Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
The safety line caught, pulled taut, swinging me in a slow arc, my body tangled in the rope. Pain shot through my shoulder and hip where I’d hit the wall. I dangled like a broken puppet, trying to right myself but only making the spinning worse.
“Stop moving,” Noah commanded, climbing up to meet me. His hands found my waist, steadying me. “I’ve got you.”
I grabbed his shoulders, fingers digging into solid muscle. The room tilted and spun as he carefully untangled the ropes from my legs.
“Ow,” I whimpered as he lowered me the last few feet. My shoulder throbbed where it’d smashed against the wall.
“You okay?” Noah seemed as shaken as I was.
“I think so.”
I looked back up at the wall, the frustration burning hotter than my throbbing shoulder. The chalk marks from my failed attempt still traced a pathetic path halfway up, evidence of exactly how far I’d made it before gravity reminded me who was boss.
“Let me take a look at it.” Noah’s fingers probed gently at my shoulder, his touch delicate.
I rotated my arm, wincing. “I’m fine.” The tears in my eyes said otherwise, but damned if I was going to cry in front of him.
“You don’t look fine,” Jenn appeared with an ice pack.
“That’s going to leave a mark.” Diego handed me some water.
Even Yeti came over, giving me a lick on the hand.
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, leaving chalky streaks on my cheeks. “I want to try again.”
The words surprised everyone. Everyone but me.
“Li’s always get back up.” It was something Dad said. Though usually in the context of a bad restaurant review.
“No. Absolutely not,” said Noah. “You hit that wall hard.”
“I’m bruised, not broken.” I stepped back toward the wall, ignoring the protests from both Noah and my shoulder. “I’m not leaving here until I get to the top.”
“Sam, you just fell fifteen feet. You don’t have to prove anything. That was a nasty fall.”
“I’m not trying to prove anything.” I flexed my fingers, testing my grip. “This is my job, remember? Can’t exactly post about the amazing climbing experience if I quit after one fall.”
“We could head over to the lake instead.” Diego pointed to a pair of fishing poles next to the rain jackets. “Get some content there. I’ve seen some mountain trout that are pretty Instagram-worthy.”
“Or we could grab some of the four-wheelers,” said Jenn. “Take you out to the elk viewing area. The herd’s been hanging around the north meadow.”
Noah let out a long, tired breath. “Maybe we should just …”
“Maybe we should just what? Wrap me up in bubble wrap and send me back to Los Angeles? Look, I get it. I’m the city girl who doesn’t belong here. I’m the corporate lackey threatening everything you care about. But I wasn’t raised to be a quitter. At least give me credit for that.”
The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of chalk dust settling.
“Besides,” I added. “If I die climbing your wall, that’s going to be terrible for LuxeLife’s star rating. So, in advance, you’re welcome.”
Noah shook his head. But it seemed more of a contemplation than a rejection. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure. Or the head bump knocked all the sense out of me.”
“That would imply you had any sense to begin with.”
“Fair point.”
Noah let out another long sigh, as if genuinely considering it.
“Just hurry up and let her climb already. These neck muscles aren’t going to massage themselves.”
“Okay,” Noah said finally. “If your shoulder starts hurting though, we’re done.”
“Deal.” I chalked my hands again, the fine powder coating my scraped palms. “But I’m holding you to those muffins.”
I stared up at the wall, mapping out a different route. I put one hand on the first rock, my other hand on a second. My foot found a hold. Three points of contact.
I channeled my inner Spider Woman.
And for the first time since arriving in Colorado, I caught Noah Barrett looking at me like I might be worth the trouble, after all.
That’s when Jenn’s phone rang.
Her expression shifted from casual to concerned as she listened to what was being said on the other end. Her shoulders tensed, and she began pacing.
Whatever was happening, it wasn’t good.
The lake came into view through a break in the pines, a perfect mirror reflecting mountains and sky. A small crowd gathered at the edge of the water.
“Follow my lead,” said Noah, the muscles in his forearm tensed as he twisted the steering wheel. “Trapped animals can be aggressive.” Noah angled the Jeep toward the group assembled near the shoreline. “Could get real ugly, real fast.”
The call Jenn got was a report of an osprey tangled in a fishing line. As soon as Noah declared he was the one going down to the lake to handle it, I declared I was the one going with him.
“No getting close unless I say it’s safe.” Noah pulled the Jeep in as close as he could to the water. He jumped out, grabbing his climbing gear and a fully stocked first aid kit. I followed on his heels, the adrenaline numbing the lingering pain in my shoulder.
Since there was another animal involved, Noah made Yeti stay back at the Adventure Center with Diego and Jenn. Apparently, there had been a recent opossum incident no one really wanted to talk about, and she was still grounded.
The group of onlookers parted as we approached, all eyes turned upward.
As soon as I saw it, my heart stopped.
About twenty feet up, tangled in fishing line wrapped around a dead branch, an osprey hung suspended over the water. Its magnificent wings were splayed at awkward angles. Though it still moved, its struggles were weak and sporadic. The once-proud raptor looked defeated, its head drooping.
“Oh God.” The words caught in my throat.
I’d seen the pair of ospreys on the river, diving gracefully for fish or soaring overhead, but this was different.
This was wrong. All that majesty reduced to helpless struggling against something that never should have been there in the first place.
Someone else’s carelessness had created this crisis, and now it was paying the price.
Noah assessed the situation instantly, his jaw tight enough to crack boulders. “Line’s wrapped around its wing and leg. Bird’s exhausted itself, fighting to get out.”
“We need to call 9-1-1 or wildlife rescue or something, right?” I reached for my phone.
“Nearest rescue team is too far out.” Noah shook his head. “Bird won’t last that long in this state. The stress can do more damage than the injury. If we don’t get it down soon ...” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
“This is what happens when people don’t clean up after themselves.” Noah’s jaw ticked, his eyes narrowed. “People come out here, snap their lines, leave them hanging in the trees. They don’t think about what happens after. These birds see the glint, think it’s a fish.”
I watched the osprey’s wings twitch feebly, thinking about the pair we’d seen on our river trip.
The way Diego had described them, mates for life, returning to the same nest year after year.
Was this one of a pair? Was its partner somewhere nearby, wondering why it hadn’t returned?
Maybe there were baby ospreys back at the nest, crying for their mommy or daddy.
“There has to be something we can do.”
Noah studied the dead branch, the angle of the line, the distance to the water. His expression shifted from concerned to determined, like someone who’d made calculations and arrived at a solution.
“It’s not going to be easy.” The look on Noah’s face made me think “not being easy” wasn’t the worst of it.
“And?” I asked, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Noah’s jaw set. “It’s a two-person job.”
While the osprey pathetically struggled and the spectators gawked, Noah and I returned to the Jeep to gather supplies, the familiar climbing gear I’d just been learning to use now being repurposed for wildlife rescue.
Back at the shoreline, Noah pointed to the dead branch. “One person needs to get up there, cut the line. The other person has to catch the bird when it drops.”
I stared at the osprey, my stomach churning. “Won’t it fight when someone grabs it?”
“That’s why we need a towel. Cover its head, keep it calm.” Noah glanced at the water below the tree. “Catching from the water will be easier, but if you’ve never handled an injured animal before ...”
“I’ll climb.”
“No, Sam. I wasn’t suggesting you have to do either.” Noah pulled out his duct-taped flip phone. “I’ll call Diego. He can ...”
I put my hand on Noah’s arm, feeling the tense muscle. “You said yourself it doesn’t have much time. It’s got to be me. I can help. I want to help.”
It seemed Noah wasn’t sure if he believed me, phone still in hand.
The osprey, hopelessly snared and dangling on the fishing line, gave another half-hearted lurch. “Besides, I’m lighter than you and Diego. That branch looks ready to snap.”
Before Noah could protest, I reached out and took the climbing harness from his arms. “My grandmother Gigi had this gigantic oak tree in her backyard growing up. I used to climb that thing all the time.”
I wasn’t trying to be brave. The truth was, the tree wasn’t all that intimidating. The main trunk was huge, with a gradual lean out over the water. Sprawling branches sprang out in all directions about ten to fifteen feet up. Climbing it would be a lot easier than climbing the rock wall.
Noah looked at the tree again, as if he were actually considering my proposal.
“If I throw a rope up over that branch there, I can pull you most of the way up.” Noah pointed at the tree where the first big branch twisted away from the trunk.
“From there, it’s fairly level.” Noah nodded, beginning to see how it could work.
“Worst case, just wrap both legs around the branch and scoot.”
“Noah, I can do this.”
“Okay.”