Broken Trust (2 page)

two

A cyclone roared in
Nora Abbott’s ears. Her gloved fingers clung to the cold stone as she fought rising nausea. She forced herself to scan the horizon, to broaden her view and take in the vast expanse opening below her.

The sharp rocks at the mountain’s summit seemed like teeth about to shred
her
. The thin
,
cold wind tugged strands of hair from her ponytail as
she
concentrated on the big picture. Maybe gravity anchored her to the rock
,
but she felt as if she’d fly off any moment and kite into the impossible openness of sky. Then she’d fall. Down the expansive sweep of the cliff face, through the struggling brush at the tree line so far below her. She’d crash into the pines and rocks as the air grew thicker. Finally
,
she’d lie in a heap of bones and torn flesh.

Like Scott. Her husband. Forever gone.

No.

Far away, across the vast sky, peaks met her gaze, smattered with snow left from last winter. As far as she could see there was nothing but the Rockies, strong, solid, never-changing. No houses, office buildings, cars
,
or people. The early morning clouds hung low
,
and Nora wished for the bright Colorado sunshine to burn away her fear.

Okay, enough of the dramatics.

Today. Now. This is the day she’d overcome her dread.

No more of this craziness. She’d reclaim her lost love of the mountains and the sky.

Nora made herself come up here today because the first snow of the season was predicted for next week. After that, they’d close the road and she would spend another winter cowering in town.

Up here on Mount Evans, the most accessible of Colorado’s fourteen-thousand-foot-high peaks, the world opened before her. It was as if she balanced on a pinnacle between space and Earth, held by only a brush with the stone.

Normally the summit would be packed with tourists, since they could drive to a parking lot a quarter
-mile down and take the narrow, rock-strewn switchbacks to the summit. But this early, only a dozen people in twos and threes scrambled over the boulders, inching toward the edges to admire the colossal views. Nora occupied a perch alone, tucked as close to the mountain as possible, afraid to slide her foot an inch toward the edge.

Even if you didn’t have to strap on a pack and climb for days to enjoy the grandeur of the view, the short hike and the precarious footing at the summit required some level of fitness. Not one square yard of the top area lay level. Boulders and rocks perched at odd angles that necessitated scrambling just to get from one dangerous visage to another.

She inhaled.

So far, so good.

Maybe she wasn’t the Fear-Conquering Goddess, but she was working it.

Despite the jagged rocks and uneven footing, she
would
overcome her fear. At thirty-two, her health good, her balance as steady as ever, she wasn’t likely to sail off the side.

Except.

Scott had been in awesome shape when he’d gone over the side on the mountain in Flagstaff. But he hadn’t fallen. He’d been pushed.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Don’t think about that.

And Heather. She couldn’t save Heather, either.

Apparently her flight from Arizona to Colorado hadn’t been far enough to shield her from the memories of death.

Nora started to tremble. A fissure opened somewhere inside her right temple. It spread downward and branched off, racing across her skin, splintering her control.

Stop it!

Falling apart would not bring back the people she’d loved.

Nora clenched her fists and imagined her insides of jelly hardening into steel. Her heart slowed slightly. The crashing hurricane of blood eased enough so she heard the screech of a hawk. The world stretched below her—endless mountains, their tips white against an impossibly blue sky. The crisp air brushed against her cheeks.

Feeling more stable, Nora eased forward, leaning away from the mountain and toward the future. Any day, any moment, her life could change. She might soar, like that hawk. Any moment.

With one more gaze across the limitless mountain range, Nora shuffled
back
across the boulders and scree, making her way to the trailhead
that led down
to the parking lot.

That’s when she saw it.

At first, it was a flash of blue against the rocks. This far above tree line, she didn’t expect much color aside from the tiny flowers hiding in cracks.

She gritted her teeth. Probably a bandana or cap left by a tourist, surely.

But it got worse.

He stood in front of her. Hatchet in one hand, feathers in another. His fierce mask with its plug mouth faced her.

“No. Oh no. Go away.”

Nora slid to her knees.

A figment of her imagination. Of course the kachina in front of her wasn’t real. Kachinas were Hopi. They belonged in Northern Arizona, not the heart of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado.

That is, if kachinas really existed. Which they didn’t.

Nora squeezed her eyes shut.
You don’t exist. You’re not real
.

The black blanket appeared at the edge of her inner vision, creeping toward her brain. She couldn’t breathe
, could only feel the wild thump of her heart trying to burst from her rib cage. She refused to open her eyes and let them lie to her again.

Paralyzed by panic, Nora curled into herself.

“Are you okay?” A little girl’s voice cut through the thunder of fear.

Nora fought back from the blackness. With Olympic force of will, she opened her eyes.

Of course the kachina had disappeared. Nora sucked in the cold, thin air in relief. He never stuck around for any other witnesses. It made no sense that he chose to show himself to Nora, a white girl with red hair. As if it made sense for anyone to see the phantom kachina at all.

A cartoon of gauze and yarn swirling in color stood before Nora. The girl—or woman, Nora couldn’t tell—hovered in layers of skirts, sweaters, leggings, and scarves, topped with a wild growth of dreadlocks bunched on top of her head and twining around her face like Medusa’s snakes.

Her appearance seemed as bizarre as the kachina, but her slight build with small face and tiny hands didn’t harbor much threat. More than that, her timid gaze behind a pair of John Lennon–pink sunglasses disarmed Nora.

“Are you okay?” she asked again.

Nora inhaled good air. Like a child in the throes of a nightmare, she felt relief in the presence of another person. “Yes. I’m fine.”

The girl eyed her skeptically. “Having trouble with the altitude? If you aren’t acclimated, you can get disoriented this high.”

Of course. That explained it all. Nora could have kissed this strange mountain imp for giving her an excuse. Nora considered the parking lot several switchbacks below them. Just a small journey to safety.

The girl helped Nora stand. “I’ll walk you to the parking lot. You’ll feel better as soon as you get lower.”

I’ll feel better as soon as Hopi spirits quit popping out at me
. But Nora smiled as best she could, for now satisfied that the kachina had retreated to the depths of her very sick mind.

“I’m Petal,” the girl said.

The name fit. “I’m Nora.”

Nora ought to be embarrassed but she welcomed the
steady hand on her arm
. Far from an easy stroll, the trail was nothing but a pile of rocks that required concentration to navigate. Though traveled by countless tourists every summer, the trail could be easily lost. The switchbacks angled back on themselves in unexpected places and it was easy to find yourself off-trail, going around the side of the mountain with nothing below
you
to stop a fall.

Someday Nora would be agile and fearless again.
She
had
climbed the backside of Mount Evans in high school; today she’d driven. Driving to the top of a fourteener was nothing short of cheating. You should have to work to be rewarded with the view from the top of the world. But today was her test.
And i
f the kachina hadn’t swept in, she would have passed.

Petal walked Nora to her Jeep. She waited while Nora dug into her jeans pocket for a key. “Your first fourteener?”

Nora unlocked the door and Abbey, her aging golden retriever opened his eyes. He sat up from napping on the driver’s seat. “No. I’ve lived in Boulder most of my life
, b
ut I haven’t been climbing recently. What about you? Did you hike the whole mountain?”

Petal shook her head. Her voice sounded frail, as if she’d rather not speak at all. “No. I caught a ride up.”

Abbey eased from the Jeep and nosed the tire. He lifted his leg. Abbey finished and walked back to sit by Nora. “Thanks again for helping me down.”

Petal nodded and stood still.

“Where is your ride?” Nora asked, mainly because Petal seemed to expect the conversation to continue. Nora motioned for Abbey to get in the Jeep.

Petal shrugged.

That’s what Nora suspected. “You hitched?”

Petal nodded again, solemn.

Nora leaned into the Jeep. She pulled a backpack and a couple of paperback books from the bench seat in back to the floor. She picked up an extra ski cap and gloves from the passenger side floor and tossed them on top of the books and waved Abbey into the backseat. “
Go on, Abbey.” She turned. “
If you don’t mind riding in a muddy old Jeep, climb in.”

Petal shook her head, her dreads bouncing. “Oh no. You don’t have to do that. I’ll get a ride.”

“I know I don’t have to. Where are you going?”

Petal studied her Chaco sandals and thick wool socks. “Boulder.”

“Me
too.
Let’s go.” Nora felt almost cheerful at being able to help someone.

Petal seemed to argue with herself for a moment
,
then her thin lips turned up in a tiny smile. “Okay. Thanks.”

She clambered into the Jeep and Nora backed out, already feeling better. Nora cranked on the heater in the rumbling Jeep, the smell of dog hair mingling with Petal’s organic odor.

Petal turned in the seat and scratched Abbey’s ears. “Your dog is nice. Her name is Abbey?”

“His. Named after Edward Abbey
, o
ne of the earliest conservationists.” Nora braked and eased to the inside of the narrow road as they met an SUV. She’d rather hike than drive this strip of pavement carved along the mountainside.

Petal nodded. “I know.”

That surprised Nora. So many people had no idea about Edward Abbey. “
So w
hat do you do for a living?” Oops. From Petal’s a
ppearance, she might not be making a living. Nora cursed her rusty
social skills.

Petal didn’t seem offended. “I work at Loving Earth Trust.”

Nora knew the name. “That’s great. They
—
you
—
have done some good work, especially with open space in Boulder.”

Petal turned from Abbey and pulled her feet under her. “What do you do?”

Nora maneuvered the Jeep around a tight corner, holding her breath and avoiding glancing at the edge of the road that slid into oblivion. “I’d love to work for an environmental group.”

“Really? Why?”

Why
. The answer involved so much history, so many regrets. “Redemption.”

Petal’s soft voice sounded shocked. “You’re such a nice person, I can’t believe you’ve done something you need to atone for.”

“I’m not that nice, believe me.”

Petal shook her head, sending the dreads waving again. “I can read auras. They don’t lie
,
and yours tells me how good you are.”

Nora smiled at her. Clouds scuttled across the sun and the Jeep felt chilly even with the heater blasting.

“No
,
I mean it,” Petal said. “Yours is deep red. That means you’re grounded and realistic and a survivor.”

Not too long ago Petal’s words would have made Nora scoff
—
not
to
someone’s face, but inside, at least. Now dead Hopi leaders visited her on mountaintops and spoke to her in dreams. Who was she to judge?

Petal regarded her. “What is a kachina?”

Nora’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Why do you ask?”

Petal cast her eyes down at the floor. “You said something about a kachina when you were on the mountain.”

Raving. Super. They ought to lock
me
up.

“A kachina is a Hopi spiritual being of sorts. Hopi are a tribe in Northern Arizona. The kachinas ar
en’
t really gods, but they’re not human, either. There’s about
three hundred
of them and they can represent things in nature or”
—
she forced her voice to remain neutral
—
“they can be spirits of ancestors.”

Petal accepted the explanation as if Nora had described an interesting recipe. “Oh.”

They rode in silence for a while, Nora holding her breath at every tight switchback. It seemed like walking down would not only be safer, it would be quicker. Finally, Petal asked. “What do you think you should do for your redemption?”

Nora shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’m an accountant and I’ve been applying at environmental places all over town with no luck. I hate to give up and go corporate. But I need a job.”