by Rebecca Rode
“Sure.” I answer, and he tosses me a controller.
Thank you, Zara. She’s dropped me off in the one place where I can hide but still be at the party. I’m surprised and grateful that she remembers what I’m like.
Back home at the end of the night, I lay on my bed thinking over it all, and the choices I have to make. I knew what my future I used to be, and it was all tied up in Black Diamond, but if I don’t find the money leak, I don’t know what will happen. I’m worried we could lose it all.
And what about Zara?
When this is over, I’ll be back in San Francisco, running the company, and she’ll be here, taking care of the mortuary and her mom. It would be easy to see her in my future, if I thought I had something to offer.
I shoot off a quick text to my business partner, Nolan.
Went to a party tonight.
My phone rings before I think he could possibly have read that message.
“Hey, what’s up?” I ask.
“You tell me. You never go to parties.” He pauses. I’m supposed to answer, but I’m debating if I should tell him about the girl.
“It was good. In fact, great. I didn’t hide—at least, not the whole time.” Do I tell him about Zara? Nah, I’ll keep that part to myself for now.
“You didn’t mention a girl. Do you need me to come into town and help you out for a while, be your wingman?”
I laugh. “No. Please. You’re the worst wingman ever.”
“Nah.”
“Yes. You’re terrible. If I happen to meet anyone, you date them. Remember when we went down to Santa Barbara? You were supposed to help me with Beth. Didn’t work out that way. You dated her, what, five weeks?”
“That was a one-off.”
“Julie, Marcy, Kim.”
“Fine. You don’t want help. I’ll stay here. I have work to do anyway. Speaking of work—have you found anything out to help us?” Nolan asks.
“Not yet, but I’ve got to say, I’m liking it here. I’m back with people who knew me when adventure was how I lived, not what I banked. They don’t expect me to be a CEO type of guy, and I like coming back here. I’m doing things I used to love—hiking, fishing, rappelling. I feel more like myself than I have in years.”
“Don’t get too used to it. Your suit and tie is waiting for you.” Nolan pauses then adds, “Hey, snoop through the office. See if you can find suspicious looking paperwork.”
“I’ll let you know if I find anything. Bye.” I click the call off as it buzzes with a text from Aiden.
Can you get off next Saturday to go fishing?
I’d rather see Zara again. I respond.
Sorry, I have plans.
Or at least, I hope to soon.
What kind of date would she like? I don’t really know her well anymore. She probably doesn’t rollerblade or play street hockey anymore. And neither do I, obviously.
She likes music, so a concert might be good. There’s the old standby—going to a movie. I nix that idea right away—we wouldn’t be able to talk for a couple of hours. Dinner is good for talking. Maybe a drive down to Boulder for dinner, and we can talk going down and coming back up.
I want to know everything about her. When we moved away, I didn’t evaluate what might have been or what I was leaving behind. I was young. But now, she’s right in front of me, and I find myself asking that question.
Scrolling down my contacts list, I find Zara’s number. My finger hovers above her name. Going to her party was something a friend would do. If I ask her out, I’m taking us out of the friend zone. Although I just spent the evening with her, I want to see her again and hear her voice. I push on her name and her info fills my screen. My finger is again in position above the phone icon that would place the call.
My hand feels heavy, like it wants me to make the call. I hesitate at a thought that makes me cold, that hovers in the back of my mind.
Her father was killed, and her mother needs constant care. And what would I offer her, anyway? Fun for a few weeks, and then I leave her life again when our business gets straightened out. She doesn’t need another unstable situation to add to her life.
I could level with her and see if she’s willing to play it by ear, and sort of agree to a break up before we even start. That’s worse than a prenup. I don’t know if I could stand to see hurt in her eyes. I don’t think I’m that strong.
I plug in my phone and set it on the nightstand. This is bad timing. I’m here for a reason—I need to focus on that. I’ll throw myself into the business, and take every shift Bill offers me.
I’m not seeing her, but she’s all I think about.
The next morning is a short day today for me with only one group this morning, and they’re floating down the river on tubes, not rafts. No skill required.
With the conclusion of that session, as I finish securing the equipment in the truck, my phone buzzes. The manager’s face fills the screen.”
“Yeah?”
“Hey, I know you’re off this afternoon, but do you want another job?” Bill asks.
“Sure. What is it?”
“Solo rappelling.”
Spending an entire afternoon rappelling—sounds perfect. Why didn’t he send Rob on this one?
“Want it or not? You’ve been pretty motivated by money so far. Do I need to offer this to Rob?” Bill asks.
“Yeah, sure. I mean, I’ll take it.”
“I’ll send Rob over with the bio.” He clicks off without saying good-bye.
An hour later, while I’m cleaning the office windows, a clod of mud hits the glass next to me. I turn around to see Rob, looking smug.
“You missed a spot there. A man’s only as good as his squeegee.”
I fling some water at him.
“Bill asked me to give you this bio for your next adventure tour.” With only a couple of minutes before I’m supposed to meet the customer, Rob hands me the papers.
“’Bout time.”
Rob turns away and heads toward the pickup. “I’ll be your driver to the destination. After you rappel, hike out to the truck.”
While I’m opening the envelope, Zara walks up from behind me and hip bumps me. “I wondered if you want to go on a date.”
Yes. That’s why I’m staying away from you. “Sorry, I’m meeting a client.” It’s funny how, although it was puppy love, all those feelings have come roaring back, amplified by our current age. It would be way too easy to fall in love with Zara.
She winks, but still stands in front of me. “Okay.”
I pull the paper out of the envelope that should have been the bio sheet. Instead, it’s bright pink with a vampire Hello Kitty sticker in the corner. I turn the paper toward her and point to the sticker. “Nice touch.”
She nods sweetly and lifts her shoulder.
I start reading aloud. “Client name—Zara Hollis. It says here that you’re from Transylvania. You work as a...phlebotomist in a blood donor facility.”
“It’s honest work.” She sits on the top of the picnic table beside me.
She looks amazing in khaki shorts and a bright yellow tank that says, “I see dead people” across the front. The contrast between her shirt and skin is alluring. Her sunblock left a sheen on her shoulders, and the smell of coconut wafts through the air, inviting me closer. I immediately rein in my thoughts and clear my throat.
“Your goal is to learn to rappel in order to, and I quote, ‘escape villagers with pitchforks.’”
“And garlic, and shovels, and torches,” she adds. Her eyebrows lift, and her mouth forms an O with mock fear.
I continue to read. “You’d like to have the last climb of the day on a north-facing slope to avoid direct sunlight.” I look at her and say, “Rappelling can be dangerous.”
Zara’s smile widens at the teasing in my voice. I knew she’d bite at anything that kicked up adrenaline.
“Only if we do it right.” She points to herself. “Undead, remember?” She picks up her gear and backpack. “Pl
us, I’ve had a little experience.”
5
Zara Hollis
TREV THROWS HIS PACK INTO the truck bed, and I jump into the cab. The location I requested will take us into a remote area of Rocky Mountain National Park. We head out farther into the mountains surrounding Peak City to a trailhead that will eventually take us to a waterfall. Rob drops us off where we’ll start the two-mile hike. The mountain meadow doesn’t give away the granite cliffs along the ridge.
“I’ll leave the truck for you at the lower parking lot in the campground at the bottom of the trail,” Rob says.
Trev nods. When we’ve grabbed our packs again, Rob leaves, and Trev starts up the trail. I throw my backpack over my shoulders and run to catch up, matching my gait to his.
“What’s the hurry?” I reach for his hand and slide my fingers between his. I worry that I’ve read him all wrong, but he gives a little squeeze and slows to a more comfortable speed.
“So, what was California like?” I ask.
“What part? San Luis Obispo, Chico, or San Francisco?”
“All of it.”
“It was great being around my mom’s parents. I was pretty angry over my parents’ divorce when we left Colorado, and Grandpa was exactly what I needed. We went to the mountains a lot. We hiked and talked. We lived with them, and Grandma would give me oatmeal cookies for breakfast, saying that it was the most important meal of the day. My grandparents are anything but uptight—I needed that.
“When Mom remarried the next year, I got an older sister and younger brother, Kat and Mike, and we moved to San Luis Obispo. I wasn’t very good at being a middle child, or maybe I was too good at it. I never really adjusted to having siblings, but Grandpa was still there for me. Every weekend through high school, we did something together.” Trev has an easy smile on his lips like he’s thinking of good memories.
He continues. “San Luis Obispo’s similar to here, with the laid-back, slower lifestyle. People there are outdoorsy too, but it’s different, you know? It’s not Colorado. It always felt like I was a tourist. They weren’t my mountains.
“Then I went to California State College. That would definitely take longer to explain, but the short story is that I still spent every possible minute in the mountains. It was a memorable experience, that’s for sure. And after college, I lived in San Francisco.”
“That makes me a little jealous. I’ve only ever lived in Colorado. I’ve seen palm trees on vacation to Arizona, and stood in the ocean in Oregon, but it was way too cold for swimming. I haven’t lived anywhere remotely exotic in my life.”
He stops suddenly and looks around. “Here.” Then he looks into my eyes and says, “Here is better.”
Now it’s my turn to squeeze his hand. Is it because I’m here with him, or just that he appreciates the beauty of Colorado? I choose to think it’s me.
I keep a closer eye on my surroundings as we continue to hike. It is amazing here. The sky is so blue, only crayons match the color. Lodgepole pine trees tower over us, while purple-blue columbines and white yarrow clump at their base.
The trail narrows and the incline increases steadily. I walk behind him, and we don’t talk much. This trail is over eight thousand feet above sea level and getting higher with each step, so the air is thin anyway. Add to that the hike, and we need all the oxygen we can get for the trail. This past year off from hiking has really kicked my butt.
Whenever my mind is empty, my thoughts turn to my mom. This morning, she didn’t know who I was until I showed her a picture of us together. How long will it be before a picture doesn’t work?
Last night, she wouldn’t go to bed. She insisted that she wait up for Dad to get home, and that I should go to bed because it was a school night.
Ruth is with her now. She always remembers Ruth, her best friend since they were three. They play cards or other games. Sometimes they watch videos or cook together. Mom seems almost normal with Ruth, but forty years younger, like they’re tweens again. Ruth plays right along.
I wish I could turn back time for Mom so she could live without the confusion I see in her every day. But I can’t. I tuck the helpless feeling into a dark little box in my brain and try to live in this moment, returning my thoughts to the hike.
When we hit a flat spot, I ask, “Have you had any fun groups lately?”
“No, pretty much the same type of group everyday. Typically a tourist group, college age or high school.”
I nod as he finishes, and we walk in silence for a while. The climb is getting fairly steep, and I have to take deep breaths to appear un-winded…is that even a word? Trev is half a step ahead of me, and I can tell he’s trying to stay back by me.
Sweat slips down my neck and between my shoulders. That’s going to be pretty when we get to the top. I try to draw deep breaths—quietly so Trev doesn’t know I’m dying here. I gasp a little. I hope he didn’t hear that. I stop and try to cover my exhaustion with retying my shoe. Then I realize I can’t get a deep breath bent over with a pack on my back. Geez, I need a better plan.
Trev slows his walk and says, “Let’s stop a minute for a water break.”
Oh, heaven bless him. “If you want to.” My words squeak out, sounding winded. Trev’s sweet, with perfect timing. I’ve hiked with some who have charged up the hill, leaving people way behind. Then they stop and wait for the slower hiker to catch up, but as soon as they do, the fast person takes off again without letting the hikers who really need a rest have one. And today, that slow hiker is me.
I sink onto a rock off the side of the trail, pull out my water bottle, and take a couple deep gulps, still feeling like I’m sucking air. My throat’s dry. I take another swig, then toss the water bottle in my backpack—I don’t want to have to pee out here too.
“Are you ready to start again?” I ask with my best this-is-no-sweat smile.
He stretches his legs out in front of him. “Nah, I need to sit for a little longer.”
Liar. He’s sitting for me, and it definitely earns him some bonus points.
About the time I can breathe without effort, Trev says, “I think I’m ready. How about you?”
He’s paying attention to what I need—more nice guy points. “Sure. Let’s go.”
We walk casually now. The trail has started to level out again, leaving me with enough air to actually talk. “Have you and Aiden been hanging out lately? You know, other than the night when you brought my mom home.” I ramble off a bit at the end.
“Yeah, he was the first person I looked up when I came into town. Actually, he let me crash on his couch for a couple of days until I found my house.”
“That sounds like Aiden. He’s a good friend to everyone.” I know he’s always looking out for Mom and me.
“He is. We hang out every now and then. The night I saw you—and your mom—we were finishing up a night of poker with some guys from school. It was great to see them again.” He laughs a bit and then continues, “Even though I burned through the cash I brought for the night.”
“You’re not a card shark then, huh?” I ask.
“Nah, but it’s fine. The guys went easy on me.”
Before I know it, we’re nearing the end of the trail, and the waterfall’s roar is getting louder and louder. The views are beautiful and the mist coming off the falls feels fantastic, like tiny darts of cold against my skin.
When we reach our takeoff point, I stand on the jagged granite and look over the narrow river-cut valley two hundred feet below us. It takes my breath away for a completely different reason. I don’t look straight down and across the valley. I’ll save the thrill of looking down for when I start my descent.
The sparkling river weaves through the forest, and I can only catch glimpses of it where the trees are thin. This reminds me why I used to love camping and hiking. The air is fresh.
It would be easy to imagine that we’re the only two people on the planet. I haven’t done this nearly enough lately. Obvious, by my heart rate back there.
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Just behind me, Trev has already opened his pack and is setting our line. I take out my harness and strap in, cinching the waist and running the strap back through the buckle to secure it. I pull out my gloves and turn to see what Trev is doing.
The line is in, and he’s taken a wide, athletic stance, testing it. He leans back and his leg muscles tighten, as do his arms. His T-shirt pulls across his chest. Every muscle in his legs is defined.
Wow! Definitely loving the shorts. The bronzed skin on his arms ripples between smooth muscle and veins. This whole time, I’ve been looking at Trev—he’s powerful, amazing.
I take a deep breath and avert my eyes before he catches me staring. More like ogling. Who thought rappelling would be so hot? And I don’t mean the weather.
“It’s ready for you,” he says, releasing his harness from the rope and waving me forward. “Safety first.” His arms lift to shoulder height, and I check his harness. He checks mine, After he tugs on the helmet strap under my chin, his hand grazes my cheek, leaving a hot trail.
He doesn’t step away.
We’re almost toe to toe.
With one little lean, I could be in his arms. Chills race across my skin. A slight breeze at my back tosses wispy tendrils from around my face toward him. Emotion deep in my chest reaches for him too.
He may not be that skinny kid anymore, but he’s still the shy boy I used to know. I’ve already gone more than halfway—he’ll have to make the next move. The tension of holding back intensifies my longing to be with him.
It doesn’t make me lightheaded to look down a five-hundred-foot drop, but looking into his bronze eyes does, and I know “safety first” has imploded.
He must have realized it at the same time because he clenches his teeth and pulls me away from the rope. He leads me to a fallen log where we can sit, and gives a gentle squeeze to my hand before he lets go. He gazes up at the sky. Reluctantly, I turn to see what he’s looking at.
“That one,” he says, pointing to a cloud. “It looks like a turtle.”
My heart thuds with heavy longing. Moments ago, I saw attraction in his gaze. I know, because I feel it in myself, a desire to jump all in, to let go and see where this will take us. But he’s pulled us back from that cliff. He’s pulled us back to our sensible selves, but I think even Sensible Zara is disappointed.
