Tying the Knot (20 page)

Anne arrived after lunch, dragging a sleeping bag, a dog bowl, and her pillow. “Can you carry my suitcase, Noah?”

He could carry the entire SUV if she wanted, to Siberia and back. “Sure.”

His heart skipped out ahead of him as he hauled her suitcase, bulging with clothes and whatever else women needed, from the back hatch. He ran to the outfitter’s shack for another cot. When he returned, Melinda, Katie, and Granny D. were already giving Anne the deluxe tour. He stood outside the door, feeling like a fox in a henhouse, listening to the ladies giggle. Obviously he wasn’t the only one overjoyed by their newest arrival.

He knocked on the door, and all went silent. Frowning, he opened it. Melinda and Katie flanked Anne like ladies-in-waiting. “Well,” Melinda barked, “put it down and back out!” She shooed him away with a gleam in her eye.

Noah had the oddest feeling that the camp program had just begun to spiral out of his control.

Thirty minutes later, he attempted to scrape up a modicum of authority by gathering the staff on the lodge steps and announcing the afternoon’s activity.

“Ropes course? What’s that?” Anne’s eyes widened with a look of sheer panic.

“Calm down, Anne,” Ross said. “It’s fun. It’s something Bucko and I rigged up to help the kids prepare for rock climbing. They’ll work on knots and get the hang of being on belay.”

“Not to mention confront their fear of heights.” Bucko had a decidedly wicked smile when he wanted one.

Noah grimaced. “Anne, if you want to beg out—”

“No way.” She had a delicious jut to her jaw when she acted tough. “I’m on this staff. I’m doing the ropes course.”

Noah nearly hugged her. Perhaps that would wait until tonight, around a flickering campfire, with the loons serenading and the breeze . . .

He felt his face flame at the look Bucko gave him. He gulped and shouldered a coil of climbing rope. “Grab your gear. We have a little hike ahead.”

He didn’t miss the murmur and chuckles that trailed him as he marched off into the brush. So much for respect from the masses.

Surely Noah had lost his marbles. Anne stared over the fifty-foot perch at the ground below and shook her head. “Nope. Not going down that thing. Not for a zillion dollars. No way.”

Beside her, Ross laughed. Easy for him. He’d already been tied into the metal contraption they called a zip line and rocketed down, doing some sort of acrobatic dance meant to make her feel like a klutz. Anne heard Noah calling encouragement to her from the bottom. Ropes course . . . more like death trap in the sky.

First they had her climb a rope ladder to a perch in a towering elm. Then she’d traversed a rope bridge that nearly sent her into the fetal position and had the rest of them in hysterics. Sure, she was trussed up in a webbing diaper they called a harness, meant to catch her if she fell. But she had named it “the tourniquet,” and she was 110 percent sure that the stringy diaper linking the rescue rope to the zip line with a flimsy hook wasn’t going to do anything more than unravel like a badly knit sweater.

And wouldn’t the ugly splotch in the dirt be an attractive way to inspire confidence in their new camp nurse?

Now they wanted her to dangle from a T-contraption and whiz down to the ground into Noah’s waiting arms. She had to admit that reward was almost worth the terror . . . almost. But she’d watched Melinda’s speed-of-light journey, accompanied by her shrieks and the whine of metal on metal. And short of lighting her backside on fire, she wasn’t taking that death-wish trolley down to the ground.

Then again, the other option, as Ross had suggested, was to swing herself over the edge and rappel down. As in fall. Anne peered over the edge and knew she’d turned into a full-fledged, yellow-bellied coward. “Nope,” she repeated just in case no one heard her the first time.

Ross sat on the perch, looking smug, a grin on his clean-shaven face. “Anne, trust me; it’s safe. Noah checked your harness. I checked your belay. It’s fun.” A lilt tipped his voice, as if he were talking to a ten-year-old.

She glared at him.

“Grab the pulley and jump.”

Right into midair and sure death. She made a face at Ross that she hoped communicated exactly how she felt about his suicide suggestion.

He laughed and called out, “Noah, she’s not going! I told you.”

Anne gaped at him. “You told him what?”

Ross lost the teasing look. “I just said, well . . .”

“What?”

He shrugged, looking fairly chagrined for a cocky college kid.

“What?”

“It’s just that, well . . . okay, you don’t look like the adventurous type.”

Anne narrowed her eyes. Smart aleck. “I’ll have you know that I grew up in the inner city and have jumped between buildings higher than this tree, pal. I have more adventure in my little finger than you have in your entire puffed-up, empty head!”

Ross’s eyes widened, and he raised one blond eyebrow as if in disbelief. “Okay, so, prove it.” He grabbed the pulley. “Hop on.”

Anne swallowed and looked down at the ground. Noah did await her at the bottom, arms open, a solid rock wall of safety waiting to catch her. And she had . . . well, okay . . .
once
jumped between two buildings. It had been a stupid dare and she’d broken her leg, but still . . .

Truth be told, she simply wasn’t that gusto gal anymore. Anne the Adventurous had died an apropos death when she started working her EMT shifts. It had only taken scraping up a couple of unfortunate losers in a drag race for her to realize that safe living had its merits. Safe driving, no drinking, no drugs, and especially no high diving.

Then again, where had living safely landed her? Shot and in six months of rehab.

And this time Noah waited to catch her. He stood there like some mighty prince awaiting his Rapunzel. A swell of idiotic rapture made her bounce to her feet and grab the pulley.

The metal felt cold in her sweaty hands. Suddenly, all she could hear was the thunder of her pulse. Ross spoke, but his directions became a blur in the panic that swelled in her chest. Her legs shook. Her grip turned slick, loose. No! She was going to slip and fall and—

Ross gave her a push.

Anne screamed.

The ground rushed toward her. Her body flailed, yanked down by gravity. Her grip fought the slippery metal. Weakened . . .

She fell, lurched, and screamed again. The pulley screeched. The diaper pinched her thighs. The sickly sweet smell of burning.

She fixed on Noah. His face paled. He started to run.

The pulley jerked to a stop.

She hung dangling twenty feet from the ground. In a white-hot moment of sheer terror, she saw fear flash across Noah’s face.

Then the belay line ripped free of the pulley.

Anne’s heart leapt from her throat as she plunged to the ground.

Noah, catch me!

14

Anne fell in gut-wrenching slow motion. Her arms flailed. Her scream ripped Noah to shreds as he dove for her.
Please, God—!

He missed completely. She landed with a breath-stealing oomph.

Noah skidded to his knees a gulp behind her and scooped her up. “Anne, are you okay? Anne!” Her beautiful eyes were closed.
Oh, please, Lord, let her be okay.

Then her chin began to tremble, and she opened her eyes.

“Oh, Anne, I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head, as if unable to latch on to words.

“Is anything broken? Where are you hurt?”

She managed a tremulous breath. “I think I’m fine.” Noah heard Ross hollering and Melinda and Katie were rappelling down from their roosts.

“I’m so sorry,” he gasped, his words on a hiccup of horror. “I checked the gear. I did, but I must have missed—”

Her wide eyes, drinking in his apology with acceptance, made him stop. He couldn’t help himself. Relief poured through him as he pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She curled her fingers into his T-shirt and for a moment tensed within his embrace, as if still paralyzed by the fear flooding her veins. But then, with a glorious sigh that he felt to his bones, she relaxed and began to sob into his chest. He held her tight, knowing he could stay here forever, eyes closed, drinking in the intoxicating feeling of her trust.

“Is she okay?” Bucko ran up behind Noah and nearly knocked him over. “Any broken bones?”

Reluctantly, Noah let her go. Tears had etched grimy lines down her face and turned her eyes into pure, rich, gold-flecked jade. He used his thumb to wipe the moisture away and was rewarded with a heart-stopping smile. “Let’s get her back to camp,” Noah said, not wanting to let her go. He wrapped his arm around Anne’s waist and helped her to her feet. “Can you walk?”

Anne nodded, her gaze never leaving his.

She might be okay, but he knew she’d taken his heart with her in that fall.

Two hours later Noah stood on the trail to the cook’s cabin, waging World War III with his guilt. How had her belay line ripped? After he’d helped Anne back to camp, he, Ross, and Bucko had hiked back to the ropes course, the gavel of indictment slamming with each step.

Anne had nearly been killed.

What if it had been one of the campers?

Noah knew they’d been lucky—and perhaps negligent—when he examined the trolley on the zip line. When she’d taken off, the belay rope attached to the metal line got tangled in the pulley. The combination of heat and pressure on the hemp rope had frayed the belay line. A freak accident, but preventable. He should have used a nylon climbing rope. He should have attached the carabiner to the trolley.

He should never have forced Anne to jump off a five-story perch. He’d seen the terror on her face, and instead of pressuring her into something he thought she needed, he could have been a hero—the protector he’d promised he’d be. He should have climbed up and rescued her.

Instead he’d pushed her right into danger. He felt sick.

He already had serious fears that catastrophe loomed like a guillotine, and accidents like Anne’s told him he flirted with fire. In twenty-four hours Wilderness Challenge would be filled with twenty teenagers with a legacy of crime and pain. Adding physical danger to that mix was a sure powder keg.

If he didn’t stay on his toes, this entire ministry would blow sky-high.

Noah scraped both hands through his hair. They came away slick with sweat. The sun had turned selfish and spent most of the afternoon sequestered behind slate gray thunderheads. The smell of storm laden the air, and even the breeze sounded angry.

What was he thinking? He’d done it again—rushed out without a nod at good judgment. And, again, he’d landed smack into folly.

It seemed to be a response he couldn’t shake, even though he knew the cost. He’d nearly cost lives and paid dearly for his impulsiveness. He heard the past rise like a phantom and mock him.

He was in over his head, and he was going to get someone killed. Again. He would have thought five years in lockup and the horror of his sins would have taught him to tread with caution.

Tears fell as Noah looked up to heaven. His fears threatened to swallow him whole.
God, I’ve made so many mistakes in this life. So many wrong choices. Please, help me to stay alert. To save lives, not cost them.

Unbelievably, he’d been saved from those past sins by the grace of Jesus Christ, and despite the tug toward despair, he’d cling to that reality now. He wasn’t Rock Man any longer. He was Noah Saved-by-Grace Standing Bear, standing on the Rock of his salvation. Even today, Anne had forgiven him. In the middle of his relentless barrage of “I’m sorrys,” as they trekked back to camp, she finally touched his lips with her hand and shook her head. Forgiveness, when shining in Anne’s incredible eyes, never looked so overwhelming.

Noah summoned his courage and marched toward the cook’s shack. Certainly by now the ladies had determined Anne’s injuries. At the least, he could say good-bye before he left in the camp bus to pick up the kids in the city.

He heard a gasp as he approached the cabin. A glow from a kerosene lamp hanging on the porch pushed back the gloom shrouding the forest and beckoned. Noah stepped up to the screen door. The inner door hung open. He heard Anne’s voice and instantly brightened. She was alive and obviously in the middle of a story.