Chapter 7
Chapter 7
T he words echoed loudly as I stood in the shower, remembering yesterday and the image of that fresh mound of dirt. I toweled off and stood staring into the steam-filled mirror. Mouthing the words to myself. It was the first time I’d ever heard him—or anyone—use that word as a verb.
We sat in silence for several minutes, the fire warming our backs. The cold freezing the sweat on our backs. “Sir?”
“Yes.”
“Who was the other one?”
“Other one?”
I pointed at the obstacle course winding through the hills below us. “To turn back.”
“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m alone here.”
“So what good is the answer to that question?”
I shrugged. “Might help me feel not so alone.”
He sipped without looking at me. “You just shrugged again.”
“You dragged me up this mountain and made me carry our lunch—not to mention your wine—without much explanation, so until you start answering my questions and stop speaking in riddles, you can get used to my shrugging.” Then I said what I was really feeling. “And you’re right: if I wanted to leave you on this trail coming up, I could have. But I didn’t think then nor now that we were competing. I was running ‘with’ you. Not ‘against’ you.”
My boldness surprised him. He nodded, followed by a long smile, and then he stared into what I can only guess was memory. “In answer to your question... me.”
I had a feeling he was going to say that.
“That surprise you?”
I shook my head. Another academy no-no. “Can I ask you another question?”
“You do that a lot.”
“What? Ask questions?”
“Well, that too, but you normally start by asking if you can ask another question first.”
“Well, can I?”
“Sure.”
“Why’d you do it?”
“I’ve already answered that.”
“When?”
“That was lesson number one.”
There it was again. The mention of lesson number one. “Must have missed that one.”
“Nope.” Another sip followed by a chuckle. “You didn’t.”
We were perched at about ten thousand feet where the air was a bit thin. “You mind telling me again?”
“No need to.”
“Why’s that?”
“You carry the answer in your pocket.”
When he said that, a giant unseen hand lifted the veil that hung between us. The veil of mystery he had used to disguise himself. As it lifted, I saw the mysterious, riddle-speaking man who sat across from me at the Seagull Saloon. Then, to remove any doubt, he turned around and pointed to the granite wall behind us where someone—no doubt him years ago—had scratched into the stone the same eleven words that had echoed in my mind since he slid that coin across the table.
Staring into the mirror in our hotel room, the steam drying on my skin, I lifted the worn coin from the counter and turned it in my hand, whispering the memory: “Because the needs of the one outweigh those of the ninety-nine.”
If it could talk, what stories would it tell?
Sitting on that rock shelf at ten thousand feet, as the snow and wind bit my nose, I heard his voice and the memory returned—an experience akin to driving eighty on the interstate and throwing the gear shift into Park. Stuff was exploding beneath the surface. The connection that Bones had been the man to rescue eleven-year-old me out of Jack’s death grip, and then sit across from me at the Seagull Saloon, sparked more questions than it answered. Why? How?
I reached in my pocket and pulled out the hand-polished and well-worn coin. “You’re him?”
He eyed it affectionately and nodded. Then he reached in my pack, pulled out his Nikon, and snapped a picture of me with that realization plastered across my face and all of Colorado behind me.
When Summer and I had married, she’d found the picture stuffed in a dresser drawer. When I explained its significance, she’d had it framed and put it in our bathroom. Something to greet me at 2:00 a.m. Unbeknownst to me, when we’d traveled to DC for the funeral, she’d packed it and set it on the bathroom counter, where it now stared back at me. I toweled the steam off the glass, and the knowledge that he’d taken that shot washed over me like a flood.
At the time, I had protested. I had ten thousand questions. “But—”
He held up a hand and nodded. “In time.” Then he eyed his watch and the airport in the distance. “Right now, I’ve got to catch a plane.” He threw snow on the fire and looked at me with a smile I would later come to love. “Race you down.”