In three days, a clergyman would visit Sanath’s relatives and neighbors and give an hour-long sermon on his behalf.
“Thank you, Jimmy.” Sam held up the St. Christopher medal. “Please let his mother know I’ll bring this to her as soon as I can.”
“Of course.” Jimmy pressed his palms together and placed his hands under his chin. “Namaste, Sam. Dr. Bradshaw.”
Sam turned to Olivia after Jimmy and Lhakpa returned to Camp One. “Thank you, too. You weren’t obligated to take part in this ceremony, but I’m glad you were here.”
“Please don’t thank me. I participated because I wanted to not because I had to. I’m just glad I could do my part. How are you feeling?”
Sam felt raw. An old wound had been ripped open, and she felt the pain as acutely as she had the first time around.
When she climbed into her bedroll tonight, she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. When she closed her eyes, all she would be able to see was the look of horror on Bailey’s face. All she would be able to hear were her screams. All she would be able to think about was that day. That one fateful day on Mont Blanc.
But she didn’t want to talk about that day. She wished she could stop reliving it. No matter how many times she replayed it in her mind, the end result never changed.
No matter how many people she saved, she couldn’t make up for the one she had lost.
“I feel better, thanks.”
Sam looked at the ground. The path was relatively clear, this part of the mountain having received only a light dusting of snow. If the clouds overhead were any indication, however, the higher elevations would receive several feet before this latest system moved on its way. The iffy weather afforded her the perfect reason to stop thinking about life and death and focus on work.
“I’d better ask Rae to check the radar and give us a report. Jimmy will never think to do it. Thank you again. Your efforts were much appreciated.”
She turned to head back to camp.
“Sanath isn’t the only person you’re mourning, is he?”
Taken aback by Olivia’s perceptiveness, Sam stopped walking. She didn’t turn around, though. She didn’t think she could bear to face the tenderness she suspected she’d see in Olivia’s eyes. She didn’t want anyone to care about her. She didn’t want anyone to love her. Not that way. Not ever again.
“When you lose someone, it helps to talk about them,” Olivia said. Sam could hear—could sense—her moving closer. When she spoke again, she was so close Sam could feel the heat radiating from her body. “I know how much it hurts. I lost my father when I was young. He was my hero. The greatest man I’ve ever known. We did everything together. I was inconsolable when he died. The only thing that helped me get over the loss was listening to other people’s stories about him. Sharing all the memories we created.” Olivia came closer still. “If you want to talk, I’m willing to listen.”
Olivia gave her shoulder a squeeze, then stepped around her and walked away. Sam watched her go. She had tried sharing her story before, but rehashing the details of the worst day of her life hadn’t taken away the pain. Perhaps she had chosen the wrong audience. And perhaps she had finally found the right one.
Was Dr. Olivia Bradshaw the woman who could heal her broken heart and shattered soul? There was only one way to find out, but she didn’t know if she was ready to take the chance.
*
Sam collected the trash from dinner—heavy-duty plastic pouches that had once contained roast beef, potatoes, carrots, and dinner rolls.
Olivia wiped crumbs off her lips. Her body hummed with the influx of sugar. She had been craving gooey, decadent desserts for days. The fudge brownie in the dessert pouch was just what the doctor ordered. “My compliments to the chef.”
“Save the kind words for someone who deserves them. Even I can’t screw up an MRE.”
Sam’s response was as gruff as ever, but the corner of her mouth lifted into a smile. She still seemed to carry a psychic burden, but finding closure with Sanath appeared to have eased the load.
From the day they met, Sam had seemed almost superhuman. Now that she had proven herself to be mortal after all, Olivia was more drawn to her than ever. She wanted to share the weight that caused Sam’s shoulders to slump and her eyes to dim. She wanted to put the light back in those eyes.
She gave herself a mental shake. This wasn’t like her. She had signed up for an adventure with the hope of a few fringe benefits, not happily ever after. Yet here she sat mentally packing a U-Haul and practically setting up house.
Even though she had taken scores of risks in her life, there was one she hadn’t tried. She had never allowed herself the time to fall in love. Sam made her want to slow down long enough to give it a chance.
But she couldn’t slow down. Not when there were still so many things she wanted to accomplish. Her father had died relatively early. If she followed suit, she wanted to be sure she left a legacy behind. Love could wait.
“What time are we leaving to join the others?” she asked.
“According to the weather report, tomorrow’s going to be a warm one. If we leave at four a.m., we’ll be well on our way before the sun starts beaming down in earnest.”
“Then I’d better hit the hay.” Night fell unnaturally early on the mountain. Without looking at her watch, Olivia couldn’t tell if it was closer to noon or midnight. “If I turn in now, perhaps I won’t be quite as crabby as I usually am at the ass crack of dawn.”
“Do you mind if I tag along? Jimmy might not say much when he’s awake. In his sleep, he talks a blue streak.”
Lhakpa nodded enthusiastically. “Talk, talk, talk all night long,” he said in heavily accented English.
“At least I don’t twitch in my sleep. As many punches as you throw, I’m surprised you haven’t given me a black eye by now. When I go home at the end of this trip, my wife’s going to think I was attacked by a Yeti.”
Jimmy’s comments sparked a good-natured argument between the pair about who was the greater offender. An argument that grew louder and more comical by the minute.
“Do you see what I have to put up with?” Sam asked as Jimmy and Lhakpa continued to bicker.
Olivia laughed, enjoying the unexpected moment of levity. “You’re right. No one should be subjected to that.”
She beckoned for Sam to follow her. After they ducked inside the tent, Sam secured the flap. Then she unrolled her sleeping bag and crawled inside. Olivia took off her boots and slipped inside her own sleeping bag. An inflatable mattress rested between it and the hard, unforgiving ground. When Sam switched off the lantern, Olivia struggled to adjust to the sudden darkness. Then she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Little by little, her body gave in to fatigue. She began to drift off.
“How old were you when you lost your dad?”
Sam’s question was startling in both its directness and its simple curiosity. Olivia struggled to lift her heavy lids. She wanted to be awake enough to give the question the well-formed response it deserved.
“I was eleven, but I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a Saturday morning in September. The first day of college football season. The Buffaloes were scheduled to play the Texas Longhorns at home. We had tickets on the fifty-yard line. Mom was in the kitchen packing a picnic lunch to take to the game. I was in my room trying to decide if I should wear my black U of C sweatshirt or my gold one. Dad was in the den reading the paper and listening to the pre-game show on the radio.”
She closed her eyes as she pictured the scene.
“We lived within walking distance of the stadium so we never drove unless the weather was really bad. Whether we were walking or driving, Dad insisted on being in his seat in time to see the teams run through warm-ups. He kept us on a strict schedule to make sure he didn’t miss a single jumping jack or stretching drill. He’d stand by the front door and yell out updates. ‘This is your thirty-minute warning.’ ‘This is your fifteen-minute warning.’ When it was time to go, h
e’d let out a piercing whistle that drove all the dogs in the neighborhood crazy. ‘All right,’ he’d say. ‘Fall in or fall out.’”
She chuckled at the memory, but her laughter quickly faded.
“That day, though, the updates never came. I didn’t think anything of it when Dad didn’t give the thirty-minute warning—I was too busy gabbing on the phone with a girl I had a crush on to notice much of anything. When he didn’t give the fifteen-minute warning, I finally realized something was amiss. My mom was too busy to notice, but I did. In case I was wrong, I didn’t want to alarm her. I hung up the phone and went downstairs to the den. I found Dad sitting in his favorite chair. He seemed unnaturally still. I called his name, but he didn’t respond. The paper was on his lap, the radio was on. When I touched him, he was still warm. His eyes were open, but he was gone. He’d had an aortic aneurysm brought on by an undiagnosed heart ailment. The paramedics said the rupture was so catastrophic that, even if the vessel had burst while he was on the operating table, the surgeons wouldn’t have been able to save him.”
“How old was he?”
“Forty-one. Only six years older than I am now.”
“That explains why you drive yourself so hard.” Sam’s sleeping bag rustled. Olivia thought she was settling in for the night until she asked her another question. “Did losing your father prompt you to become a doctor, so you could save those no one else thinks can be saved?”
Olivia carefully considered the question. “Yes and no.” She wasn’t bold enough to consider herself a miracle worker, even though others might see her that way.
“My father lived in one of the most technologically advanced countries in the world, but he didn’t take advantage of it. He was the kind of guy who went to the doctor only if he absolutely had to because he thought most of them were quacks or pill pushers. I wanted to erase that stigma. I wanted to make medical care more accessible and less frightening. Some patients shake in their boots the first time they see me coming. It’s my job to help them realize I’m there to help them not hurt them. I don’t want anyone to feel as helpless as I did the day my father died. I want to make my dad proud of me. That’s why I became a doctor.”
“You’re smart, level-headed, and successful. I think your dad would be proud. Any parent would be if they had a daughter like you.”
Olivia was flattered yet embarrassed by the praise. “I’m sure your family is equally proud of your accomplishments if not more so.”
“My family loves me unconditionally. I just wish I deserved it.”
Olivia didn’t know how to respond to Sam’s statement. How could someone who had as many things going for her as Sam did not feel worthy of love?
“You were right earlier,” Sam said quietly. “Sanath wasn’t the only person I was mourning today. I was mourning Bailey, too.”
She paused as if she was unsure whether to continue. Olivia willed herself to have the patience to wait for her to make up her mind.
“Losing your dad is the reason you became a doctor,” Sam said at last. “Losing Bailey is the reason I became a guide.”
“Tell me about her.”
Sam took a deep breath and began to tell the story of her life. The story of her lover’s death.
Chapter Six
“I met Bailey when I was twenty-two. She introduced me to climbing and I got hooked on it.”
Sam remembered the twin thrill of simultaneously discovering something she had an affinity for and someone with whom she could share the experience. Meeting Bailey had felt right. It had felt like fate. Unfortunately, fate had taken a tragic turn. She sighed and forced herself to continue telling a story she had shared with only a relative few.
“Within a year, we progressed from climbing rock walls to climbing mountains. Easy ones at first, then more challenging ones. Climbing was easy for me. It was intuitive. Instinctive. I didn’t have to think. I could just see the path I was supposed to take. Bailey’s style was more workmanlike. When it was her turn to act as team leader, she’d study the mountain and research previous ascents before settling on the one she thought was best.”
“Isn’t that what you did for this expedition?” Olivia asked. “I saw you researching the day before we started out.”
“When people’s lives are on the line, I don’t like to leave anything to chance. My style is too much of a risk.”
“It sounds like a risk worth taking. To fly by the seat of your pants, relying solely on your own instincts.”
Sam heard the excitement in Olivia’s voice. A love of adventure and a willingness to try anything new. The quality was intoxicating, but a bit frightening, too. How could she keep Olivia safe when she was so eager to put herself in danger?
“For my twenty-fifth birthday, Bailey surprised me with two tickets to France. I thought we’d spend two weeks sunning on the beach in St. Tropez, but she said she wanted to climb Mont Blanc. Even though it tops out at less than sixteen thousand feet, Mont Blanc is the tallest mountain in Western Europe. Annapurna I has a higher percentage of fatalities, but Mont Blanc has a larger number. On average, fifty people die there a year.”
“What makes it so deadly?”
“The mountain is short with a broad base. It’s an easy climb, which is why so many people flock to it, but not all those hoping to ascend are savvy enough to recognize the warning signs or take heed of their own limitations. They buy the equipment, watch a couple of videos, and think they’re properly prepared to do what needs to be done. They couldn’t be more wrong. They get swallowed up by avalanches or crevasses, struck by falling spears of ice, or felled by dumb luck or their own inexperience.”
“But you and Bailey were experienced climbers.”
“Not experienced enough. From the time we landed in France, I felt like we had a dark cloud hanging over us. Because we were in over our heads and I knew it. Mont Blanc is a test of climbers’ ice climbing skills. As you’ll see when we get to the ice wall, ice climbing is vastly different from regular climbing. When ice climbing, you work in teams of two and you’re tethered to your partner. The lead climber paves the way. It’s her responsibility to place ice screws and thread a rope between them to establish support points. The second climber removes the screws on her way up. If the second climber slips, the rope and the lead climber will stop her fall. The lead climber doesn’t have that security. She has only the ice screws to depend upon. If she falls before she can establish both support points, she has no chance to recover. The second climber has to hold on and hope the force of the lead climber’s fall doesn’t pull her down as well. That’s why the stronger climber usually takes the lead. If both climbers aren’t equally skilled, there could be trouble.”
“So Bailey took the lead on Mont Blanc?”
“Yes. I wanted to say no—I should have said no—but she was so excited, I went along with her plan. She didn’t say it, but I could tell she felt overshadowed by my success. She introduced me to climbing, but I was better at it. The pupil had outshined the teacher. Deep down, I think she felt Mont Blanc represented her opportunity to even the playing field. So I said yes.”
“Do you think the outcome would have been different if you hadn’t?”
“I asked myself that every minute of every day for years. Then I finally realized I can’t change history. I can only do my best to prevent it from repeating itself.”
“Is that why you’re here with me?”
Sam felt like she and Olivia were fated to cross paths, but she was still waiting to see what fate had in store this time around.
“Despite my misgivings, the Mont Blanc climb began auspiciously. On the first leg, we climbed over glaciers and some amazing formations that looked like boulders made of ice. They were formed when ice melted, made its way down the mountain, and later solidified. On the third day, we reached the Gervasutti Couloir, a narrow canyon that tests the mettle of even the most skilled climbers. The ascent was tough—tougher than any I’d made at that point. My arms were burning and I wasn�
��t the one doing the hard work. When I asked Bailey how she was doing, she said she was fine, but I could tell she was hurting. We had two choices: keep climbing or accept defeat and take the cable car back to camp. We kept climbing.”
“What happened?” Olivia asked as if Sam was taking too long to get to the point.
“Six hundred feet from the top, I thought we were going to be okay. I thought all my worrying had been for naught. We were almost there. Almost home.” Sam paused to gather the energy she needed to tell the hardest part of the story. “Then Bailey slipped. She was ten yards ahead of me. I saw it happen, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.”
Olivia’s shocked gasp echoed off the walls of the small tent. Sam focused on technique so she could keep her roiling emotions in check.
“When you climb glaciers, you have an ice axe in each hand. You ‘swim’ up the mountain, stroking with one hand then the other as you drive the point of your axe into the ice. You’re supposed to wait until your ice axe is secure before you make the next stroke. Bailey didn’t wait. She had established a rhythm and she ended up hypnotized by it. She swung the axe with her right hand and automatically raised her left. The ice cracked underneath her axe. She tensed when she heard the sound. Her foot slipped and the ice gave way. Chunks the size of softballs pelted my helmet. One hit me so hard I saw stars. Dizzy and disoriented, I ducked my head until the barrage was over.”
“It’s okay,” Olivia said, breaking in. “You don’t have to tell me the rest.”
“I know,” Sam said, “but I want to. I want you to know why I do the things I do. Why I say the things I say. Why—” She faltered. “Why I’m the way I am.”
“Okay. Tell me.”
“Bailey tried to dig her crampons into the ice, but we were on a sharply-angled vertical and she didn’t have the strength to lift her legs high enough to regain her foothold. Her feet fell away from the wall and she lost her grip on the ice axe in her left hand. She dangled from the wall, all her weight on one axe.”
Murphy's Law Page 8
