Never Too Late (31 page)

“Yeah, I knew that was going to happen. How'd it go?”

He shrugged. “It was half an ass chewing and half a warning that Sarah might not be as rock solid as she appears. Maggie told me about the nervous breakdown. It's really hard for me to grasp. She's not like that with me.” His voice had become soft. Almost soothing.

“She hates that we think she's fragile. It makes her furious. Did you tell her what Maggie said?”

“I did. You're right, it makes her furious. But I talked her down—I think she understands Maggie meant well. I'm glad to have a chance to talk to you about it. Sarah told me everything—from those crazy growing-up years and all the wild oats, to the time following your
mother's death. She's been through a lot, but I think she's stronger now.” He chuckled. “She must have really been something when she was a kid. Now that, I believe.”

“I'm amazed you told her.”

“Of course I told her, Clare. We had a couple of very long discussions about it and I'm confident that she's all right. I don't think you have to worry about that anymore. Let me worry about it.”

“Sam, she is so in love with you, it's almost painful to watch. If you hurt her, I don't know what it will do to her.”

“I'm not going to hurt her, Clare. You have to believe me. I'm going to do the right thing. I
want
to do the right thing.”

“Good,” she said.

He cocked his head to one side and said, “It seems like there's something you want to say to me. Let's get it out.”

“No, there's nothing.”

“For Sarah, Clare. She's completely devoted to you. If there's anything you wonder about, let's clear the air.”

“Well,” she said, hesitatingly.

“Say it.”

She took a breath. “You seeing Sarah…It didn't have anything to do with me, did it?”

His brow furrowed. “In what way?”

“You weren't trying to get back at me? By taking up with my little sister?”

“How would that get back at you? I guess I don't get it.”

“I know you thought you were in love with me and I hurt you. You might've been needy. Or, I don't know. Angry.”

His grin was suddenly huge. “Aw, Jesus, the way you women think.”

“Well you have to admit, it's pretty strange that we'd only broken it off by a month or so when—”

“When Sarah laid her trap for me and I fell right into it?” He laughed. “Clare, you're a great catch, no kidding, but if you hadn't cut me loose, I wouldn't have Sarah.” He whistled. “You have absolutely no idea what I have now. All that I have.”

Whatever that look was that had crossed his features, she must have mistaken its meaning. God, it wasn't for her! she suddenly realized. It was for Sarah! “You almost sound as though you're in love with her.”

“Do I now?” he asked. “I never believed you for a second, you know—that there was someone out there who would be perfect for me. Breaking it off was the best thing you could ever have done for me because I would have never even looked at Sarah if we were together.” He shrugged. “I'm just a plain old one-woman man. And…I didn't know I could be this happy.”

“Oh, God,” she said. “Oh, Sam!”

“You knew what you were doing, Clare. It wasn't right. This is.”

“Sam, that's wonderful.” Clare threw her arms around him and hugged his neck. “That's so wonderful!”

He almost fell over from her assault, but righted himself and laughed at her. “Does this mean you're not disappointed that I'm completely over you?” he asked.

“You'll just never know—”

His radio sputtered. “We've got skiers in restricted areas. Big Bear.”

“Sarah!” He bent and popped the bindings, stepping out of his skis.

“She wouldn't go in a restricted area,” Clare said.

He put the skis over his shoulder and started to jog away from her. “She would if Jason were there!”

A couple of ski patrols ran out of the pro shop and headed for snowmobiles. A couple more jumped on the lift Sarah had used. They'd go up to the ridge, but these patrols were not going to go into restricted areas. Skiers knew they went there at their own risk. Sam ran to a stand of snowmobiles, propped his skis on the back, strapped them in and fired up the machine. The advanced hill nearest Big Bear was too steep for the snowmobile; he could better access the area from the ridge above the intermediate grade. Skiers were coming down the hill and he kept his ride as close to the trees as he could without grazing any of them. When he got to the top, he drove along the ridge and up the next slope to a higher one. When he got to the top of the expert hill to the north of Big Bear, he got off and put on his skis. Going through the red flags, he made his way as quickly as possible to the top of the Big Bear run.

About halfway down the hill he saw a skier and snowboarder, stopped. Talking. Sarah had gone in pursuit. He wasn't going to follow her, but watch her descent, and when she was out of danger, he'd take the expert hill down. And spank the daylights out of her. “That damn woman,” he muttered. Then he heard a loud crack and a rumble and said, “Son of a bitch!”

 

Jason was wedging right and left when he saw his aunt Sarah's pink bib and jacket—coming down the hill after him. He put a little speed into it and then asked himself why bother—she'd catch him anyway and his ass would be in a sling. So he wedged right and
stopped. Stan kept going. He was going to get out of harm's way.

She came upon him easily, sending up a spray of snow as she stopped. She whacked him right up the side of the head with one mittened hand. “You little jerk,” she said. “You're an idiot.”

“Hey, Sarah, cut me some slack.”

“Slack? In your dreams. When we get down I'm going to have to hold your mother back.”

“I saw you guys—and we'd already spent a bunch of money on the lift, so we just thought we'd stay outta sight and get a couple of runs in before going home.”

“You cut school! You're on a restricted hill! You're history!”

There was a loud boom. They turned and looked up. A heavy shelf of snow had broken off the ridge and hit the hill above and just barely to the right of them. If they stayed where they were, it was going to bury them.

“Go, go, go!” she yelled, though she could barely be heard against the thundering noise of the avalanche. “Outrun it, Jason! Go!”

Sarah couldn't do anything but fly. She jabbed her poles into the snow, flipped around and took off. She couldn't help Jason, couldn't give him speed. All she could do was pray that he'd know what to do. It was every man for himself. The avalanche was coming down to the right, so she cut down and left, tucked her poles and prayed. She neared the tree line that separated the runs and cut as close as she dared, as far from the avalanche as she could get and keep going down. She weaved in and out of the widely separated trees near the run, but where they got thicker, she was forced to stay out. There was too much growth, rocks and junk to go
through the bush to the run on the other side of the tree line that separated the slopes.

Sarah expertly maneuvered, shushing around the trees, the barrage getting ever closer. Inside her mind was screaming, Please, Jason, please. Run, run, run. Outrun it. She cut left, right, left, right, barely dodging the trees. She felt the wind of the falling tonnage of snow whip at her from the side—it must be right next to her. She was clear of it or it would have buried her by now, but the bottom was not yet in sight. And then it happened; all the dust from the snow was blinding. A whiteout. She could barely see and was too close to the trees to continue skiing. She slowed, came up to the tree line and hung on to a trunk. She looked to her right. If it wasn't passing her, she was toast. She heard the rumble as it roared by.

The avalanche seemed to have spared the very left side of the slope, which meant only half of that weak shelf had let go. She prayed Jason had cut across to safety, but she highly doubted he would dare the trees. And if he had, he might not be able to handle them as well as she had; he was getting good, but not that good. She must get down and see if he made it. It was hard to see. It would be a little like skiing by braille. And she'd have to get out of the trees.

She pushed off and was moving through the trees when her ski went over something—a rock hidden in the snow perhaps—giving her left ski a fast, erratic turn. And she felt it—her knee seemed to pop and snap. She went down. A tendon, she thought immediately. Probably a torn anterior cruciate ligament, a very common skiing injury.

She dragged herself against a tree. If any more of
that snow shelf let go, she was sunk. Trapped. Dead. The trees wouldn't keep her safe; there was no shelter out here. She was going to rest a minute before doing anything. She thought about going down on one ski—she could do that. Or maybe it would be better to slide. She could sit on her skis—but it was impossible to bend her knee. Maybe she could crawl or roll the rest of the way. But at the moment there was just too much pain. And she still couldn't see anything as the whiteout slowly, so slowly, settled to the ground.

 

Sam saw Jason and Sarah take off like the seats of their pants were on fire, but it was only a few seconds before their images were obscured by the dust of the rapidly descending flood of snow. He saw Sarah's bright pink jacket as she cut left, toward the trees, but he lost sight of Jason in the white cloud.

As soon as the thunder subsided, he keyed his radio. “Control, I made one skier and one snowboarder on Big Bear, trying to outrun the avalanche.” The air was thick with snow, slowly settling to the ground, but so gradually he still couldn't see anything down there. The fallout hung in the air for what seemed like forever. He waited until he could see a path near the top, and it was the longest few minutes of his life. By the time the cloud was somewhat settled, there were two more ski patrols off the lift and beside him.

His radio answered him. He tipped his head to the left to listen to the transmitter attached to his shoulder. “We don't have them down here. Yet.”

“Damn it,” he muttered.

“It was a boy on a snowboard and a woman on skis,”
he told the patrols. “The woman cut left and I lost the boy. She might've taken refuge in the trees. I'm going down.”

“It's unstable, man,” one of the patrols said. “You shouldn't chance it.”

“Yeah, well, if she's down there, I'm going to get her out of there before the rest of it goes,” he said.

“We'll go down The Crown and work our way up with a toboggan and search poles,” the other patrol said.

Sam didn't even bother to respond. Enough of the snow had settled so that it looked more like thick fog than a whiteout. He pushed off and skied down. He prayed as he went, and he skied as slowly as he could make himself. He didn't want to miss her; he didn't want to hit a tree. Those trees, he found himself thinking, just have no give. The powder was deep and too soft, the air was white with fallout from the avalanche. He stayed close to the tree line. At about the place he thought he'd seen her cut over, he slowed to a near stop and peered into the trees. He was afraid to shout, afraid he might create an echo that would dislodge more of the weak shelf.

If I lose her, I'll die, was all he could think. I can't live like that. I'll never make it without her. Not now.

The fresh dusting of snow had covered any tracks, and then he saw a couple. Around this tree, around that. Damn, she was good. At the speed she was going, to clear those trees in the middle of that horrendous avalanche was astonishing. Then he saw a flash of bright pink, crumpled up against a tree. “Skier versus tree,” he said into his radio.

He made his way cautiously into the trees, shushing between them slowly. Her head was down, one knee bent up and the other leg straight. Move, he was think
ing. Let me see you move! It seemed to take forever to get to her, but at last he was next to her. He knelt down. “Sarah!” he whispered.

She looked up at his face, tears of pain streaming down her cheeks. “'Bout time,” she said. “The service around here sucks.”

He put his gloved hands on her face. “God, Sarah! What were you doing?”

“Going after my nephew. Please. Tell me he made it.”

“I lost sight of you both, but I saw you cut toward the trees. I died a hundred times. Did you hit the tree? Your head? Anything?”

“No. I was doing pretty good, then my knee went out. I think I blew a tendon or ligament. Oh man, it hurts.”

“Thank God it's just your knee. We gotta get out of here,” he said. “A big piece of that weak shelf broke off. It's just a matter of time before the rest of it goes.”

“I can't ski. Sam, you shouldn't be here. It's dangerous.”

“You think I could leave you? Come on, up on the good leg. We can't wait for rescue—we're gonna do this the old-fashioned way.” He picked her up and leaned her against a tree, balanced on her good leg. He popped the bindings on her skis and once off, they began to slide down the hill. He braced himself against the tree and said, “Put your arms around my neck, and let me do the work—if you try to help, we'll fall.” He lifted her into his arms. She let a small yelp of pain escape as her knee bent over his arm. He kept his shoulder against the tree. He kissed her cheek. “Just trust me, Sarah. Stay very still.”