[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.And today he had the chance to share it with Sierra.She marched up the trail ahead of him, head up, shoulders back.He thought again of the first day he’d seen her, when she’d walked up his street in those impossibly high heels.From that very first glimpse of her, he’d looked at her differently than he had any other woman, admiring her strength and beauty, and wanting her for himself.He wasn’t entirely himself around her, but she made him want to be something even better—Paul 2.0, smarter, stronger, faster and more fun.He moved up to walk alongside her where the trail widened.“This is Nelle Creek,” he said, indicating the rushing stream that ran alongside the trail.“What—or who—was Nelle?” she asked.“I don’t know.Maybe she was a miner’s wife or daughter.But I do know Uncompahgre was the name of an Indian tribe that lived in this area.”“I wonder if they climbed the mountain,” she said.“I’m sure some of them climbed it,” Paul said.“They would have wanted to see what was up there.”She glanced at him.“Is your motivation really that simple? To see what’s up there?”“Sometimes when I get to the top of a peak it’s too foggy or snowy to see much of anything,” he admitted.“Other times I see a lot of rock and ice and markers and flags left behind by others who have been there before me.There are very few major peaks that haven’t been climbed by someone before.”“Then why bother, if you aren’t the first?”“Even if I’m not the first to climb a mountain, I’m still part of a pretty exclusive group.I like the physical challenge of doing something very few other people have done.There’s a great sense of accomplishment in reaching the top.”“You could run marathons or enter long-distance bike races and say the same thing.”He shook his head.“It wouldn’t be the same.”“You wouldn’t be risking your life.”He made no reply.She wouldn’t understand if he admitted that risking his life was an important part of what he did.He didn’t have a death wish, but knowing one mistake or bit of bad luck could lead to his death reaffirmed how precious life really was.He liked being reminded of that.They emerged from the trees into an open meadow and Sierra stopped and gasped.In the distance, gleaming silver in the early morning light, rose Uncompahgre Peak.It jutted above the plain like a jagged mastodon tooth, patches of snow flecking its granite surface.Sierra dug her new camera from her pack and snapped off half a dozen photographs.“I still can’t believe we’re going to climb that,” she said.“Wait until you see the view from the top.”They walked on, serenaded by the whistling of a fat marmot, who sunned himself on a boulder just long enough for Sierra to take a picture before he dived into his den.Their pace was leisurely, much slower than Paul would have hiked on his own, but he didn’t mind.Racing to the top was secondary to spending time with Sierra.Two hours into the hike, as the grade increased, she began to breathe heavily.They stopped to allow her to catch her breath.“What elevation are we at?” she asked.“About twelve thousand feet.”“If it’s this hard to breathe here, how do people manage it at twenty thousand feet?”“Stubbornness, I guess.” He shrugged.“I just struggle through.Focus on the goal, or even just the next step.It’s a mind game, believing you can succeed despite the physical struggle.”Her expression said she thought he was crazy, but she didn’t waste her breath on the words.Instead she pulled out the camera again.“Let me take a picture of you and the mountain.”He posed with Uncompahgre rising in the background, then they set out once more.“Talk to me,” she said as they trudged side by side.“Distract me.”“What do you want me to talk about?” he asked.“What was the first mountain you climbed?” she asked.“Long’s Peak.You know that.”“I mean the first big mountain.Out of state.”“I did the tourist trip on Everest, but my first actual big summit was McKinley.Though its proper name is Denali now.”A shadow passed across her face, though she quickly composed herself, moving into journalist mode.“So your climb this spring wasn’t your first time on McKinley?”“No.I intended to retrace your father’s route on my first trip.” Ever since he’d sat as a teenager, glued to the television throughout the ordeal of Victor Winston’s death, he had vowed to follow his idol’s footsteps one day.“But the weather didn’t cooperate that time, so I had to take a different approach,” he continued.“This spring, I decided to try again.”And found his body.The words hung between them, unsaid.They’d both avoided the subject so far, and he was reluctant to bring up the unpleasant topic unless she asked.“When I first heard you’d found him, I didn’t believe it,” she said.“When he died, it was really more like he’d just…vanished.Disappeared.I remember going to the memorial service and thinking that any moment he’d walk through the doors and explain there’d been a terrible mistake—that after the batteries in his radio died, he’d climbed down on his own, but had been too busy to tell anyone before.Not having a body in a coffin made it easier to believe those fantasies.”“I’m sorry,” he said.“I never would have brought him down if I’d known it would hurt you.”“No, don’t apologize.It’s good to know for certain.Though of course I did know.No one could have survived that storm.”“Still, we never want to lose people we love.I think it’s normal to hang on to any shred of hope as long as possible.”“I guess that’s it.As long as he was still alive, I could hope that one day he’d want to be my dad again.”He opened his mouth to offer some trite bit of comfort—that he was sure her father had loved her, that of course she was special to him—then he shut it without saying a word.What did he really know about Victor Winston beyond the idealized image he’d built up in his mind? The man was a hero to him for all he’d overcome, but in climbing mountains and conquering new peaks, he’d left a bereft family behind.Sierra turned away.“Are those clouds up ahead?”He followed her gaze to a distant smudge of gray.“They’re a long way off.Thunderstorms roll in a lot of afternoons, though, which is why it’s a good idea to start early and be off the peak by noon.”They’d been hiking over three hours now.Sierra walked on with her head down, silent.He could hear the steady pant of her breathing.The grade increased, and he slowed their pace.He watched her closely.“Are you okay?” he asked.“Let me just…stop and…catch my breath again.” She walked a little off the trail and leaned against a boulder.“Are you dizzy?” he asked.“Sick to your stomach? Do you have a headache?” He ticked off the symptoms of altitude sickness.“A little bit of a headache maybe.But mainly it’s just hard to breathe.” She held up her hands.“My fingers are swollen.”“That’s from walking with your hands gripping the trekking poles.They’ll return to normal by tomorrow at the latest.Drink more water.That’ll help your headache, too.”“My knees hurt, too.And my ankles.”“All normal.” He took her hand and pulled her upright once more.“You’ll feel better if you keep walking.”“What if I said I wanted to quit?”Was she serious? “You’re more than halfway there.You’ll regret it if you don’t go all the way to the top.”“Maybe you would, but I don’t think I will.”“Don’t quit,” he said.It surprised him how much he wanted to get her to the top
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]