Chapter Sixteen
G abe groaned and reluctantly accepted the last-minute conference call invitation for twelve-thirty. Eddie had been trying to schedule this meeting since December, so there was no putting it off. Unfortunately, it meant that for the first time in over a week, he wouldn’t be able to snowshoe with Lucy at lunchtime.
He was already on his call when Lucy set out with Hilde, heading down the driveway and across the street. By the time he hung up, it had started to snow lightly, which hadn’t been in the forecast. But it was nothing Lucy couldn’t handle. The two of them loved cavorting in fresh snow.
He’d known she was doing ambitious hikes, but it wasn’t until he went with her on one that he understood how far she’d come. Two months ago, she wouldn’t do more than walk down the road, and now she was going into the backcountry like it was nothing. He’d thought he’d have to go slower for her, but she churned along with boundless energy.
She’d also become something of a tracker. She kept a field guide to animals of the Sierra Nevada range in her backpack, but by now she knew most of the tracks they saw without having to open it.
Their treks, combined with the incredible sex, made for a potent combination. Every day was almost too good to be true.
But some days reality intruded, and this was one of them.
He was looking forward to dinner, when she could tell him what she’d written today and what she’d seen on her hike. Hell, maybe he wouldn’t even wait until dinner. As soon as she got home, he’d head over there. That was the great thing about being his own boss.
At two-thirty he started looking up every few minutes, expecting to see her coming up the driveway. She had a strict schedule for weekdays and always came back by two-thirty.
At three he began to think he’d missed her return. He called a couple of times, but got no answer.
He tried the satellite phone, but it only rang and rang. She’d probably left it off to conserve the battery, and he’d never thought to ask her to do otherwise. He hadn’t imagined needing to call her .
No big deal.
She hadn’t been gone that much longer than usual, and the new snow could have made the going slower. If she was in trouble she’d have called, and she couldn’t be lost when she had the phone’s GPS.
But what if she ran into the kind of trouble that happened so fast, there was no time to make a call?
It was warmer than usual today. What if she’d gone outside the borders he’d drawn on the map and gotten too close to an unstable slope? What if she was out there in trouble and unable to call?
He might already be too late.
His heart began to pound in his chest, and he was starting to sweat.
Think, Gabe think. You can’t help her if you panic.
He also couldn’t sit in his cabin waiting any longer. He got dressed quickly, pulled on his snowshoes, and headed out.
There were no fresh tracks on the driveway, so they hadn’t come back yet. Which meant she was still out there somewhere.
Turning around, he went down the driveway and crossed the street to the same place she’d started out. He looked the ground over, and it was as he’d feared—the new snow had covered their tracks. He kept going anyway. Every time they’d gone out together this past week, they’d headed east about half a mile until they came to a little clearing. At that point they’d either turned north, east, or south, depending on their mood.
He reached the little clearing and scanned the snow, but every direction appeared the same as the others. They all had tracks from other outings, so they all looked the same. It would be stupid to keep going. He could end up miles from where she was.
It was three-thirty. She had an hour to get back before it grew dark. If she wasn’t home by then, he’d call the Forest Service and start a rescue.
Because this was how it started. First they were late, then they were missing.
By the time they were found, there was no saving them.
He turned around and headed back, calculating and planning, praying the entire way. Please let her be okay. Please let her be okay.
He was breathing fast now, and not from exertion. Bending over, he forced himself to take deep, slow breaths.
Standing back up again, he continued on toward home, dread dragging at his limbs. But he didn’t go back to his cabin. He went to hers, so there was no possible way he would miss her. She didn’t lock her door during the day, so he was able to walk right in. Everything was as it had been when he left earlier.
He sat on the couch where they watched movies, then stood up and looked out the window at the far end of the kitchen—the only one with a view of the road.
He’d give her fifteen minutes. If she wasn’t back by then, he was initiating a search and rescue. Or should he do it immediately? Maybe he’d already delayed too long.
Sometimes a few minutes was the difference between life and death.
His vision was starting to go gray. He sat down and forced himself to breathe, counting as he did so. In and out, in and out. He stood up, swaying slightly, and reached for his phone.
He heard Hilde’s bark first, then saw her at the end of the driveway, tongue lolling. Seconds later, Lucy came into view.
Alive and perfectly fine. Maybe a little tired, judging by the way she moved.
He wiped away the tears that were blurring his vision and sank into one of the kitchen chairs, shaking with reaction. He was furious—furious and so relieved he was afraid he’d sob like a baby in front of her.
He waited, hands fisted in his lap, jaw clenched to control his chattering teeth.
He heard her in the mudroom as she discarded her poles and snowshoes, her outerwear. Then she walked into the kitchen, stopping short in surprise at the sight of him. “Gabriel! I didn’t expect you so early. Everything okay?”
“Not really, no. I’ve been waiting here for you.”
Her smile faded. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
“I thought something had happened to you. It’s almost dark, and you were gone for over three hours.”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest, her expression wary. “It was so beautiful out, I decided to go a little farther than usual.”
She said it like there was nothing wrong. Like he was overreacting. But how could she have been so careless? She knew what he’d been through.
“All you had to do was use the phone I gave you.”
“I’m sorry. It didn’t occur to me you would worry.”
“Well, it was a long time. Long enough that I almost called Search and Rescue.”
She took a step closer. “Gabriel.”
He turned his head away from her, closing his eyes at the rush of despair that filled him. All the emotions that had been threatening were going to come anyway, even though she was safe.
“You tried to find me, didn’t you? I saw your tracks.”
“Of course I tried to find you,” he said, his voice raw with emotion he couldn’t quell or hide.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It was no use,” he said, his voice breaking. “I didn’t even know where to look.”
She knelt before him and took his trembling hands in hers. “It’s all right. I’m right here, and I’m okay. You don’t have to worry anymore.”
“It’s not okay.” He got to his feet. “It was unbelievably selfish of you to let me worry like that.”
Her mouth fell open, and for several long seconds she stared at him. “I understand why you’re upset, and I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought you were busy. It never occurred to me you’d even notice.”
He walked the length of the kitchen and living room, then back again. “Of course I noticed. I always notice.”
“What are you saying? Have you been keeping track of when I come and go?”
“I glance out the window. I make sure you’ve come back.”
She came to him, her eyes dark with worry as she took his face in her hands. “I’m so sorry I put you through that, and it won’t happen again. From now on, I’ll call you if I’m going to be later than usual.”
“I’m not sure that’s enough.”
“What do you mean? What else could I possibly do?”
“I don’t—” he broke off and turned away, pacing to the woodstove and back. What would make this okay? He couldn’t have his heart ripped out every time she went off on her own. “You could stay closer to home, or only go out when I’m with you.”
“Gabriel, I know you were scared, but I can’t agree to that.”
“Why not? We go out together almost every day, anyway.”
“But it can’t be a rule . I’m finally confident enough to go out on my own. I can’t lose that.”
She wasn’t listening. She acted like she understood, but she didn’t.
“How am I supposed to save you if I can’t find you?” he said, his voice cracking.
Her eyes grew big, and now tears were falling. “I can’t even imagine what you went through when Ricky died, and I’m so sorry I caused you more suffering. Please, let’s sleep on this and talk about it tomorrow.”
“It won’t make any difference. I can’t lose anyone else.”
“What if from now on I leave the phone on? That way you can always call me if you’re worried.”
“You’d really do that? You wouldn’t forget?”
“I’ll make sure I turn it on before I head out the door.”
She was throwing them both a lifeline. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was something. “I guess we’ll try that.”
She gave a hesitant smile. “I knew we could work something out.”
“You should get changed,” he said.
She looked down, as if she’d forgotten she was still in the clothes she’d been snowshoeing in. “Oh, right.” Her expression was hopeful when she looked back up. “Want to join me in the hot tub?”
“You go ahead. I’ll clear the snow.”
“You don’t need to do that. I can help—”
“I’d rather get to it now.”
She hesitated, as if unsure whether to let it go at that. Finally, she nodded. “Okay.”
He took a shaky breath. She was fine. Nothing bad had happened. But he was nauseous, his muscles weak from residual fear.
He put on his coat and went outside. He didn’t need to clear snow so much as clear his head.
***
T he snow fell gently onto her and into the tub as the sun set, but the peace she normally felt didn’t come. Muscles relaxed, but her mind still in turmoil, she got out of the tub, threw her robe on, and headed back inside to face Gabriel’s uncertain mood.
He was nowhere in sight.
Going to a window, she spotted him outside his cabin, the glow of his porch light making him visible. Only a few inches had fallen, but he was shoveling like a storm had come through. The path connecting the cabins was clear, and he was in the process of removing snow from around his woodpile now.
She was learning that was how he dealt with things. Maybe working himself until he was exhausted would help.
She dressed quickly in warm sweats, her stomach queasy with nerves, and sat down to write a letter. At six o’clock, she stuck the leftovers from the chicken stew he’d made last night into the oven. Surely he’d come back soon. It was dark out, and there was nothing left to shovel.
She was starting to think about calling him when she heard him in the mudroom. A minute later, he came into the kitchen.
She smiled from her seat by the woodstove. “The food’s ready, but it will keep if you want to shower.”
“I think I will, thanks.”
No smile or invitation to join him. He disappeared into the spare bedroom where he kept his things, reappearing with a towel at his hips and passing silently through to the bathroom.
She set the table and poured them each a glass of wine. When she heard the water stop, she took the dish out of the oven and set it on the table.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, coming into the kitchen in cords and a flannel.
“It’s fine.”
He sat across from her and downed his wine in one swallow. They loaded their plates with food. Only the night before she’d raved about the same meal, but now she could barely swallow it.
“This is even better today,” she said, desperate for something to break the silence.
His expression didn’t change. “It’s not hard to make.”
She’d seen Gabriel cranky and obnoxious, sorrowful and vulnerable, happy and generous. She’d never seen him like this—utterly blank.
“What’s happening?” she asked. “Why are you disappearing on me?”
Now he did look at her, but his eyes were the eyes of a stranger. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You have to. You’re acting like a different person. Come back to me, Gabriel. We can get through this.”
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Anything but the way you’re looking at me right now. It’s like you’re not even there.”
He pushed his chair back and stood up. “I should go.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said, panicked.
“Whatever it is you want from me right now, I can’t do it.”
Okay. He needed his own space. That wasn’t so surprising, was it?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push.” Tears stung her eyes and clogged her throat, but she fought them off. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll both feel better after a good night’s sleep.”
“I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have let things get this far.” He turned and disappeared down the hall, coming back with his duffel bag.
She stood. “Gabriel, wait. We—”
He turned and looked at her, his eyes flat. “I’m sorry.” He opened the door and walked through, closing it quietly behind him.
***
G abriel walked into his cabin and looked around, disoriented. His laptop was still open, waiting for him to finish an email to all the store managers, and his printer was still humming.
Nothing seemed real, and even his thoughts were somehow distant. He recognized the sensation from the first days after Ricky’s death. That probably wasn’t a good sign.
He’d sat across from her at dinner, but he may as well have been miles away, watching her through a telescope. He saw himself tell her it was over and walk out of the cabin, but he couldn’t feel anything but a numb sort of regret and relief.
He’d hurt her. He knew that, but maybe one day she’d understand. She was smart. She’d realize soon enough that she’d dodged a bullet.
Sitting down at his desk, he finished his email and sent it off, then worked for hours more, shutting out everything but what was right in front of him.
Eyes watering with fatigue sometime after midnight, he stoked the fire and changed, then climbed into bed. A bed he hadn’t slept in for more than two weeks. Her book was still on his nightstand. He picked it up and looked at her picture on the back. The photographer had caught her natural smile, pleased and shy at once.
A smile he’d probably never see again.
She’d looked so solemn when he left, like she understood what she was up against. She was stubborn and persistent—he’d learned that firsthand these past few months. But for both their sakes, he hoped she’d let him go without a fight.
He fell asleep surprisingly fast, glad to see the last of the day.
Lucy was calling to him from far away. She was lost and scared, waiting for him to find her. It started to snow, so heavily he couldn’t see her footprints. Night fell, and he searched the snowy ground, trying to find her tracks, knowing time was running out. Behind him, on a mountain he hadn’t noticed, snow began to slide, and somehow he knew she was there.
He woke to the sound of someone knocking on the door.
His muscles were rigid, his heart racing with fear from the nightmare. Relief came next, then a replay of yesterday’s violent mood swings.
Only one person could be knocking, and he both craved and dreaded seeing her.
He lurched across the cabin and opened the door, steeling himself for seeing her again.
She had dark circles under her eyes, and her fair complexion was even paler than usual. “Gabriel.”
His chest ached looking at her, but that, too, was far away.
“Is everything all right?” he asked. It came out sounding formal, like a waiter talking to diners at a restaurant.
“I...” She swallowed. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Well, I do anyway,” she said, her voice sharp. “Not everyone can turn their feelings on and off at the drop of a hat.”
He was shaking. He gripped the side of the doorway to steady himself. “I’m sorry I let you think we were going to work. I wanted it to, but it isn’t going to happen.”
At least he hadn’t told her he loved her. He almost had the night he asked her to move to Sacramento. But he’d held back, worried about scaring her off with the intensity of his feelings. Or maybe it was cowardice.
It didn’t matter now.
“I get that. It doesn’t mean I don’t still care what happens to you. You deserve to be happy, even if it’s not with me.”
She was gutting him. No matter what he did, she never lost her goodness, her compassion. Those sad eyes were watching him, seeing too much. And here he was, keeping her outside in the cold.
She reached out, her hand closing around his wrist. “Please don’t shut me out. I’m still here. We can go back to...” Her lower lip trembled. “To being friends. Friends who look out for each other.”
“I don’t...I just can’t. I’m sorry.”
Her hand fell to her side. “Okay, I’ll go. But I’m still here for you if you need me. I mean that.”
“There is one thing you can do. Keep the phone on like we talked about.”
She nodded, her eyes bright with tears before she turned away. Slowly she walked to the little bridge, her coat so bright against the white snow, he could barely look at her.