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She started thinking about her family, and how they must be feeling. She struggled to remember those last terrifying moments, and felt sure that Paul and her sisters had jumped clear of the avalanche’s fury. She wondered if the snow had covered the lodge, and if everyone there was all right. What if they’d all been buried? Her grandfather, her parents…what would Elise and Sharon do without them? Paul could take care of himself, but her sisters would be devastated.
A cold, wet tear slid slowly down her cheek, and she dashed it away with the back of her hand. She had to pull herself together. If she was going to die, she refused to go whimpering like a baby, she thought fiercely. She shifted her position, trying to get more comfortable, and realized one of her skis was still attached to her injured foot. The other must have come off in her wild tumble through the snow.
She couldn’t reach her foot to take off the ski, and she couldn’t pull her foot toward her because the ski was jammed behind the tree. She slumped back against the wall, fighting against the return of panic. In her entire life, she’d never felt so alone.
She thought about her grandfather, and tried to guess what he would tell her now. All her life she’d gone to him for advice, from the time when she was six and her parents wouldn’t let her have a puppy until four years ago when she’d wrestled with her decision to live in Denver. Somehow Grandpa James was easier to talk to than her parents, much as she loved them. Grandpa had a way of really listening to her, and never judged her—never laughed at her silly notions the way her father sometimes did.
She closed her eyes and imagined he was there with her, sitting by her side, listening to her woes. After a while she heard his gravelly voice, as clearly as if he’d spoken to her. Sing, he told her. Singing lifts the spirits. Make as much noise as you can. Sing your heart out, Anne. Sing!
She sang. Every song she could think of. And when she didn’t know the words she made them up. She was in the middle of a rousing chorus of “God Bless America” when a faint sound penetrated her high-pitched screeching.
She snapped her mouth shut and held her breath. If there was a timber wolf out there she didn’t want to let it know that its next meal was just a few feet away. In the silence that followed she thought she must have imagined the noise, and gathered her breath to blast out another chorus. Before she could let it out, however, she heard the noise again. Closer this time.
Excitement gripped her as she strained her ears. She was either suffering from delusion, or that was a human voice she’d heard. Tears welled up and ran unchecked down her cheeks when she heard the shout again. It was a human voice. And he wasn’t too far away.
Terrified that he’d pass right by her, she dragged in her breath and let it out in a furious bellow of desperation. “Help! Please help me!”
“Hang on, I’m coming. Just keep yelling.”
“I’m down here, in a ravine. Please, be careful.” The last thing she needed was a man’s heavy body tumbling down on top of her. More than likely he’d send them both hurtling to their deaths.
She refused to think about that, but waited in an agony of suspense until she heard another shout. It was much closer this time.
“Where are you?”
“Wait! Don’t move. You’re close to the edge of the ravine. Wait a minute and I’ll send up a snowball.” She quickly gathered up some snow and formed it into a ball. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, throw away!”
His voice sounded muffled, and vaguely familiar. Excited now, she braced herself against the wall. She would have to throw underarm…she had no room to bring her elbow back for an overarm throw. Praying she had the strength to lob the snowball high enough for her rescuer to see it, she leaned forward and flung her hand skyward.
The snowball shot out of her hand and she saw it silhouetted against the gray patch of sky, then it fell like a stone. She never heard it land. She tried not to think how far down it had fallen.
She peered up at the gray patch and yelled, “Did you see it?”
“I saw it.” Seconds later a beam of light flashed downward, blinding her. “I have to tell you, Annie Parker, that was the worst rendition of “God Bless America” I’ve ever heard.”
She blinked, her mind refusing to accept what her ears had heard. It couldn’t be. She was imagining things again.
Then he spoke again, chasing away any doubt in her mind. “I know how you big city dwellers crave excitement, but isn’t this going a little too far?”
She groaned aloud. Unbelievable. A whole damn mountain out there and Brad Irving had to be the one to stumble across her. In the next instant she was ashamed of her uncharitable thought. She could have died in that ravine if he hadn’t found her.
Concern crept into his voice as he peered down at her. “Are you hurt?”
His face looked ghostly in the reflection from his headlamp, but there was no mistaking those chiseled features. She roused herself to answer. “My ankle hurts, but otherwise I’m okay.”
“Is it broken?”
She wiggled it and winced. “I don’t think so. But my foot is jammed behind this broken tree and I can’t get my ski off.”
The light moved off her face and probed around her. For the first time she could see the edge of the ledge and the blackness beyond. Her stomach heaved. She had less room than she thought. She watched the headlamp’s beam move over the broken tree and her shattered ski.
“Looks like we’ll have to shift that tree before we can get you up,” Brad said, with a lot more confidence than the situation warranted, in Anne’s opinion.
“I might go down with it,” she said, her voice trembling.
“Suit yourself, but I don’t recommend it.”
His cheerful tone irritated her. The last thing she needed right now was his warped sense of humor. “So what do you suggest? That’s if you’re capable of coming up with a practical solution.”
“If I don’t, then I guess you’re stuck down there. If I were you I’d think about that, Annie, and try to be civil to me.”
Deciding to play it safe, she said dryly, “I’ll do my best, but my temperament is not at its greatest right now. For reasons you should be able to understand. And by the way, since you seem to keep forgetting, the name’s Anne.”
“Right.”
The light disappeared, leaving her in the cold darkness once more. She looked up, but all she could see was the patch of gray above her. For a terrifying moment of disbelief she thought he’d left her, but then the beam slashed across her face again, temporarily blinding her.
She could hear Brad grunting and cursing, and a shower of snow descended on her, then she saw his face suspended above her again.
“Can’t shift the tree from up here,” he said, sounding breathless. “You’ll have to try and shove it away from you at your end.”
“I don’t think I can,” she said miserably.
“You can if I’m hanging on to you. I think I can reach you from here. Stretch your arms up and see if you can reach my hands.”
She saw his gloved hands sliding down toward her. He had to be lying flat on his stomach in the snow. She stretched as high as she could. There was at least a six-inch gap between her fingers and his. “Not without standing up,” she said, trying not to let defeat creep into her voice.
“Okay, hang on.” Again he disappeared, and she waited, feeling the cold gnawing at her bones. Seconds later something slithered over the edge and snaked down toward her.
“Buckle this belt around one of your wrists,” Brad ordered. “I’ve got the other end around mine. It will hold you while you kick the tree out from the ledge.”
She took off one of her gloves long enough to fasten the belt around her wrist, then pulled it on again. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Before we do this,” Brad said calmly, “I should tell you I don’t have a lot of traction up here. So try not to fall off the ledge, okay?”
She understood what he meant. The avalanche had laid a blanket of deep, soft snow over the area. It would be slippery even to walk on. Trying to get traction in it would be almost impossible. There was every chance that in trying to get her out of there, Brad could very well fall down in there with her. She didn’t want to think about where they might end up.
“Look,” she said, with just a slight waver in her voice. “Are you sure about this? I mean, I could wait here while you go get help.”
“We don’t have time for that. I’ve lost my skis and it could take hours, if not days, to get down the mountain on foot, even if I could find my way. It’s snowing like crazy up here.”
She could tell that from the snowflakes drifting down on her face. He was right, she didn’t have that much time. Already she could feel the numbness creeping up her right leg. “Okay,” she said unsteadily. “Let’s do it.”
“Right. I’ve got a good hold on you, so I want you to kick that tree out from under you with your good foot. If you give it a good shove near the base, it should go down. Okay?”
She swallowed. “Okay. Just tell me when.”
The light vanished and she closed her eyes, willing herself to think positively.
“All right—now. Kick it as hard as you can.”
Her first attempt was weak, and failed to dislodge the tree, thought it jolted her almost off the ledge. Clinging to her makeshift lifeline, she tried again. This time the tree shifted, bringing fresh pain to her ankle. She bit her lip, brought her knee up as far as she could, and then jammed it hard against the tree trunk. With a horrible scraping sound the tree moved, then with a groan, slid away from her. It seemed an awful long time before she heard the crashing thud of its landing far below.
Her voice had raised several notches when she called out, “It’s gone.”
“I heard it.” Brad sounded grim now. “Can you reach your ski to take it off?”
“I think so.” Carefully she bent her right knee and fiddled with the clamps. The shattered ski fell away from her and joined the tree at the bottom of the ravine. “Okay, it’s gone, too.”
“Then try to stand up. I’ll pull as hard as I can. Move real slowly, and try to stay as close to the wall as you can.”
She gripped the belt and drew in a deep breath. “I’m ready.”
At the first tug of the belt she pulled herself painfully to her feet. Brad’s tone was a lot lighter now, and she took heart, even though her stomach seemed to drop at the thought of leaving the fragile security of that ledge.
“You should be able to reach my hands now,” Brad said above her.
She looked up, almost into his face. “Hi,” she said unsteadily. “And thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he said gruffly. “I still have to get you out of here.”
Once more he lowered his hands toward her. “Take off your gloves. We’ll have a better grip.”
Quickly she took off the gloves and shoved them in her pockets. Then she reached up and grasped his hands. “I don’t have any footholds,” she said, striving to sound unafraid. “The wall is as smooth as glass.”
“Then I guess brute strength will have to do. Good thing I work out regularly.”
For once she was in complete agreement. “I could try jumping,” she suggested.
“Too risky. Better let me take your weight and keep as still as you can.”
“All right.” She swallowed hard as her feet left the ledge and she felt herself hanging from the death grip Brad had on her hands. She heard him grunt as she inched up the wall, then her head cleared the top of the ravine and she could look out at the swirling snow. One more painful jerk on her hands and her upper body was on firm ground. She was safe.
Brad let go of her hands, but before she could drag herself farther out he grabbed her under the armpits and hauled her the rest of the way. They both went down in a heap in the snow where, much against her will, she ended up sprawled on top of him.
For a moment or two it seemed neither of them could get their breath, then Brad said wheezily, “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
“Believe me,” Anne said, just as breathlessly, “this wasn’t planned.”
“Aw, and here I thought you were still trying to get my attention.” He grinned up at her. “Though I can think of better places to get cozy.”
The comment was enough to remind her exactly who he was. She rolled off him and sat up. “I’m very grateful to you for getting me out of there, Brad, but don’t think it gives you any special privileges.”
She could see his expression quite clearly in the reflection from his headlamp. He actually looked offended, though she couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not. “Are you kidding? It was the furthest thing from my mind. I know better than to hit on a Parker. I’m liable to get drawn and quartered.”
“Well, don’t let it ruin your evening.” Miffed in spite of herself, she scrambled unsteadily to her feet.
He got up more slowly. “Can you walk?”
“I think so.” She hesitated, then added in a rush, “Look, I really am very grateful.”
“No big deal. Just don’t tell anyone I rescued a Parker. My mother would never let me forget it.”
She leaned down to massage her ankle. “I’ll take care not to mention it to her. But I’m quite sure my family will be very grateful.”
He pulled on his gloves and turned up the collar of his jacket. “I didn’t do anything anyone else wouldn’t have done, so don’t feel you have to take it personally. I wouldn’t have left a dog down there to freeze to death.”
Feeling somewhat offended by his cavalier tone, she tested her weight on her ankle. An agonizing shaft of pain made her wince. It was going to be a painful trip back down the mountain. Her voice sharpened. “Well, I’m grateful that you think I was worth saving. I’ll share a bone with you when we get back to town. Which can’t be soon enough for me.”
“Well, you might have to wait a while for that.” Light blazed a path across the snow as he turned his head. Thick white snowflakes slanted down the beam, obliterating everything except for a few feet ahead. “We won’t get far in this mess tonight.”
She stared at him in alarm. “What are you saying? You’re not suggesting we stay the night up here?”
The resignation in his face frightened her. “Looks like it.”
“We can’t stay here.” She fought a wave of panic. “We’ll freeze to death. Besides, everyone will be worried sick. We have to at least try to get back down.”
Brad shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Believe me, there’s nothing I’d like better. I should point out, however, that it’s snowing like crazy, the avalanche has wiped out the trails, it’s dark as blazes and the battery in my headlamp won’t last much longer. If that isn’t enough, you can’t walk on that ankle, and if you think I can carry you down this mountain then I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed. I’m in pretty good shape, but I’m not a superhero. I’m sorry, Your Highness, but like it or not, we’re going to be spending the night right here on this mountain.”
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