that
today, in case you’ve forgotten, and I failed.”
“But you didn’t have a
coach today.” She smiled broadly when his gaze met hers once more.
“I’m not sure I want to
know what that means.”
“I tell you what, Fewell ,” she challenged. “You go back out with me tomorrow
and I guarantee you’ll climb that mountain. We won’t come back until it’s
done.”
He searched her eyes
for a long moment, a glimmer of hope in his. “We’ll have to start early. Be
prepared for every possible scenario.”
“All good climbers are
prepared,” she countered.
He offered his hand. “Deal?”
She smiled and placed
her hand in his. “Deal.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Two Days before
Christmas, 9:00 a.m.
JASON STOOD STONE
STILL.
The traverse from the
trail proper had been pure hell. Molly had kept a gung-ho attitude despite his
foul mood. The local papers had slashed his name across the headlines with
questions about the accident three years ago.
He shouldn’t have come
back here.
“Let’s get moving, Fewell ,” Molly said, coming up beside him. “We’ve got a
long ways to go and daylight is running out.” She pulled her ice axe from her
bag. “Don’t back out on me now.”
His movements stilted,
he reached into his pack and retrieved his own ice axe. The climb would move
from the sloped basin to the east face couloirs upward to the ridges above.
Achieving the Bell Chord proper was the next goal.
She moved forward.
He forced his feet to
follow her movements.
“Stay focused on what’s
right in front of you,” Molly called back to him. “Don’t look beyond your next
few moves.”
Jason rolled the
details over in his mind. They had all the equipment they needed. Rope, pickets
and gear for bunking down for the night if necessary. He knew the drill.
Understood exactly what each move should be.
His heart rate
escalated with each step. Sweat leached on to his skin beneath the layers of
protective wear.
Comfortable angle, he
told himself. About forty-five degrees. Keep moving. You
can do it.
They hit a narrow,
treacherous section of the couloir , moved cautiously
beyond it.
And they climbed.
The alternating sounds
of ice axes digging in, gloves ferreting out handholds, boots finding traction
and footing reverberated around him.
“Hear that,” she said.
“It’s a rhythm.”
Crack, rub, grind.
“Focus on the rhythm,”
she prompted. “Focus on the next step.”
They climbed and
climbed, stopping for occasional breaks to rest their muscles and catch their
breaths.
Jason’s heart rate
slowed to a more expected level for the physical exertion. His ability to
concentrate cleared, allowed for better focus.
He saw the head of the couloir and the sky beyond. Relief trickled inside him.
They’d made the first major hurdle.
“Sit,” Molly
instructed. “Let’s enjoy the view.”
Jason settled next to
her. He allowed his respiration to slow naturally. No extra effort required. Just
breathe. Felt…good.
“Here.” She passed him
a granola bar and bottle of water. “Brunch.”
He smiled at the small
granola bar. “I hope there’s more.” He tore open the wrapper and
today, in case you’ve forgotten, and I failed.”
“But you didn’t have a
coach today.” She smiled broadly when his gaze met hers once more.
“I’m not sure I want to
know what that means.”
“I tell you what, Fewell ,” she challenged. “You go back out with me tomorrow
and I guarantee you’ll climb that mountain. We won’t come back until it’s
done.”
He searched her eyes
for a long moment, a glimmer of hope in his. “We’ll have to start early. Be
prepared for every possible scenario.”
“All good climbers are
prepared,” she countered.
He offered his hand. “Deal?”
She smiled and placed
her hand in his. “Deal.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Two Days before
Christmas, 9:00 a.m.
JASON STOOD STONE
STILL.
The traverse from the
trail proper had been pure hell. Molly had kept a gung-ho attitude despite his
foul mood. The local papers had slashed his name across the headlines with
questions about the accident three years ago.
He shouldn’t have come
back here.
“Let’s get moving, Fewell ,” Molly said, coming up beside him. “We’ve got a
long ways to go and daylight is running out.” She pulled her ice axe from her
bag. “Don’t back out on me now.”
His movements stilted,
he reached into his pack and retrieved his own ice axe. The climb would move
from the sloped basin to the east face couloirs upward to the ridges above.
Achieving the Bell Chord proper was the next goal.
She moved forward.
He forced his feet to
follow her movements.
“Stay focused on what’s
right in front of you,” Molly called back to him. “Don’t look beyond your next
few moves.”
Jason rolled the
details over in his mind. They had all the equipment they needed. Rope, pickets
and gear for bunking down for the night if necessary. He knew the drill.
Understood exactly what each move should be.
His heart rate
escalated with each step. Sweat leached on to his skin beneath the layers of
protective wear.
Comfortable angle, he
told himself. About forty-five degrees. Keep moving. You
can do it.
They hit a narrow,
treacherous section of the couloir , moved cautiously
beyond it.
And they climbed.
The alternating sounds
of ice axes digging in, gloves ferreting out handholds, boots finding traction
and footing reverberated around him.
“Hear that,” she said.
“It’s a rhythm.”
Crack, rub, grind.
“Focus on the rhythm,”
she prompted. “Focus on the next step.”
They climbed and
climbed, stopping for occasional breaks to rest their muscles and catch their
breaths.
Jason’s heart rate
slowed to a more expected level for the physical exertion. His ability to
concentrate cleared, allowed for better focus.
He saw the head of the couloir and the sky beyond. Relief trickled inside him.
They’d made the first major hurdle.
“Sit,” Molly
instructed. “Let’s enjoy the view.”
Jason settled next to
her. He allowed his respiration to slow naturally. No extra effort required. Just
breathe. Felt…good.
“Here.” She passed him
a granola bar and bottle of water. “Brunch.”
He smiled at the small
granola bar. “I hope there’s more.” He tore open the wrapper and
Similar Books
