov could see her through his telescope, if he should choose to look. “You see why I could never go
“Why?”
“Because it’ll pass the time. Because I’d like to know.” For a moment, the words shivered through Ardeth’s mind like an echo. She heard her own voice saying them to Rozokov, deep in the nightmare of their captivity.
“All right,” she said carefully, at last. “What do you want to know?”
“Where are you from?”
“Toronto.”
“What are you doing in Banff?”
“Getting away from Toronto.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story.”
“It’ll be a long night.”
“Not that long.” Her voice scraped along the rock beneath them, sharp and sudden. It left a moment of tense silence in its wake, then she saw Mark shrug.
“OK. What’s your favourite colour?”
“Cobalt blue,” Ardeth answered after a bewildered moment. The abrupt change of tone had almost startled her into answering in the past tense, as if her colour preferences had died along with her body. She spent one ludicrous yet terrifying moment trying to decide whether they had.
“Damn. I was betting on black.” That brought the laughter back and restored her wits.
“My turn. Where are you from?”
“Brantford, Ontario. Birthplace of Alexander Graham Bell and Wayne Gretzky. I played hockey with him when I was a kid, by the way.”
“Really? Is that why you ended up in Banff?” It was his turn to laugh.
“Not really. Though it made the hockey games kind of boring—whichever team had Wayne always won. No, I came out here about ten years ago.”
“Why?”
“I’d done a year of university but decided it really wasn’t my thing. I got a job tree-planting in B.C. for the summer and when it ended I came here.”
“Do you ever thing of going back?”
“Never. Too flat. Why did you decide to try climbing?”
Lies flittered through her mind, easy believable. “My life is very complicated right now,” she said at last. “I needed something simple. And because I could.”
“I’d wondered. You don’t look like the climbing type.”
There was a question waiting there, at the end of that statement. Ardeth knew she shouldn’t ask it, that it veered too close to the cliff-edge of flirtation. “What type do I look like?” She felt the weight of Mark’s silence and wished she had held her tongue.
“That’s a tough one. You dress like a punk but you’re not one. You’re very strong but I don’t know how. In other words, you look like a mystery,” he said at last, softly, and Ardeth closed her eyes. She could feel a fall waiting, the beginnings of the same mad seductive urge to leap that sometimes touched her when she stood a long way from the ground.
“Mysteries can be dangerous.” The warning sounded half-hearted even to her own ears.
“So can climbing. That’s part of why we do it.”
Then the moon swept out the last of the clouds and coated the cliff in silver light. The mechanics of moving took over, secrets and seduction forgotten as they worked their way across the stone towards the final pitches. The moon did not desert them again.
At last, Ardeth hauled herself up on the flat outcrop of rock that marked the top of the cliff. Mark was standing up, looking out over the valley below them. Ardeth rose beside him, following his gaze. The forest was a silver tipped darkness beneath them, leading to the lights of Banff Springs Hotel, looking like a fairy tale castle, to her right. On Sulphur Mountain, a light winked in the restaurant at the top of the gondola station. To her left, the valley vanished into the darkness, bisected by the icy ribbon of the Bow River. Above them, the moon kissed the edge of the mountains, the stars spread out across the sky like a scatter of diamonds. For a moment, it seemed that they were high enough to touch them. She wondered suddenly if Rozokov could see her through his telescope, if he should choose to look. “You see why I could never go
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