Chapter 25 #2
Harlan doesn’t have any sons. No one to pass down his family name. Is that something he wants?
From me?
“Ready to tackle the mountain?”
Harlan’s enthusiastic words jostle me out of my thoughts, and I shift my gaze to his.
Am I ready for the mountain? I answer with the word that is repeating on high volume in my head.
“No.”
Dream big. Harlan’s last words before he abandoned me at ski school a while ago. It’s not an exaggeration to say that small children are skiing circles around me. Dream big?
“Do you know what I’m dreaming right now, Harlan Holcombe?” Talking to no one, I stick my hands through the ski pole straps and, with fumbling gloved hands, try to unzip my coat pocket. During this failed attempt, the pole-tip things hit my shins repeatedly. “I’m dreaming of staying alive today.”
Why am I doing this? It’s freezing. I keep falling on my tail. My pants are going to split any second now. God help me if I have to go to the bathroom anytime soon.
“Meredith, you’re doing great.” Walking toward me is my real-life Hercules, dressed in his own tight ski pants.
Oh yeah. That’s why I’m doing this.
“Liar,” I call to him. I would make an attempt to meet him halfway, but my mobility is unstable. Who invented this godforsaken sport?
Harlan struts toward me with ridiculous ease as if he isn’t wearing Frankenstein boots. “How’s it going?” He leans down and touches his lips to mine.
Glancing around to make sure my instructor isn’t within earshot, I grab his forearm. “Listen. You gotta break me out of ski school.”
Harlan squats and knocks on the shell of my boot. “I think these might be a little loose.”
“All throughout my childhood, I was a rule follower. Never skipped class. Never cheated. Always followed directions.” I lower my voice. “But right now, my inner rebellious teenager wants out.”
Harlan grunts when he pops one of the buckles open.
“Let’s play hooky.” I throw a hitchhiker thumb over my shoulder. “Bust me out of here, man.”
He glances up and grins while pressing down on the adjusted buckle. “You would be disappointed in yourself if you quit now.”
Narrowing my eyes, I frown. “Did you read that somewhere on inspirational toilet paper?”
Harlan chuckles, leaning over to work on my other boot.
“Never mind.” I shoo away the thought with my hands. “Listen, I’m a self-aware woman, at an age where I’m comfortable with my strengths and weaknesses. And believe me that I’m okay when I say that I am not a skier. You’re just going to have to love me through it.”
He stands and brushes snow off his gloved hands. “I think I can love you through a lot of things.”
I snap and point at him. “Do not do that charming thing.”
He chuckles, but I sigh and press into his side, give him my weight, and confess, “Do you want to know the worst part about this?”
“Always.”
“I am trying really, really hard.”
He wraps his arms around me, and his shoulders shake in silent laughter. “You’re better than you think. I watched you go down the bunny hill.”
Burrowing into his jacket, I sigh again. “My kitchen floor has a steeper grade than the bunny hill.”
“Exactly.” He kisses the top of my head. “And I’ve never seen you fall down that either.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch my ski instructor approaching.
“Everything all right?” the drill sergeant asks. “Break’s almost over.”
“She’s doing really well,” Harlan says, tightening his hold on me, “but I think I’m going to steal her away for the rest of the morning.”
I crane my neck. “But, Harlan, I do want you to be with your family and ski the mountain.”
He peers down at me. “I get the feeling that if I leave, you’ll call a taxi and head back to the airport.”
No truer words have ever been spoken.
After waving off my instructor, we head out to grab Harlan’s gear. Him dragging me by my poles makes this task much easier. Once we get situated, dread washes over me.
The death chair awaits us.
I stare at the ski lift for the longest time before Harlan places his hand on the small of my back and offers an encouraging shove in its direction. While we wait in line, my silence speaks for my fear.
Harlan brushes my temple with his lips and murmurs, “You got this.”
When it’s our turn, we awkwardly shuffle-sidestep-move over to the loading spot.
The altitude mocks my Texas lungs, and in spite of only moving a few feet, I strain for oxygen. “No matter what happens, I apologize in advance for injuring you.” I twist my torso to the outside, looking for the chair and bracing for the impact.
Once we swing out above the ground, I let go of the breath I was holding.
Harlan shifts in his seat. “You’re a pro. No harm during the takeoff.”
My eyes slide to his. “You aren’t out of danger. We still have to jump off this thing.”
I’m surprised when the gentle sway of the lift, the beauty of the mountains, and the solid mass of the man sitting next me coax my spirit into settling. Several minutes of silence pass, and my breathing slows.
“My family enjoyed meeting you.” Harlan holds out his hand. “Let me take your poles.”
“I’m excited about spending more time with them.” With laser focus, I release each pole to his possession. It would be my luck to drop one into the snowy abyss below. “I know I just met her, but Gracie seemed distant this morning.”
Resting the poles across his lap, he nods. “William said she wasn’t feeling well. She stayed at the bottom of the mountain.”
Not wanting to rock the chair, I keep my body facing forward but turn my head to glare at him. “If I had known that, I would’ve called Sally to go shopping. I’m sure she has enough sense to stay off this mountain. Skipping was an option?”
“Not for you.” He winks. “Besides, Spence and Sally are spending Christmas with his brother in Denver. We won’t see them until the twenty-ninth. And I should probably mention that Sally was a ski instructor in college.”
“Of course she was.” Sighing, I shake my head. “Why are you being so patient with me?”
Still holding the poles, he places his free hand over mine. “Because I’m proud of you.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’m serious.” He chuckles. “It’s hard to try something new.”
“Thank you.” As I hold on to the side bar, I throw a gloved hand out in the direction of the austere scenery. “I admit, it’s good to get out. The sunshine makes the temperature warmer than I expected. Plus, it’s gorgeous up here.”
“Dad and I had some of our best talks on ski lifts.” Harlan turns his head away from me and stares out over the mountains. “Ski lifts, the pasture, and the chapel on our ranch. I always knew I’d get something honest from him in those places.”
Still clutching the bar at my side, I reach with my opposite hand and squeeze his knee. “I wish I could have met him.”
His stare shifts to my hand, and he takes my palm in his. “Me too.”
Lifting our hands, I scratch the skin near my wool cap. “What was the best and what was the toughest part about him being your dad?”
Harlan’s gaze returns to the open air. “He was a man of few words. More like William.”
I shift my weight as far back in the chair as I can. When I’m sure I won’t fall to my demise, I release him and unzip my ski jacket. “Which part was that? The best or the toughest?”
He nudges me with his elbow. “Both.”
Grabbing a protein bar out of the inside pocket of my coat, I nod.
“When he was disappointed in me, he could level me with a fierce, convicting stare.” Harlan exhales a weighty breath. “If he actually spoke words, that meant whatever you had done was especially bad.”
My gloved hands do nothing to help me open the snack. I place the wrapper between my teeth and tug.
He slides a glance my way. “If you fall off this thing trying to open that, what do I tell the coroner? Death by protein bar?”
“That isn’t funny.” I giggle anyway. “What about when your dad was proud of you?”
“It was almost the same look of disapproval, but you knew the difference because his eyes would gleam.” Harlan shakes his head. “I’d give anything to see that gleam again.”
With extreme care, I remove one of my gloves and tuck it under my arm. “What would he say to you now?” I use my freed hand’s dexterity to pry open the wrapper.
Just as I smile with victory, the ski lift stops abruptly, and my hold on the protein bar releases when I grab Harlan’s hand. “Oh no.” My only shot at nourishment falls toward its powdery white ruin.
As our chair swings, Harlan leans forward. “Well, at least we aren’t over a trail. Then someone really would have experienced death by protein bar.”
His remark might be funny if I wasn’t in a panic. My stomach drops with each lurch of the bench. “This is like the baby swing from hell. Make it stop.”
He grips my hand tight. “We’re okay. It’ll calm down in a minute.”
Every muscle in my body tenses. “This chair is going to hurl me off onto another mountain to be eaten by wolves.”
“Unless the axe murderer gets you first.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to hold off a smile. “Don’t think I won’t push you off this thing.”
His barked laughter fills the thin air. As the swing finally slows, he leans over and kisses my temple. “I love you, Meredith Harper.”
I gape and blink. I don’t move so as not to scare the moment away.
Lips remaining in place, Harlan chuckles. “See? You forgot all about the swinging.”
Forgot about the swinging? No. I know all about the swinging.
For a long time, I swayed through the murky depths of grief, only recently finding the ascension to living my life.
Considering a future. Searching for purpose.
And now, out of nowhere, the pendulum has thrown me right into the arms of an unexpected gift.
As my eyes fill with tears, I turn my head. My response to him is immediate. Easy. Peaceful. “I love you too, Harlan Holcombe.”
Our faces are so close, all I can see are his eyes crinkling with a smile, right before he leans in to kiss me.
This is not a simple peck. This is a seal. A slow, deliberate, sweet seal of our commitment to each other.