Chapter 39

DAY 4

After four days in the lookout, we’ve fallen into a pattern. Every morning, we wake in each other’s arms, get up to add wood to the fire, shovel the catwalk and stairs, make a trip to the outhouse, then crawl back into bed until there’s enough light streaming through to heat water on the stove for our packets of oatmeal. Life is simple in the fire tower.

However, this morning, something is different. I can’t quite place it. My mind is still drowsy, and with Cal folded around me, I’d rather close my eyes and sink back into a slumber where there are no worries about whether I have a job, no divorce papers, no shitty apartment. I must be doing awesome if my current precarious predicament of being marooned on a mountaintop is preferable to real life.

Then it hits me. It’s quieter . I can hear the crackle of the fire from the bed. Since we arrived here, the wind has been constant and unrelenting, blowing and whistling through trees and rock. It became white noise that faded into the background .

“Cal.” I rotate in his embrace, jostling him awake. “Do you hear that?”

“Mm?” he mumbles, still half asleep.

“It’s quiet. I think the storm is coming to an end.”

That has him blinking awake and sitting up. He squints, peering through a hole in one the slats of the shutters behind us. He climbs out of bed and not so gracefully throws on his jacket and boots. The door isn’t thrown off its hinges when he opens it and steps outside. That’s new.

He sticks his head in. “Scottie, come outside, I wanna show you something.”

It’s not my first choice. Blankets warm, outside cold. But I drag my butt out of bed and shuffle over to my gear, pulling on my clothes and hiking boots. I grab my jacket and draw up the hood. When I open the door, I brace for that first gust to suck the breath from my lungs, and it does. The wind may be lessened, but it’s still raw and breezy enough to snatch your soul.

Squinting against the light reflecting off the snow, which has taken on a golden color, I shield my eyes, and he guides me down the catwalk. I slowly drop my hand, noticing a patch of orange through the clouds—it feels like weeks since I’ve seen a sunrise or sunset.

Callahan ushers me in front of him, looking out over the railing, and I gasp at the vista laid before us.

It’s a mountain top. And another mountain. And another. I’m speechless. It doesn’t look real. A good portion is hidden behind cloud cover, but the bits that peek through are nothing short of magnificent. The range of summits to the north are washed with pink and orange where the sun reaches their snowy caps, and every shadow and ridge is painted in a cool blue. It’s living art.

“Great, huh?” His voice is rough with sleep.

“Wow.” It’s the only word I can think of, and it’s not enough. There’s no use in taking a photo, the pictures will never do it justice. There’s no use in talking about it either. I'll never be able to describe it. It’s something that has to be experienced firsthand and will only ever be understood by the person at your side.

My hair blows in the wind. I’m freezing, but nothing could steal me from this spot as we watch the sun rise from the top of the world. It’s unbelievable. The most breathtaking place on the planet as far as I’m concerned.

This is one of those experiences that alters one’s brain chemistry. Nothing matters. Blinking back tears, I realize every problem I was facing is so insignificant in comparison to the untamed landscape before me. The past few years have challenged my faith, but if there is a God, he’s not at The Fold. He’s here.

Cal wraps his arms around me from behind, rubbing my shoulders to keep me warm. We stand in silence until the sun passes over the mountains to the east. A break in the clouds has us blinded by the bright light, so I close my eyes, and for a moment, when the wind dies down, I feel the warmth of the sun’s rays on my cheeks.

We hurry back inside. “We’re leaving tomorrow,” he announces.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Early. The snow’s stopped. I’m going to check avalanche conditions, and if it looks good, I’ll make tracks today. I’ve only got one headlamp, so it’ll get us a good start and give us something to follow until the sun rises. I’ll make them close together so they’re easier to follow. There’s going to be some deep spots.”

“I know.” I’ve been trudging through it multiple times a day when I take a trip to the outhouse. Prior to Washington, I’d only seen snow a handful of times, and each time, it wasn’t more than a dusting or a couple inches at most. When I was young, there was a year we had eight inches, but I barely remember it.

I thought deep piles of snow were equivalent to walking through foam. It’s not. Snow is dense and unforgiving. It packs hard like soil and ices over into bricks. Since being at the top of this mountain, I’ve learned just how ferocious Mother Nature can be. When she whips those pretty little flakes around in a negative windchill, they might as well be throwing stars.

“No, Scottie, there are drifts that could be above your chest in certain spots. And we have no equipment. No snowshoes, skis, or sleds.”

My eyebrows shoot to my forehead. “What?”

He nods. “I’m gonna try to text the guys and see if I can get something through, now that the snow stopped and there’s more visibility, we might be able to get a signal to the tower. I’ll let them know what route we’re taking so they can meet us halfway or at the very least be watching for us.” He grabs his phone off the table, and a sense of urgency settles over me. Obviously, I knew we weren’t staying up here, but now that things are being set in motion, I need to do something. One second we’re watching sunrises, the next we’re making plans. I spin around to find a way to make myself useful. Heat water.

“Shit,” he mutters.

“What?”

He pinches his brow. “I forgot to turn the phone off yesterday. Can’t believe I did that. I’ve only got four percent left.”

“It’ll be okay.” I’m assuring him as much as I am myself. “We have an exit strategy. You know these mountains and?—”

“Holy…” He runs his hand through his hair. “I think it might go through!”

I hurry over to him. “Really?”

“Yeah, look—” He tilts the screen toward me just as it goes black. “Shit! It still might have gone through… I think.”

He tucks the dead phone in his pack and scrubs a palm down his face.

I wrap my arms around him. “Let’s hope for the best. What would you like for breakfast? We’ve got a prime rib carving station and one hell of an omelet bar,” I suggest, trying to cheer him up.

He humors me with a smile. “Prime rib sounds great.”

“Coming right up,” I reply, tearing open the packet of brown-sugar flavored oatmeal.

Callahan is gone for several hours while he makes a path. It’s a lot easier to wait for him to return in the daylight. I’m laying out every combined piece of clothing we have when I hear footsteps climbing the lookout stairs. I smile and rush to the door, opening it when I hear him stomping the snow off his boots.

“Thanks,” he says with a puff of air, entering the room with rosy cheeks and sweat dripping down his face.

“So? How did it go?”

“Good, I got us through the tough spots. A couple loose areas leading to Goat’s Ridge, but I think we’ll do fine if we stay on the south face, that’s the windward side, and snow isn’t as deep there anyway. The sun should be up by then.”

Nodding, I turn on the stove, heating up water for lunch. We’ve got about two gallons left, which will give us enough for lunch, dinner, and tomorrow’s water supply.

His clothes are soaked with sweat as he strips them off. They need to dry by tomorrow. He places the chair in front of the fire and drapes the clothes over the back. After, he returns to his pack and locates those shower wipes he had before. He stretches out in front of the wood stove, washing up. It’s hard to keep my eyes off him. He’s just so damn rugged and… hot .

“You checking me out, Prescott?”

“Obviously.” I turn away, and finishing up our packing.

He chuckles, then I feel his palms cup my shoulders and slide down my arms. My face heats at his proximity, touch, and how few clothes he’s wearing. He’s close enough for me to pick up notes of the shower wipes he was using. I don’t know what’s in them, but they smell divine. It’s some masculine scent that I will miss when we leave here.

I spin in his arms. “What are you looking forward to most when we get back?” I ask.

“Brushing my teeth,” he replies, running his tongue over his teeth. We’ve been getting by with baking soda and this mastic chewing gum stuff he has, which helps, but it doesn’t satisfy the way a toothbrush would. Like Cal, I’m hoping to deep clean my mouth when I return. He scratches the four-day-old scruff that’s filled in. “I’m trimming this for sure.”

I fake a pout. “Just don’t shave it off.”

“Hell no. I’ve grown too accustomed to the way it roughs up your thighs.” His wicked grin has heat rushing to my face. “I’m not giving that up so easily.”

I’m not sure what it is about his response that warms my chest, but it does. It’s clear he enjoys making me blush too. His gaze lands on my flushed cheeks, and he gives me a nudge. “What are you looking forward to?” he asks.

“I want to get the dirt out of my scalp, but I’m not sure the water pressure at my apartment is gonna cut it. I’ll probably take a shower at the station… Most importantly, though, I want to make sure I still have a job. I’m supposed to go to work tomorrow.”

“They’ll take one look at that nasty cut on your forehead and give you a week off, babe. You can take a vacation.”

I can’t afford a week off, or a vacation for that matter. I can’t afford to lose this job. I stir the soup mix into the boiling water. My stomach churns with nerves. I don’t know what I’ll do if I end up unemployed. It’s something I’ve been pushing from my thoughts since the night we arrived because I’ve been in survival mode, but now that there’s a timeline on our return, I keep circling the drain with worry. “Vacation, huh? I’ve heard there’s a great inn at the top of Quell’s Peak,” I joke.

“You can take a shower at my place.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I’ve got some great water pressure,” he adds with a wink.

“I don’t believe you. You’re going to have to prove it.”

He retreats toward the stove to finish cleaning himself up. “Happily.”

I hum in agreement and continue stirring. After a couple minutes, I divide it between our two mugs and pass one to him, toasting, “To toothbrushes and water pressure.”

“Toothbrushes and water pressure,” he echoes, and we clink our mugs in cheers. He blows on a steaming spoonful. “Oh, I have some good news too.”

“What’s that?” I stir the soup in my mug, waiting for it to cool.

“I found some length of chain with the tools out there, with a bit of paracord, I think I can put together some crampons for your boots.”

“Really?” That would be fantastic! It’ll improve my mobility in the snow, especially in any icy sections.

“Yeah, when we finish eating, I’ll get you rigged up. For once, those stupid emergency paracord bracelets are coming in handy.”

I chuckle.

“I’m also looking forward to eating anything but soup,” he says, taking a bite.

“Same.” But the wild rice soup was good, a lot better than the same Ramen noodles or instant potatoes I’ve been living off of back home.

“Do I still get to take you out to eat?”

“Yeah.” I smile, imagining what I’d order. A salad—something crisp, crunchy, and fresh… and a mean-ass cheeseburger st acked with pickles. My mouth waters thinking about it. I’m sick of soft food.

“It’ll be nice to be back.”

I hum in agreement. “I bet you’re excited to sleep in your own bed again.”

He shrugs. Silence stretches between us. “Do you think it’ll be weird to not sleep next to each other?”

Tilting my head, I purse my lips, giving the illusion I’m considering the question even though I already know the answer. Yes, it will be weird. Yes, I’ll miss it.

“Yeah.”

“I noticed, that, uh…” He stirs his soup a few times and clears his throat. I examine his apprehensive expression, curious where he’s going with this. “I notice that I sleep better here.”

I nod. “I once read an article that explained how sleeping outdoors can improve quality and length of sleep. Plus, the fresh air had a bunch of other benefits like increased concentration, more creativity?—”

He gives a headshake. “It’s not the outdoors.”

We exchange a glance briefly before we return to eating.

Yeah, I’m gonna miss this.