Beyond the Summit (15 page)

Beth and the ladies drank hot tea and chatted until it was too cold to stay up any longer. Shivering and hoping Eric had settled down by now, she joined him in the tent. “Are you all right, Sweetie?” she asked and began to remove her boots.

Still shivering, she inched closer until completely enveloped in his arms. The moon hung just above Ama Dablam illuminating the glacier. “It’s beautiful. Thank you for bringing me out to share it.”

His thumb massaged her neck. “I want to apologize for earlier. I admit to being upset when you first told me. You caught me by surprise and I was thinking only of myself. Of course, you have to stay. Your career is on the line and I can’t stand in your way. Besides, it’s your nature to do everything the best you possibly can. It’s one of the things I love most about you.” Leaning back to look at her, he added, “And I do love you. I hope you know that.”

Almost out of habit, she answered, “Yes, and I love you too.”

“Good. That’s what I needed to hear. Sometimes I’m not sure.”

She nodded, knowing that she hadn’t always expressed great passion for him, but right now she felt warm and comfortable in his arms. And perhaps that’s what love was all about. Her head resting against him, she listened to his heart beating faster as his chest rose with a deep breath before he spoke again.

“I was so upset because I’ve been saving something for our Galapagos trip, thinking it would be a romantic interlude.” Curious, she looked up at him and Eric laughed quietly. “But hell, you probably think this place is more romantic, standing before a Buddhist monastery at 12,700 feet in the freezing cold with Everest and Ama Dablam as your witness.”

It all seemed to flow so easily and naturally that she heard herself saying, “Yes,” without really thinking about it. But maybe that’s how it was supposed to be, just responding and moving forward with one’s life. No more questions or searching. “Yes,” she repeated, “I, Beth, will marry you, Eric.”

Shortly after midnight, a loud cry ripped through camp, shattering the silence. Beth grabbed Eric’s arm. “What was that?”

“Don’t know, Babe. Probably a drunken porter.” He yawned. “Go back to sleep.”

Propped on her elbows, she unzipped the door and peered into the darkness, listening to other sounds: someone vomiting, another cry, scurrying feet. A ray of light stole along the ground and disappeared into the ladies’ tent. Watching shadows play on the wall and hearing muffled voices, she feared something awful had happened. On her hands and knees outside the ladies’ door, Beth whispered, “What’s going on?”

Dorje almost bumped her on his way out. “Helen is sick this high. I must take her down.”

“Right now? In the dark?” she asked as he prepared the
doko
.

“It is too dangerous for her to sleep here. I have seen stronger
mikarus
die.” After wrapping Helen in a warm bag, he lifted her into the basket, strapped the
doko
on, and pushed to his feet. “The cooks know what to do. They will take you back to Namche tomorrow.”

“But how will you see?” she asked as he quickly strode away from her. “
And what if a yeti . . . ?”
” she started to add but realized he was already out of earshot. Feeling helpless, all she could do now was attempt to comfort Ruth left alone and scared on her sixty-ninth birthday.

After a fitful night, Beth woke to a crisp, cloudless sky and watched the sunrise over the mountain bathing the monastery in amber light. From the main
gompa
came the penetrating, unearthly tones of a pair of ten-foot, telescopic horns,
dung-chens
, calling the monks to Morning Prayer. The deep and powerful sound of the long horns resembled the singing of elephants. Eager to see Helen, Ruth chose to stay just long enough to visit the monastery so Eric could take pictures for her ailing friend. One of the cooks led them up the wide stone steps and signaled for them to remove their shoes and remain quiet. After bowing and presenting a white silk
kata
to the presiding lama, he showed them into a dimly lit room permeated with the aroma of butter lamps and juniper incense.

“Amazing,” Eric whispered as he quietly took photos of the ceiling and walls decorated with brilliantly colored images of Buddha, various gods, lamas, and mythological scenes. From intricately painted rafters hung rectangular, cloth
thangkas
of intense colors and incredibly fine detail depicting deities and other elements of the Buddhist cosmology. Creating a visual safe place, a large square
mandala
illustrated a cosmic fortress filled with gods and goddesses. At the far end of the room hung two parasols and a large flat drum. As they walked the perimeter, Eric photographed the different meditative poses of Buddha set in recesses alongside shelves containing hundreds of Tibetan scriptures.

Sixteen monks sat cross-legged in two rows facing a center aisle as they recited from the single sheets of scriptural narrative lying on low tables in front of them. Under the soft light of butter lamps, they chanted prayers in a sustained monotone. The close-throated and deep-pitched sounds appeared to emerge from the depths of the soul rather than mere vocal chords. An ensemble of wind and percussion instruments accompanied the intonations with the moaning of a pair of
dung-chen
and the quiet insistent beating of a drum acting as an undercurrent. Punctuating the music, cymbals, hand-held bells, and smaller drums of indefinite pitch marked off sections of the service. Having heard the monks at dusk the previous night, Beth had learned from Dorje the importance of chanting aloud so that the gods living in the trees, rocks, houses, streams, and mountains can benefit from Buddha’s teachings.

Reluctantly, they slipped away and started back to Namche accompanied by the cooks. On Dorje’s advice, they had left shopping in the small villages for the return trip rather than add weight to the climb. In Sanasa, they enjoyed a short stop to examine the Tibetan souvenirs laid out beside the trail: turquoise and silver jewelry, yak tails and bells, woolen mittens and scarves. Eric squatted to examine a collection of rings. Calling Beth over, he asked, “Which do you like best?” She selected a silver one with a small turquoise inset. “Then it’s yours.” After much bargaining with wild hand gestures and facial expressions, Eric made a grand display of placing the ring on her third finger.

“Are you engaged?” Ruth exclaimed.

Looking at Eric, Beth saw the love radiating from his eyes and hoped it was strong enough to hold them together if she faltered After living through her mother’s four acrimonious divorces, she didn’t know if she had what it took to make a marriage work. “Yes,” she answered with a quick kiss on his cheek. “Casanova proposed in the moonlight last night.” An expert negotiator now, Eric purchased two more pieces of jewelry for Ruth and Helen.

Waiting for them at the north entrance to Namche, the small man with large ears from the market place managed to convey through gestures and a handful of English words that Dorje had taken the sick old lady even lower. Beth, Eric, and Ruth were to rest for the night and meet Dorje and Helen in Lukla two days from now. Beth saw no reason to accompany Eric and Ruth all the way back to the airstrip and then have to climb the Namche hill again. In those four or five days, she could record more village life, visit the Hillary School in Khumjung and the Khunde hospital.

After retiring early because it would be their last night together for weeks, Eric held Beth close with his lips to her ear and whispered, “I don’t feel right leaving you here alone. Too many things can happen.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“But look at Helen. We don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

Rolling onto her side to face him, Beth said, “She’s seventy and just finished chemo. Nothing’s going to happen to me. I saw a sign in English advertising a place with a good bed and good food. I’ll stay there.”

“Promise you won’t do anything stupid.”

“Trust me. I’ll be back before you know it and we’ll share tales of our adventures. I hope you understand that this story will not only save my career but earn me a reputation as a premier student of cultures.” As his long exhale brushed her cheek, Beth knew she had disappointed him. “Sweetie, we have an entire lifetime together. Please give me these few weeks.”

Eric put his finger to her lips. “Hush. Enough already. It’s obvious I’m not going to change your mind.”

When his tongue tickled the inside of her ear sending goose bumps all the way down her leg, she raised her shoulders in defense. “Promise you’ll contact my boss and tell him what’s going on. There’s no way I can from here.”

“I will.” He kissed the hollow at the base of her neck. “Now let’s celebrate the beginning of the rest of our lives.”

As Beth surrendered to him, she wanted to share his confidence that they’d be together forever, but there were always doubts. Having never experienced love as a child, she wasn’t sure how it felt, giving or receiving. Whenever past lovers got too close, they accused her of retreating to an emotional closet like the broom closet she used to hide in from her mother. Perhaps they were right.

The next morning, she accompanied everyone to the south end of the village. It was hard seeing Ruth go. “I’m sure Helen is fine and waiting for you. Eric will send pictures as soon as they’re developed. You two are my idols. I hope I’m half as strong, courageous, and adventurous when I’m your age.” After giving Beth a tight hug, Ruth donned her daypack and started down the hill, waving her walking stick in a farewell.

Now the most difficult parting, Eric, because she was genuinely sad to see him go. He’d been a part of the last year’s planning and given her much-needed support. Ignoring all rules of cultural propriety, Beth gave him a long, deep kiss. “I should be home by the time you’re back from the Galapagos. I’ll call and let you know as soon as I reach a phone.”

“I still don’t feel good about this but it’s who you are and I can’t change that . . . I wouldn’t even try. It’s what makes you unique.”

A mixture of sadness and excitement filled Beth as she watched them descend and finally disappear. Alone in the Himalayas and about to embark on a new adventure, she turned and headed back into Namche with Eric’s little gnats of uncertainty flapping their wings in her head.
What if . . . what if . . . ?
To drive them out, she needed the comfort of a warm bed and good food. Having never been inside a Sherpa home, she wasn’t sure what to expect as she climbed the winding stairway. The same small man from the market place led Beth to the third floor quoting the rates for the ten-bed dormitory versus a private room, the US equivalent of $.12 versus $.36. Time to splurge. Hardly the luxury she hoped for, the seven by seven room contained two small beds along the sidewalls with barely enough space to pass between them, no heat, and a half-burned candle on the sill. The instant she sat on the foam mattress, it sank to a wooden plank. As the commotion of trekkers arriving in the adjacent dormitory carried through paper-thin walls, it seemed the sole benefit of sleeping indoors was the ability to dress standing up, not having to crawl through a tent door, and arranging gear on a second bed instead of living out of a duffel. That task accomplished, she wandered down to the second floor to check out the food situation. From a menu bearing the marks of weary trekkers soiled with trail dust, she chose
aalu
, having no idea what it was. Thirty minutes later, a plate arrived piled with fifteen tiny, boiled potatoes still in their skins. Staring at the steaming mass, she wondered if she was supposed to pick them up and eat them whole or what?

Beth dumped them in a plastic bag from her pack and started out for the Hillary school in Khumjung with no directions other than about an hour up the hill. Nibbling on a hot potato, she chose a path to the left, figuring she could always turn around and come down if lost. Thirty minutes later while searching the bag for another potato, Beth hiked around a large boulder and suddenly came face to face with a yak charging straight at her chased by an adolescent boy. All three panicked with Beth scrambling up the rock and the boy grabbing the tail and digging his heels in while the animal careened to the right. Pulling out of his grasp, the yak grunted and joined the rest of the herd leaving the boy with nothing but a handful of long, shaggy tail hair. Spotting Beth sitting on the rock, the boy slapped the hair onto his head, grinned, and shouted, “
Namaste
.”