by Sarah Morgan
The room was cozy, thanks to crisp white linens and the stylish use of plaids and tweeds.
Even without Posy’s warning, Hannah would have known who was responsible for the tiny lights that framed the window and the hearth. Suzanne hated the dark. She hung lights in places other people wouldn’t think to hang them and burned them in rooms she wasn’t going to use.
Hannah glanced at her case and decided to unpack later.
Instead she walked to the window, wanting to soak up the last of the natural light before it faded for the day.
In a moment she’d take that test to the bathroom and find out once and for all, but for now she wanted to savor this one last moment of not knowing.
Kneeling on the window seat, she stared out across the valley.
The sky was a rose-tinted pink, the sun low in the sky.
This place shouldn’t trigger memories for her, and yet it did. It was the mountains, she decided. Their jagged edges glinted under the fading sun, just as they had that day when she’d stood in the window and watched and waited.
These weren’t even the same mountains. Nothing bad had happened to her here, but still the ghosts of possibility haunted the fringes of her imagination.
Turning away, Hannah set up her laptop on the small table near the fire.
Alongside the lamp, there were several new notepads and fresh pens, no doubt courtesy of Suzanne, who thought of everything.
For once, the internet connected immediately and she checked her emails, more from force of habit than any desire to work. Concentration proved elusive and she couldn’t work up any enthusiasm for the hundred emails that had landed in her inbox during her flight. Only self-discipline and force of habit made her deal with them and she worked through them methodically, responding to some and forwarding others to the appropriate member of her team.
One email she ignored.
It was from Adam, sent half an hour earlier, and the subject line simply said Call me!
She closed her laptop and stood up, noticing the Christmas tree for the first time.
Eric.
She gave a half smile, because only Posy would name a tree.
But she knew Suzanne would be the one responsible for putting the tree in her room.
Every year was the same. Suzanne filled the house with a surplus of good cheer, as if lights, decorations and a cheery attitude could somehow compensate for what was missing. In Hannah’s case, what was missing were her parents.
They’d gone climbing four days before Christmas and never come back.
And Hannah hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye.
14
Suzanne
There had been weather warnings, but that wasn’t unusual. This was Mount Rainier, the highest mountain in the Cascade Range of the Pacific Northwest and quick-changing weather was a fact of life.
They began their climb at the White River trailhead, hiking through thick forest to a soundtrack of crashing water as the glacier-fed river thundered down the mountain. They’d roped up and safely traversed the Winthrop Glacier and the previous night they’d camped at the Curtis Ridge.
Now Suzanne stood on the snow and watched the dawn light cast a reddish glow over the jagged, snowcapped mountains that loomed ahead. “That storm dumped thirty inches overnight.”
“Hello, deep snowpack, how much do I love you?” Rob slapped her on the shoulders as he trudged past her. “It’s going to be the best damn climb we’ve done in a while. I tell you, I’m psyched.”
“Me, too.” Cheryl joined them. “And it had better be a great climb because this little trip is costing us a ton of money in babysitting.”
“I told you we should have brought the kids,” Rob said, and Cheryl laughed.
“Apart from the fact they don’t issue climbing permits to three-year-olds, you don’t think Posy is a little young to climb Rainier in the winter?”
“Got to start somewhere and that girl has got what it takes. Climbs everything. Last week I found her up on the roof. Can you believe that? I yelled to her, Get the hell off that roof, Posy. Do you know what she said? Why?” He bellowed with laughter. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I’m taking her bouldering again next weekend.”
Suzanne imagined a delicate, beaming Posy clinging to a rock. She expected Cheryl to protest that her barely out of toddlerhood child wouldn’t be climbing anytime soon, but her friend was still laughing.
Since Cheryl had fallen in love with Rob, she’d shared not only his home, but also his cavalier attitude to risk.
Suzanne thought about the conversation she’d had with Stewart the night before she’d left for this trip.
“I don’t like you climbing with those two, Suzanne.”
Suzanne had her equipment spread over the floor, and the top of her backpack was open. “Cheryl is my best friend. We’ve climbed together since we were fifteen.”
“But now she’s married to Rob.”
He said nothing more. He didn’t need to.
Suzanne knew Rob was a weak link. Hot tempered, impetuous, fiercely competitive. To be competitive with oneself on a mountain was one thing, but to be competitive with another climber? Rob’s attitude was a constant source of tension between her and Cheryl.
You don’t like him, Suz. I know you don’t like him.
That’s not true—
But it was true.
What were the rules when your best friend married a man you disliked?
“They won’t take risks. They have three kids.”
Stewart grunted. “Since when has that made a difference? Rob is selfish and ego driven and always has been.”
But so were many climbers, Suzanne thought. It was that single-minded passion that drove them to push themselves to almost inhuman lengths.
It was also true that your choice of climbing partner could make the difference between life and death. It wasn’t only about choosing someone who could make the summit, it was about how a person would react and cope in an emergency. One weak team member could expose the whole team to danger.
“We do it, too,” she said. “We all want that first ascent. The most difficult route.”
Stewart watched as she laid out her gear for the climb. “I love you. Watch that snowpack. I wish you weren’t climbing Liberty Ridge.”
“It’s the best climb on the mountain.”
“Leave camp early,” he warned, “be careful on the Carbon Glacier, and when you crest the ridge, climb on the west side.”
“I know this, Stewart.”
“You’re climbing steep ice with a heavy pack.”
“I know that, too.” She pushed down her own feeling of unease. The route they’d chosen wasn’t particularly extreme, but Stewart was right that it was steep and exposed and this was a winter climb. “I’ve climbed it many times before. And guided the route.”
“You haven’t climbed it with Rob. You know how many crevasse falls there have been between the cap and the summit.”
She knew. The crevasses on Rainier were big. It was the most glaciated peak in the continental US. “I’m careful, Stewart.”
“I wish the same could be said for your climbing companions.” He cupped her face and kissed her. “If Rob doesn’t listen to you, I’m going to drop him into a crevasse myself. And I won’t be pulling him out.”
“David and Lindsey will be with us, too.”
She didn’t know the other pair well, but she liked what she knew. David was remarkably civilized given that he was a friend of Rob’s.
She eased away from Stewart. “I wish you were coming.” That wasn’t entirely honest. Rob and Stewart didn’t like each other and climbing a technically difficult winter route with someone you didn’t like caused tension. Tension didn’t lead to happy climbing. “Everything is going to be fine.”
Suzanne
thought back to that conversation now as she dug a pit to check the snowpack, ignoring Rob’s exasperated glance.
“If you’re going to stop and do that every five minutes, we’re going to be out here for longer than we need to be, and that’s more dangerous.”
“You know as well as I do that avalanches are most common in the twenty-four hours after a storm.” A heavy snowfall increased the risk. The rapid buildup of snow put pressure on the snowpack and, usually with a little help from a human trigger, that pressure was often all it took to release a deadly avalanche.
“Rob’s right,” Cheryl said. “I know you’re a guide, but you’re not being paid this time. The forecast is good. And we know as much about the mountain as you do, Suz.”
The criticism felt like a slap.
Once, she and Cheryl had agreed on everything. It was the reason they’d made such great climbing partners.
Reminding herself that she was responsible for her own safety as well as that of her companions, Suzanne finished the check she was making and stood up.
This was the last time she would climb with them, and if that decision threatened their friendship, then that was unfortunate.
She’d find other ways to spend time with Cheryl.
Rob had trudged ahead, no doubt to remove himself from the temptation of killing Suzanne, but Cheryl stood watching her, torn between her husband and their friendship. “This trip is supposed to be about having fun. I’m stuck at home with the kids most of the time. You don’t know how desperate I’ve been to get back on the mountain.”
Suzanne knew. She also knew that desperation wasn’t an emotion compatible with safety.
As a mountain guide, Suzanne was paid to make tough decisions, like turning a client round if the weather changed and she considered the conditions approaching dangerous.
The fact that she was climbing with friends added a layer of complication.
Rob was moving strongly, but Suzanne knew that in a short space of time the mountain would have devoured some of that energy. It would feed on them, test them, push them to their limits.
Usually at this stage in a climb she felt exhilarated. There was a certain sense of well-being and peace that only came from being in the mountains.
Today that feeling was absent.
Suzanne hauled her pack onto her back. “Don’t you worry about the kids when you’re out in the mountains?”
“Why?” Cheryl frowned. “They’re with someone.”
“I mean if something happens to you and Rob. I would have thought it would make you more careful.”
“Nothing is going to happen to us except that you’re going to spoil a brilliant climb with your paranoia. You don’t even have kids, so what do you know about parenting anyway?” Irritated, Cheryl turned away and Suzanne felt hurt.
“Wait,” she called after her. “Cheryl, I’m sorry. Don’t be angry.”
“You called me a bad mother!”
“I didn’t—” Maybe she hadn’t said those exact words, but it was true she’d been judgmental. “You’re right that I don’t know anything about parenting. Can we start this again? This trip was supposed to be a treat. Relaxation.”
“You’re the one who is tense.” Cheryl walked away, leaving Suzanne feeling miserable and frustrated. There was an ache behind her ribs and the pounding of her pulse had nothing to do with the altitude or physical exertion.
She was aware of Lindsey and David trudging toward them. Thankfully they were slower and had missed the exchange.
On the Carbon Glacier, they roped up and navigated the crevasses with care and attention and Suzanne bit her tongue as Rob filmed the avalanches thundering down the Willis Wall.
They climbed through clouds, through deep snow that dragged at their boots and made muscles scream.
Occasionally Rob would slide back and let out a stream of profanities.
By the time they made their final camp at Thumb Rock, Cheryl was smiling again.
They dug out a tent platform, scooped up snow and boiled water as they ate their uninspiring rations. It was bitterly cold and the wind buffeted the tents.
“Sorry about earlier.” Cheryl adjusted the flame under the pan. “I guess we have different opinions on it.”
Suzanne didn’t say that these days they seemed to have different opinions on most everything. “Forget it.”
“Rob doesn’t believe you should change your life just because you have kids, and neither do I.”
Suzanne noticed how tired her friend looked. “How are the kids?”
“Posy is amazing—” A smile crossed Cheryl’s face. “Rob is right. She has it, Suz. She’s fearless and coordinated. We’re taking her hiking next summer. Rob thinks we could pack up and take a couple of months. It’s education.”
Rob thinks, Rob thinks...
“Won’t Hannah hate that?”
Cheryl turned off the flame and made tea. “Rob thinks it will be good for her. He’s bought Posy these little hiking boots. You should see them. She looks adorable. I have a picture on my phone. Remind me to show you.”
They had three children and the only one they talked about was Posy, Suzanne thought. “Did Hannah like the books I sent?”
“What books?” Cheryl frowned. “Oh yeah. Thanks, but don’t send her any more. Rob says it gives her an excuse to avoid exercise and physical stuff.”
Suzanne bit back her response. “And Beth?”
“Beth is a girlie girl. All she wants to do is put makeup on people and join the ballet. You can imagine what Rob thinks of that.”
Suzanne wondered why Rob thought he had to mold his children in his image.
Cheryl balanced her mug on the floor of the tent. “Can we stop talking about the kids? Today I’m me, and not somebody’s mom.”
“Sorry. I love your girls, and I don’t get to see them so much lately, so I like hearing their stories.” She often reflected on how ironic it was that she, who had always wanted a family, was still childless, whereas Cheryl, who had never seemed bothered, now had three.
“I know you love them. Talking of which—” Cheryl’s tone was casual as she leaned forward to ease off her boots “—you’d take them, right?”
“Take them where?” In front of them the sun was dipping down, beaming fire across the snow and ice.
“If anything were to happen to us. I’d want you to take the kids.”
Suzanne forgot about the sunset. “Me?”
“I don’t have family and neither does Rob. You’re like a sister to me.”
Sisters fell out, didn’t they?
Approaching the topic as cautiously as she had the glacier beneath them, she tiptoed over the thorniest issue.
“What does Rob think?” Surely she’d be the last person Rob would want caring for his kids.
“Rob thinks we’re invincible.” Cheryl picked up her tea again. “Look at that view.”
Suzanne was looking at her friend. “You’d want me to be their guardian?”
“They love you.”
“I love them.” Three kids. “As you said, I don’t know anything about parenting.”
“This is all hypothetical. Nothing is going to happen. Especially with you checking the snowpack and every crevasse.”
“Right.” Climbing with Rob made her jumpy. His lack of caution made her feel the need to be extra cautious.
Cheryl turned to her. “So would you do it?”
“Take the kids? Of course.”
Hypothetical.
She repeated the word as she lay that night listening to the wind battering the tent.
At 3:00 a.m. the following morning they made coffee and checked the weather. If they wanted to make the summit, they had to start early because they still had to climb four thousand feet of steep snow and ice up the heavily glaciated north face of Mount Rainie
r.
“Looking good,” Rob said as he heaved his pack onto his shoulders. “Let’s nail this thing.”
Suzanne led. The ice was hard and her calf muscles shrieked at her.
The mountain was quiet, but that did little to calm her nerves. A sleeping dragon was still dangerous.
As they paused to rest, she looked toward the summit.
“Lenticular clouds.”
Rob devoured an energy bar. “Looks like an alien spaceship hovering there. Not a breath of wind.”
“They’re stationary.” Suzanne narrowed her eyes. “A storm is coming.”
“Would you listen to yourself? A storm is coming.” Rob rolled his eyes. “We’re in the mountains, honey. A storm is always coming, it’s just a matter of when. In this case we’ll be at the summit and back in the valley drinking a beer before it hits.”
Suzanne felt her own temper flash. Don’t call me honey. “Read the weather, Rob.”
“Never been much of a reader.” He swallowed a mouthful and stowed his water bottle. “If there’s a storm coming, we’d better get started.”
Lindsey struggled up to them, breathless. “You think we should turn around?”
Rob swore. “This close to the summit? Are you insane?”
Lindsey flushed. “It’s not insane to show caution, Rob.”
“If you want guarantees, stay at home and knit a sweater.”
It was Cheryl who put her hand on Rob’s arm and tried to calm him. “I suggest we climb as far as the ridge and then take another look at the weather. If it looks threatening, we can still turn around.”
Suzanne wondered if she should point out the obvious. That if Rob wouldn’t turn around here, he would be even less likely to turn around when the summit seemed to be within his grasp.
And they still had to traverse the glacier.
“Mind if I lead the next pitch?” Rob adjusted his gloves and settled his pack more comfortably on his back.
Suzanne nodded reluctantly, and they continued the climb.
She just wanted the whole damn day over. She wanted it done so that she could get home to Stewart. He would have made one of his warming soups, a Scottish recipe of his mother’s that was so hearty it was a meal in itself.
