Skygods (Hydraulic #2)

by Sarah Latchaw

  “Samuel. It’s not fair to you, either. Don’t let these people use you.”

  He smiled and rested his forehead against mine. “It’s going to be a long week. But I’ll get this straightened out.”

  I actually cried when I watched him stuff his carry-on in the back seat of his rental car. I stood on the sidewalk in the early morning dew, clad only in my pajamas and robe. I hadn’t even bothered with shoes, so I shifted my bare feet as the cold concrete numbed them. I told him I was tired of watching his back as he left, that for once, I wanted to be stuffing my own carry-on next to his on a plane to New York.

  He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me flush against his chest, no longer asking permission to kiss me. And what a kiss it was…which only made me cry harder.

  “Kaye,” he murmured against my tear-streaked cheek, “you should know by now I’d never let you load your own suitcase.” His voice teased, but his eyes brimmed with the same sadness as mine. He leaned down to kiss me again…a slow, sweet good-bye kiss. “Please don’t cry. We’ll figure this out.”

  I pushed away from his chest, stupidly denying I was crying. I swiped my traitor tears away with the back of my hand and steeled myself for my empty apartment. But, Kaye, you’ve lived seven years with an empty apartment.

  “I’ll be fine in a minute. Besides, you’ll be here in less than a month for Rocky Mountain Folks. It’ll go fast.”

  “Rocky Mountain Folks,” he repeated, a solemn vow. He traced my jaw line one last time, his fingernail lightly scratching my skin. Then I felt an actual, physical rip in my chest as he tore himself away and climbed into the car.

  It took all my strength to keep from desperately clinging to the bumper like Marty McFly sans skateboard as my “whatever” journeyed back to his stress-filled world in New York.

  “Dang, Kaye, that kid is a monkey!” Hector’s voice echoed through the lush canyon. “Look at him scale this thing—he’s faster than any of us.”

  “I think he’ll make a fantastic lead ascender on the Longs Peak trip,” I chimed in, encouraging the young climber.

  Luca beamed at us from halfway up the craggy cliff face, his tan body swathed in harnesses, pitons and ascenders. Then he turned to the rock wall and fitted another safety device.

  Our entire team—Hector, Molly, Cassady, Luca, and me—was brushing up on belay techniques using the towering, sun-bleached cliffs of Big Thompson Canyon. The river gurgled beyond in a breathtaking stretch of green, dappled in wildflowers and tender moss, as we ascended with a belay partner guiding us from the ground. The Saturday afternoon was pleasantly sunny. It warmed my shoulders and freckled my cheeks, and I found myself drowsily floating back to my time with Samuel, a week ago.

  When I was out of his blazing presence, I could almost convince myself I’d imagined the shaking hands and restlessness. Almost. Though I was now certain he’d once been depressed, what I’d witnessed from him ran more along the lines of anxiety. If he indeed struggled with some sort of mental health issue, as I suspected more with every passing day, then his work schedule would do him in. And Caroline had to know she was hurting him.

  A hummingbird whizzed past my head and my eyes flew open, pulling me back to the canyon. The bird darted to Danita, sprawled across a beach blanket. Bikini-clad, she frowned over a bestseller. The bird buzzed her ear. She yelped and waved the thing away. Next to her, Molly’s new puppy dropped the rawhide it was panting over and barked at the hummingbird.

  That’s right, a puppy. Jaime Guzman was dead serious when she told Molly the only way she’d go to Girls Night was if my friend bought a Black Labrador. Molly gazed forlornly at the gangly, drooling animal as she guided the belay rope.

  “His name is Juicy.” She sighed. “He doesn’t like me. He bites all the time.”

  Danita rolled her eyes. “Ave María Purísima, Molly, he’s a puppy. Of course he bites you! Don’t let it bruise your ego.”

  “I didn’t know you could have pets in your apartment,” I commented.

  “He’s staying at Cassady’s. Cassady has a big back yard—I can’t even give my puppy a proper home! No wonder he hates me.” She cast another sad look at her pet. “Everyone likes me. Everyone except Juicy.”

  “Good, Luca,” Hector instructed calmly as he tightened the rope. “Now put the ladders and carabiner in the jumar…test the weight…not too fast…”

  Luca eased his foot into the resting point he’d created, making sure it held. It did. He grinned again as we cheered—the kid would be more than ready to climb Longs Peak with us this winter. It was obvious he’d trained extra hard to catch up, and his skill level had vastly improved. When temps dropped, we’d log some practice time on winter terrain. Ice and snow were nothing new for Hector, Cassady, and me, but this would be Molly and Luca’s first cold-weather climb.

  “Ready for descent, Cassady?” Molly called out. High above us, Cassady hovered at the top of the cliff, sun-streaked hair whipping around his face.

  “A little more tension, sweetness,” his voice echoed down. Molly tightened the rope, braking it while her boy toy leaned away from the cliff. Juicy, however, chose that moment to embroil Molly’s belay rope in a death battle. He chomped down on the end and snarled, then scuttled off toward the river, rope firmly ensconced in his strong puppy jaw. Molly was yanked backward, and so was Cassady.

  “Juicy! No! Drop the rope!” Molly screeched, her high voice reaching new decibels. She edged closer to the growling dog. Poor Cassady yelped, yanked even higher until he was close and personal with the cliff face. He shielded his boys, already precariously tucked between leather harnesses.

  I jumped up to chase the dog. Juicy braced his wobbly legs and then dodged to the right just as I leaped. Molly screeched again as she was yanked the opposite direction, followed by Cassady’s desperate cursing.

  Juicy growled. I growled back. “No you don’t, dog.”

  Somewhere behind me, Hector and Luca howled as Molly sank to the ground, determined to keep Cassady stable. Dani wavered between helping me tackle the dog or anchoring the rope for Molly. Finally, she flung her scantily-clad body over Molly and wrapped manicured fingers around the rope.

  “Me cago en tu pinch perro, Molly, Cassady’s package better be worth a bruised kneecap. Who buys a dog named Juicy?”

  “It’s the name he came with,” Molly said, gasping and trying to stand without being knocked off balance. “I can’t help it if Luca’s sister has bad taste! The stupid dog won’t even listen to me, anyway. I might as well call him Humpy.”

  “Juicy!” I whistled and snapped, my eyes fixed on the dog. He crouched again, only to dodge me when I snatched at his collar. “Freaking mutt!”

  “Tito, sit!”

  “Juicy” halted his rope massacre and sat. Then Luca descended, his angelic baby face bright with laughter. Hector lowered him to the ground and they both collapsed against the rock wall, loud guffaws rolling from their bodies.

  Something stank of Jaime Guzman.

  “Oh man,” Hector gasped out, “that’s the funniest thing I’ve seen all summer! Your sister is a crazy woman, Luca! Juicy!”

  Molly righted herself and scowled at them both. “Let me guess,” she said flatly. “His name’s not Juicy.”

  The guys’ roaring doubled as Luca shook his head. “Molly, meet Tito.” Tito thumped his tail at his name.

  I peered at the dog and whistled again. “Tito, come here!” And just like that, the puppy dropped the rope and trotted to me, pink tongue lolling over his gums.

  “Oh perfect!” Molly cried. “Now my dog likes you, too.” She whirled on Luca and jabbed a finger at his chest. “Tell your sister to sleep with one eye open, or she’ll find herself in hair rollers and heels!”

  But her irritation dissipated when she, too, tried out Juicy’s real name. “Tito!” she called, one hundred percent beaming when her dog bounded toward her, dried grass hanging from his mouth.

  As we took turns huffing over cracks and crannies, I tried
to focus. It wouldn’t do for me to slip and crack my tailbone. But my thoughts kept straying to Caroline.

  I had a hard time discerning her motives. When I’d interacted with her during Angel and Danita’s wedding festivities, she’d been a warrior for Samuel’s well-being. But then she’d been jilted. Rejected by the very man on whom she’d pinned her loyalty, professional expertise, and her heart. Caroline was not a woman who would roll over and die, that was for sure. Was Samuel’s jam-packed publicity tour her version of revenge? Or did she simply not care if he was healthy, as long as he was pimping their brand?

  “Kaye,” Hector shouted, “are you planning to sleep on that safety device tonight or are you going to descend?”

  I snapped out of my ponderings and waved to Hector to tighten the belay rope. Once my feet were firmly on the ground, I unhitched my gear and flopped next to Danita on her blanket.

  “Good book?”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Oh, so you’re ignoring me now. Is this about lunch last week?”

  She glowered at me over the top of her paperback, and I knew I was still in the naughty corner.

  Samuel and I had lunched with his family the day before he left. The more I stewed, the angrier I became with Alonso and Sofia, and their skeletons in the closet. By the time we arrived at the Cabrals’ picture-perfect home, my anger had extended to the entire Cabral familia. I spent the afternoon glaring until Samuel slyly warned me my face would stay that way. At one point, Sofia anxiously asked if I didn’t like barbecued chicken and could she fix something else. I politely told her the food was delicious.

  “So what’s the problem, Kaye?” Danita snipped, her eyes not leaving her book. “Why were you shooting daggers at my family last weekend?”

  “Why is your family dead set on keeping secrets from me?” I snipped back. “I think I had a right to know the truth. No wonder Samuel was so messed up.”

  Her black eyes darted to mine. “Samuel finally told you?”

  “Better late than never, no thanks to the rest of my familia.”

  Her mood suddenly shifted. She flipped her book shut and exhaled. “¡Gracias a Dios! I warned him back in May that if he didn’t come clean with you by the wedding, I would. My brother is lucky you’re an understanding human being.”

  Danita and her ultimatums. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  She gaped. “Are you serious?”

  I waved my hands. “That came out wrong, let me rephrase. I don’t see why all of you felt the need to hide the truth from me. I know I’m rash and sometimes say the wrong thing, but am I really so unreliable I couldn’t be trusted with this?”

  “It’s not that, Kaye. You are more than capable—that’s what I told Samuel and my parents. But he was so scared he’d ruin your dreams and your plans. He didn’t want you to have to deal with him, which is absolutely ridiculous if you ask me, because you had every right to make that call yourself. But you know Samuel and his twisted logic.” I tried to follow her rapid speech. She caught my confused look and fell silent.

  “We’re talking about his birth parents, right?” I frowned. “His life in Boston, the trauma it caused? I don’t…why would he think he’s responsible for what his parents did? I mean, they were sick.”

  Danita’s lips pursed into a thin line, a ring of paleness forming around them. Then the rest of her face blanched. Her eyes flickered closed. When she opened them again, a sudden, angry fire burned there, so like her brother.

  “The trauma, of course,” she said evenly. “Just like you said. He didn’t want it to affect you.”

  “I’m not following. Does this go back to his drug addictions? Or maybe…is he on meds for depression?” Once again, that odd feeling settled over me, the sense that something was being kept from me. Whatever it was, it waved its macabre hand right in front of my eyes, taunting me with a key dangling from its fingers. And yet I still couldn’t unlock that maddening door.

  She gracefully hopped up from the blanket. “Excuse me,” she muttered, and gathered up her summer tote. I watched as she sashayed up the hill, flip-flops flapping, and then pulled her cell phone from her bag. I gnawed on my thumbnail. I knew who she was calling—Samuel. I’d stepped in something, and I wasn’t quite sure what. But from her flailing arm and pointed air jabs, I could tell she was reaming him over it.

  I was so caught up in watching Danita yell into her phone, I didn’t notice Hector had finished his descent and plopped down next to me on the boulder. He reached over and pulled my half-eaten thumb from my teeth. Molly would kill me when she saw what I had done to yesterday’s manicure.

  “What did Mexi-Barbie’s brother do to piss her off?”

  I sighed. Even the big horned sheep could hear her hissing Samuel’s name like a curse.

  “It’s a long story,” I mumbled.

  “You can tell me.”

  I gazed at my scuffed Scarpa boots, a bit sad. “No, Hector. I really can’t.”

  Another stream of Dani’s colorful Spanglish floated through the canyon.

  “So, Kaye.” He wrapped his rough brown hands around my knees. “You and Cabral again, huh?”

  My eyes snapped to his face. It was pinched and rutted, and he was dying to say something. “Just spit it out, Hector.”

  “Sure. I think you’re a moron for taking him back.”

  I scowled, sliding my knees from his grasp. “Well geez, that was tactful.”

  “One thing I’ve never been is tactful, mamacita. But just listen, okay? The guy doesn’t bother with you for seven years, then all of a sudden, everything’s rainbows and roses? I don’t buy it. There’s more to this, and I think you should seriously consider if taking him back is worth laying yourself on the line again.”

  “Look. I know Samuel has issues, okay? Heck, I have issues, too. But we’re doing the best we can to work through them and make it last this time. I wish there were instruction manuals to come with this sort of thing but frankly, I think our relationship is beyond even Oprah’s wisdom.”

  Hector snorted. “That’s an understatement.”

  I punched his shoulder. “You don’t have to agree with what I’m doing,” I said, my voice calming. “Just…just keep being my friend.”

  “Always.” His eyes were black with emotion, and it hit me how truly awful I’d been to him with my half-promises. I placed a hand lightly on his forearm, knowing what I had to do—for him and for Samuel.

  “Hector, you shouldn’t wait for me.”

  His eyes glittered, but not with amusement. “¡Pobre de mí! You almost get a gal killed with a parachute and she ditches you for life.”

  “I’m serious. It’s always been Samuel. And…I think it might always be Samuel. You deserve better than second best, Hector Valdez. Don’t waste any more time on me.”

  He grew quiet. I could tell he was chewing over my words, the lack of levity between us. His expression was a study in disillusionment. Disillusionment filtered through me, too. Why had I deceived myself into thinking second best was okay? I should have cut him loose a long time ago.

  “Can you tell me a Hippie Tom joke?” I asked, in way of a peace offering.

  Hector rubbed his thumbs together, a sad little smile warring with his gloom. “No, Kaye. Not today.”

  I collapsed into my comfy leather chair Sunday evening. It was only six o’clock, but my weekend in Lyons had exhausted me. I wasn’t even hungry. I settled for a mug of hot chocolate, even though it was the middle of summer. I pulled my crocheted afghan around me, blew across the top of the mug, then sank into my chair…

  Epic strains of arena rock startled me awake. Like usual, I couldn’t place the noise and I fumbled for the TV remote, nearly knocking my lukewarm mug of cocoa from the end table. Then awareness hit me, and I realized my phone was ringing. Shoving the afghan from my legs, I reached for my purse.

  Caroline, ugh! I’d answered her call earlier this week, only to have her bawl me out for “hooking” Samuel into our mental
health clinic fund-raiser by using a well-placed guilt trip on him. I tried not to snark back…I really did. But when she hissed once again that I would ruin him, I’d had it.

  “You’re just ticked off because Samuel’s laying down the law over your ludicrous publicity schedule. You can’t control him, so you’re pestering me, instead.” Her indignant stammering told me I was right. “Nice try, Caro. But Samuel can make his own decisions.”

  “If you’re making the calls on Samuel’s publicity tours, maybe you should be his publicist,” she’d snarked. “I’d like to see you try to swim in the big kids’ pool.”

  “Good-bye, Caroline.” I hung up on her. Utterly childish, I know, but she had it coming. So I wasn’t keen to answer my phone now, given the last time I’d spoken with the woman.

  But Caroline trumped me by leaving a voice mail. Seriously, who can ignore that little message icon on the display? I listened, bracing myself for the woman’s wrath…

  “Kaye, this is Caroline. I know you’re angry and not answering my calls, but hear me out—I’ve got an emergency on my hands. Please call me, ASAP.”

  I groaned and dialed her number, praying this wasn’t a setup.

  “Kaye,” she rushed, skipping over greetings. “Have you heard from Samuel today?”

  My stomach flipped. “No. Why?”

  “He’s gone AWOL on all his appearances, and even skipped a black tie reception last night.”

  “What? Have you tried calling him?” Duh, Kaye.

  “He’s not answering. I even stopped by his apartment around noon and he wasn’t there. This is just perfect! We’re supposed to fly to LA tomorrow morning.”

  Skipping out on commitments without telling anyone? This wasn’t like him. I racked my brain, trying to think of where he could be. But fear gripped my mind and the only scenarios I came up with involved gruesome car accidents and hospitals.

  “I don’t know what to say, Caroline. I don’t have a clue where he is.”