Catching Air (12 page)

“I think I can do it now,” Kira said when she reached the chairlift. It looked like a subway escalator for underage commuters; a dozen little kids were riding it, but no adults, which felt more than a bit humiliating. Why did people like this sport again? Hadn’t a comedian once likened it to standing in a freezing cold shower while tearing up hundred-dollar bills?

“Are you sure?” Rand asked. “I could stay with you on your first run.”

“She said she’s fine!” Peter said, his words clipped.

No, her husband definitely wasn’t happy.

“Hey!” Rand released Kira so quickly she almost fell again. “Just trying to help.”

Peter muttered something under his breath, his voice too low for Kira to make out the words.

“What?” Rand asked.

Peter held his eyes for a moment. “Nothing,” he finally said.

“Whatever,” Rand said. “Lyss, let’s hit the diamonds. We’ll catch you later.”

“Thanks,” Kira called as he turned away. She grabbed the handrail and rode the escalator up, managing to exit without incident with the help of a member of the ski patrol. She positioned herself sideways to the mountain so she wouldn’t go zipping off and waited for Peter to come up next to her.

“Are you okay?” she asked. Peter wasn’t the jealous type, but his brother seemed to push all kinds of buttons in him.

“Yep,” he said. He looked a little less tense now that Rand was gone, but Kira couldn’t help wishing her brother-in-law had stayed to help her on her inaugural run. She looked down at the bottom of the mountain, which seemed ridiculously far away.

“I have no idea what to do next,” she confessed.

“Follow my tracks,” Peter said. “I’m going to make gentle, wide turns. If you feel yourself falling, just sit down.”

“Okay,” she said, wondering if this would somehow end up on YouTube.

Miraculously, her balance held and she was able to trace Peter’s path all the way down the mountain without a single fall. “I did it!” she cried. Sure, a few dozen four-year-olds had done it a lot faster, but she still felt triumphant.

Peter reached over and clinked poles with her. “You were great,” he said. “Let’s do it again.”

“You don’t think we should quit while I’m ahead?” she joked, but already her competitive spirit was kicking in. One more run on the bunny slope, she decided, then she was hitting the real ones.

She banished the ridiculous thought almost as soon as it entered her mind, but for a fleeting moment, she imagined Rand watching her sail past him, her knees bent and her hair flying in the wind, his handsome, rugged face filled with admiration as he cheered her on.

Chapter Nine

ALYSSA STOOD ON TOP
of the mountain and inhaled deeply, tasting the sharp tang of frost. The sun was ablaze in a brilliant blue sky, and the slopes were shining ribbons of white.

The first run was always her favorite. She grinned and adjusted her goggles.

“Ready?” Rand asked, and she nodded and set down her snowboard.

She waited until a group of skiers had moved out of her way, then stepped onto her board, squatted low, and took off. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and she laughed aloud. She picked up speed and went into a turn, feeling her core muscles contract as she counterbalanced to avoid falling.

“Woo-hoo!” she yelled, pumping her fist in the air.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rand approaching fast, carving up the slope as he cut back and forth and sent up sprays of powder.

She crouched lower, feeling her thighs burn, and aimed her board toward a little jump. Another twenty feet . . . she tucked in her elbows and kept her knees loose. This was it, the moment when she always felt the most alive.

The jump swam before her eyes. She blinked away a feeling of disorientation. Ten feet . . . five . . . Her legs abruptly turned weak and shaky, and she knew she couldn’t hold her squat. She straightened and tried to steer to the side of the jump so she could stop.

Too late,
she thought as she hit the edge of the jump at an angle. Dizziness overpowered her, and the ground tilted and turned blurry. She landed hard on her left side and lay there, trying to catch her breath.

“Lyss?” Rand was bent over her, touching her cheek. She took stock of her body. Her shoulder throbbed, and there was a chunk of ice trickling down the inside of her jacket, but she’d escaped serious injury.

She could hear someone call out, “Is she okay?” and she slowly sat up and waved.

“Did you catch an edge?” Rand asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just got dizzy.” Her head was clearing now, but she still felt shaky. “I skipped breakfast. I think that’s it.”

She got to her feet, holding on to his arm for balance. “I can make it to the bottom,” she said. “Then I’ll go grab some oatmeal.”

“I’m right behind you,” he said. “Take it slow.”

She made it to the entrance of the lodge and unstrapped her board and set it in the snow. “You go ahead,” she told Rand. She knew how much he loved to board, and he’d already lost time by helping Kira, which had been sweet of him, even though it had seemed to irritate Peter. “I’ll catch up with you.”

“You sure?” he asked.

She leaned forward and kissed him. “I already delayed you by twenty minutes this morning, remember?”

He grinned. “Call me when you’re ready,” he said.

She went into the lodge’s restaurant and bought a banana and oatmeal and some orange juice; then she took it all to a table. The eating area was mostly deserted, except for one woman slumped over napping at a nearby table.

Alyssa sipped the juice and forced herself to taste the oatmeal. She felt a little nauseated, which happened sometimes when she forgot to eat. She reached around to the base of her neck to try to rub away the headache that was forming. Maybe she’d wrenched something when she fell.

An odd squeaking sound made her turn to look at the sleeping woman. The woman must be in the throes of a vivid dream—now she was muttering, “No . . . please . . .”

Alyssa turned back around and took another tiny bite of oatmeal. It tasted a little off. Could she be coming down with the flu? She managed to eat most of the banana, then pushed her tray aside. She was going to stay in the lodge and rest, she decided. There would be plenty of other days to snowboard. She was just pulling out her cell phone to tell Rand when the sleeping woman gave a half moan, half scream. It was an awful sound, hollow and wretched.

Alyssa leapt out of her chair and rushed over.

“Hey,” she said as the woman jerked up her head and looked around, her eyes wild. “You’re okay. I think you just had a bad dream.”

The woman blinked rapidly, then glanced up at Alyssa, her lips trembling. “He’s not here?” she asked.

“Who?” Alyssa asked.

The woman shook her head instead of answering, then wiped the tears from her eyes with her fingertips.

Alyssa reached for a napkin from the dispenser on the table. “Here,” she said.

“Thanks.” The woman had a round face and ink-black hair, and oddly, she wore an exercise outfit instead of ski clothes. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” she said.

“No worries,” Alyssa said. She was about to go back to her table when the woman’s face crumpled and she bent over, her body erupting in wrenching sobs.

Alyssa didn’t hesitate. She’d never shied away from engaging with strangers—years of traveling solo had erased those sorts of social barriers for her. She sat down next to the woman and rubbed her back and made soothing sounds as the woman wept.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said again, rubbing the napkin over her eyes.

“Please don’t apologize,” Alyssa said. “There’s nothing wrong with having a good cry when you need one. Tell you what, I was just going to get a cup of tea. Can I bring you one?”

“Tea?” the woman asked, like it was a foreign word.

“Or coffee, or hot chocolate,” Alyssa said.

The woman stared at her for a moment. “I would really love some hot chocolate,” she said. She began to reach into the purse in her lap, but Alyssa waved away her offer of money.

When Alyssa came back to the table, the woman had composed herself and was sitting up straight, her purse still clutched in her lap like she was worried someone would steal it. She was younger than Alyssa had first thought—maybe in her mid-twenties—and she looked exhausted, with her slightly matted hair and dark circles ringing her eyes.

“They asked if I wanted whipped cream,” Alyssa said. “I wasn’t sure, but I figured yes would be the safer answer.”

The woman smiled. “What’s the point of hot chocolate without whipped cream?” she asked. She took a sip and closed her eyes. “I can’t tell you how good this tastes,” she said. “Thank you.”

Alyssa squeezed a lemon wedge into her tea and added the contents of a packet of honey before speaking again.

“So, who is he?” she asked.

The woman tensed. “What do you mean?”

“You asked if he was here when you were waking up from your dream.” Alyssa shrugged. “I figured it must have been a bad breakup. I’m Alyssa, by the way.”

“My name is . . . Dawn,” the woman said.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Alyssa said. “But I’ve found it can be really therapeutic to talk to a stranger, someone who doesn’t have an opinion about your history.”

Dawn took another sip of hot chocolate. “It’s complicated,” she said. She gave a little half laugh. “Supercomplicated.”

Alyssa nodded. She could imagine what had happened: Dawn had walked in on her boyfriend with another woman, or maybe he’d wanted only a bit of fun but she’d fallen in love. She had that look about her—innocent and vulnerable and unsophisticated. Maybe it was the first time she’d had her heart broken. But what was she doing at a ski resort, sitting in the lodge’s restaurant in those black track pants and hoodie, carrying a big leather purse?

She was completely unprepared for what Dawn said next, in a voice so small and wispy that Alyssa had to strain to make out the words: “He . . . hurt me.”

• • •

Dawn hadn’t meant to lie. But she’d been feeling so achingly alone and then, miraculously, she wasn’t any longer. The beautiful woman with the kind smile had patted her back, and given her a napkin, and bought her a hot chocolate—a bittersweet echo of her father’s gift from long ago. She couldn’t bear to tell Alyssa the truth and see the smile slip off her face while she pushed back her chair and got up and walked away.

Her dream was so vivid it was hard to believe it hadn’t happened: Tucker had come into the ski lodge, his eye still raw and swollen, wearing the same blue oxford shirt he’d had on the day he chased her, and she’d suddenly realized her mistake. The table she’d chosen in the back of the restaurant—the one that let her see everyone coming in—also provided a good view of
her
.

Tucker had spotted her instantly. She’d been unable to move or scream; she just sat there, fear flooding her body, while he came closer, his face twisting in rage and hatred. She’d awoken as his hands tightened around her neck.

When Alyssa had asked, “So, who is he?” Dawn remembered how the cabdriver had tried to protect her because he thought Tucker had hit her, and she wondered if the fib might make Alyssa stay beside her a little longer. Technically Tucker
had
hurt her, just not in the way she’d implied, though she’d sensed simmering violence in him during their last encounter that might’ve exploded if he’d caught her. He’d gutted her emotionally, upended her sense of safety, destroyed her life.

“My God,” Alyssa said. She reached forward to grasp Dawn’s hand. “Can I call someone for you? A friend?”

Dawn shook her head. “No. There isn’t . . . anyone.”

“You’re safe now, okay? I’m here and I’m going to help you,” Alyssa said.

Dawn closed her eyes and heard those beautiful words again.
I’m going to help you.

She couldn’t do this alone, not any longer. Someday soon Tucker would catch up with her, or the police, or some scary guy would follow her and mug her and take all of her money . . .

“I’m scared he’s going to find me,” Dawn whispered. She needed to stick to the truth as much as possible.

“Is he here? In Killington?” Alyssa asked.

Dawn shook her head. “I don’t think so. I came from—from a big city. I’ve been taking buses, staying in different places. I just got here today.”

“You did good,” Alyssa said. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?”

Dawn shook her head again. “Not yet. I was going to see if I could find a cheap motel . . .”
Honesty,
she reminded herself. “Or maybe find an empty condo and try to sneak in there to stay until I got things sorted out . . .”

“I think you should come stay with us for the night,” Alyssa said. “We run a B-and-B, and all the rooms are empty at the moment. You can have a good meal and a hot bath and figure out what to do next.”

Dawn’s breath caught in her throat. She felt her tears rise to the surface again. “But you don’t even know me,” she said.
You don’t know what I’ve done,
she thought, but Alyssa was already talking over her protests.

“I used to travel a lot, and there was one time when I took a train to Germany late at night. There was a girl sitting across from me, and we started talking. She spoke English really well, which was good, because my German is terrible. Anyway, we talked about everything: the job she had, which was babysitting, and the job she wanted, which was to be an actress. She wanted to know about my life, growing up in the U.S., and she said she dreamed of visiting Hollywood someday. At the end of the ride we both got off the train and then it hit me: I’d forgotten to exchange any money into German currency before leaving Poland—this was before the euro—and I hadn’t booked a place to stay. Normally that wouldn’t be a big deal, but it was dark out, and there weren’t any other trains. Everyone else was walking away, and the booth for the train attendant was empty, so I just stood there with my heavy backpack, looking around in the darkness. And then, naturally, it started to rain.”

“What did you do?” Dawn asked.

Alyssa smiled. “The girl came back. She said she’d been about to get into her boyfriend’s car when she’d seen me standing there. I spent the night on the floor of her apartment, and the next day they dropped me off at a bank where I could exchange money.”

Dawn looked out the window, watching as skiers and snowboarders worked their way down the mountain. “I think my problems are going to be harder to solve,” she said.

“Yes,” Alyssa agreed. “But at least I can help with one of them. I can give you a place to stay tonight.”

Dawn looked down at her cup of hot chocolate, wondering if she dared trust a stranger. She’d grown so suspicious and careful lately that Alyssa’s offer seemed fraught with danger. What if Alyssa called the police to report the “abusive” boyfriend? Or what if Dawn slipped up and revealed the truth?

But in the end, the draw of kindness, a meal, and a hot bath overpowered Dawn’s fear. She had to stop and rest or she’d collapse, and she sensed Alyssa wouldn’t press her to reveal her full story. All she was offering was the reprieve Dawn desperately needed.

“Okay,” Dawn said. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Alyssa smiled. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her natural beauty shone through—big eyes the color of licorice, wavy hair that tumbled halfway down her back, and a strong jawline with a hint of a cleft in her chin.

“We’ll have to hang out here for a while first,” Alyssa said. “My husband’s snowboarding, and my brother and sister-in-law are skiing. We all own the B-and-B together, so you’ll meet them soon.”

So many new people. But maybe Alyssa would run interference for her so the others wouldn’t ask questions.

“You’re not a skier?” Dawn asked, trying to turn the conversation to focus on Alyssa, so she didn’t slip up by revealing too much.

“Oh, I am,” Alyssa said. “More of a snowboarder these days. But I started to feel sick out there, and then I took a fall. I just got dizzy all of a sudden; it was weird. So I came in to get something to eat. Anyway, I’m feeling a lot better now.”

“Dizzy?” Dawn repeated.

“Yeah, and nauseous. I could barely stand to eat anything,” Alyssa said. “This tea is the only thing I want.” She gave a little laugh. “Usually you can’t keep me away from hot chocolate, but the thought of it made me feel a little ill. Maybe I’ve got a touch of food poisoning.”

Dawn studied her for a moment, thinking of the times women in the neighborhood had knocked on her mother’s door, seeking relief for the exact same symptoms Alyssa had just described. Instead of handing out samples of flu medication, her mother had always ruled out another possibility first.

Dawn wasn’t sure if she should say anything to the woman she’d just met, and before she could decide, the moment passed. Alyssa was pulling out her cell phone to call her husband, and Dawn turned away but still overheard Alyssa’s end of the conversation: “Hey, I’m going to sit it out today . . . No, just still feeling kind of yucky . . . You go ahead and get in some runs for me . . . Sure, I’ll meet you here for lunch. Love you.”