by Liz Flaherty
She was still thinking of that kiss. She wished she was sophisticated enough to define its meaning. Common sense told her they were adults—they could kiss each other if they wanted—but she’d never outgrown the need for affection to mean something.
Not just something, but something special.
When she rejoined him on the sidewalk, Ben took her hand. They started walking toward the tavern, without talking at first, though even silence between them held warmth.
“It rained quite a bit this week, so there will be ice under that snow on the trail,” she commented. “It will be risky even for experienced hikers. It worries me that Jayson will be there.”
“Me, too, though I’m glad he won’t be riding ten miles. I’ll keep him with me so Debby can enjoy the hike.” Ben tugged her closer, putting his arm around her shoulders. “You want to walk with us, short woman, if you can keep up?”
“I’ll walk with you, but isn’t it more like I’ll walk with Jayson because you can’t slow down enough?”
He was silent, steering her around the mountain of snow already collected at the corner of Alcott Street and Main. “I can now,” he said finally. “It’s no fun walking faster than everyone else when you’re always walking alone.”
She hugged him, then grinned up at him. “We are changing channels. We just went from a soap opera to a Rodgers and Hammerstein movie, and there wasn’t even any singing.” She breathed in his scent, capturing the sensation soap and spearmint and outdoors always gave her.
She had meant what she said that morning—he hadn’t loved her enough. Sometimes. There were other times, though, when she’d been the one who loved less. When he’d talked about living in Boston and she’d remained silent. When he’d enthused about the Olympics and she’d only wanted them to be over so they could go on with their lives.
No, he hadn’t always been a good boyfriend. Sometimes he’d been truly terrible. But what about her? Had she really been the one who kept the puzzle pieces together or had she dropped as many as she picked up?
“That’s not a good thing.” He held the door of McGuffey’s for her. “I’ve heard us sing. It’s not pretty.”
“You don’t think we’re ready to go on the road?” she asked, raising her arm in response to Penny’s enthusiastic wave from across the room where they always sat.
He snorted, following her past the tables to the booth on the wall. “In a train car, maybe, and not one usually reserved for passengers.”
Ten minutes later, they were eating the thick Irish stew Maeve reserved for weekends. Penny groaned with delight after the first spoonful. “How many times have we eaten this?” she said, reaching for a thick slab of soda bread.
“You mean since we started paying for it or the hundred or so times while we were in high school that Maeve fed us whenever we passed through?” Dan sipped from his Guinness. “Our kids don’t know what they’ve missed—they never got to wash glasses for their food.” He laughed, tipping his glass toward Ben. “I think your dad had us washing clean ones half the time, just so we wouldn’t develop the idea we deserved something for nothing.”
Ben nodded. “He probably did. He bought some plastic ones when Jayson started coming in with me. Tim McGuffey never served so much as a glass of water in plastic, but they’re still back there for when Jayson comes in and needs to be entertained. Patrick’s kids used them when they were here. Sophie washed them, and while she was at it, the bar and the floor behind it.” His face softened when he talked about his niece. “Not that they needed it.”
Dylan came in while they ate, pulling a chair to the end of the table. Ben raised an eyebrow in his younger brother’s direction. “Did you invite him?” he asked the table at large.
“No, but I would have.” Dan reached to shake hands with Dylan. “He knows too much about us to snub him.”
Dylan smiled his thanks when the waitress brought him a bowl of stew and a glass of milk.
“Where’ve you been?” asked Ben. “I was going to save shoveling Mom’s steps for you, but it was getting late.”
“I was checking on the trail. The snow wouldn’t be that big of a deal except that there’s ice under it in so many places, so they made the final decision that it will be five kilometers. The participants will ride, run, or walk at their own risk and the entry fees will be refunded to anyone who doesn’t want to do it. Donations will be just as they were before—at the giver’s discretion as to how much or how little or if they give at all.”
Kate high-fived Penny. “It’ll be fun. At least if it’s a walk, we’ll finish up the same day as everyone else.”
“The Chain and Sprocket has already rented out all the fat bikes they have and sold all the studded tires they had in stock, so the diehards will still be riding.” Dylan shook his head. “I thought about borrowing those chain things the mail carrier wears on his shoes, but he said he needed them.”
Kate shook her head. “Selfish of him.”
He shrugged. “That’s what I thought.” Dylan then turned his attention to his brother. “Are we all right after last night’s little talk?”
Ben nodded. “We are.”
“No ‘Tura Lura Lura’ either?”
“Not unless you and Mom sing it.”
The brothers grinned at each other, their affection nearly a palpable thing. When Ben turned to Kate, she laid down her spoon and wiped her mouth with a napkin. His eyes weren’t laughing. There was no dimple slash in his cheek. “But are we all right?”
She didn’t know what to say. Adolescent devotion and young-adult commitment had gotten them well into their twenties. Friendship had been enough for a summer. But she thought things were different now. It wasn’t too late for passion. For family. For forever.
But wanting that wouldn’t make it so.
A Day at a Time wasn’t the answer to everything, but maybe it was a start. Both the business and the way of making a life. “Yes,” she said, “we’re all right. Or we will be.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“I GOT FOUR dollars and ten dollars!” Jayson flapped his donations envelope, swishing it right out of the hand of the woman who was collecting the money before the hike. “I want to learn to ski but Ben says stopping’s hard and I already don’t stop very good on my bicycle. My bicycle’s name is New Navy.”
The treasurer, an assistant coach who’d been on the ski team twenty-some years ago when Ben also was, captured the envelope. “Four hundred ten dollars, Jayson. That’s so good. We’re very grateful for your support.” She beamed at him. “Maybe you could be a manager for the team. Would you like that?”
He nodded enthusiastically. Stepping away, he pulled on the Tim McGuffey Memorial Ride T-shirt she’d given him. Kate straightened the long sleeves of his fleece pullover, then tugged the T-shirt down in the back. “Don’t you look handsome? Ben will be so jealous.”
“No, I won’t.” Ben’s watch cap was the same color of red as the T-shirts they all wore. He took another hat out of his pocket and put it on Jayson. “We look just alike. We’re both handsome. Kate’s really lucky we’re letting her walk with us.” He tossed her a red cap, too, one with a bright white ball on its top.
She pulled it over her ears, rolled her eyes and stepped between them. “Come on, you two.”
Ben was startled at how many people were participating in the “ride.” Colby and his son were riding the fat bikes Dylan didn’t like. Dan and Penny’s kids all rode with studded tires. Debby and her friends and many others were jogging. Maggie Hylton-Wise was walking and so were her children and grandchildren. She looked happy. Maeve was with her, elegant in her red T-shirt and the pearls Tim had given her on their last anniversary. Her yearning for his father was so deep Ben thought he could feel it in his own heart. But then he realized it was his own longing he felt.
“Pop would be so—” he tried to say to Patrick. But he couldn’t finish. Kate’s hand captured his and held on. His older brother smiled, though his blue eyes grieved with him.
<
br /> “Blessed.” Dylan spoke from Patrick’s other side. “He would feel so blessed.”
Patrick’s eyebrow rose. “Our brother’s not dumb today. Sometimes, but not today.”
“Well, you know.” Ben squeezed Kate’s hand and tried to look modest. “I’ve been working with him.”
The day warmed as they walked. “I can’t believe how many college kids are doing this.” Ben smiled at a girl as she jogged past, remembering when he’d seen her last. “You doing okay?” he asked in a low voice when she turned back to greet him. She still had the same boyfriend, he noticed. He hoped he’d grown up some.
“Better.” She smiled. “Thanks for being so nice to me. It made something horrible more bearable.”
“Good.” He nodded a short greeting to the boyfriend. “The next time will be the right one.”
“I know.” She waved beyond him, at Jayson and Kate, and moved on, hand in hand with her boyfriend.
“I didn’t realize I’d seen so many people at the hospital this summer, but I think all the ones I did see are here.” Ben chuckled, pointing toward the couple whose grandchildren Kate had babysat in the lounge one night. He had feared the woman wouldn’t survive the heart attack that had brought her to the emergency room, but she’d survived, had surgery and thrived.
Kate exchanged hellos with Marce, who was walking just ahead of them with Nick. “So many changes these past months.” Then Kate grabbed Jayson’s arm. “Stay on the trail. If you start sliding down the side of the mountain, you’ll end up in Tierney’s Creek and someone will have to fish you out next spring.”
Jayson laughed, delighted. “You’re goofy, Kate.” But he didn’t shake off her containing hand and he didn’t get too close to the edge of the trail.
They walked on, talking and laughing. The riders and the joggers widened the gap between themselves and the walkers. When the trail curved sharply, it was as though the walkers were alone. The trail was slippery under their feet, and Ben hurried ahead a few times when someone fell. There were no injuries, however.
As they progressed, he and Kate and Jayson fell farther behind. Jayson was growing tired. He didn’t complain, but his gait grew slower and clumsier. Ben hadn’t won every race he’d ever entered, but this would be the first one in which he’d come in last. Being with Kate, he didn’t think he minded at all.
But it felt funny—peculiar funny—as they walked. As though something was happening.
It was a nice day. Too nice. He looked around, uneasy with the warming temperature. Snow fell from the trees with swishing noises. Ice cracked as it melted. The hike required almost no exertion. The incline wasn’t steep and they were walking at Jayson’s pace, but even the lightweight fleece pullover Ben wore under his T-shirt was almost too much. Looking over at Kate, he saw that she’d pushed her sleeves up. She was looking around, too.
Ahead of them, Dan and Penny slowed and turned back, Dan’s cell phone lifted to his ear. Patrick and Dylan, who’d been ahead with the joggers, were backtracking. Running. Ben’s heartbeat accelerated. He wanted to tell his brothers to slow down before they got hurt; instead, he caught Kate’s hand in his, urging her to hurry. They needed to go faster, to at least keep up with the other walkers as they began to head back down the slope.
Something was happening.
He knew immediately what the sound was, the whump that signaled a collapse in the mountainside snow. He’d heard it before, had skied above it or very fast below it, able to escape the tumbling, pounding snow using the avoidance tactics he’d started learning the first time he put on skis. It was a sluff avalanche. Not a big one—he could tell that. It wouldn’t even make the news.
But it was coming right at them.
* * *
“COME ON, KATY. Hurry!”
Even in the complete terror that had taken over her senses, she knew Come on, Katy was never a good thing to hear. Trouble always followed.
“Jayson, let’s go, honey. We have to hustle. Everyone else is way ahead of us. See?” She pulled at his arm, hating it because she knew she was frightening him.
Ben’s hand released hers and she jerked her head around. The snow was coming hard and fast. Had it already caught him? Was he buried in it?
No, no—he’d gone to Jayson’s other side and put his arm around the boy’s waist, his hand grasping Kate’s arm. “Look, Jayson,” he said, his breath coming hard. “There are Dylan and Patrick.”
“What’s that sound?” Jayson’s head turned from one of them to the other. “Where’s Debby?”
“Debby’s fine.” She hoped she was telling the truth. Debby had been with the joggers far ahead of them. “Turn, Jayson. It’s time to turn the corner like you’re on New Navy. You’re not going to fall. Turn now! Lean in and hang on to Ben.”
Somewhere in her mind, in a dark, still place behind the fear, she knew the powder was coming fast and hard and relentless. She’d been on the mountain before when snow had broken loose and plunged through the trees. No one had ever been hurt that she remembered, though Ben had come close more than once.
A scream came shatteringly to her ears, and she wondered if she’d been the one who cried out. Jayson’s arm was jerked from hers. Pain radiated from her shoulder all the way to the tips of her fingers, and she wondered if it hurt him, too. “Turn, Jayson,” she cried. “Just turn. You’ll be fine. Don’t forget to hold your hand up high for the turn. That’s right.”
She’d always heard about life flashing before a person’s eyes when traumatic things happened. She didn’t think there was time for all thirty-seven years, but it was amazing how slowly the world seemed to be turning. Despite horrible pain in her arm, she shoved Jayson away from the roar of the snow. Hearing his complaint, she experienced a new terror because she wasn’t sure she’d pushed him the right way.
Where was Ben? She called his name, but the sound was lost in the rushing snow. She was shivering with cold, and wished she hadn’t pushed her sleeves up.
“Keep them safe.” She didn’t know if she prayed aloud or not. She didn’t truly think it mattered. “Keep them safe.”
Calm pushed aside the fear, although—once again in that dark, still place—she thought end-of-life serenity wasn’t necessarily reasonable or even sane. When the snow tossed her weightlessly off the path, she regretted intensely that she’d canceled the appointment she’d had earlier in the week to have her nails done. She also wished she’d had ice cream for dessert the night before.
She pushed her uninjured arm as high above her head as she could, realizing at the same time that her red cap was missing. Ben had just given it to her. She mourned its loss.
* * *
“YOU’RE ALL RIGHT. You turned like Kate said. You were brave.” Ben hugged Jayson, then passed him off to Penny. “Keep him still, Pen. I don’t know if he’s hurt. As soon as someone comes around the bend, send them for the first-aid equipment.” Dan carried the necessities in his backpack and would have already called 911, but getting anyone up here was going to take some time even though medical personnel were at the trailhead. They would have to get around where the slide had effectively eliminated the trail.
Patrick and Dylan had hauled Ben out of the snow with adrenaline-powered strength. Their faces were white, and Patrick’s hands were still trembling on his knees as he bent over, trying to catch his breath.
“Which way did she go?” Ben heard the panic in his voice but was powerless to control it. “I lost her. God help me, I lost her.”
Again. He knew he was hurt. He could see his own blood, but the only pain he felt was the agony of losing Kate.
“There’s her hat.” Penny, her face as pale as Patrick’s and Dylan’s, pointed past the edge of the trail, twenty or so feet farther downhill. Tears streaked her face. “Dan?”
Dan was already headed that way, and Ben plunged after him. Pain rushed through his legs, nearly taking his breath away, but he ignored it and it nearly went away as he ran. “Kate!” he called. “Come on, Katy, wh
ere are you?”
“Don’t, Ben. She can’t answer.” Dylan caught up with him, and Ben thought he’d probably be grateful someday for the support of the arm around him.
They walked the area, spreading apart and looking for any sign that Kate was near. Others from the walk who had heard the avalanche backtracked and joined the search. “Please,” he whispered. “Please, God. Please, Pop. Where is she?”
Time was passing and there was precious little of it. The avalanche of sluff snow hadn’t been a wide one. But the space it had altered with its force seemed like acres. The minutes seemed like hours.
Oh, Kate. Please, Kate.
And then he saw it. A red sleeve with an iron-on picture of Pop’s black vest on it. A hand in a small black leather glove. Her other glove was red wool—she hadn’t been able to find the mate to either one. “There!” he yelled, pointing and running. If he was hurt, he didn’t feel it, though he nearly blacked out when he started scooping the snow away with his hands. He must have broken fingers, but he couldn’t think about that now. There was no time.
Her face was outside the snow, but she was unconscious. No one had a shovel, even Dan-the-always-prepared, but there were enough people and enough adrenaline that digging her out went quickly. Or Ben guessed it did. It felt like forever. His brothers were right there beside him. Penny slid down the hillside to where they were, crying in earnest now.
“Jayson,” Ben gasped, breathless with effort.
“With Marce and Nick.” She pushed between Dan and Patrick, scrabbling with both bare hands in the snow.
“Honey—” Dan tried to draw her away, his face a mask of concern, but she shook him off.
“This is my best friend in the world,” she said fiercely. “Would you let me stop you if it was Ben? Is she breathing, Ben? Is she breathing?”
“She is.” Though he’d had an hours-long instant of not knowing she was.
“What do you need?” It was an EMT’s voice from the trail, breathless. “Long backboard?”
