Chapter 17 Nicole
The UTV rattled like it hated every inch of the climb, tires spinning wildly before catching with a bone-jarring jolt that slammed Nicole’s teeth together. She clung to the cold steel bar above her head, her fingers stiff and cold despite the gloves she wore.
Next to her, Mom hunched over the wheel, jaw set in grim determination, as though she could will the machine into conquering the snow-covered trail. Wind tore through the open sides, sharp as broken glass.
“Jack texted while you got the gear,” Mom shouted over the growling engine. “They’re okay, but Copper’s definitely down the slope. He’s okay, but…far.”
He was not okay, Nicole thought. He was terrified and alone and probably about to panic run and get completely lost.
Nicole grunted and dropped her head back, barely able to breathe. Copper. Her boy. Her partner.
The UTV veered sideways again, tires hunting for a grip on the rutted track. Snow sprayed the windshield in sheets. Nicole pressed a hand hard to her chest, as if she could stop it from bursting out of her.
“Did you know about this Grumpy Santa thing?” Nicole shouted over the engine.
“Did you?” She threw a look. “Jack just told me on the way up here.”
“One of the guests waiting for the sleigh told me after you left. I went over to see if everyone was okay and they told me that they—and many others—have been following this account. Benny must have made it!”
“He did.” Somehow, Mom managed a dry laugh. “He decided that if he saved our December, he’d get a dog for Christmas.”
Nicole just closed her eyes, overwhelmed with love and worry.
“Well, I think he did,” she said. “I jumped on the account and there are thousands of followers. So I posted an announcement—hashtag grumpysantaismissing. I thought maybe people would know where they are—or pray.”
“We could use all the help.” Her mother fought the spinning wheels again, and the UTV crested a rise and lurched to a shuddering stop near Moose Creek. Nicole didn’t even want to look beyond the treeline to the ridge. She knew that drop.
“They’re back there,” Mom said, pointing. “On the other side of the creek.”
Between the trees, the creek shimmered like a scar of broken glass, ice cracked and jagged where the sleigh had gone through. Beyond, the snow stretched for what felt like a mile, but Nicole knew it wasn’t.
But at the other side, the slope plunged steep, a ridge of pines and stones and…no real trail. It was as close to back-country skiing as Nicole had ever done or ever thought she would do.
At one time, she could do a groomed black diamond if she had to. But that? That was rugged, loaded with trees, and would challenge an expert.
But…Copper.
Dad came running, snow flying at his boots, his face pale and hard. “You made it.”
Her mother staggered out of the vehicle, grabbing a mountain of blankets. Nicole leapt after her, boots sinking to her calves in powder as she reached for her ski equipment.
“Are they okay?” Nicole’s voice cracked as she peered through the trees.
“Red’s keeping Benny calm by the sleigh. They’re freezing. I’ve got to get them warm.” His eyes landed on the skis in Nicole’s hands. “Where are mine?”
“I didn’t bring them.” She lifted her chin, defiant even as her body trembled. “Benny and Red need you to get them back to the UTV. You’re stronger than I am. I’ll get Copper.”
Jack’s mouth flattened. “Nic—”
“Don’t argue. I know how to handle him in a crisis.”
For a beat, his eyes bored into hers, fury and fear warring. Then his shoulders sagged, and the fury cracked into something more fragile. “Are you sure you can handle that slope?”
Nicole snapped her goggles down. “Never been so sure.”
Mom stepped in. “Nicole, are you—”
“Mom, Dad, please. I can do this.”
They shared a parental look and gave up the fight at the same moment. It was the mountain, she knew, that would put up the real battle.
The creek ice groaned under their boots as Mom tottered, Jack steadying her with a hand at her elbow. Under Nicole’s arms, her skis and boots clattered, every muscle thrumming with adrenaline.
They reached the sleigh, which looked no worse for the wear, to be honest. But Benny’s face was blotchy and wet, cheeks flaming against the cold, his sobs ragged in the frozen air. Red held him tight, massive mittened hands dwarfing the little boy’s small fingers.
Mom dropped into the sleigh, wrapping the blankets around both of them and tucking Benny against her chest. “I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe.”
Jack got blankets on Red, covering the old man while Nicole snapped on her ski boots
“Listen, Nic,” Jack said. “Copper’s scared but not hurt. I saw him, and God willing he’s still at the bottom of the slope. You can get him.”
The confidence in his voice made her feel like invincible eight-year-old Nicole Kessler, who wasn’t afraid of snow or trees or steep, steep runs.
She dropped her skis to the snow. The sound of the bindings snapping shut under her boots jolted something deep inside her chest. Snap. Old muscle memory fired awake.
Jack stepped forward, his voice low, urgent. “Just—don’t kill yourself.”
She gave a dry laugh. “Best advice you ever gave me, Dad. Meet us on the old Aspen View trail. Five bucks says I’ll beat you there.”
His eyes flickered. “I’ll take that bet, girl.”
With that, she pushed off and didn’t look back. Her entire world had narrowed to one reason to ski: Copper.
The slope fell away like a white wall. Trees dotted the incline, their limbs black and sharp as claws…their wells deep and deadly.
But it was probably the trees and rocks that saved Copper, who stood like a small chestnut speck at the bottom where the old trail passed. All alone and scared to death.
Not for long, buddy. Here I come.
Nicole shoved off.
The first rush nearly stole her breath. Gravity yanked her forward, skis biting the snow with a scrape that rattled up her bones. Her legs wobbled. Terror clawed at her throat, screaming at her to fall, to slow, to stop.
Eyes ahead. Where you look is where you go.
Her father’s voice snapped clean and steady in her head while her gaze shifted from the next ten feet in front of her to the horse she’d loved for ten years.
She leaned into the first turn, tipping her weight to her downhill ski. The edge carved, powder spraying her shin. Her poles rattled against the snow. She arced back the other way, then again, each S-turn a personal victory.
A tree lunged into her path, sudden and unexpected.
Pizza wedge. Toes in. Slow it down.
She forced her skis inward, edges biting deep. Her speed dropped. She righted herself, lungs searing, eyes watering, the tree behind her now, then another.
She turned, slowed, curved and let her skis eat the snow, her thighs and chest burning as she attacked every inch.
And then she heard Copper’s neigh grow more desperate, loud enough to cut through any thoughts. Her head snapped up. His dark eyes locked onto hers, ears pitched forward, body trembling but still. Like he’d been waiting for her all this time.
This wasn’t about her. It wasn’t about the fall nineteen years ago, or the tree well, or the promise she’d made to herself to never put skis on again. This was about Copper.
Nicole bent lower, feeling the air slice against her goggles, her breath hot in the frozen mask. She tipped into another turn, smoother this time, feeling like the mountain obeyed her.
Yes. Yes! Her skis carved like they remembered. Her body found rhythm.
She heard her father’s old encouragement echo through her head: Flow with it. Trust the edges. The mountain isn’t against you. It’s under you.
The fear dissolved into exhilaration. Wind rushed against her, sharp and wild. Powder flew in glittering arcs. The rhythm pulsed through her muscles: edge, carve, release. Edge, carve, release.
Copper’s ears pricked higher. He neighed again, a sound full of recognition and hope.
“I’m coming, boy!” Nicole shouted, her own voice breaking into laughter.
A final sweep, a graceful whoosh, and she skidded to a stop in a spray of snow, right in front of him.
She dropped her poles and flung herself forward, arms wrapping around his thick neck. He trembled beneath her touch, warm breath gusting against her cheek.
“Oh, Copper. My boy.” Her words cracked into a sob. She pulled out a sticky peppermint, fingers shaking, and he nibbled it from her palm, crunching with a snort.
She pressed her forehead to his mane. “We did it. You and me. We conquered our fears.”
The walk to Aspen View trail felt endless, with Nicole’s skis heavy under one arm, poles dragging, the other arm draped around Copper’s neck.
She coaxed him step by step, murmuring encouragement. “Steady, boy. Just a little farther. We’ve got this.”
When they turned the last bend to the old trail, she heard the rumble of the UTV and felt her frozen lips lift into a smile.
“Dang, he won that bet.” She squeezed her horse. “We’ll get him next time.”
And there would be a next time, she knew, because she was a skier again, a thought that covered her in a wave of euphoria.
At the sight of her parents, huddled together on the UTV, more bliss washed over her—tinged with a bittersweet hope that somehow her family could be whole again.
Mom popped up at the sight of her, arms out, calling her name.
Her father jumped out and ran to her, somehow hugging her and the horse.
“Are they okay?” she asked. “Benny? Red? Are they—”
“They’re fine. At the lodge, warm and safe. In a little trouble, but they’re fine.” He squeezed her and kissed her on the top of the head, his body vibrating as much as hers. “So proud of you, honey.”
She smiled and leaned back, blinking back tears. “You were with me on every turn, Dad.”
“But you didn’t need me.” He kissed her head again. “I love you, Nic.”
“Love you, too,” she murmured.
Mom joined them and the family hug, all of them wrapped together, the Kessler trio.
For the first time in years, Nicole felt whole. Not fractured, not afraid.
And though she didn’t know how long it could last, right now it was enough. Enough to feel like this was the best moment of her life.