said there wasn’t a lot of snow.”
“The chances are slim, but it could happen. And even a small slide can catch you up.” He showed her how the transponder worked and they practiced using her shovel to dig through the snow. By the end of the lesson, she was breathless and a little stressed.
He fetched a bottle of water and sat down next to her in the snow. “You’re doing well,” he said.
Amy took a sip of the water. “You’re a good teacher,” she replied. Pulling her knees up beneath her chin, she gazed up at the peaks above them. “They look so far away from here. Which one are we going to climb?”
He pointed and she followed the direction of his finger. “That one, just to the right of the big one, which is called Mount Aspiring. Someday I’ll take you up there. We’re going up Mount French. It has a really nice view. And right over there is a spot we call the Quarterdeck. It’s wide and flat and kind of overlooks the whole area. We’ll leave our packs there when we go to the summit and pick them up on our way down.”
She sat silently for a long time and Mal wondered what worry was going through her head. “So is it the crevasses or the avalanches?” he finally asked.
“Both,” she said.
“I wouldn’t have brought you up here if I thought it was dangerous,” he said. “I’m just teaching you what you might need to know. Like teaching you how avoid a shark attack. You’ll swim in lots of places that won’t have sharks, but at some point in your life, the information might come in handy. Do you have any questions?”
“What if we both get swept away by the avalanche? Or we both fall in the crevasse?”
He pulled her down into the snow, stretching out on top of her. “That’s not going to happen. I promise. I don’t want you to spend this trip worrying about the all the disasters that could happen and miss all the beauty in front of you.”
“All right,” she murmured. She reached up and brushed the hair out of his eyes. “I can do this.”
“Of course you can.”
She nodded, but he saw a glimmer of a tear in her eye. Was she really that afraid? Or was there something else bothering her? He’d warned her that he wouldn’t tolerate whinging, but he didn’t want her to keep her fears bottled up inside of her.
“If you’re afraid, we can talk about it.”
“I’m not afraid,” she snapped.
Her reaction startled him at first. He’d never really heard Amy say a cross word to him, or lash out in anger. She was always so even tempered. Maybe she was just tired. They hadn’t gotten much sleep last night.
“We can take a nap if you’re weary.”
“No,” Amy insisted. “I don’t need a nap. I’m not tired and I’m not afraid.”
The way she was glaring at him, with a stubborn tilt to her chin, signaled that he’d better move on. The truth would come out sooner or later. Amy wasn’t the best at keeping her feelings a secret.
Even now, with anger and stubbornness clouding her features, there was something about the way she looked at him that he loved. She saw him as something more than just a climber, more than a guy who lived on the edge and cheated death every day. Though she respected what he did, Amy focused more on the simple things—quiet conversation, a night wrapped in each other’s arms, breakfast together in the morning. Even a little argument. The day-to-day happenings that made a relationship function. They barely talked about climbing or his work. She was more interested in the books he’d read and the music he liked.
Was that what his father had found attractive about his mother? His mum had never set foot on a mountainside. She wasn’t interested in adventure. She’d wanted to make a home.
Mal didn’t remember much about them as a couple, as the time his father had spent with Mal and his brothers remained foremost in his memories. But he did remember their laughter. They used to laugh together, the same way he and Amy laughed. Over silly
“The chances are slim, but it could happen. And even a small slide can catch you up.” He showed her how the transponder worked and they practiced using her shovel to dig through the snow. By the end of the lesson, she was breathless and a little stressed.
He fetched a bottle of water and sat down next to her in the snow. “You’re doing well,” he said.
Amy took a sip of the water. “You’re a good teacher,” she replied. Pulling her knees up beneath her chin, she gazed up at the peaks above them. “They look so far away from here. Which one are we going to climb?”
He pointed and she followed the direction of his finger. “That one, just to the right of the big one, which is called Mount Aspiring. Someday I’ll take you up there. We’re going up Mount French. It has a really nice view. And right over there is a spot we call the Quarterdeck. It’s wide and flat and kind of overlooks the whole area. We’ll leave our packs there when we go to the summit and pick them up on our way down.”
She sat silently for a long time and Mal wondered what worry was going through her head. “So is it the crevasses or the avalanches?” he finally asked.
“Both,” she said.
“I wouldn’t have brought you up here if I thought it was dangerous,” he said. “I’m just teaching you what you might need to know. Like teaching you how avoid a shark attack. You’ll swim in lots of places that won’t have sharks, but at some point in your life, the information might come in handy. Do you have any questions?”
“What if we both get swept away by the avalanche? Or we both fall in the crevasse?”
He pulled her down into the snow, stretching out on top of her. “That’s not going to happen. I promise. I don’t want you to spend this trip worrying about the all the disasters that could happen and miss all the beauty in front of you.”
“All right,” she murmured. She reached up and brushed the hair out of his eyes. “I can do this.”
“Of course you can.”
She nodded, but he saw a glimmer of a tear in her eye. Was she really that afraid? Or was there something else bothering her? He’d warned her that he wouldn’t tolerate whinging, but he didn’t want her to keep her fears bottled up inside of her.
“If you’re afraid, we can talk about it.”
“I’m not afraid,” she snapped.
Her reaction startled him at first. He’d never really heard Amy say a cross word to him, or lash out in anger. She was always so even tempered. Maybe she was just tired. They hadn’t gotten much sleep last night.
“We can take a nap if you’re weary.”
“No,” Amy insisted. “I don’t need a nap. I’m not tired and I’m not afraid.”
The way she was glaring at him, with a stubborn tilt to her chin, signaled that he’d better move on. The truth would come out sooner or later. Amy wasn’t the best at keeping her feelings a secret.
Even now, with anger and stubbornness clouding her features, there was something about the way she looked at him that he loved. She saw him as something more than just a climber, more than a guy who lived on the edge and cheated death every day. Though she respected what he did, Amy focused more on the simple things—quiet conversation, a night wrapped in each other’s arms, breakfast together in the morning. Even a little argument. The day-to-day happenings that made a relationship function. They barely talked about climbing or his work. She was more interested in the books he’d read and the music he liked.
Was that what his father had found attractive about his mother? His mum had never set foot on a mountainside. She wasn’t interested in adventure. She’d wanted to make a home.
Mal didn’t remember much about them as a couple, as the time his father had spent with Mal and his brothers remained foremost in his memories. But he did remember their laughter. They used to laugh together, the same way he and Amy laughed. Over silly
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