Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Knox is waiting for me when I get home. He let himself in and made a pot of coffee.
“For the road,” he says, and holds up an insulated driving cup that he must’ve brought from home, because I don’t own one.
“I saw Katie when I left town. She says she’s going back to school to get her teaching credential. That’s got to make you happy.”
He rocks his hand from side to side. “Happier than her dedicating her life to working in a bar. But guess who’ll wind up paying her tuition?” He snorts. “But I didn’t come here to talk about Katie.”
“Oh. What did you come to talk about?”
“I came to tell you that I don’t want you to go.” He holds up his hand. “Before you say anything, think about it.”
“Think about me staying?”
“Or you leaving. It’s a supremely bad idea.”
“Not if I want to continue keeping a roof over my head and, you know, eat. But tell me why it’s a supremely bad idea.”
He locks eyes with me, his eyes sadder than I’ve ever seen them. “Because once you go, you won’t come back.”
“Of course I will. San Francisco is only two hours away. It’s even closer to Davis. We can meet in the middle for coffee.”
He turns away, but it’s only for a moment. Just enough time so that I won’t see the desolation there, the utter anguish. But I already have.
“Knox, what’s going on here?”
“Let’s go for a walk,” he says out of the blue. Or perhaps it’s a way to buy time so he can continue to try to persuade me to stay.
“I have to get on the road. It’s getting late.”
“It won’t take long. I want to show you something.”
I know it’s a ploy, a stall tactic. It doesn’t matter, because I’m already second-guessing myself for leaving, anyway. It’s been so good for me here. Not only have Lolly and I made progress, but I’ve made so many friends in the last two weeks. And Knox. Not one day has gone by since I got here that it wasn’t Knox instead of Austin.
“Let’s go then.”
He takes my hand, and the next thing I know, we’re getting in his truck.
“Hey, what happened to a walk? This looks a lot like driving, Hart.”
He grins. “We have to drive to get to the place where we walk. You’ll see. I promise it’ll be worth it.”
Soon, we’re driving up a steep grade, and I’m starting to question whether this is a good idea.
“Where is this place?” I ask as my ears pop.
“Not much farther. Trust me.”
We pass a sign that says G HOST M INE H ISTORIC S TATE P ARK , and Knox parks in a small gravel lot in front of the visitor center, a chalet-style wooden building with lush gardens. I hop out of his truck and read the historical marker at the tip of the parking lot.
“Ghost Mine State Historic Park was one of the oldest, deepest and richest gold mines in California,” the placard reads. “In operation for more than a century, miners here extracted more than seven million ounces of gold before the mine was shuttered in 1950. The park features many of the mine’s original buildings, three hundred miles of abandoned mine shafts, and fifteen miles of trails.”
The park is both beautiful and creepy, if a place can be both. I can sense death here. Both the miners, like the Ramsey family for whom the town was named Ghost, and the near genocide of the native Americans who lived here before the Forty-Niners came to reap their fortunes.
The other creepy thing about the park is that it’s empty. Not a soul to see, a ghost town, if you will.
“Is this what you wanted to show me?” I shield my eyes with my hand and look out into the distance.
“Nope. It’s up there.” He points to a trailhead, then takes my hand.
I try to stop to read another marker, but he pulls me along. “You can read it later.”
“What’s the hurry?” I ask, then remember that I still have the two-hour drive to San Francisco. I’m already contemplating pushing the drive until tomorrow, but even if I left at the crack of dawn, it would be cutting it too close for my flight to Albuquerque.
“The light’s just right,” he says. “If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss it.”
I try to match his long strides by speed-walking. What I don’t account for is my shoes. They’re slip-on loafers, and under regular circumstances are plenty sensible enough. But between the rugged terrain and the thistle, I’d be better off in hiking boots. Faster.
And then there is the small issue that I’ve never been terribly fit, catching only sporadic workouts in hotel gyms or walks from my condo to my office on the streets of San Francisco. Laughably, the route is flat as a pancake, not what you would expect from a city known for its hills. This is all to say that I’m winded.
“Can we slow down just a little bit?”
Knox stops, and I find a boulder to lean against to catch my breath.
“How much farther?”
“Not much, probably about a mile.”
I drill him with a look. Not much is not a mile. To stall for time, I pretend to take in the view. Then I really take it in. “Wow!”
Knox breaks into a wide smile. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Then it should really be something, because the sight before me, a series of red clay formations drenched in the afternoon sun, is beyond anything I’ve ever seen before. Ethereal and breathtaking.
“It’s like something from another world,” I say, awestruck.
“Yep.” He meets my gaze and holds it.
“What?”
“It’s nothing less than magic,” he says, but I no longer think we’re talking about the view.
“What is?”
“You asked me the other day what I’m looking for after Sienna, whether I still want the picture of the life I’d imagined with her. I told you I still did. What I didn’t tell you, what I didn’t know until today, is that I want this.” His eyes never stop holding mine. “Magic. Nothing less than magic.” He grabs my hand again. “Come on. I wasn’t kidding about the light.”
He pulls me halfway up the hill, giving me no time to parse what he’s just said, no time to let it settle around me. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit it gave me chills. The magic part. Because I am feeling it, too.
We continue to trudge upward, my shoes rubbing my heels, leaving a blister. I clutch his hand, liking that it is larger than mine, liking the strength of it. And the warmth. It’s cold outside. Colder than I had planned for, because I am only wearing a sweater.
“Almost there,” he says, and slows his pace, giving me a moment to get my bearings.
This is when I see it. In the distance, an enormous waterfall cascading over a rocky ledge into a clear, deep pool. A fairy pool. Knox is right about the light; the sun is shining so bright, there’s a rainbow in the fall’s mist.
“Is that it?” I ask almost reverently.
“It’s even better closer.” He leads me down a narrow path to a wooden suspension bridge. “Come on. We can touch the water.”
But I stop at the first rung, looking down at the rushing river below. “I can’t. I’m afraid of heights.”
“It’s not that high. Only about forty feet. Besides, the bridge is safe. They wouldn’t open it to the public if it wasn’t.”
I take a step, then pull my foot back, paralyzed with fear. “It looks rickety, like it’s not strong enough to hold us.”
“I’ve got you, Chelsea. I’ll be with you every step of the way. But we need to get to the other side.”
“Why can’t we just enjoy it from here?”
He reaches out and brushes my face with the back of his hand, his eyes watery. “I wish we could, but it’s time to cross over. We have to hurry, because we’re running out of time.”
“Okay,” I say, and hold my breath. “You go first.”
He takes five steps, then holds his hand out for me. “See, it’s fine.”
I miss his hand and grab onto his sleeve, gingerly testing the bridge with my foot. It swings under our weight, and I clutch Knox’s arm tighter. “Is it supposed to do that?”
“Swing? That’s the fun of it.”
“Fun? I don’t think so.” I make the mistake of looking down. “Let’s do it next time.” I start to back up, but Knox pulls me forward.
“Chels, we’re here now. Let’s not blow this.” But even he seems ambivalent, reluctant. “I owe it to you, Chels. Your window of opportunity is closing. You’ll see, it’ll be fine. Scout’s honor.” He holds up three fingers and smiles.
“Okay. But you should know that there’s a good chance I’ll freak out in the middle. Then what will we do?”
“I’ll go to the middle now. All you have to do is come to me, meet me halfway. We’ll do the last part together.”
I nod, doing my best not to look down at the swirling water below. Put one foot in front of the other, I tell myself.
“Stay there,” I call to Knox over the cacophony of the river. “Don’t move. Don’t make the bridge swing.”
“I’m right here.” He holds his hand out, but it’s too far to reach without me moving forward. “I promise, I won’t move.”
I take a baby step, testing the strength of my will, testing the strength of the bridge. Though wobbly, the bridge feels sound. Sturdy.
“Just a few more steps and you’re here,” Knox coaxes.
He’s right, yet for me, it’s a million miles away.
I consider turning around and running back to firm ground. “We can come tomorrow. I’ll be better prepared tomorrow.”
“You won’t be here tomorrow. You’re leaving, remember?”
“I’ve reconsidered,” I say. “I’ll cancel my lecture.”
I can see he’s exploring the idea, that it even appeals to him. But at the last minute, he insists, “As much as I want you to stay, it’s a bad plan. It would be irresponsible to disappoint all those people. They’re depending on you.”
He’s right. They’re depending on me. And After Albuquerque, I could fly to LAX, finish what I started with Lolly. Convince her that it’s different now, that I’m different. Tell her that I want to know my niece and nephew, really know them. And I should visit Uncle Sylvester, too, spend some quality time with him, because it’s been too long. We hardly know each other anymore.
“Okay,” I say. “You’re right. But you’ll have to be patient. This scares me to death.”
Knox nods. “I know. But you’re in good hands. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I know this intrinsically, probably more than I’ve ever known anything before. Knox Hart won’t let anything happen to me. More than anyone else in the world, I trust my safety—not just my safety, my everything—in his hands. And this is the sad thing—or maybe the best thing, depending on how you look at it—I can’t remember the last time I felt safe in anyone’s hands. Not even in Austin’s.
“I’m going to do it,” I say, taking a deep breath and another step forward. Then another one. But I’m still too far away to grab his outstretched hand.
My heart is beating so fast, I’m afraid it’ll bounce right out of my chest. But I inch a little closer to Knox, to his hand, which is waving encouragingly to me.
“You’ve got this, Chels. Look how far you’ve come already.”
“It’s not that bad,” I lie. It probably wouldn’t be this terrifying if it wasn’t for the river below us. The water is moving fast, deadly fast. And just looking at it, I can tell it’s cold, hypothermic cold from the snow up in the mountains. Even a person without a fear of heights would be intimidated.
“Almost here,” he says, and gives me a wide smile.
It’s the smile that moves me to reach for his hand, to take the necessary last steps to grab it. And when I finally do, it’s like something ruptures inside of me. Not relief, exactly; something more akin to an overwhelming rush of love.
“One more half to go.” Knox pulls me to him and there, in the middle of the bridge, holds me like he never wants to let me go. “Ready?”
“I think so. But I’m still having second thoughts about leaving.”
“Nah. It’s time, Chels.” He hugs me again, and I cling to him. “Let’s do this.”
“You go first.” The bridge is narrow, and it makes me nervous to be so close to the edge.
“You sure? You don’t want to do the last leg together?”
“It’ll be better for me to do it the same way. With you going first and cheering me forward.”
“You got it.” He lets go of me and walks the final distance.
He’s so close to the waterfall that the mist shrouds him, making him look like an apparition.
“Are you getting wet?” I call.
“I can’t hear you.”
This time, I yell it. “Are you getting wet?”
“Yeah, a little. But it feels good. Come see.”
It’s then that I realize that it’s equidistant from here to the end—or the beginning. In other words, there’s no quitting now, because the only way off this bridge is to either move forward or backwards. And forward is where Knox is. And that beautiful waterfall.
“You do know we’re going to have to do this all over again to get back to where we came from?” I shout over the gushing water.
He doesn’t say anything, and I start to think he didn’t hear me. But there’s something in his face, at least what I can see of his face through the mist, that tells me he did. Something that tells me there’s more that he’s not saying.
“Stop stalling,” he shouts back. “You came this far, you can do the rest.”
I suck in my breath, put my arms out to my sides like a tightrope walker, and gingerly move towards him, forcing myself to keep from looking down.
The bridge sways, and I almost lose my footing, desperately reaching for the rope rails to steady me.
“You okay?”
“If having a heart attack atop a river on the world’s ricketiest suspension bridge counts as okay.”
Knox laughs. “You’re doing fine. Better than fine. In fact, I wish I could take a picture of you, so I can remember you just like this.”
“You mean about to crap my pants?”
He laughs again. “Facing your fears. Beautifully brave. A goddess.”
“You need a good therapist, Knox Hart. Hold out your hand, because I’m getting the hell off this thing.”
“That’s the spirit.” He reaches out for me, but I’m still holding onto the rope rails, frozen in place. “Want me to come get you to go the rest of the way?”
I consider the offer but shake my head. “Just give me a minute to regroup.” I slowly take my hands away from the ropes and hold them out in front of me, like a ballast. Then I walk towards Knox, into the mist.
And that’s when it happens, when against all statistical odds, the bridge breaks. It happens so fast, so violently, that I don’t have time to think or even scream. I just hang onto one of the dangling wooden rungs for dear life, only feet above the rushing water.
“Knox! Knox!”
“I’m here. On shore. Can you see me?”
“I can’t. I can’t look.” It’s taking all my focus to maintain my remaining grip on the broken bridge.
“I’m coming to get you.”
“How?” His only way to me no longer exists.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes. But this is impossible. An impossible situation. And I don’t think I can hold on much longer.” The mere fact that I can even talk is astounding, astounding because I’m pretty sure I’m only seconds away from dropping to my death.
“Just a few minutes longer, just long enough until I can get to you. Whatever you do, don’t let go. Chelsea, tell me you won’t let go.”
“Okay, I’ll try. But hurry.”
It’s then that I let myself wonder whether it will be better, and by better, I mean less painful, to drown or to be crushed to death against the rocks.
I can feel my arms shaking from the strain of holding on so tight, and I can feel myself drifting away. From a distance, I hear Knox calling me, begging me to hold on just a few seconds longer.
It’s already too late, I’m afraid. My left hand loses its grasp, and now I’m holding on with only my right one. I feel so heavy, just like the weightiness I felt in my dream. And I’m tired. I tell myself it’s okay to close my eyes. To sleep. Even if it’s only for a few minutes. Just long enough to gather my strength again. Or not. Because it would also be nice to sleep for a very long time.
“Chelsea! Chel . . . sea.”
I feel the bridge shift, moving until I’m skimming the water, graceful, like a swan. Then I’m soaring only inches above the water’s surface, like the geese on the lake at the cabin.
“Chelsea, Chelsea, hold on.”
Strong arms wrap around me. Hoisting. Pulling. So warm. Knox. He’s kissing my face, crying and begging.
But in my heart of hearts, I know I have to leave him now. That it’s impossible for me to stay with him any longer.
The other side is calling.