"Mom would’ve rather had it be me.”
“No, it’s not like that,” Christopher said.
“It felt that way to me.”
“Let go of that one. Forgive her. It’s only hurting you now—holding on to all that anger.” His freckle-covered nose wrinkled. “I'd have loved to be there when they put that medal around your neck. But I was up here all along. Looking down on you, cheering you. Jesus too. He loves the Olympics."
I laughed. "I always wondered about that. Like does God have a favorite football team?"
“He has a favorite quarterback. I mean, Brady switched teams and still won the Super Bowl."
I laughed again—the belly laugh I used to share with my brother. Then it occurred to me. Was I dead?
“Is this it? How it all goes down? I die in a car accident?"
"No, you've still got a lot left to do. It’s not true, you know."
"What's that?" I asked
“That only the good die young." He smiled his brilliant smile. "You're one of the good ones, brother. Don't forget that. There's more for you to do. Your purpose is quite clear."
"But what is it?"
"Family.”
“As in, have one?”
“Not make one, but build one.”
“What’s the difference?”
“You’ll see. Keep your eyes open. There’s another thing—Mom and Dad. They’re supposed to come back together.”
“I don’t know if you can see this from up here, but that ship has sailed. He’s on his fourth wife.”
“Doesn’t matter. Bring them to Emerson Pass for the holidays.”
“Dude, that’s a bad idea. You haven’t been here.”
“Trust me.”
And then he was gone, leaving only blackness.
5
Crystal
As I cleaned Brandi’s kitchen, I waited for a return text from Garth, but it never came. The snow was falling as hard as I’d ever seen it. Wind had picked up, too, howling through the trees. We were in a full-blown blizzard. Please, God, don’t let him be out in this.
I jumped when my phone rang. I scuttled over, hoping it was Garth. To my surprise, it was my mother.
"Hi, Mom," I said. "What's up?”
"Hi, honey.” Mom hesitated. “I was wondering—could I come visit for a few weeks? I’d stay at the lodge.”
“You’re always welcome. But why? I thought you had your new art show opening in a few weeks."
“That kind of fell through." Her voice shook, followed by a sniff.
“What happened?” She was supposed to have a show at her boyfriend Romeo’s gallery during the month of November. As well as she did now, she still felt insecure about her work. This show had been a boost to her confidence.
“I pulled the contract. There’s no way I’m letting that snake display my work.”
I went hot. “What did he do?” Like my late husband, Romeo had made a fortune in high tech. He’d sunk a lot of money into the Seattle art scene and owned a huge gallery in the coveted downtown area. In just five years it had become the gallery for emerging and established artists. I found him pretentious and obnoxious. Unlike my mother, who oozed with talent, both as a critic and a creator, Romeo wouldn’t recognize quality unless someone with an eye told him so. During their two-year relationship, I’d kept all that to myself. I wanted nothing more than for my mother to be happy. If he was the one she wanted, so be it.
“Do you remember the assistant? Moira?” Mom asked. “The one with all the tattoos?”
“Sure.” Moira had been at my mother’s last holiday party. A skinny thing that reminded me of a wisp of smoke. Not just because she smoked copious cigarettes on my mother’s balcony but because, despite being in her twenties, she was gray and small and elusive. “Don’t tell me—he’s been sleeping with her.”
“That’s right.”
My heart sank. Poor Mom. She was kind and beautiful and way too trusting. When I was young, she’d been focused on me and her art. Despite having to work menial jobs to keep us fed and working on her pottery in the wee hours, I’d never gone without. When I was in high school, a gallery owner in San Francisco offered her a show. Her work took off, and she was able to focus only on her creative endeavors. Soon thereafter, she bought a loft downtown where she lived and worked.
After I left home, she became increasingly aware that she wanted and needed a companion. Romeo had been the third man it hadn’t worked out with. Like the others, the relationship had lasted a few years before blowing up, followed by a long period of time where she remained happily single, concentrating on her work. None of them were good enough for her, yet she gave away her power to keep them happy. I’d hated the way she’d diminish herself to feed their fragile egos. Knowing this about herself, after the second failed relationship, she’d promised to remain single. Then stupid Romeo had come along and changed her mind.
I wanted so badly for her to find someone to settle down with. She’d had me when she was nineteen and had sacrificed so much to raise me alone, including finding a nice man when she was young.
“Mom, I’m surprised you want to come here, but I’d love it.” The memory of that day so long ago when I’d asked Nan about why Mom never visited Emerson Pass came to me. A boy had broken her heart. I’d asked her again later, when I was teenager, “Shouldn’t Mom be over whoever it was who broke her heart?”
Nan had looked out the window in her kitchen with a faraway look in her eyes. “My Jennifer was always a hard one to pin down exactly.” It was true. My mother was like the wind, free and powerful yet hard to see. Despite how fun and beautiful she was, there was something below the surface that hinted at something deeply heartbreaking.
I’d asked my grandmother then for the first and only time if she knew anything about my father.
She’d shaken her head. “Whoever he was, it happened after she’d already left us for Seattle. She refused to say anything about him.”
The only time I’d ever had the courage to ask my mother about my unknown father, she’d told me he was someone just passing through Seattle. She didn’t even know his name. “A drunken evening with a stranger. Don’t ever do that, do you hear me?” Then, uncharacteristically, she’d shut down any more questions. She’d always encouraged me to be curious about all things, to explore and question. But not this. The identity of my father was not something she wanted to discuss. So we didn’t.
The hole left by his absence was just that. This dark, cold, unknown space of emptiness. From time to time, I thought about doing one of those DNA tests, but something always stopped me. If I’d found him, this nameless man, I would disrupt everyone’s life. His, my mother’s, and my own. What good would it do for any of us? For this reason, I left it alone.
“Mom, I could use your help. Brandi’s on bed rest. I’ve got my hands full with the shelter and all the rest. I’d love it if you could help me look after her.”
"Oh no. Is she all right?" My mother was very fond of Brandi. Over the years, Brandi had come to visit us many times.
“Yes, she's fine for now. The baby’s fine, too. But she has to stay on bed rest or she might go into premature labor."
"She must be worried sick."
"She is,” I said.
“Plus, her parents’ divorce must be hard on her.”
“Not really. Brandi’s been happier since her mother moved away.” Her mother, Malinda, had already found a boyfriend. I felt bad for Jack, but I thought both he and Brandi were better off without her toxicity.
“Why’s that?” Mom asked.
“You know how Malinda was.”
“Only from what you’ve told me.”
“Trust me, she’s better off. Especially now. She doesn’t need any stress.”
“Agree.” A slight pause before she asked, “How’s Jack doing?”
“He’s good too. Excited about the baby.”
“I bet he is. He’s always been a family guy,” Mom said. “I mean, from what Brandi�
�s said anyway.”
“Absolutely. There’s no better father than Jack Vargas. Although I think Trapper’s going to give him a run for his money.” I told Mom how Trapper had been online researching the safest baby equipment and making spreadsheets to decide which to buy.
“Trapper’s a sweet boy,” Mom said. “I’m looking forward to seeing him.”
“When can you come?”
“I’ll try to get a flight out for Denver tomorrow. If that’s all right?”
“Whenever you want to come is fine with me. I’ll send a car for you. The weather’s bad and I don’t want to drive all that way.”
“Are you sure? A driver seems extravagant.”
“Mom.”
“Yes, right. Money’s no object.”
“Not if it means you’ll come visit,” I said. “I have a guy here with a big four-wheel drive type of vehicle. He’ll get you here safely.”
“That would be lovely. I’m anxious to get out of here and to see you. My heart’s pretty bruised, honey.”
Part of me had thought she’d use the weather as an excuse and say she’d come later with no specific date. Eventually, she’d decide against the trip and cancel on me. However, there was a certainty in her voice that made me think otherwise. “Mom, I have to ask. Why now? You’ve never wanted to come here.”
“People change.”
“They do?”
“Well, sure. Anyway, you and Brandi need my help. It’s good to have a purpose. It’ll help keep my mind off Romeo.”
"I'm sorry, Mom. I know you really cared about him."
"It's not the first time I've had my heart broken, unfortunately. But as they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger?”
I chuckled. "Mom, that's not supposed to sound like a question."
"I wish it wasn't."
We chatted for a few more minutes about flight schedules and arrival times. I almost suggested we have dinner with Garth until I remembered that was no longer an option. I hadn't mentioned him much to my mother. She knew he was my neighbor and that we were both staying at Trapper’s. Other than that, I kept my complex feelings about him to myself. I didn't want to get her excited. In addition, talking about him with her would have made the relationship feel more real. The more real it was, the harder it would be to walk away from him.
I felt a pang in my chest at the thought of Garth. Since I’d been busy all day helping Brandi and Trapper, I’d been able to put him somewhat out of my mind. Now, however, darkness had fallen and the thought of him not coming home tonight hurt more than I liked to admit.
After Patrick's death, if not for my mother and Brandi, I’m not sure how I would have gotten through. People always say that. After a tragedy, one inevitably thinks about the loved ones who were there by your side. Both my mother and Brandi had been there for all the good and bad moments of my life. My graduation from culinary school. My short stint on the runway. The glorious days of my first chef job. My wedding day. The best day of my life. They both had been there beaming at me as I walked down the aisle.
Don't think about it now, I told myself. I can't shed another tear. Not today.
And then another thought came. One that I hadn't expected. Would the tears be for Patrick? I wasn’t certain. Was I mourning the loss of Garth? Had I sent him away when I really wanted him to stay? Had I sabotaged something beautiful? Made up a reason to send him away? He was a skier. But he was a real one. Not a rich high-tech mogul who bought an expensive ski vacation with his other geeky friends.
Garth was an Olympic gold medalist. He knew the slopes the way I knew my way around a kitchen knife. I hadn’t cut myself in years. A ski accident was unlikely. So what was this really about? Was it truly that I was just too afraid to risk losing someone again? It made no sense, if you really thought about it. Lightning doesn't strike the same tree twice, does it? And yet the thought of giving my heart fully to someone again seemed impossible. But Garth? Was he the same type of man as Patrick had been? Yes, they were both adventurous. Did the similarity end there? Garth was a family man. The type of man you called when you needed someone. Was I making a mistake?
As much as I hated to admit it to myself, the physical aspects of my time with Garth had been breathtaking. He took my breath away. He increased my breath. He gave me breath. Was it enough to risk the possibility that he might at some point leave me? Even if we had forty years together, at the end he would die, and I would be left alone to grieve the man I loved all over again. Would it be easier because we’d had more time together than Patrick and me? That I could not answer.
"Mom, I should go. Call me in the morning and let me know what time your flight is.”
"I'll look forward to it, baby."
We hung up, and I finished what was left of the dishes, then went to the patio doors to peer out into the storm.
I shivered again. A nagging dread trickled its way down my spine. A sense of foreboding filled me. Something was wrong. I could feel it.
I paced around my bedroom. Garth was out there in this weather. Trapper had confirmed that Garth was on his way to his own house. Given my calculations, he should have been there an hour ago.
“Dammit,” I whispered to myself as I reached for my phone and typed in a text.
Please, text me back. I just want to know if you’re all right.
Nothing. It said delivered but not read. I wanted to scream. He wasn’t coming back. I hugged myself as a chill entered my bones. He was in trouble. I knew it.
Many nights around this time Garth and I would meet in one of our rooms to watch television or a movie together. We'd fallen into the habit of domesticity and friendship, not to mention our fun between the sheets. Tonight, however, I was alone for the first time in many months. I didn't know how I had let myself get into this position, or when exactly I'd let my guard down. Now I was in too deep.
Why hadn’t he replied to my text earlier? I’d seen that he read it. Usually, he responded right away. But what did I expect? I’d sent him away. Yet some part of me had hoped that he would come home anyway. I knew his house was empty of furniture. He wouldn’t even have a place to sleep. Knowing him, he would want to give me space, and probably sleep on the floor so as not to cause me any discomfort.
I am a weak person, I thought to myself as I typed in another text.
I’m starting to panic. Please tell me you’re all right.
Nothing.
I went to the window and peered into the night. At least six inches had accumulated in the last thirty minutes. Trapper had already called Breck and Huck. They’d confirmed that he was on his way home before the weather turned for the worst. What had taken him so long to get here? Had he stupidly stopped somewhere and then set out too late?
I plopped down on my bed and covered my face with a pillow.
I spoke to him silently. Please be safe and mad at me. Please let that be the reason you haven’t written back.
Feeling unsettled and sure I’d be awake all night, I climbed into bed. I tossed and turned and checked my phone dozens of times. At some point, exhausted, I fell asleep. When I woke next, the light through the window told me that morning had come, bringing with it clear skies. I grabbed my phone. Still no messages. I got out of bed and went to the window. Trapper had already cleared a spot in the driveway. He was going out? At least six feet of snow covered the yard. Would the snowplows have come through already? I glanced at the clock. It was almost nine. How had I slept so late when Garth could be hurt? Shivering from worry and cold, I put on my flannel bathrobe and was about to go downstairs. A tap on the door beat me to it.
“Crystal, are you awake?” Trapper asked from the other side of the door.
I hurried over and yanked open the door. The moment I saw his expression, I knew I was right. Garth was hurt. My heart beat faster as he stepped into the room.
“Is it Garth?”
“Yes, he slid off the road last night on his way back to the house.”
My chest tightened. I cou
ld hardly breathe. “Is he alive?”
“He’s alive. As far as they could tell, he ran off the road because of the storm. They airlifted him to Louisville.”
I stumbled backward. The bed caught my fall. No, I screamed silently. I’d known something was wrong. “Louisville?” The hospital in Emerson Pass was small but usually adequate. “If he’s in Louisville, that means it’s bad, right?”
“His leg needed surgery to repair the broken bones. He broke a few ribs as well. When they found him he was unconscious. Between the weather and the tree he crashed into, it took some doing to get him out of there. They’re still doing tests on his brain. He hit his head hard on the windshield.”
The room spun as I wrapped my arms around my middle. I was afraid I might be sick. “He’s going to be all right, isn’t he? What else did they say?”
“They wouldn’t tell me much over the phone, other than the surgery on his leg. I’ll know more once I get there.”
“How did you find out about the accident?”
“I called our local hospital, then the ones in Louisville until I found him.” Trapper’s eyes were bloodshot. He’d been up half the night too.
Why hadn’t I thought of calling the hospitals? I couldn’t even do that right. Garth deserved so much better than me. “Why didn’t I think of that?” I asked out loud.
“Brandi was the one who suggested I try to find him. I couldn’t get any information until early this morning or I would have woken you.”
A car accident? A stupid car accident? What was it about machinery that didn't hold up its end of the bargain?
“The roads have been cleared. I’m going to go the hospital. Can you stay with Brandi?”
"I should go to him,” I said.
“No, let me go. I don’t want you driving. You’re too upset, and the roads are going to be slick.”
For some reason that made no sense whatsoever, I was hurt. Of course Trapper was on his contact list. Trapper was his best friend. I was only someone he’d been sleeping with. God, I hated this. I hated everything about it. Not only that he was hurt, but that I was right. People I cared about died. This is what happened when you loved people. They left you.
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