Chapter 3
three
PETER
“Good morning,” I greet Geneva when she arrives downstairs bright and early the next morning. She’s wearing a pair of athletic leggings, a tank top, and wool socks. She sets her shoes by mine at the back door.
“Something smells good,” she says, sliding onto one of the barstools.
“I thought we could use something good to eat before heading out.” It’s still dark outside, so we have time.
I set a large bowl of oatmeal in front of her. She loads it up with cream, brown sugar, raisins, walnuts, and cinnamon. I scoop out some fruit from a container. When the English muffins are toasted, I add butter.
“Did you think to buy food for the trail?” she asks between bites.
“On the table, waiting to be packed.”
She spins around to look at the food I organized on the coffee table before turning back around. “Nailing it, Peter.”
It takes everything in my power not to turn that statement into something obscene.
“What? Nothing?”
“Behave, Geneva,” I growl. She rolls her eyes.
We finish our breakfast quickly. I know she’s anxious to get on the trails. When our packs are loaded and we’re layered properly, we drive to Glacier Point.
There are several cars in the lot, but no one is around. I suspect we’re between the diehard hikers and the recreational ones. We shrug into our backpacks. Geneva has a rare smile on her face.
“Lead on,” I say, handing her the GPS.
She strides toward the trail. I have to move quickly to keep from getting left behind. She sets a punishing pace. By the time she finally stops at Illilouette Falls, I’ve realized I’m not in as good a shape as I think. The two-and-a-half miles down the mountain feels more like fifteen.
“Wow,” she whispers. That makes the blisters threatening my feet all worth it. “Have you ever seen anything like it?” She grins at me, and my knees grow weak.
“Never,” I agree. I’m not talking about the scenery. Her cheeks are pink, her eyes are shining when she looks at me, and I’ve never seen anything better than Geneva with a smile.
“Why haven’t we done this before? What were we thinking?” she asks with a laugh.
“I guess we weren’t.” I pull out my phone and snap a couple of pictures with her in them. She’s even in a good enough mood to agree to a selfie. Must be the lack of oxygen.
“Ready?” She starts back down the trail before I can protest, and I fall in step behind her.
The trail to Nevada Falls is longer and full of switchbacks. We meet another pair of hikers going in the opposite direction up the mountain. They must be insane. Downhill is hard enough. After a quick greeting, we continue toward the falls.
Geneva veers off the trail after a series of switchbacks. The path is unmarked, but she acts like she knows where she’s going, so I follow. I have to give her credit, the view is amazing.
We decide to eat something in a clearing just big enough for us to sit down. I pull out a pack of tuna I see her eat at the office. There’s trail mix, mandarin oranges, peanut butter crackers, and cubes of cheese.
“You’re good at this,” she says, scooping out the tuna. If she could see my legs shaking, she wouldn’t say that. “We should do this more often.”
“Maybe we’ll have more time now to take some time off.” I offer her the trail mix. She takes a handful.
“Do you think Rand would want to come?”
“I think so.” The hint of uncertainty concerns me. Geneva is nothing if not self-assured. It hasn’t occurred to me until now that Rand’s new life might be having more of an impact on her than I realized.
“I bet Bront? will be onboard also,” I continue. “We should plan something for the four of us in a couple of months. Maybe a trip to Big Bend to check out that park.”
“We should probably keep going,” she says after considering my suggestion in silence for a moment.
“Are you sure we don’t want to take the Muir Trail? I read it’s not quite as steep.”
“Come on, Peter.” Standing, she helps me up. “Don’t be such a pussy.”
There’s the Geneva I know. We rejoin the main trail and continue on. We hike through small streams and switchbacks until we eventually reach Nevada Falls. She insists we take the footbridge for a bird’s-eye view of the falls. More photos, a quick snack, and off we go.
We reach the Mist Trail, and I get a good look at the steep rock staircase we have to descend. I would really like to turn around. We should turn around, but Geneva is excited about pushing us past what I believe we’re capable of. We start our descent slowly, picking our way down the rocks.
I know why they call it the Mist Trail. A gentle mist adds to the treachery of the descent, making the rocks wet. We should have turned around. I’m standing higher on the trail trying to catch my breath for a minute when it happens.
One moment, she’s on her feet, heading down. The next, she goes down, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. She cries out as she slides several feet down the rocks. My heart leaps into my throat. I can’t tell how far she’s fallen.
“Geneva!” I yell, throwing off my backpack. I scramble down as carefully as possible with my heart thundering in my chest. I kneel next to her. Her face is scrunched in pain.
“Where are you hurt?” My hands seem to have a mind of their own as they touch every inch of her body for injuries. She finally slaps them away. Weirdly, it’s comforting.
“My ankle,” she says between gritted teeth. I move so I can access her ankle. I can already see it swelling inside her boot.
“I don’t want to take your boot off. If it’s broken, I could do even more damage.”
She nods her head.
“Do you think you can put weight on it?”
She nods again. Carefully, I help her stand, but the second she puts weight on her left foot, she cries out.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” I mumble. I think I’m trying to assure myself as much as her. “Sit back down.”
I ease her back to the ground. Climbing back up the trail, I retrieve my backpack. I have to figure out how I’m going to get us down to the bottom. There’s no way I can haul us both back up the way we came. Sitting next to her, I dig through my pack.
“Here, take these,” I say, shaking some anti-inflammatories into my hand. She takes them without arguing. “I’m going to secure some ice around it.” I pull out two small ice packs, break them to start them getting cold and ease them into the sides of her boot. Then I pull out compression wrap and secure the entire ankle in it.
“How are you doing?” I pull off her sunglasses and watch her pupils dilate. That’s a good sign.
“I’ve been better,” she says, snatching her sunglasses back. That’s an even better sign. “You should keep going and send someone back for me.”
“Nope.” I don’t know how I’ll get her down, but I’m not leaving her here. “I’m not leaving you here.”
“Pete—”
“I said no.” I’m not wasting time listening to her argue with me. We’re going down together. I look at what we have to work with. It’s not much. “Can you wear your pack?” She nods.
I move everything important I can into her pack. She slides it on her shoulders, and I leave mine next to the trail. If we’re lucky, someone will find it and bring it down.
“Okay, let’s go.”
She whimpers when I pull her off the ground. I brace myself on the rocks and have her hop onto my back. She whimpers again but quickly stifles it. I know how much pain she’s in. I had a behemoth midfielder land on my ankle playing lacrosse in school, and they had to haul my butt off the field.
“You need to be as still as possible so I don’t lose my balance. This is going to take a while. If you need a rest, you have to let me know. We’ll stop.” I take a step down, and she tenses. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then trust me to get you down.” I slowly begin fighting my way down the mountain. My foot lowers to the next step. Her grip tightens around my shoulders. I can feel her puff out a breath every time my boot connects to the next rock.
I’ve made it halfway when I slip on some loose stones. We slide for a second before I can regain my balance.
“We’re fine, G. I’ve got you,” I reassure both of us.
“I know,” she whispers against my ear. “I trust you.”
I continue down until the trail evens out again. My knees buckle as I try to ease her to the ground. She scrambles off my back before I can recover. She swings her pack around to pull out the canteen. Gratefully, I take it.
“You can still leave me here and get help,” she argues. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not arguing with you. We stay together. I don’t want to leave you to the bears. If we’re together, they’re sure to eat me first. They always go for the ugliest first. You can get away.”
I’m joking. I don’t want to be eaten by a bear any more than the next person. But I’m rewarded with a slight smile from Geneva, which is what I was aiming for.
“That’s stupid. Even I know you’re too beautiful to be eaten first.” Her face reddens slightly, and she looks at the ground. “I think you are anyway.”
“We should probably keep going.” I don’t know what to think about her statement. She’s never said anything like it before. Does she think I’m beautiful? Shock must be setting in.
I help her back up and secure her pack on her back again. Bending, I wait until she’s firmly settled on my back before starting. It’s a matter of putting one foot in front of the other now.
A hike that should have taken us around seven hours takes us closer to eleven. I have to set her down several times to rest. Her ankle looks worse every time we stop. We’re saved when two rangers with flashlights find us a mile from the end of the trail.
“Hey, there. You must be our missing hikers. We found your vehicle at the other end and decided we’d better find you,” one of them says. I didn’t catch their names, I’m too focused on how ecstatic I am to finally get some help.
“Good thing we did,” the other one says. They ease Geneva off my back, each man taking a side. Slowly, they help her back to the trailhead. They load her into one of their vehicles and head toward the nearest emergency room. The other ranger takes me back to our vehicle.
“I don’t know how you hauled her down the Mist Trail like that,” the ranger says. “Usually people just leave the injured party where they are and hike out to find help. During the busy season, they just wait for someone to come along. She must really be something to hike that far with her on your back.”
“She’s my best friend’s sister. I couldn’t just leave her. He would kill me.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” I ignore the grin he throws at me. “Well, here we are.” He pulls up next to my SUV and gives me directions to the emergency room. I throw Geneva’s pack inside.
Spinning out of the parking area, I speed toward town. It’s a half hour before I reach the hospital.
“Geneva Randolph, please,” I ask the woman at the desk. She waves me to a row of curtains. I walk quickly down the row until I find her propped up in one of the beds. “Hey, how’s the ankle?”
“Well, it’s not broken,” an older man in a lab coat walking up says. He’s carrying an iPad in his hands. “The good news is, it’s just sprained. A couple of days of ice and rest should have you going again. Leave it wrapped until tomorrow, then I suggest you invest in a brace.” He tosses one on the bed. “Use an anti-inflammatory as needed.” He nods at us and walks off down the hall.
“Okay. I’d guess bedside manners are not his strong suit,” I say.
“Whatever. Just help me out of here.” She hops off the table and grimaces. I wrap my arm under her, grab the brace, and we awkwardly hobble out from behind the curtain. We stop at the desk for her to sign some paperwork.
My car is right out front where I left it. I was too concerned about Geneva to bother finding a parking spot. Fortunately, it’s late enough that no one has towed it off.
“Are you hungry?” I ask after settling her in the passenger side.
“I am, but can you just make something at the cabin? I’m more desperate for a shower than food. And I’m supposed to prop my stupid foot up.”
“Here, let me have your foot.” She looks at me like I’m crazy. “Let me have your foot.” She rolls her eyes but scoots around in the seat until her foot is resting on my leg. I slide the Land Rover into gear. “What would you like to eat?”
“Anything. I could eat that fabled bear you mentioned at this point. But more french toast would not go untouched.”
“Whatever you’d like,” I say with a grin. It’s what she always wants if she’s had a bad day. “It wasn’t all bad, was it?” She considers me for a beat.
“It was amazing up until my stupidity. Even then, the scenery was still beautiful.” She laughs. “And I got to see Peter Winsloe hulk out like a badass. Nothing could top that.”