Читать книгу Blissfully Yours - Diann Walker - Страница 12

My first trip up the rope tow nearly scares the living daylights out of me. I had visions of a gentle ride up a nice little hill. Um, no. Picture me grabbing hold of a rough, thick rope, being jerked forward and hanging on for dear life. I am convinced my grasp on said rope is the only thing standing between me and the afterlife.

Still, about halfway up the slope, I have to admit a sense of accomplishment overtakes me. When the wind hits my face, I feel like a kid on a bike who raises her arms from the handlebars and says, “Hey, look at me!” I feel so alive.

But when I see the top of the hill coming toward me at breakneck speed, I realize that could all change in a heartbeat.

Before I can consider what to do, I reach the top and let go in a flash, causing my backside to crash down with a thud. My instructor, whose name is Greg, skis up behind me.

Despite the pain, I laugh for a moment, figuring this is all part of the learning process.

“That’s all right, Gwen. You did a great job,” he says with encouragement.

I scramble to get up. Greg stares at me. I struggle once again to rise, my arms growing weaker by the minute, and nothing happens. With my eyes, I plead to him for help, but he continues to stare back at me. I’m at a definite disadvantage here, but once I get all this stuff off, he’d better run.

“Keep your skis perpendicular to the slope, put your poles to the side and push yourself up,” Greg says.

Easy for him to say. I strive to do that, but somehow in all the grunting and moving, my skis get turned. By the time I get myself up, I wobble a couple of times, glance at Greg, who is exchanging a smile with a pretty skier standing close by, and before I know it, my instability thrusts me forward. I go sailing down the slope, arms and poles waving wildly in the air, my legs splitting so far apart, I could win a national cheerleading competition. My scream punctuates the air and people scramble to get out of my way. It seems an eternity, but I zip to the end of the slope and plop hard upon the ground, my derriere growing intensely uncomfortable by now.

People around me stare, point and laugh. Two thoughts come to mind.

I hate skiing.

I might have to hurt somebody.

“Uh-oh, did somebody forget the perpendicular ski thing?” Greg says, flashing his handsome smile.

Just how much do you enjoy those pearly whites, buster? My thoughts are turning ugly, and I need to rein them in. I merely smile and this time, he helps me up.

“Now, Gwen, we’re going to try this again. Try to push your shins into the tongue of your boots, keep your knees bent. You forgot the snowplow/wedge position. Any time you feel yourself sliding downward, snowplow your skis. Remember, front tips are almost touching, back of skies bowed outward.” He demonstrates.

I don’t want to try this again. Ever. I’m cold, hungry and my arms are shaking. Still, I’ve paid for this lesson, and I’ve got to follow through. Besides, if I don’t learn to ski and the ski lift at Windsor Mountain malfunctions, I’ll have to stay in Cool Beanz all night on top of the mountain where bears and moose might decide to drop in for a late-night snack. I have to learn to ski.

Greg takes me through several more runs down the hill, teaches me a few more tricks of the trade—or tries to, anyway—and then our hour is up.

“Listen, I know this is your first time, but you did a good job, really.”

“Thanks,” I say, knowing he’s getting paid to say those things.

“I would suggest you try to go down the beginner slopes and get a feel for real skiing.” His smile is back in place.

I nod, say my goodbye and turn to look for the flattest ground to scoot across. Forget the practice business, I want some lunch, and I want it now. A little hot chocolate or a mocha sounds pretty good, too.

It takes me a good half hour to get myself out of all the skiing paraphernalia, retrieve my handbag from my locker and head to my car—with my dignity barely intact. I could have stopped at their restaurant, but I figure when I’m getting paid room and board, why pay for food somewhere else? Besides, I need a nap.

“So how did it go?” Mitch asks, as I climb out of my car. Is this guy eager to hear about the competition? Nervous? Worried?

“Oh fine. I did a little skiing,” I say, confident that I have not told a lie. I did do a little skiing. Very little.

He looks worried. “I know their slopes are bigger, better and all that.” He looks around. “I think we’ll do fine, though, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” I assure him, as though I know what I’m talking about—which I don’t. “Ours will be a cozy establishment,” I say, feeling embarrassed that I said ours instead of his. He looks at me and flashes a grin.

“Please don’t take this as harassment of any kind, but I’m really glad you’re here, Gwen.” He walks with me up to the B and B.

If this is harassment, baby, bring it on.

“Thanks.”

I slip on a slight incline in the snow, and Mitch reaches out and grabs my arm to steady me. “So do you think you can be happy here?”

I try to gather my wits about me, but I can’t get past the touch of his hand. I know he has his gloves on, but I still feel the heat of his hand.

I take a deep breath, stare at the snow and mentally shake myself. I have to tell him about the whole ski problem. “Mitch, listen, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah?”

“Hey, you two,” Granny calls out the back door. “You’d better get in here. Your food is getting cold.”

“We’re coming, Granny.” Mitch’s hold on my arm tightens as he helps me through the snow so we can get inside quicker.

My heart sinks. I have to let him know that I can’t ski, and I have to tell him about Guacamole. I hate to spring it on him before opening day. One thing for sure. He’ll be furious with me no matter when he finds out.

“We’ll have to talk later. When Granny ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy,” he says with a laugh.

It’s nothing compared to how you’re going to feel when I tell you what I have to tell you, I think to myself. Suddenly, I’m not as hungry as I thought I was.

I’m fairly miserable through lunch, picking at my food, wondering how I’ve gotten myself into this mess.

“What’s the matter, aren’t you hungry?” Granny asks, pointing to my hamburger minus two bites, and the full stack of chips and apple slices still on my plate.

I look at Mitch and see concern in his eyes. Though I hardly know him, I know that I don’t want to hurt him. He can hardly wait for opening day, and I don’t want to ruin it for him.

“I’m fine. Just not very hungry.”

Mitch relaxes. “I’m meeting with the workers in a few minutes. That should take about an hour. We’ll be going over last-minute details and such. They’ll check out their equipment. After that I’ll show you around, and take you to Cool Beanz. You need to meet Lisa Jamison, the woman who will be working with you. She’ll only be here on an as-needed basis, though. That’s the best she can do since she already has another part-time job, and attends community college.” He shrugs. “I’ll take what I can get.”

Obviously. He’s hired a woman with a fear of heights.

“If things get really busy, we’ll hire more help later.”

I nod.

“Lisa will be training you. She’s taken care of a lot of the setup, but you need to get started before the crowds roll in.” He grins.

I was hoping to stall the inevitable by working on menu plans, taking inventory, placing orders and such at the B and B, but I guess that’s not going to happen. I can do this. I can do this.

We finish eating our meal, and I’m praying for ways to tell him my, um, less than strong points.

Mitch wipes his mouth with his napkin and scoots away from the table. “Great meal, Granny.” He turns to me. “I’ll be back and get you in an hour.”

I nod then look to Granny to offer help with cleaning things up but one look at her tells me she might hurt me. She shakes her head before I can say anything and starts clearing the dishes.

“I’ll go up to my room for a while,” I say.

“Take your time. I’ll be back and get you,” Mitch says. His words are soothing.

“Thanks.” I trudge my way up the stairs and think this might be a good time for a word with the Lord.

“Moms whose kids are in school fill the positions needed in the rental building.” Mitch’s words come out in frosty puffs as we make our way around the mountain. He introduces me to the new employees along the way, we put on snow boots and skis, and I’m thinking life as I have always known it—you know, where you breathe and eat, that sort of thing—is about to come to an end.

Dressed in all the ski stuff, we shuffle toward the lift. “I’ve invited some friends to ski this afternoon so we can kind of have a trial run with all the workers here. Tomorrow will be much the same. Candace and I will wander about, making sure everything is in place and running smoothly,” Mitch says, pointing to the various work stations.

I glance at the employees as they mill around the area. The place looks alive with business, and I can’t help feeling excited for Mitch. Must be wonderful to live out a dream. I don’t even know what my dream is.

I watch a lift float heavenward, and I gulp out loud. Fortunately, there’s enough distraction that Mitch doesn’t seem to notice.

I want to go home. To my Tumbleweed, Arizona, home.

Now.

My heart quickens, and I’m sure I will have a coronary right this very minute. My knees wobble, and I have to give myself a pep talk.

“You doing all right?” he asks.

This is my way out, and I know it. But how can I let him down at a time like this? He needs me, right? I can do this. “I’m fine.” So maybe I’ve had better days, but why worry him?

He smiles, and I schlep directly behind him toward the ski lift. The lift looms ominously before me. Marie Antoinette comes to mind.

There must be a trick to getting onto these ski lifts. I’m praying whatever it is, I can do it, and quickly. Have I mentioned I’m a klutz? Not horribly, but I do have my moments. Right now I’m praying this isn’t one of them.

The wind is still, almost as though creation is holding its breath. Mitch and I step up to board the ski lift. My pulse beats against my temple. My hands feel clammy inside my gloves, and I’m tempted to take them off, but fear holds me perfectly still.

It would be a cinch to board without the skis, but when you have contraptions the size of California redwoods attached to your feet, well, it changes things, that’s all.

I dare a glance at Mitch. He’s smiling and waving at friends. His eyes dance; his face glows. This lifestyle agrees with him. Me, on the other hand? Let me serve hot coffee, throw around a few balloons and I’m in my element.

“Here it comes,” he announces, causing my stomach to flip.

I’ve seen people do this on TV. They step in place and allow the lift to scoop them on board. I watch Mitch, and he takes the same stance. I follow suit. The lift takes me unaware, but I’m on and that’s half the battle. I hear Mitch let out a contented sigh.

“Isn’t this great, Gwen? I’m actually running a ski resort here.” He scans the area in almost disbelief. For a moment, I forget my worries and concentrate on him. I want this to work. He’s a nice guy. I mean it. Aside from the fact he’s gorgeous, and my heart somersaults with the sight of him, he’s truly a nice guy.

“You’ve got a great place here, Mitch,” I say, keeping my eyes on him and thinking how great it feels to sit next to him this way. True, I’m holding the bar in a death grip, but at least I’m sitting here. Hopefully, I can let go when the time comes to get off.

I finally look around, not down, mind you, but around. “You know, something else that would be cool is sleigh rides. I think kids would like it, and couples would enjoy it in the evening.”

He smiles. “That’s a good idea. I’ll have to check into that. Oh, speaking of kids, I wanted to talk to you about Friday. Someone told me we may have a high school class coming in. Knowing how kids gravitate toward coffee shops, I’m thinking you’ll be plenty busy. Lisa will be here to help you, and Candace said she could help with the schoolkids if you need her. She’s not going home until Saturday.”

I nod. I see the top of the slope approaching, and as long as I keep my eyes lifted forward, I think I can do this.

“Hey, look, somebody wiped out,” Mitch says, pointing almost directly below us.

Without thinking, I follow his gaze downward and see a dot on the slope. The lift rocks a little with Mitch’s movement. As I bend slightly to see the skier, I notice my dangling feet, and the reality of where I am and what I’m doing hits me like an avalanche. My pulse bangs hard against the backs of my eyes. I break into a cold sweat. Vertigo takes over. My right hand grabs the side of the lift while everything around me starts to spin. My left hand clutches Mitch’s arm in a death grip.

“Gwen, what is it?”

I can’t talk. Everything around me is spinning. I can’t tell if I’m up or down, and I know we’re approaching the top of the hill. I think I’m going to die. I’ve not written out a will yet. Guacamole will become a ward of the state.

“Gwen? What is it?”

“I—I—I’m going to be sick,” I manage through clenched teeth.

“Sick?” He says the word as if I’ve hit him in the face with a snowball.

By now I’m terrified. I’m all out of balance. What if I slip forward? I hold my breath for fear the slightest whisper can cause me to fall. I try to focus on Mitch’s face, which looks the way mine feels, but I can’t stay there long. His face keeps swirling around me. I try to close my eyes.

“Hold on to me, Gwen. Do you want to get off at the top, or do you want to risk riding this back to where we got on?”

I feel myself slipping. My arms tingle; my neck is wet beneath my hair. The thin air makes me gasp for every breath.

“Gwen, hang on! I’ve got you.” Mitch grabs me hard against him.

I’m going to fall. I know I’m going to fall. I should have stayed in my classroom, on the ground, on precious soil. I slip another notch. Oh God, please help me.

“We’re getting off here. I’ve got you, Gwen. Everything will be all right.”

I hear him, but his words blur with the clouds around me. His fingers press through the layers of my clothes and pinch my ribs. I clutch his leg.

Mitch must have motioned to the lift operator, because I sense that the lift has stopped, but things around me continue to spin.

“Come on, Gwen, let’s get off here,” Mitch says, trying to pry me loose from the lift.

“Don’t touch me.” I hear the sharp growl of my voice and wonder how that could have come from me. My mother would be appalled.

“Gwen, you have to let loose. You’ll be fine. Let me help you.”

The only way he can pry my fingers loose from the bar is to chop off my hand.

Mitch has jumped off the lift, and I’m almost doubled over sideways. “I’m not getting off. I want to go down to the base,” I say. I can’t stay up this high. I’ll never make it. I’ll freeze to death or fall, or even worse, become bear bait.

“Hey, you guys all right?” the operator wants to know.

“She’s sick but wants to stay on and go to the base.”

“You want to ride back with her?” he asks.

“Absolutely. I can’t leave her alone this way,” Mitch says.

“I’ll start it up again and radio down to the attendant at the base. He can watch for you and stop the lift so you can get her off.”

“Thanks, man.”

I hear what they say, but I can’t steady myself. My stomach’s churning. I feel as though I’m trapped inside a kaleidoscope. Colors swirling all around me. Swirling, swirling.

“Can you lift up a little, Gwen?” Mitch’s voice sounds distant—as though he’s in a faraway tunnel.

I raise my head slightly, and he slips in, scooting me up farther. He puts his arm around me and grips me tight against his shoulder. Under difference circumstances, I could get into this.

It seems to take forever but finally the nightmare comes to a halt. Mitch gathers me into his arms and lifts me out. I feel him carry me away.

“What’s wrong?” I hear Candace’s skis swoosh up beside us. Her voice is tight with worry.

“I don’t know. She’s sick. Something happened in the lift. Probably the flu or something.”

“Oh, no. Gwen, are you all right?”

I want to answer her, but my stomach, the dizziness, the spinning.

When we reach the B and B, the episode subsides. My world sits upright once more, and the avalanche in my stomach begins to quiet. Granny opens the door, and Mitch takes me to the sofa.

“I’ll get her a warm cloth,” Granny says, already scurrying off toward the bathroom.

I take some deep, cleansing breaths while my equilibrium levels out. Once my world is back to normal, it’s confession time. “I’ve made a mess of everything.” I pull my hands to my face.

“Hey, it’s all right. You can’t help it,” Mitch says, smoothing the hair from my forehead. “Don’t worry about it.”

Candace pats my arm. “Gwen, honey, it’s all right.”

“You don’t understand,” I mumble between my fingers. “I should have told you.” Reluctantly, I pull my hands away.

I see them exchange a glance then look at me. “I’m so sorry,” I say.

“It’s all right, Gwen,” Mitch says, the look on his face making me almost willing to go through the whole vertigo thing again to keep him happy.

Almost.

Granny returns and places the warm cloth across my forehead.

“Gwen, what is it?” Candace asks, reminding me of what I have to say.

“I wanted to tell you. I really did. I even tried to tell you.” If You want to open the earth and swallow me whole right about now, Lord, I’m okay with that.

Mitch smiles and pats my hand. “Tell me what, Gwen?”

I don’t hear the ground crack, not even the slightest rumble. I guess I’m on my own here. I take a deep breath and look up at Mitch.

“I’m afraid of heights, I have vertigo, and until this morning, I’d never skied a day in my life.”