Holding On: A Colorado High Country Novel

  “That must have been one hell of an experience—almost dying on Everest, watching your entire team get crushed, waking up to find yourself hanging over that crevasse.” The kid was still holding up his damned cellphone. “What really happened up there?”

  The question hit Conrad in the gut.

  Was the bastard filming him?

  Conrad stopped still, dangerously close to losing his shit. “Are you media?”

  Didn’t reporters have a moral obligation to announce themselves?

  The kid hesitated for a moment, then grinned. “I’m with Climber’s High. It’s a climbing webzine.”

  Conrad had never heard of it, but he didn’t say so. He didn’t tell the kid to fuck off either. He’d learned the hard way that it was best to try to get along with reporters. Still, he didn’t have to put up with this. “I haven’t agreed to an interview, and you’re standing on private property. You need to go.”

  There.

  That had been polite, hadn’t it?

  He shut his vehicle, locked it, and carried Gabby, still inside her carrier, toward the front door, angry at himself, angry at the kid. He’d known the media would catch up with him sooner rather than later. He’d gone to Knockers where a lot of people had seen him. Word had gotten out.

  What the hell did you expect?

  “Cute puppy.”

  “Thanks.” He slid his key into the lock.

  “Rumor is that you’ve given up climbing for good.” The kid now stood shouting at him from the sidewalk where he had a legal right to be. “Is that true?”

  Conrad opened his door and took a step inside, fully prepared to shut the door behind him and ignore the son of a bitch.

  “One bad accident, and you’re giving up? Man, I thought you were the greatest

  alpine climber in the world, but you’re just a pussy.”

  Rage punched through Conrad’s chest. He set Gabby down on the floor just inside the front door, shut the door behind him, and then turned to face the little fucker, pulse pounding. “How many eight-thousand meter peaks have you climbed?”

  The kid looked surprised by this question.

  “Come on—answer me.”

  “I haven’t climbed any yet. I—”

  “That’s what I thought.” Conrad kept his feet rooted to the spot, afraid he’d put the kid in the hospital if he got too close. “How many friends have you watched die in climbing accidents?”

  The kid’s stammered. “Well, I … um…”

  “Right. Have you done anything more dangerous than hang out with your bros at the rock gym?”

  The reporter’s face turned red.

  “Let me get this straight. You’ve climbed nothing big, lost no one, and have done nothing more than jack off at the rock gym, and you’re calling me a pussy?”

  The cellphone went back into the kid’s pocket, his face still red as he made his way around the front of his vehicle. “Asshole.”

  Conrad watched him drive away, opened the door, and stepped into the dark warmth of the house, shutting the door behind him and leaning back against it. “Shit.”

  What the hell had he been thinking? He ought to have come inside and ignored the kid, rather than allowing that asshole to provoke him. The fucker had recorded most of what he’d said. In a few minutes—an hour at most—it would be all over the Internet.

  So the fuck what?

  The bastard had staked him out and stepped onto private property without identifying himself as a reporter. Conrad had gone easy on him.

  Inside her crate, Gabby whined.

  Conrad had almost forgotten she was there.

  “Hey, girl.” He bent down, opened the crate, and scooped the puppy into his arms.

  She rewarded him with kisses, the solid, warm feel of her taking the worst edge off the surge of darkness the reporter’s questions had stirred to life. He sank onto the sofa, taking a wriggling Gabby with him, trying to get his anger under control.

  Why did the media think it had a right to his memories, his grief, his anguish? Did being a public figure mean that he wasn’t entitled to private feelings? Did they want his bone marrow, too?

  What really happened up there?

  Conrad closed his eyes, trying to ward off the images that flashed through his mind, his rage giving way to grief and guilt.

  Felix crossing the ladder. Luka hesitating. Bruce joking about death, not knowing those would be his last words.

  If you fall and your harness fails, it will only kill you.

  That terrible rumbling crack as the serac collapsed.

  Falling. Unconsciousness. Ice.

  Gabby whimpered, licking Conrad’s chin.

  His mind far away, he petted the puppy, stroking her soft fur, a dark chasm where his heart ought to have been.

  An hour later, Conrad was contemplating getting drunk when his cellphone rang. He hoped to hell it wasn’t Candace.

  Not Candace, but his mom.

  He answered. “Hey, Mom.”

  “I didn’t know you were back. Why didn’t you call?”

  “I guess I didn’t want to year the ‘I told you so.’’

  “You truly think I would have said that to you in these circumstances?”

  “That’s what you said, more or less, when Dad died.”

  “I was heartbroken and angry. God, Harrison, I’ve spent a year and a half worried out of my mind about you. I tried to reach that monastery, but I could never seem to get a connection. I wrote to you. Did you get my letters?”

  “A few.”

  “Why didn’t you write back?”

  “I didn’t know what the hell to say.”

  “How are you?”

  “I’m okay, I guess.”

  “The article I just read online said you’ve given up climbing.”

  “You read an article online?”

  “It was more of a video—some twit of a reporter harassing you in front of that dump of a house where you’re living. It reported that you’d given up climbing.”

  Great. That video was already online.

  “Yeah. I’m done.”

  “I don’t believe it. You’ll go back to it. You just need some time. The wilderness is in your blood, just like it was in your father’s.”

  “I don’t want to get into that again.”

  “I’m not getting into anything. I’m just telling you I know you better than that.”

  Whatever.

  “Are you seeing anyone?”

  “Do you mean like hallucinations or—”

  “I mean women.”

  “Kind of.” He didn’t want to talk with her about Kenzie. “But don’t worry. I remember what you said. ‘Never marry a woman who doesn’t want the same life you want. You’ll destroy each other.’”

  For a moment, his mother said nothing, and he wondered whether the call had dropped. He glanced at his screen. She was still there.

  At last she spoke, her voice quavering. “I was wrong, Harrison. I never quit loving your father. You know that, right? But when your brother was stillborn, it broke my heart. I was grieving. I blamed your dad. But it wasn’t only his fault. I could have called for a bush pilot myself and had someone fly me to the hospital. The truth is, I would trade every day since the day we left to go back in time and stay with him. He might still be alive.”

  Conrad didn’t know what to say. All these years, his mother had raged about his father, telling Conrad how she’d lost a baby because of him and how the man hadn’t loved her enough to come with his wife and only living child.

  “If you find someone you love, don’t walk away from her. Don’t turn your back on her. Fight for her. Don’t make my mistake.”

  Conrad didn’t know what to think about this. “Are you okay?”

  “I miss him.”

  So did Conrad.

  Kenzie’s mind was stuck on Harrison as she drove down the canyon into Boulder for her private lesson. Sex with him was so easy. The man knew what he was doing between a woman’s legs. Tha
t much was certain. He’d actually asked her what she liked, responding to her, even when she couldn’t do more than moan. And what he’d done with his mouth when he’d gone down on her …

  Lord have mercy.

  She had expected him to have a lot of energy in bed. He was a world-class athlete after all. What she hadn’t known was that he would be sensitive, too.

  She turned off the highway, her thoughts shifting away from Conrad to the hour ahead. Over the past couple of months, she’d come to dread this lesson. Mari, her client, was perhaps the most selfish person she’d ever met.

  She pulled up to the gate and punched in the access code, waiting while the iron gate opened. She drove onto the property, following the curved driveway past a marble colonnade and parking where she’d been instructed to park—in one of several spots reserved for staff.

  Prince, the three-month-old Cavalier King Charles spaniel puppy she was here to train, met her at the front door, his little body wagging.

  She knelt down to greet him, petting his silky fur. “Hey, buddy. How are you? I’m happy to see you, too.”

  “He’s had two accidents this week.” Irritation on her face, Mari walked up behind the puppy, wearing yoga pants and a cashmere sweater, her blond hair tied up in a perfect mess of a bun. “I try to keep an eye on him, but that doesn’t leave much time for anything else. I can’t give up my entire life for a dog.”

  Kenzie stood, Prince in her arms, and tried to say something encouraging. “It’s a big investment of time in the beginning, I know, but it’s so worth it in the end. How are you doing?”

  Mari shook her head, looking as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders. “I’ve got something to do every day this week.”

  Kenzie didn’t know what to say to that. Mari didn’t have a job, and her kids were at school all day. How could it be so hard to spend a half hour each day playing with this precious puppy? “Should we get started?”

  She carried Prince through the house, which could easily have held her home, yard, and the kennel, to Mari’s yoga room, waiting while Mari rolled up her yoga mat.

  Mari carried the mat to the corner. “I haven’t had time to practice with him. I refuse to give up my spa time. Then there’s Pilates and the kids. If I’d had any idea how demanding it was to be a mother, I would never have had children.”

  Kenzie tried not to let her shock show. “It takes only about ten or fifteen minutes twice a day to train a puppy. If you don’t have fifteen minutes, then try five. It’s important to get training time with him every day. Ultimately, this is about your relationship with Prince. You’re his guardian, and he needs to respond to you.”

  “I thought I was paying you to train him.”

  “I told you from the beginning that the real work would be yours. I can only show you how to do it. I don’t live here.” Thank God. “You, your husband, and your kids have to be consistent, or it will confuse Prince.”

  “Fine.” Mari walked over, took Prince from her, and set him on the wooden floor. “I don’t need a lecture from you.”

  Kenzie ignored Mari’s condescending tone and got to work, running through the commands Prince had mastered so far and turning him over to Mari to practice those that were harder for him—Stay and Follow.

  Kenzie pushed Mari as far as she could. “The more vigilant and consistent you are the faster he’ll learn. He really is a wonderful puppy.”

  “Do you want him?” Mari gave a sarcastic laugh. “I’d be happy to send him off with you, but I think my kids would hate me.”

  Kenzie wouldn’t blame them. “If you do ever decide you don’t want to keep him, I would be happy to adopt him.”

  She’d never said that to any client before, but Prince was such a sweet boy and Mari was such a bitch. It was clear that Mari felt that the puppy, like her children, was little more than an annoyance. No doubt she had something much more important to do, like getting a manicure or Botox.

  Some people shouldn’t be allowed to own pets.

  For the first time since Kenzie arrived, Mari smiled. “It’s a deal.”

  Kenzie got back to the lesson, only too glad when the hour was up. She cuddled the puppy, her heart aching to think he might not be getting the love and training he deserved. “See you next week, sweetie.”

  Kenzie picked up some office supplies and headed back up the canyon to the kennel. Crank’s family was due back from their trip and would be coming to pick him up this afternoon. There, at least, was a happy, cherished dog.

  She gave Quinn a lunch break, played with Gizmo and the other dogs, and then went home for a turkey sandwich, her thoughts turning back to Harrison.

  Was he thinking of her, too?

  She hoped so.

  What should she make for dinner tonight?

  She rummaged through her refrigerator and freezer and decided that salmon fillets would be perfect for a guy from Alaska.

  She sent him a text message.

  What time will you be over? I’m making salmon.

  For twenty long minutes, he didn’t answer.

  Kenzie was back at the kennel and in the middle of checking Crank out when her phone finally buzzed.

  Can T sum Th Ing Com Upl.

  Kenzie’s stomach sank, disappointment like a dark cloud blotting out the sun. Then she thought about the typos. They were beyond the help of spellcheck. Harrison was never sloppy like that.

  Had something happened? Was something wrong?

  She finished checking Crank out, giving him a few belly rubs to say goodbye. “We’re going to miss you, buddy. You’re so much fun.”

  Ross, one of Crank’s two dads, clipped a leash to Crank’s collar. “We hope to be traveling to my mother’s house for Christmas this year, so he’ll be back then.”

  Kenzie was happy to hear that. “Make sure to reserve your spot in October if you can. The holidays fill up quickly.”

  When Crank and his family had gone, she leashed Gizmo and turned to Quinn, who was heading out to the play yard with the pooper scooper. “I’ve got to run. Something has come up. If you need me, shoot me a text.”

  “Will do.”

  Kenzie hurried outside to her truck, put Gizmo in his crate, and got behind the wheel to drive the short distance to Harrison’s place.

  Chapter 12

  Conrad took another drink of Jameson, shuddering as it burned its way down his throat. He’d found the unopened bottle in one of the boxes. He and Bruce had bought it to drink when they got back from Everest. But Bruce had never come back.

  Bruce, whose family had moved to Australia from Ireland, had loved Jameson. Conrad wasn’t much of a drinker and didn’t care for it. It tasted like shit as far as he was concerned. But the more he drank, the less he cared how it tasted.

  Now Conrad was sharing it with his buddy in the only way he could—in front of the TV while watching documentaries of the two of them climbing together.

  He sat on the floor beside a sleeping Gabby, while, on the TV screen, he and Bruce battled their way up the Black Pyramid—a steep wasteland of jumbled gneiss on the Abruzzi Spur of K2’s southeast ridge.

  A rumble in the background.

  “Hear that?” said the Conrad on the TV, grinning at the camera from behind mirrored sunglasses. “Avalanche.”

  A plume of snow rose from the unclimbed east face.

  “Don’t worry,” Bruce called from above. “I won’t let the scary snow hurt you.”

  Drunk Conrad on the floor chuckled. “Kiss my ass.”

  A knock at the door.

  That reporter. He’d probably come back.

  Well, fuck him.

  Conrad fought his way to his feet, stumbled to the door, jerked it open. “What the fuck are … Kenzie?”

  She stared up at him through wide blue eyes, Gizmo beside her. She broke eye contact only to catch Gabby, who shot out the door past his feet to greet her big brother. “Hey, there, squirrely girl.”

  She scooped Gabby into her arms. “Can I come in?” br />
  “Yeah.” He stepped back to let her and the dogs enter, almost tripping on his own feet, then closed the door behind them.

  She set the puppy down. “How long has it been since she went out?”

  “Not too long.” He couldn’t remember when exactly, his attention on Gizmo and Gabby, who seemed to be getting along just fine now.

  She glanced over at the TV, where he and Bruce were boiling water for coffee in their tent at Camp II, her gaze landing on the whiskey bottle that sat on the coffee table. “You’re drunk.”

  “Well … I … yeah. I think I’m shitfaced.”

  “Did something happen?”

  “When I got home, a reporter was waitin’ for me.” Conrad’s words sounded slurred even to his ears. “He didn’t say he was a reporter. Oh, no, no, no, no. He just started throwin’ questions in my face like he had a fuckin’ right to know. ‘What really happened up there?’ He called me a pussy.”

  “What?” Kenzie gaped at Conrad.

  “It’s all online. My mom saw it. She called.” He didn’t want to talk about that.

  While she searched for the video on her smartphone, he decided it was a good time to take a leak. After managing that and fighting a bit with his zipper, he washed his hands and splashed water on his face. When he returned to the living room, he found her sitting on the sofa looking pissed off.

  Her gaze softened when she saw him. “I’m sorry, Harrison. That reporter was way out of line. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He had no right to be on your property or to say those things.”

  Conrad plonked down on the sofa beside her. “What an asshole.”

  “Bastard.” Kenzie stood, picked up the half-empty whiskey bottle. “I’m going to take the dogs out for a quick potty break and get you a glass of water.”

  “Where are you taking that? That’s the bottle Bruce and I were gonna split when we got home.”

  Kenzie glanced at it. “It looks like you drank your half.”

  She disappeared with whiskey and canines.

  Conrad stared at the TV screen, where he and Bruce were listening to radio reports from another climbing team of a collapsed serac on The Bottleneck, the narrow and perilous couloir that led to the summit. The two of them debated whether to take that route or to rock climb the adjacent cliffs instead.