The Culmination (The Club Series Book 4)

by Lauren Rowe

  I rubbed the paint off her nose with my thumb and kissed her. “It’s incredible,” I said. “Our pursuit of wholeness is now complete.”

  She continued gazing at the scene of our triumphant family on the mountaintop for a long moment. “Do you think you and Josh will ever climb Mount Everest, love?” she asked.

  I paused, surprised at the question. “Maybe, one day,” I finally said. “You never know. But I certainly won’t attempt it while the kids are so young. It takes a couple months to do it. Plus, it’s ridiculously dangerous.”

  “But it’s your dream.”

  “Well, yeah, it was my dream. And maybe it will be again. But it’s not my dream right now. My dream these days is right here on the walls of this room.”

  Her cheeks flushed.

  “There are plenty of peaks to climb that don’t involve an almost seven-percent fatality rate. I’ve got a lot to live for these days.”

  Jeremiah makes a silly noise on the changing table and I grin down at him. “Are you ready to celebrate your sisters’ birthday?” I say.

  Jeremiah makes a gurgling sound.

  “All right, then. Let’s do it, my boy.”

  I pick him up off the changing table and hold him against the right side of my chest, right up against my most recent tattoo: a scroll bearing the image of a leaping bullfrog, ensconced in a swirling linen sash, surrounded by a galaxy of glittering stars. It’s a reference to Jeremiah the Prophet from the book of Jeremiah, of course, mashed up with the Three Dog Night song that makes Jeremiah our precious little bullfrog, plus, of course, an allusion to the woman—the beloved wife and mother—the sky full of stars—who so brilliantly lights up even the darkest night.

  I turn to leave with my son in my arms, but before I walk out of the nursery, I do the one thing I always do when exiting this room—well, the one thing I do whenever I’m holding one of my babies in my arms: I read the inscriptions scrolling across the tops of the walls. “Love is the joy of the good, the wonder of the wise, the amazement of the gods,” I say aloud. “You are the divine original form of you, Jeremiah.”

  Jeremiah coos at me.

  Back in the party, everyone’s gathered close to the kitchen, lured by the delectable smells wafting through the air. Another kick-ass song from Sarah’s playlist is blaring—“Hanging By a Moment” by Lifehouse. (Other than Sarah’s penchant for hip-hop and One Direction, I must say my wife has awesome taste in music.) With the Lifehouse song as my soundtrack, I stand for a moment, my son gurgling in my arms, surveying the happy swarm of activity and conversation all around me.

  Gracie’s holding court at a kiddie table in the corner, lording over Jack, Lu, and Sunny, as usual. In the kitchen, Rosario and Gloria are pulling large trays of food out of the oven while our dear friend (and the kids’ godmother) Georgia chops vegetables at the counter and chats amiably with the other women. I can’t make out what Georgia’s saying, but I’d bet anything she’s proudly talking about Trey, who’s currently crushing it in his first year at Northwestern.

  “Buster!” Rosario yells when a scrap of food lands on the kitchen floor, and our goofy dog rushes from Luna’s side to scarf it up.

  Jeremiah bats me in the face with his little hand and I shift him in my arms.

  Josh and Kat are sitting with Henn and Hannah at the dining room table, engrossed in animated conversation. Kat’s got her hand on Hannah’s baby bump, and she’s giggling like crazy at something Hannah’s saying. Henn’s gesticulating wildly as he tells Josh some story, and Josh is giving Henn his patented laughing-with-his-eyes look. Huh. I’ve never seen that look from Josh trained on anyone but me—it’s nice to see it directed at someone else for a change.

  And in the midst of it all, there’s my Sarah—My Magnificent Sarah—bringing sippy cups to the toddlers and darting back into the kitchen to peek over Gloria’s shoulder at the food.

  The Lifehouse song finishes and a new, instantly recognizable song from Sarah’s playlist begins. I chuckle. My baby’s playing our song. At the first notes of the song, Sarah wheels around, looking for me, I presume, and when her eyes find mine across the room, a wide grin unfurls across her face.

  She giggles.

  The song blaring over our sound system is 2Real’s latest smash hit from his second album, “OAP” (the clean radio edit, in consideration of all the kids in the room).

  “OAP” samples liberally from the ‘90s rap hit, “OPP” by Naughty by Nature, and even I have to admit it’s catchy as hell. The rapid-fire lyrics are about 2Real coveting another man’s woman —a woman with “big brown eyes who doesn’t take any shit” and who, much to 2Real’s chagrin, is hopelessly devoted to some “asshole” with “rich boy pockets” and “nothing but muscles on his docket” whose only redeeming quality, it seems, is the guy’s wizard-like ability to “make a girl come undone with one zap of his stun gun.”

  I fucking love this song.

  It’s true I once declared I’d never fuck Sarah to hip-hop, and I was so sure of myself when I said it, but that’s life for you—a man should never say never. Because, fuck yeah, I’ve fucked my beautiful wife to this song, many, many, many times, giving her (and myself) some pretty epic orgasms as it’s blared in our ears. And every time I fuck my precious baby to this song and make her scream my name, the thing that gets me off even more than whatever I’m physically doing to her is the commentary running through my head while I do it: That’s right, motherfucker. I’m an “asshole”—a cocky-bastard-asshole-motherfucker, to be exact. And this woman is all mine—propiedad de Jonas Faraday. So fuck you.

  Sarah flashes me her most alluring dirty-girl smile, shakes her ass to the beat of the song for a brief moment, and then dances into the kitchen to assist Rosario and her mother with the food. I watch her for a long beat as she moves, unable to wipe the smile from my face.

  “Jonas.”

  I turn toward the source of the voice. It’s Uncle William, holding two snifters of Scotch.

  “You got a minute to catch up?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I follow my uncle into the living room and we make ourselves comfortable on the couch. For fifteen minutes, with Jeremiah nestled in my arms, Uncle William and I chat about all the Faraday kids, Uncle William’s latest fly-fishing trip to Montana, the current state of the stock market, and the performance of some of my uncle’s most recent investments.

  “A couple years ago I invested in a yoga-apparel brand, and it’s already clearing a gross profit margin eight points above industry average,” he says.

  “Wow. That’s huge.”

  Jeremiah sticks his fist in my mouth and I shift him in my arms.

  Uncle William sips his Scotch. “I’ve been watching you and your brother build Climb and Conquer, son. Impressive.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s one thing to expand a business you’ve been handed through birthright, but it’s an entirely different thing to start a new company from scratch—and to make it so successful so quickly. I’m proud of you.”

  “Thank you,” I say again, feeling color rising in my cheeks.

  “Do you have plans to expand the brand? I think outdoor apparel would be a natural fit.”

  “Actually, a whole line of Climb and Conquer fitness and outdoor apparel has always been part of my vision. But I’ve got too much on my plate to take it on right now. Plus, I’ve come to realize my personal passion lies in the gyms themselves and the confidence we instill in our clients.”

  Uncle William takes a calm, slow sip of his drink—but I’ve watched him in far too many high-stakes negotiations to be fooled by this maneuver. He’s clearly got something big on his mind. He clears his throat. “I think it’d be pretty easy for Climb and Conquer to develop a line of apparel and get an on-line store up and running—and if that works out, maybe do brick and mortar stores in major cities, at least in the Pacific Northwest to start.”

  I’m blown away. “I’ve got that exact strategy written into our five-year busi
ness plan, actually. I just haven’t been able to find the time to focus on that aspect of the business yet.”

  Uncle William’s eyes sparkle. “I’d love to head that up for you, Jonas.” He looks down at his drink. “I’ve really missed working with you boys.”

  My heart leaps out of my chest. “That sounds really promising,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm and collected. “But you know part of our business model is philanthropy. It’s not just a gimmick with us. We have all sorts of programs and causes we support, every single day. It’s a firm commitment.”

  Uncle William smiles. “I know, son.” He touches Jeremiah’s foot. “I’m on board with that.”

  My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest. “Well, awesome, then,” I say. “Let’s talk to Josh about the idea and set up a meeting to flesh things out further. I’m sure he’ll be just as interested as I am about the idea.” He looks exactly the way I feel right now: elated. “Honestly, Uncle William, working with you again would be a dream come true.”

  The birthday party’s over. Everyone’s gone. Rosario’s in the kitchen, scooping the leftovers into Tupperware and putting away the last of the dishes. I’ve just finished bathing Jeremiah and putting him down for the night in his crib. I’m not sure where Sarah and the girls are, but I’m guessing Sarah’s bathing the twins in their bathroom.

  I walk down the hall and peek into the twins’ bathroom, eager to see what silliness my three girls are up to, but they’re not there. The bathtub’s empty and the rubber duckies and monkeys and frogs are neatly propped on the ledge. I pop my head into the girls’ shared room, but they’re not there, either. The room is still and quiet.

  I walk down the long hallway toward the master bedroom, and as I approach, I hear Sarah’s soft voice, speaking in a lilting Spanish. A gentleness in the tone of Sarah’s voice makes me slow my pace and creep stealthily to the doorframe.

  I covertly peek inside the room.

  There they are. Three out of the four great loves of my life.

  The sight of them literally takes my breath away.

  Sarah is snuggled up in our bed with our two little girls—our dark-haired beauties with their mother’s olive skin and sparkling eyes—one on each side of her—and she’s reading The Hungry Caterpillar to them, translating into Spanish as she goes. The girls are looking up at their mother with rapt attention, reveling in her every word like she’s casting a magic spell on them, and Sarah keeps gazing from the book to their little faces with the purest look of love I’ve ever seen. When Sarah gets to the part about the caterpillar turning into a butterfly—“una mariposa” she says—her eyes drift up from the girls and discover me leaning against the doorjamb, spying on her.

  She beams at me—my beautiful iron butterfly—and I smile broadly back at her. My wife. My life. My everything.

  She’s my limitless ocean.

  My Mount Everest.

  My peak.

  She’s the sun, the moon, and the stars.

  My reason to breathe.

  When she smiles at me, redemption is mine.

  She’s my religion.

  My church.

  My sacred valentine.

  Oh, my little Mount Everest.

  My reason to breathe.

  The goddess, the muse.

  Sarah Effing Cruz.

  I touch the tattoo on the top of my right forearm and breathe deeply, an overwhelming serenity filling every nook and cranny of my body and soul.

  I’ve reached the peak.

  The divine original form of me.

  A lightness of being I didn’t even know was possible.

  Pure ecstasy.

  Our love is the joy of the good, the wonder of the wise, the amazement of the gods. The envy of the gods. The greatest love story ever told.

  The culmination of human possibility.

  Bonus Scene: Peru

  Jonas

  Josh and I high-five and hug each other exuberantly, and then we hug and high-five Jorge (our guide), Scott (the reporter who’s been chronicling our Peruvian climb for Climbing Magazine), plus two members of Jorge’s crew—and then all of us stand together, awe-struck, quietly taking in the incredible views from our perch atop the summit of Huascarán, the highest peak in Peru.

  “Let’s take a selfie,” Josh says, pulling out his Go-Pro.

  “The first time in the history of my life I’m not gonna make fun of you for saying that.”

  We snap about a hundred photos of ourselves with the group and then take a hundred more shots of just the two of us.

  “Pretty fucking awesome, huh?” Josh says. He pulls out a flask and takes a sip. “There’s no greater feeling in the world than this.” He hands me the flask.

  “Well, I can think of one greater feeling in the world.” I take a sip and gaze at the views all around me.

  “Oh, Jesus, no. Don’t talk about her again,” Josh says, grabbing the flask from me roughly. “This summit is a Sarah-free zone, man. Let’s just be men right now. Not husbands. Just men. Beasts. Climbing beasts. Please.”

  “All I said was I can think of one greater feeling in the world. That’s all I said.”

  “I know what you said. And I know exactly what you were thinking and where that statement naturally leads. I’ve been with you nonstop for the past two weeks, bro, and we’ve still gotta descend this fucking mountain for another week. So don’t do it. I know you love her. I know she’s ‘amazing.’ I love her, too, okay? But just shut the fuck up about her already. Jesus Fucking Christ.”

  We’re quiet for several minutes. Josh is right—I was about to say something about Sarah. And now I don’t know what to say.

  “Everest takes two months, you know,” I finally mumble.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “I don’t think I could be away from Sarah for two months.”

  “You just talked about Sarah.”

  “No, I was talking about Everest. Two months is a long time to be away.”

  “From Sarah,” Josh says, putting words into my mouth.

  I shrug. Clearly, that’s what I’m saying. Everything I say and do always leads back to Sarah somehow. So sue me.

  Josh exhales and takes a sip from his flask. “Bro, I don’t think I could be around you being away from Sarah for two solid months. I’d hurl myself off the fucking mountain.”

  I laugh.

  Josh shakes his head. “I have zero desire to be away from Kat and Gracie that long, either, bro.”

  He hands me the flask.

  “If you think about it, climbing Everest is a pretty batshit crazy thing to do,” I say. I take a sip from the flask. “A group of, like, fifteen people died on Everest the week before we came here.”

  “I know. I read about that.”

  “One climber dies for every ten that makes it to the top. Did you know that statistic?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  “When I was younger, I didn’t think about shit like that,” I say. “I didn’t care.”

  “Yeah, neither did I.”

  There’s a long beat.

  “So, no Everest, then?” I say.

  Josh shrugs. “Meh. It doesn’t make sense anymore. I’ve been feeling that way for a while now about Everest—ever since Gracie was born.”

  I exhale. “Okay. Cool.”

  Josh nods his agreement. “Cool.”

  “Coolio Iglesias,” I mumble.

  “Dude, no. You’re even talking like her now? No.”

  “Sorry. That was pretty bad. I deserve to get punched for that.”

  “Yeah, you do,” he agrees. “But I’m feeling so good up here on top of Peru, I’ll refrain from inflicting bodily harm on you.”

  “Thanks.”

  There’s a long beat as we both continue taking in the incredible views all around us.

  “I thought you’d be gung-ho, no matter what,” Josh says.

  “You mean about Everest?” I ask.

  He nods.

  I shrug. “Life does
n’t stand still.” I take another sip from the flask. “Certain things you never cared about before can become all-important—other things that once seemed critical suddenly don’t seem to matter at all.”

  “Well said.”

  I clap my hands together. “So, if we’re not gonna do Everest any time soon, there’s something I gotta do while I’m up here.”

  “What?”

  “I’m gonna go over there by myself for a minute.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, gimme my flask, then. If you’re gonna do something stupid and fall off the edge of the mountain, I don’t want you taking my whiskey with you.”

  “I’m not gonna fall off the edge of the mountain.”

  “You gonna take a piss in the snow? Leave your mark?”

  “No. I’m not ten years old. Just gimme a minute.”

  “I’m intrigued.”

  “I’ll be right back.” I hand Josh the flask and signal to Jorge that I’m gonna walk a short distance to the left around a large crag.

  When I’ve made my way around the bend to a private patch of real estate, I look around, feeling like I’m totally alone on top of the world. True, I’m only on top of Peru, but that feels close enough. The first thing I do is unzip my pants and take a piss, marking a big “J” in the white snow. Of course. But that’s not why I sought out a little solitude for a moment.

  I take off my gloves and reach my bare hands up to the sky, as high as I can, imagining I’m reaching all the way up to the clouds. I close my eyes and try to envision my mother reaching down to me from her perch in heaven, touching my fingertips with hers.

  “I love you,” I say softly, the cold wind whistling in my ears and nipping at my fingertips. “I love you, Mom.”

  My heart catches in my throat.

  Fuck, my hands are cold.

  I shove my hands back into my gloves, shivering and shuddering.

  I look up toward the heavens, but no ray of light cracks the clouds, no soft female voice whispers into my ear. It’s just the mountain and me and a bank of clouds rolling in. And that’s it. Well, wait. There’s one other thing, too. Yes. A brand new thing—a sudden and overwhelming thing: a powerful feeling of completion. All of a sudden, I feel the urgent need to get off this fucking mountain. I’ve got to get home to my wife. Holy shit. I’ve got to get home to Sarah and make a baby with her.