“Sierra’s leaving.”
“No, she’s not. Her flight isn’t until Monday.”
“She’s packing her suitcase and going now.” Kelly crouched at the edge of the pool, her sandals showing red-polished toes even with Paul’s chin. “Did the two of you have a fight?”
“We didn’t fight.” Not really. Neither of them had raised their voices or spoken in anger. Sierra had been upset and walked away, but he’d assumed she was merely going to cool off. “Did you say she’s packing?” His brain was having a hard time working, as if he was in the death zone, deprived of oxygen.
“She’s leaving right now, unless you do something to stop her.”
The image of Sierra walking out of his life forever was enough to get him moving. He climbed out of the pool and, not bothering to find his shoes or even a towel, raced to his Jeep and headed toward the hotel.
Two blocks from the pool, he passed a white sedan headed in the opposite direction. He had a fleeting impression of dark hair framing a beautiful face, then the vehicle was past him.
She was really leaving. How could she really be leaving? He whipped into a U-turn in the middle of Main Street, ignoring the blaring horn of a braking truck and the glares from pedestrians, and raced after the rental car.
Honking his horn, he drew alongside Sierra. She stared at him. “Stop!” he shouted.
She shook her head and sped up, but he increased his speed, as well. He had to stop her here, on this straight stretch of road before they entered the canyon. “This is ridiculous!” he shouted. “Stop!”
She pulled over at the entrance to the ball fields and got out of her car as he reached her. “Are you crazy?” she demanded. “Were you trying to cause a wreck?”
“Don’t go,” he said. “Whatever I did to upset you, I’m sorry.”
She stared at him. “You don’t know why I’m so upset?”
He shook his head. “We were talking about your staying in Ouray and I offered you a place to stay—”
“You asked me to move in with you.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“You asked me to move in with you when we’d only known each other five days.”
“I wanted us to be together.” Was that so bad?
“We had one wonderful night together and you expected me to leave my life in New York and come live with you in little Ouray, Colorado, and do what—wait patiently while you gallivant all over the world to climb mountains?”
He winced. Was that how it had sounded to her? “I wasn’t thinking. I just…things were so good between us, I didn’t want it to end.”
Her expression softened, some of the anger going out of her eyes. “I can’t stay here,” she said.
“Not even until Monday?” Even a few more days would be better than this sudden, unexpected departure.
“There’s no point.”
“Not even if I tell you I love you?”
The words hung between them. He held his breath, and wondered if she was holding hers, too. Her cheeks paled, then flushed, and she let out a rush of air. “It’s not enough,” she said softly.
In every love song he’d ever heard, love was supposed to be all you needed. How could it not be enough? “What would it take for me to change your mind?” he asked.
She didn’t hesitate to give her answer. “You’d have to quit risking your life climbing mountains. And it wouldn’t be right for me to ask that.”
Any more than it was right for him to ask her to abandon her life for his sake. What did other people do in situations like this? They found a middle ground—compromised. Something he’d had little practice at. “I love you,” he said again.
“It would be very easy for me to fall in love with you,” she said. “But it would be the wrong thing for both of us.” She opened her car door. “I left those files with Kelly at the hotel. You can pick them up anytime.”
He didn’t want the damn files. He wanted her. But when you’d told a woman you loved her and she was determined to leave anyway, what else could you possibly say? “I never met anyone like you,” he said.
“You’ll always be special to me, Paul.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then slid into the driver’s seat and drove away.
He stared after her, forcing back the mix of rage and pain that washed over him, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Was he crazy to think he could love a woman he’d known such a short time? But Sierra had been a part of his life for so much longer. She was the baby in the sling carried by Victor Winston up the mountain in the video he’d watched a hundred times. She was the person Victor smiled at in the picture Paul kept. She was the grieving daughter Paul had thought of as he carried Victor’s body down the mountain.
She was the woman he’d been waiting for all these years. If only she’d been waiting for him.
“Thanks.” She couldn’t say she’d enjoyed writing the profile of Paul—parts of it had been emotionally wrenching. But she was proud of her work on the piece.
“I appreciate that you made the article so personal,” Mark continued. “I especially liked the part where you wrote about how your feelings for your father changed as you learned more about his death. That’s the kind of insight no other journalist could have brought to this piece.”
She’d written that hearing Paul’s story had helped her understand why her father sought out the heights of the world—because he wasn’t capable of handling the emotions and complications of everyday life. Mountains were simple. They required strength and stamina and a fierce concentration on the task at hand. On a mountaintop, the problems of real life seemed far away and small. As long as a person stayed on the mountain, those problems remained remote and insignificant. “I hope this pays off for you,” she told Mark.
“It already has.” His grin broadened. “I’m heading up a special quarterly supplement focusing on endurance sports. And it came with a nice raise.”
“Then you definitely owe me dinner.”
“You name the date—though I hope you don’t mind if Tabitha comes along. She knows about our romantic history and I think it would make her uncomfortable if we went out to dinner at an expensive, romantic place, no matter how innocent our intentions.”
“Not at all. I should probably get to know your future wife better. And I can dish all the dirt on you.”
Mark looked worried for a moment, but he quickly realized she was teasing. “That’s great. And I was thinking—Tabitha has a brother who’s single. I could invite him along.”
“Thanks, but I’m not interested.” She still felt too wounded and vulnerable to date anyone so soon after Paul.
“He’s a really nice guy. I think you’d like him.”
“No, really. Not now.” She offered what she hoped was a cheerful smile. “I don’t want a new guy to watch me make a pig of myself at your expense.”
Mark laughed. “Okay. Well, check your calendar and let me know when you’re available.”
She left his office and took the elevator down to
Cherché
’s headquarters. As she stepped into the hallway, she met her editor, Cassandra Evans, a tiny woman with an imposing presence. “Love those shoes,” she said, zeroing in on Sierra’s red Louboutin heels.
“Thank you,” Sierra said, with a pang of sadness. The shoes made her think of Kelly, which in turn reminded her of Paul. In the two weeks since she’d left Ouray, seldom an hour went by that she didn’t miss him. She’d told herself that the feelings would lessen once she completed the article, but so far that hadn’t proved true.
“I’m putting together the winter calendar,” Cassandra said. “What ideas do you have?”
“I want to do something on children’s cancer—maybe an article about the female doctors and nurses who care for the kids.” The image of Paul as a sick little boy—all those hospital bracelets!—had stayed with her.
Cassandra looked thoughtful. “It’s not sexy or glamorous, but if you focus on these women as facing real challenges, accomplishing great things…” She nodded. “I think our readers would like it. Give me an outline by the end of the week.”
Back in Sierra’s office, a courier had left a package. She read the return address—Ouray, Colorado—and a wave of dizziness swept over her. So many times in the past weeks she’d thought about the town, and the people she’d met there. She’d imagined what life would have been like if she’d accepted Paul’s offer and stayed—but of course, that was impossible.
She backed carefully to the door and shut it, then sat at her desk and stared at the padded envelope. What could Paul possibly be sending her?
Or was it from Kelly? The idea both disappointed and relieved her. She found a pair of scissors in her desk and cut open the envelope.
Inside was something small wrapped in bubble wrap, and a letter in a slim white envelope. She picked up the little package and turned it over and over in her hand. It was about the size of a tangerine, and felt hard beneath the wrapping.
When she unwound the protective layers, she stared at the red jade figure of a dragon—a netsuke.
Her throat tightened as she stared at the little figure. It was just like the one her father had given her for her tenth birthday, right before her parents split. But how had Paul known?
She opened the envelope and unfolded the letter:
I meant to give this to you when you were here, but the opportunity never presented itself. I’m sure you recognize it as a netsuke. Your father had it with him when he died. I probably should have sent it to your mother with the rest of his effects, but I wanted something of my hero for myself.
I feel I owe you another apology, as well. In my happiness over the amazing night we spent together, I got carried away, but I had no right to pressure you to change your whole life based on that one night. I admire and respect you too much to think you would be so rash. Please believe this—you are an amazing woman and you will always be special to me.
I can’t help but think that your father kept this little dragon with him as a reminder of you. He may not have visited as often as he should have, but you were in his thoughts, even in his last moments.
She would treasure the little dragon, though, as tangible evidence of the ties that bound her to her father.
She’d think of Paul when she looked at the dragon, as well. He’d apologized for his impulsive invitation, but she owed him an apology, as well. She’d been a coward, running out of town as she had, and she was big enough to admit her mistake.
She pulled a blank piece of paper from the printer tray and found a pen, then stared at the smooth white sheet, wondering how to begin. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d written a personal letter. It was such a quaint, old-fashioned way to communicate. Didn’t Paul have e-mail?
But she was a writer, she reminded herself. She made her living finding the right words to say. So she picked up the pen and began:
Dear Paul…
He took out his maps and atlas and began planning a new climbing expedition. He charted routes, made lists of supplies, drafted itineraries and inventoried his equipment. He would focus on what he knew, and forbid himself to think about what might have been. Getting through this was like climbing a mountain—you lived one moment at a time.
He had his climbing ropes and harness stretched across the front yard one morning when Josh found him. “Hey, Paul,” Josh said. “You’re just the man I’m looking for.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“You hear the news about Kelly?”
“What news?” Kelly had avoided him since Sierra had left town, apparently miffed at Paul for not doing more to stop her. But how could he stop a woman who had clearly made up her mind?
“She eloped.”
“Eloped? With Keith?”
“Yeah. Is that crazy or what?”
“It’s a little sudden, but it’s not so crazy if they love each other.”
“But Kelly—married?” Josh shook his head. “I thought she was all set on going to New York and becoming a famous actress.”
“I guess she changed her mind.”
“I’ve heard women do that, though none of them ever changed their mind about me.”
Paul nodded. And Sierra wasn’t likely to change her mind about him, either. He’d sent that letter, hoping she’d reply and they could at least be friends, but so far she’d remained silent.
“You busy right now?” Josh asked.
“Not really. Why?” If Josh wanted to go for a climb, Paul was up for it, as long as his friend didn’t ask too many questions.
“Another group of kids from Children’s Hospital are coming in next week. We could really use another volunteer to help with their climb over at the pool wall.”
“No thanks. That’s really not my thing.”
“Oh, come on. It’s better than sitting around moping.”
“I don’t want to, okay?” he snapped.
The same relentlessness that made Josh a good partner on a climb made him insufferably annoying at times like this. “Why not?” he asked. “These kids have cancer—they’re not contagious or anything. They’ve been through a tough time and we’re trying to give them and their families a vacation they’ll never forget. And you won’t give up one afternoon to help?”
“It’s not that—look, I had cancer when I was a kid.”
“You did?” Some of the anger eased from Josh’s expression. “And you never said anything, all the time I’ve known you?”
“It’s not something I like to talk about.”
“Then you should definitely help these kids. Seeing you, grown up and healthy, would be a real inspiration to them and their families.”
“I don’t like being reminded of it.”
“Why not? You’re over it. Time to move on.”
“I have moved on.” Moving on meant not dwelling on the past. Just last week he’d dumped the whole carton of stuff from his mom in the Dumpster. He didn’t need those reminders of what had happened to him.
“Be that way, then,” Josh said. “But if you change your mind, we’re meeting the kids at ten Thursday morning over at the pool.”
Paul waited until Josh got in his truck and drove off before he rolled up his gear and stashed it on the porch. Then he headed into town to the post office, a ritual he’d performed every day at this time for a week, ever since he’d sent the letter and netsuke to Sierra.
The thin stack of mail in his box raised his hopes, and he anxiously rifled through it. He discovered a phone bill, two credit-card solicitations, a sale flyer from an outfitter in Montrose and, at the very bottom of the pile, a slim envelope with a New York postmark.
With trembling fingers, he tore open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper covered in a neat, feminine sprawl: