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21

Dangling in the air, I listen to the shrieks and cries of other passengers, the children the most heartbreaking of all.

The chairlift has been stuck halfway up the mountain for more than three hours now, and still there doesn’t seem to be any resolution. Soon it will be dark, and then things will get very scary. The cold is seeping into my bones. It’s already hard to grip the pole before me and stop myself from slipping off. I’d unhooked my skis and let them fall after the first hour, but I couldn’t remove the heavy boots, and they feel like lead weights right now.

“Maybe they don’t know,” the little girl beside me says for the hundredth time.

“They know,” I sigh. “They’re just having trouble fixing it.”

“I’m cold,” she whines again, “I frigging hate this.”

I pull her closer, one arm around her, one gripping the pole for dear life, and nod.

“I know, but is that really the language you should be using, Joeline? You know Santa has two lists. You want to be sure you’re on his nice list.”

“Santa isn’t real.”

I sigh. This kid can’t be any more than nine. How is she so cynical at such a young age?

“I gather you have older brothers and sisters?”

“Yeah, I’m the youngest of four and the only girl. But I’m no baby, I know shit.”

“Right,” I nod. Now I understand her bad language and cynicism. Poor kid. The youngest is always the oldest in many ways.

“Anyway, I don’t have to worry about any fake list, cos we’re gonna die,” she says matter-of-factly.

“I admire your pragmatism, kid,” I sigh again. “But no, we’re not.”

The wind is whipping at us now, and I can’t feel my fingers or toes. I suspect everyone stuck up here will suffer from exposure and frostbite if we’re not rescued soon. But I don’t want to add to her fears or fuel her depressing monologue.

“My Mom will be missing me, hopefully,” she whispers.

“Yes, of course she will,” I murmur.

“Will anyone be looking for you?”

I shrug.

When I’d left Chris in anger this morning I’d hit the slopes hard with no intention of seeing him for the rest of the day. I imagine he thought that was a good idea too, because in all the weeks we’ve been together we’d never had a fight. This was our first. But I’ve had all day to think about our interaction, especially since I’ve been stuck motionless in the sky for so long, and I know I overreacted. I know I said what I did and behaved the way I did because I was hungover and holding onto pain from the past.

I wish I could say that it will go away, but I don’t think it will. He must know by now that I’m damaged. No man in his right mind would want to be around someone like me.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d left.

As I think this the girl points to a large bird circling above us.

“Is that a buzzard?” She frowns. “Are we gonna get eaten?”

I frown and squint at the blur in the sky, seemingly blending with the falling snow. It looks like a bird, but as it circles lower and lower, I gasp as I realise who it is. As he zooms in close to hover beside us and meets my eyes, I could almost cry in relief.

“I know you wanted time alone, Merri,” his mouth quirks as his giant wings beat a slow rhythm, “but isn’t this a bit extreme?”

“No way!” The girl gasps, before I can answer.

“Yes way,” Chris smiles.

“Are you a frigging guardian angel?”

“I am,” he smiles at her.

“Is he yours?” She turns to me, wide-eyed.

“I am hers,” Chris answers for me.

I feel my heart expand in my chest at his words and raise my eyes to meet his, my own full of tears.

“I have been from the moment I set eyes on her,” he says quietly.

I smile at him through my tears and put my free hand to my heart, almost unable to contain my joy and relief at seeing him, hearing him.

“Now,” he turns his earnest gaze to the girl. “Would you like me to take you to the ground?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” The girl quips.

Chris bursts out laughing.

“Well said, little person,” he laughs, flying around to her side of the chair and holding out his arms. He’s bare-chested, but thankfully, unlike the night he’d crashed through my living room, wearing pants.

“I’ll be back for you, Merri,” he says, looking me in the eye, “don’t go anywhere. I’ve already seen half a hundred people fall to their deaths and splatter on the rocks below only to be consumed by the polar bears that must have escaped the restaurant.”

“Bullshit,” I half-laugh, half-cry, my relief at our rescue and at seeing him, palpable. “Just hurry, you idiot,”

With a little prompting Joeline grits her teeth and releases the pole, and he takes her into his arms as though he’s lifting a feather, and glides down towards the lodge in a long, slow spiral.

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