and otherwise. They gravitated to her and started chatting while others practiced. Nice kids, excellent with English, thankfully, because Anne’s foreign language abilities were zilch.
With Gabe set to go last, everyone gave her sidelong glances until she volunteered to go first. Even the Danes gazed at her expectantly. Okay, then. This was what she got for exuding confidence and authoritativeness. She strapped on the bindings of her crampons, which added metal spikes to her boots, and stepped up to the frozen falls. Then she hooked her harness into the rope the first guide had left behind, and slipped the loops at the end of each ice tool—a small device resembling a pickaxe—around her wrists. Then she reached up and drove the tip of one tool into the ice. Lifting a foot, she stuck in the end of a metal spike. A quick boost and she was balancing on the frigid waterfall.
She fell into a smooth rhythm—right hand swinging her ice tool, left foot spiking into the frozen water, heaving her weight up, then left hand, then right foot. Her muscles ached from the strain of pulling herself upward, her breath puffed in little clouds, and it was times like this when she felt completely at peace. Her mind and body were in tune, focused on a single goal. All the bullshit in the world melted away. There was no family drama to deal with, no sibling squabbles to break up, no work politics, no outside pressure of any kind. It was just her and nature and nothing else.
The winds whipped at the bits of her hair that stuck out from under her helmet. She got about two-thirds of the way up the waterfall, swiveled at the waist, and took a good look around. The Danes were just beneath her and gaining fast, but she ignored that for a moment to just absorb it all. On the right, deep green forest and craggy rock formations spread below her; on the left, the dark blue water of Alaska’s Inner Passages. Small, pale icebergs floated in the water.
It was magnificent.
Utter bliss infused her, and a huge smile curved her lips. Adrenaline and joy buzzed in her veins. The feeling was indescribable. Honestly, this was better than some of the sex she’d had. Not sex with Gabe, of course. That was in a category unto itself.
She smothered a giggle. Wilderness and great sex. What more could a girl ask for?
This was, without a doubt, the best vacation of all time.
Dinner with his parents was a riot. After the ship had left his group on shore, it had continued on to the far side of the plateau they’d hiked, where another group had taken an easier intertidal shore walk. His parents had opted for the low-key walk. Apparently, his mother had decided to sit and rest on a boulder, only to find out it was just a particularly dirty little glacier. So she’d had to finish the trip looking like she’d had an explosive case of diarrhea. Being his mother—hey, he’d inherited his brazenness from somewhere—she’d brought the offending pants with her to show Anne and him. The way she told the story, with such offended dignity, just made it even funnier. By the end Anne had tears rolling down her face, and Gabe’s ribs ached and he could barely breathe.
“I managed not to laugh. Not even once.” His father’s voice rang with unqualified superiority. “I doubt you’d have pulled that off, son.”
Gabe gasped, “Not even a chance.”
“Oh my God.” Anne squeaked between giggles. “Oh my God. Havana omelet. I’ve never heard it called that before. So disgusting!”
“My oldest boy, David, brought that home from junior high one day. Apparently, this kid had had eggs with too much hot sauce for breakfast. By the time he got to school…the situation became explosive. I doubt the boys invented that term, but I’m pretty sure the kid in question was called Omelet until he graduated high school.” Peggy draped her filthy pants over an empty chair. “What can I say? Teen boys are disgusting.”
“I know. I have them in my PE classes every day.”
With Gabe set to go last, everyone gave her sidelong glances until she volunteered to go first. Even the Danes gazed at her expectantly. Okay, then. This was what she got for exuding confidence and authoritativeness. She strapped on the bindings of her crampons, which added metal spikes to her boots, and stepped up to the frozen falls. Then she hooked her harness into the rope the first guide had left behind, and slipped the loops at the end of each ice tool—a small device resembling a pickaxe—around her wrists. Then she reached up and drove the tip of one tool into the ice. Lifting a foot, she stuck in the end of a metal spike. A quick boost and she was balancing on the frigid waterfall.
She fell into a smooth rhythm—right hand swinging her ice tool, left foot spiking into the frozen water, heaving her weight up, then left hand, then right foot. Her muscles ached from the strain of pulling herself upward, her breath puffed in little clouds, and it was times like this when she felt completely at peace. Her mind and body were in tune, focused on a single goal. All the bullshit in the world melted away. There was no family drama to deal with, no sibling squabbles to break up, no work politics, no outside pressure of any kind. It was just her and nature and nothing else.
The winds whipped at the bits of her hair that stuck out from under her helmet. She got about two-thirds of the way up the waterfall, swiveled at the waist, and took a good look around. The Danes were just beneath her and gaining fast, but she ignored that for a moment to just absorb it all. On the right, deep green forest and craggy rock formations spread below her; on the left, the dark blue water of Alaska’s Inner Passages. Small, pale icebergs floated in the water.
It was magnificent.
Utter bliss infused her, and a huge smile curved her lips. Adrenaline and joy buzzed in her veins. The feeling was indescribable. Honestly, this was better than some of the sex she’d had. Not sex with Gabe, of course. That was in a category unto itself.
She smothered a giggle. Wilderness and great sex. What more could a girl ask for?
This was, without a doubt, the best vacation of all time.
Dinner with his parents was a riot. After the ship had left his group on shore, it had continued on to the far side of the plateau they’d hiked, where another group had taken an easier intertidal shore walk. His parents had opted for the low-key walk. Apparently, his mother had decided to sit and rest on a boulder, only to find out it was just a particularly dirty little glacier. So she’d had to finish the trip looking like she’d had an explosive case of diarrhea. Being his mother—hey, he’d inherited his brazenness from somewhere—she’d brought the offending pants with her to show Anne and him. The way she told the story, with such offended dignity, just made it even funnier. By the end Anne had tears rolling down her face, and Gabe’s ribs ached and he could barely breathe.
“I managed not to laugh. Not even once.” His father’s voice rang with unqualified superiority. “I doubt you’d have pulled that off, son.”
Gabe gasped, “Not even a chance.”
“Oh my God.” Anne squeaked between giggles. “Oh my God. Havana omelet. I’ve never heard it called that before. So disgusting!”
“My oldest boy, David, brought that home from junior high one day. Apparently, this kid had had eggs with too much hot sauce for breakfast. By the time he got to school…the situation became explosive. I doubt the boys invented that term, but I’m pretty sure the kid in question was called Omelet until he graduated high school.” Peggy draped her filthy pants over an empty chair. “What can I say? Teen boys are disgusting.”
“I know. I have them in my PE classes every day.”
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