December 18
Ingrid lay in bed, cold and tired, but with a seed of anticipation somewhere deep down beneath the ice.
Vegard wasn’t the only one who called her ice queen. People always had, when they talked behind her back—she knew that. No
matter how much admiration she garnered as a result of her expeditions, she knew that a lot of people also thought of her
as too disciplined, too controlled. “Unnatural,” she’d heard someone say once.
And when it all went wrong, there’d been no shortage of schadenfreude. It was as if people had always sensed something inferior
behind that perfect facade of hers.
This iciness came up again with Preben yesterday. “You seem so cold, Ingrid,” he said. “Why won’t you talk to me?” The injustice
in his questions still stung, because he was the one who’d failed her, and who’d made her fail herself.
She’d needed to stay away from Preben, because he was bad for her. He made her weak. It was her infatuation with Preben that had made her lose control, grow careless. And she’d been punished so terribly for that. She’d lost everything—Preben, climbing, and the child. She’d lost a community, many friendships, and the involvement in the mountain areas she’d spent time in for so many years.
And now Preben was here and wanted to make up for it. Was that even possible?
She’d thought about his proposal all night.
***
Preben was sitting alone at a table by the window. He stared out over the mountains, whose silhouettes were now emerging against
the brightening sky. He had a bowl of oatmeal, a cup of coffee, and a glass of orange juice on the table in front of him—what
he always ate for breakfast.
After all these months, she now couldn’t feel any resentment toward him, no matter how hard she tried. The conversation yesterday
had calmed her a bit. That didn’t mean everything was okay now; it never would be. But he’d made a proposal, and she was going
to listen to what he had to say.
Preben looked up as she walked over to him. “Hi, Ingrid.”
“Hi.”
She hesitated. He pointed at the chair across from him with his right hand. “Have a seat. If you want.”
She did as he said, concentrating on keeping her movements steady as she pulled out the chair and positioned herself across from the man who’d once been the center of her life and whom she now felt as if she barely knew. He took a sip of orange juice and dabbed at his mouth with the paper napkin before folding it and setting it down next to his plate.
Maybe he was also a bit nervous, she thought. Maybe that was why he’d just turned up here instead of calling or sending an
email about what was on his mind.
“Thank you for taking the time to talk,” he said.
She had to smile a bit. “You haven’t exactly given me any choice. Should we sit here or go somewhere else?”
“It’s nice here. Then the others will know you’re safe, too. I saw the looks I got from that friend of yours yesterday. He
almost seemed like he was trying to be your bodyguard.”
“My friend? Thor?”
“Yeah, the blond guy on his way out as I was coming. Broad-shouldered fellow. Did you find yourself a real live farmer up
here?”
“Preben. Stop right there. You can’t show up here, in the middle of farm country, and start criticizing people for being farmers.”
“I haven’t criticized anyone, have I? I was only asking.”
She thought she caught a glimpse of the old jokester in his eyes.
He went on, “But you’re right. That’s not why I’m here.”
He brushed an imaginary crumb off the tablecloth before looking at her again. Then he leaned over and picked up a leather
bag from the floor. He placed it in his lap, pulled out a plastic folder full of papers, and held it out across the table.
“See what you think about this.”
He handed her a sheet of paper with the heading BOW: The Berg Orlando Wexelsen Foundation .
Ingrid and Preben sat at the window table for a long time, even after the kitchen staff had finished cleaning up and the dining room slowly emptied following breakfast. Normally, Ingrid never would have just sat there this way while the staff worked around her. She also had a thousand things to do, but right now, she was certain that this was the most important. Even when Nana Borghild stopped by the dining room and raised an eyebrow at her and Preben, Ingrid chose to stay seated instead of finding out what her grandmother wanted. God knows the two of them had plenty to talk about—later.
She could feel her voice wasn’t quite steady when she spoke. “This is all pretty overwhelming, Preben. I’m happy and surprised
that you’re suggesting this. And I’d like to contribute. I really would.” She paused. “But—I still don’t know how you and
I would be able to work together. After what happened. We haven’t even talked about it.”
Preben looked at her again, serious now. “No, we haven’t talked about it, and I think it’s about time. It’s been a year and
a half, Ingrid. We’re heading into the second Christmas since... since the accident. Without having exchanged a single
word. You just disappeared and left me behind to pick up the pieces.”
She looked at him. Was that how he remembered things? “But what was I supposed to do, Preben? I had to leave.”
“You had to leave?”
“Yes! I was on the verge of a total breakdown. The avalanche, and the fact that Giovanni was dead...” She took a deep breath.
“Everything they wrote in the papers. All the criticism. That it was our fault. I understood why they thought so, too. And
all the speculation about the two of us.”
Preben took a sudden and audible breath. “Ingrid. Don’t you think it was hard for me, too? Giovanni was dead, the whole group had been put in danger, we had to stop our work, and then in the middle of all of this, you left the country without even saying goodbye. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t answer when I called or texted.”
“I was furious with you,” she said. “For what happened. For the danger you put us in. What bothers me most is that you can’t
admit you made a mistake. You were pushing so hard so we could break the record... even though we should have waited until
conditions were safer. You should have known! The forecasts weren’t good. We should have stayed at base camp.”
She felt hot and could hear she was raising her voice now. “We almost died, Preben! We knew there was an avalanche risk. We
shouldn’t have gone out that day. And definitely not when we had a less experienced climber like Giovanni with us. That decision cost him his life. I couldn’t forgive you.
And I couldn’t forgive myself for letting you cloud my judgment like that.”
Preben’s green eyes darkened. “I assume you recall that you’re the one who wanted Giovanni to join the expedition. But yes—it
was a miscalculation to leave base camp that day. It was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. I’m never going to forgive myself,
nor do I expect anyone else to. The work I’ve started now is just as much an attempt at reconciliation with you as it is to
make amends in some way.”
He sat quietly for a while. “That avalanche cost us a lot. And the fact that it also cost me... not just my relationship
with you, but that you felt you had to break off contact completely, hate me... that’s been difficult to handle. But what
I’m doing now is trying to show you that I’m taking responsibility.”
She hesitated. How much should she tell him? Should she also share what he still didn’t know about that fatal trip? About the child she—they—lost?
She knew what Vegard had said was true: she needed to tell Preben. But not now.
She looked around the empty dining room. One day, she would tell him—but this was neither the time nor place. Still, she had
to try to explain herself.
“I... I was devastated, Preben. After the avalanche and the injuries and the shock of losing Giovanni. After all the media
coverage. I couldn’t keep going. Not with the work. Not with you. I’m sorry.”
She felt a salty taste in her throat and dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. She suddenly realized that this was the first time
she’d ever cried in front of Preben. They’d been together for years and shared so much—enthusiasm, joy, passion. Wild ambitions.
Anger. Obstinance. Willpower. Nerves on the way up a rock face and longing to get right back up there as soon as they were
down. This urge that got them to plan the next adventure as soon as one was over. They’d shared all of these things. But grief—that
was something they’d never shared. Until now.
“I know everything thinks I’m so cold,” Ingrid said. “But I felt like you were the one who was cold up there, Preben. And afterward, I guess I thought you couldn’t understand how I felt. And I...
I didn’t really think you cared, either. I felt like you were only calling because it would look bad not to. You stopped trying
to contact me after a few weeks. I started over here after losing everything. And before I knew it, there you were on TV.
On a reality show! Like nothing had happened.”
“Yes, after a while, I chose to keep going with my life,” Preben said. “And my climbing career. Even though you made a different choice, it was the right one for me. I know I’m privileged, Ingrid. I admit that both success and material rewards mean a lot to me. And I know it seems like I just get through most things unaffected. But I was. Affected.”
He looked out of the window for a moment. “You know, Ingrid, I’m actually not completely devoid of emotions. I’ve missed you.”
He didn’t meet her gaze now. Were his eyes shining a bit?
What was she supposed to say? Had he actually missed her? She felt almost ashamed at how little she’d thought about how the
accident must have affected Preben’s life, too. She’d been so blinded by her own loss that she hadn’t seen his.
He looked her in the eyes again. She felt something warm inside her. But no. She wasn’t going back there. She straightened
up and said nothing.
Preben said, “I’m happy that we’re at least at the point where we can talk about it, Ingrid. I don’t expect that... that
things will go back to the way they were. Maybe it won’t even be possible for us to be friends. But if we can at least stop
being enemies, we’ll have come a long way. Can we agree on that?”
Ingrid nodded. “Okay.”
“Good!” He rubbed his hands together in a way she recognized from when he was pleased with a good business deal or reveling
in a challenging wall that he would soon conquer. He looked around the now-empty dining room.
“By the way, it’s quite a place you have here. Really great. It’s nice to see it again. A venerable old hotel, a tradition
to carry on. Props to you for taking it on, Ingrid. I know you can do this!”
You can do this . Now she felt it again. The warmth. The in spiration, but also the fear. The same feelings she’d had before setting off on a climb: ambition, anxiety, concentration, longing. The wild power of climbing in the face of the fear of falling. The almost incomprehensible and self-destructive urge to do what you’re most afraid of.
“I’m actually not sure I can do it,” she said. “It’s too hard.”
Now the tears were coming again. God dammit . But so be it.
When others looked at Ingrid, they saw someone in complete control, someone who knew what she was doing. Control was necessary
to be a good climber—know the route, be willing to prepare, try again and again—but at the same time you had to live with
the awareness that control was an illusion. At any moment, your foothold could slip, the gear could fail, the belay could
come loose. This was the terror—and the fascination. The duality you had to live with. Only another climber could recognize
and share those feelings. And not just any climber. Right now, it felt as though Preben Wexelsen was the only person in the
world who could really understand her.
“Too hard?” Preben said. “To run the hotel? I don’t believe that. I know you. You might think it’s too hard right now. But
you said the same thing when we were training in V?stervik that one summer, too.” Preben’s voice was warm, almost laughing.
“You spent days mastering only the first few feet there. At some point, it seemed completely impossible. You were so pissed!
You even packed all your things and wanted to go back home, remember?”
She met his gaze but looked away quickly. “Yes, I remember. That wall was a bitch. Footholds the size of a dime. Crimps as
thin as a credit card.”
“But you didn’t go home. You went back to the wall. Again and again.”
“Failed again and again.”
“But then one day you didn’t fail anymore. You got to the top.”
She smiled through her tears. “And it wasn’t long before I wanted to get started planning the next trip.”
Preben grinned. “Yup, then you were ready to go up to the crag in Flatanger where people spend years trying to send the most
difficult routes!”
“So what you’re trying to say is that if I manage this—I mean, if I succeed in running the hotel—I’m going to start planning
on opening another one? A much bigger hotel?”
He chuckled. “No, I don’t think you’re going to open another hotel. At least not in Norway. That would just be doing the same
thing all over again. When you’ve just climbed a mountain, you don’t climb the same mountain again. You do something completely
different. You take on the highest peak on another continent. Like us.” He looked at her. “The next thing you open will probably
be the BOW Foundation offices in Nepal. If you can forgive me enough to believe we can do this together, that is,” he said.
“You and I, in honor of Brother Giovanni.”
“I want to forgive you,” she said. “I’ll work on it. And what about you? Can you forgive me?”
Preben looked at her for a long time. “I don’t think I have much to forgive you for,” he said. “I’m just happy we’ve come
as far as we have.”
“Preben Wexelsen,” a voice said beside them. “It’s been a while.”
“Yes, it has, Mrs. Berg,” Preben replied with a smile as he stood up, his charm turned up to the max. “It’s so nice to finally
see you again.”
Nana Borghild held out her hand and formally, but politely, greeted Preben, whom she had met only once before.
“It must have been four years since you and Ingrid were here?” she said.
“Yes, that’s right,” Preben confirmed. “It was only a short visit then. And who would’ve thought it would be so long until
the next time?”
***
Nana Borghild had managed to convince Preben to stay for lunch. Not exactly a dream scenario , Ingrid thought as they sat down at the table, but it went better than she’d feared. Preben was working his charm, and Nana
Borghild was falling for it, too.
They’d just finished eating when Aisha came into the dining room and leaned over Ingrid’s chair. “Sorry to disturb you,” she
said. “But I can’t find Hussein. He had a half-day, so we came back an hour ago, but now I don’t know where he’s gotten off
to.”
“Oh gosh...” Ingrid exclaimed. “He hasn’t gone out on his own again, has he?”
“Again?” Aisha asked, and Ingrid could have bitten her tongue off.
“I’ll go check if his outerwear is gone,” Aisha said. “Let me just run upstairs.”
When she came back downstairs a few minutes later, her face was pale. “He’s taken his jacket and outdoor pants and winter
boots.”
“We have to go look for him,” Ingrid decided, standing up abruptly. “Preben, come with me.”
She had a bad feeling. He hadn’t gone toward Heaven’s Horn, had he? He’d been an eager climber from the very first time she saw him, and now she feared he was making good on what he’d said about summiting the mountain. “We have to check outside first.”
Ingrid ran out the front door. It was snowing so hard that it was difficult to see and footprints would be wiped out quickly,
but... there! Was it...? Yes, she was pretty sure it was the imprint of a child’s winter boots that she saw going down
the stairs.
“He’s out there,” she said when she came back in to put on warm clothes. The others had gathered at the reception desk. “Nana,
Aisha, search everywhere here in the hotel just in case. Preben and I will look for him outside.”
“I should have given him a phone,” Aisha said, her voice starting to shake.
“What about one of those smart watches?” Preben suggested. “The kind you can call him on? If... I mean... when we find
him again?”
Thanks a lot for that , Ingrid thought, dragging Preben to the cloakroom and handing him a bag with ropes, harnesses, and a wool blanket. He got
dressed quickly and took the necessary equipment. Crampons, cams, helmets.
“If we haven’t called or aren’t back in fifteen minutes, you need to call for help,” she said to Nana Borghild.
***
They had a long way to go, and it was getting dark. Snow pelted them in the face as Ingrid and Preben struggled forward against the wind. The footprints had ended just past the parking lot, but Ingrid had the terrible feeling that she knew exactly where they needed to look. She and Preben moved in silence. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked it with stiff fingers. No service. Nana had probably called the rescue team by now, but deep down, Ingrid knew that help wouldn’t be able to get there in time.
If Hussein was where she thought he was, it was urgent that they find him—fast. She stopped for a few seconds at Angelina
Hill. Ingrid thought of all the times she’d stood here. As a child, she thought her mother and father had traveled up to heaven
from here, and even as an adult, she continued drawing strength from this place. Now she was going to need all the strength
she could get.
Preben stopped in the flurry behind her, came a little closer, and put a hand on her shoulder. She turned and met his gaze.
She wanted to smile but couldn’t manage it. She put her gloved hand over his.
It was getting harder to walk now, but they struggled on, past the frozen Styggfossen and up to the base of the steep wall
on Heaven’s Horn. She shielded her eyes with one hand and looked up, but there wasn’t much visibility. The wind was howling
around them, and snow stung her face.
“Do you really think the boy could have come up here alone in this weather and started climbing on his own?” Preben asked.
“Maybe it’s better if we wait here until the rescue team arrives.”
She shook her head. “We have to check. If he’s where I think he is, we don’t have time to wait. Conditions are too bad for
a helicopter to come now. But we can climb.”
“Ingrid. I’ll do it,” Preben said firmly.
She squinted up into the snow, following the rock with her eyes. If Hussein was here, how could he possibly have managed to
get up?
It looked as if some snow had recently collapsed nearby. There was probably a snow bridge that Hussein had crossed and then it had collapsed behind him. In that case, he had no chance of getting back without any help. She knew that she now had to do what she hadn’t dared to do for such a long time—what she thought she’d never be able to do again. She had to climb.
“Thanks, Preben. You’re a great climber. But right now, on this particular wall, I honestly don’t think anyone can climb it
better than me. I need to lead, in any case.”
They walked across the snow, and she carefully felt for where to put her weight so she wouldn’t fall through. When they reached
the wall, she took a few tentative steps up, pushing off. One more hold. Then another. She stopped on the first small ledge,
only a few feet above where Preben was standing. She felt the coil of rope she had on her back and checked her gear. There
wouldn’t be many opportunities to place any protection now, but she might be able to use some of the cams, and she might also
need the rope to pull Hussein up if he’d fallen into a crack.
She shouted upward. “Hussein!”
No response. Preben shouted, too. His voice echoed up the rock and was louder than hers: “Hussein!”
And then... there! She heard a faint sound, far, far above her. A child’s voice.
“Help!” it cried. “Auntie Ingrid! You have to help me!”
The white dragon hissed at her, wanting to paralyze her. But she let it hiss. The only thing that mattered was grabbing the next hold. She couldn’t think, only focus on where her fingers could find something to hold on to, where her foot could find purchase. She’d done this a thousand times, but she thought she’d never do it again. Cold. Snow. Ice. It was pure madness to climb Heaven’s Horn in the middle of the winter without proper equipment. She could die. Hussein could die. But he was definitely going to die if she didn’t try. She couldn’t be responsible for yet another life being lost. She pushed away her thoughts
about the snow, about the cold, about what would happen if Hussein lost his balance and fell. She just thought about the next
little crack she could jam her foot into, the next hold wide enough for her to get her fingers around it.
Her body took over now. It remembered the details of the mountain.
She threw herself over the next ledge and reached the plateau with aching fingers and a racing pulse. She must have heard
his voice up here... but there was no Hussein to be seen. Could he have gotten even farther up? No, that was impossible.
She carefully made her way forward; it was hard to see where the edge was through the thick snowfall. One wrong step and she’d
end up on the scree far, far below.
“Hussein!” she shouted. “Hussein, are you here?”
No answer.
“Hussein!”
Was that a voice?
Now she heard it again. The wind was doing its best to drown it out, but there it was: “ Help! ”
Was he over the edge? She crawled on her hands and knees and looked down.
And yes, there, on a ledge just below, she saw a red jacket.
“Hussein! Thank God!”
She leaned over and met his gaze. His eyes were like two tiny black dots in a face pinched with pain and cold.
“Auntie Ingrid! It hurts!”
“Give me your hand.”
She grabbed his wrist with her left hand while she took out the rope with her right. She had to get it under his arms and
secure him before she lifted so she didn’t lose her grip and... She stopped the thought.
This was a crucial moment. Now she really had to focus. She didn’t feel the cold anymore. She was completely focused on Hussein.
She tied the rope around him and made sure she had solid footing. She tensed all her muscles.
“All right, Hussein. I have you now.”
As the alpine rescue team made their way toward Heaven’s Horn from the hotel, they met a woman with climbing equipment and
a man carrying a bundle in a wool blanket. The bundle turned out to be a half-frozen little boy with an injured foot and wrist.
He’d fallen off a ledge but “miraculously seemed to have escaped without any major injuries,” reported the online edition
of the Dalen Daily shortly afterward.
Aisha and Nana Borghild met Ingrid and Preben in the foyer. Ingrid’s hands were frozen, but otherwise she was warm, euphoric,
even; she’d never experienced such a rush of adrenaline before.
Tears were streaming down Aisha’s face when she saw Hussein in Preben’s arms. “Thank you, Allah!” she cried. “Thank goodness,
Hussein! I thought you were dead!”
Dr. Wilkins examined Hussein up in the apartment. Apart from a sprained wrist, a sprained ankle, and some mild frostbite on his face and fingers, the boy would be fine, the doctor as sured them. He prescribed a hot bath, lots of hot chocolate with whipped cream, and a Skype call to Jordan.
“He told me he misses his dad so much he feels sick,” Dr. Wilkins explained. “That contributed to this crazy idea of his.
He thought that maybe he could make some kind of connection with him if he just went to the highest mountaintop possible.
And... someone in his class had apparently challenged him and said he’d never make it. You should have a chat with the
school and find out how he’s really doing. But otherwise, I must say he has a unique talent for climbing. And he should be
allowed to continue with that—though perhaps under more controlled conditions.”
“I can practice with him,” Ingrid said.
“Are you going to go climbing again?” Preben asked, grinning.
“Yes. I sure am,” she replied. “The cold never bothered me anyway.”
***
Thor was freezing. It would take a while for the heater to get the temperature in the car up to a tolerable level. He turned
on the radio and drove slowly down the farm road. It was playing pan-flute versions of Christmas songs. He shuddered. Just
as he was about to change the channel, the familiar notes signaling the news bulletin sounded: “Time for the five o’clock
news. The government’s offshore wind plans are being criticized by several parties.”
Well. Offshore wind was something they didn’t have here in Dalen. He switched over to Radio Rock. The afternoon feeding was over, and Thor was planning to drive down to Lillehammer for some Christmas shopping. Not that it was going to be much; probably a wool scarf and hand cream for Mom and new gloves for Dad. Not the most imaginative, but his parents didn’t expect anything too inventive. He’d sent money to his sister, Grete, in Bergen so she could buy presents for her kids from Uncle Thor. It had been quite a big sum considering his financial situation, and especially considering that Grete and her husband, Magnus, earned about four times more than he did. But given how little he saw of the children, a generous Christmas present was the least he could offer.
His sister and her family sometimes came to visit during the summer, but they usually stayed at home in their big house for
Christmas. They were visited by Magnus’s family and always invited Thor and his parents, too, but Thor had the farm to take
care of and his parents preferred to stay at home, so Thor celebrated with them. Sometimes Aunt Maja joined them as well,
but she had to work this Christmas.
He turned onto the main road and noticed he was stepping on the gas a little too hard. Maybe he was trying to push away what
had been spinning around his head since yesterday. Glitter Peak. He’d been up half the night, thinking about what had happened
between him and Ingrid. The happiness he’d felt in her apartment. To think that he’d finally been able to get so close to
her!
And then the comedown. This guy who’d elbowed his way in. He knew who he was—Preben Wexelsen. He’d seen him on TV. Arrogant. And Ingrid had practically shoved Thor out the door when Preben arrived. No. He wanted to think about something else. He thought about checking out some photography equipment, since he’d already be in town. His camera was good, but you could never have too much equipment. The lens he wanted most was far too expensive, but he liked browsing in the photo shop and was glad such specialty stores still existed. He usually chatted a bit with the older man who worked there. He’d run the place since before the store was bought by a big chain and long before the phone took over as the camera most people used. Thor felt they had something in common. They were two people who’d been left behind in a way, people who couldn’t or wouldn’t adapt to modern life.
Stores were open late in Lillehammer today, and the main shopping street was sure to be full of the holiday spirit. Music,
Christmas lights between the buildings, the Salvation Army’s Christmas tree, a stall selling wreaths and another serving mulled
wine, people with ice skates in hand and children with anticipation shining in their eyes.
He remembered what that had been like—looking forward to Christmas.
Now, he couldn’t really say he looked forward to it all that much. He knew exactly what it was going to be like: Christmas
choirs on TV at his parents’ house, ribs and sauerkraut, Dad drinking exactly one glass of aquavit too many so Mom got annoyed.
The tragic little gift exchange, the predictable rounds of thank-yous. Mom’s kransekake —well, that was actually a highlight, he had to admit that. Dad nodding off in the easy chair, Mom urging Thor to have another
cup of coffee, until at some point he would say—just as he did every year—no thanks, now he had to get home and go to bed
so he could get ready for the morning rounds.
He loved his parents, but this wasn’t exactly how he’d envisioned things turning out. When he and Sandra got married, he’d dreamed of a future with lots of children, lively parties, people coming and going, lots of hustle and bustle on the farm. That had never happened. Now it was just quiet. He did have the sheep—but still.
It was already pitch-black out. The days were so short now. The roads were fully drivable, but the plowing after the heavy
snowfall earlier in the day had left large drifts along the road, especially at the edge of Dalen, where they were almost
like walls in some places.
He’d plowed thoroughly at home and at his parents’, but when he came back from the hotel yesterday, he noticed something strange:
a lot of car tracks. And they weren’t from any of his own cars. The whole yard was full of them. It looked as if someone had
been driving around and around there. What on earth was that about?
He’d looked around when he got out of the car, wondering whether anyone was there. No cars, that was obvious, but could someone
be inside the house? There were no strange footprints at the door and no sign of anything out of the ordinary when he let
himself in. Still, he felt a strong sense of unease that lingered long after he’d come inside.
The first thing he’d done was to call his parents to check that everything was okay. His mother sounded surprised at the question.
“Yes, of course, Thor. Why?”
“No reason,” he said. “I just wanted to check in. With... the bad weather and all that. Anything you need over there?”
He couldn’t say what he was really worried about—that is, what Hallgrim and his family might do if Thor kept digging around in matters that were none of his business. He thought the Dalen family had been at the farm to send a message that they were watching him and to remind him who was in charge here in the village.
The thought made him uneasy. And on top of everything else, this Wexelsen fellow had shown up. Ingrid clearly hadn’t been
pleased to see him. Thor regretted that he’d let himself be pushed away so easily. He should have been there to keep watch
over what was happening. Was Wexelsen still there? What if he threatened or bothered Ingrid in some way? Thor couldn’t just
let that happen.
He abruptly turned off the road and into a turnout by the old lumber yard. He’d changed his mind. Christmas shopping could
wait. This was more urgent. He drove out onto the road again, this time in the opposite direction, toward Glitter Peak. It
wouldn’t hurt if he made the trip up there just to check. Ingrid had to know he was there for her if she needed him.
***
The rescue team was given coffee and cookies as consolation for having come up for no reason, and Ingrid and Preben changed
into dry clothes and sat down in the library.
Preben gratefully accepted a glass of wine; he’d drive back down to Oslo tomorrow. He was sure that the representatives of
the organization would understand why he had to postpone the meeting by a day.
“You were right, Preben,” Ingrid said. “About me climbing again.”
“You’ve been scared before, but you always wanted to get back up there again,” Preben pointed out.
“When I had to do it to save Hussein, it was like the crisis won out over the fear. I didn’t have time to stop to think or
listen for avalanches. My body just propelled me up.”
Preben took another sip of wine. “Well, it’s been quite a day, that’s for sure! Never a dull moment with you, Ingrid.”
“I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done today, Preben,” she said. “I felt like we were a team again out there.”
They raised their glasses to each other in a silent toast.
Ingrid reached a hand across the table. Her fingers closed over Preben’s, and she squeezed gently. He squeezed back.
Of course it was just then—as Preben and Ingrid sat hand in hand with the starry sky over Heaven’s Horn as a backdrop—that
Thor Seter entered the library.
He froze on the spot before abruptly turning on his heel and walking out of the room with quick steps. Ingrid stood up and
ran after him. “Thor!” she said as she caught up to him in the foyer. She put a hand on his arm. “Thor, it’s not what you...”
She stopped herself. Why did she have to explain herself to him? She hadn’t done anything wrong, had she? But a voice inside
her was shouting, He’s not going to forget this! Now you’ve ruined everything!
Ruined what, though? she asked herself. What is there to ruin? She pulled her hand away.
Thor was facing her, but he was completely stiff. There was no laughter in those blue eyes now.
“I misunderstood,” he said. His voice was hoarse. “I thought . . . I just wanted to come up and see if everything was okay. But clearly it is. I’ll just go back down. I should have realized I was only a backup.”
“No!” she practically shouted. “Don’t go!”
He looked at her skeptically. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not what you think.”