Chapter Nineteen
He must have succeeded, because when he opened his eyes again, he knew time had passed.
He lifted his wrist to check his watch. It was just after midnight.
Turning his head, he saw that Jane wasn’t beside him. He slid out of his sleeping bag, clenched his teeth against the cold, and unzipped the tent flap.
There were a million stars in the sky.
Sometime in the night, the fog had lifted. The air was clear and bitter, and by the light of the stars he could see Jane standing a few yards away.
She’d turned her head at the sound of the tent zipper. She was wearing his jacket, and it was big enough that she’d been able to put it over her pack, too, which made her look like an oddly shaped rock formation.
She stood so still that she might have been a statue, except for the gleam of starlight in her eyes.
“It’s so cold,” she said after a moment.
His boots were just outside the tent. He put them on and went to stand beside Jane, shivering in his long underwear.
“You know, you’re right,” he said through chattering teeth. “It is a little chilly.”
“Do you want your jacket back?”
“No, I’m good. I’ll be going back inside the tent soon, and you’ll be coming with me.”
She didn’t say anything to that right away. Then: “I thought if I stayed out here, I’d have an epiphany or something. I thought . . . maybe . . . an answer would come.”
She tilted her head up, looking at the stars, and he followed the direction of her gaze. The Milky Way was clearly visible, and he traced the constellations along its path: Orion, Perseus, Cassiopeia.
“An answer to what?” he asked after a moment. “What’s the question?”
“Why Sam died. Where she is now.”
He looked at the misshapen lump on her back, where she’d been carrying Sam’s ashes for so long.
“She’s not in there.”
“I know that,” Jane said. Then her eyes closed. “God, I’m so cold.”
“Come in where it’s warm.”
“I don’t have my answers yet.”
He took her by the hand. “Maybe there aren’t any answers. Not the kind you’re looking for, anyway.”
She opened her eyes and looked up at the sky. “That sounds so hopeless.”
He wished he could do what she did so easily—put his thoughts and feelings into words. But at least he could try.
He squeezed her hand. “Look at the stars.”
“I have been. They make me feel lonely.”
“All those lights in the darkness? How can that make you feel lonely?”
“Because they don’t have anything to say to me. If there aren’t any answers, what is there?”
His throat tightened. “People who love you.”
The wind was as cold as a knife, and maybe that was why she trembled. “Caleb—”
He stepped in close and kissed her.
The cold was so numbing that there shouldn’t have been any sensation. But the moment his lips touched hers, electricity sizzled through his body. He wrapped his arms around her, finding her shoulders under the layers of down.
She was shaking. He didn’t know if it was from the cold or from the same thing he was feeling. Then she leaned into him, and heat danced through his body.
He could die right here on this mountain, and a kiss from Jane would bring him back to life.
He didn’t say anything after he broke the kiss. He just took her by the hand and led her back to the tent, and this time she came with him.
He kicked off his shoes before going inside, and she did the same. Then he helped her out of her jacket and lifted the pack from her shoulders.
“Strip down to your skin,” he said, grabbing their two sleeping bags to zip them together.
The double-wide sleeping bag was ready by the time Jane had shivered out of her clothes, and she slid inside. After he shed his long underwear, he slid in beside her.
He pulled her into his arms. Her body was like an icicle, but it warmed quickly against his, and he held her tight as her muscles went from rigid to relaxed.
“You feel so good,” she murmured against his chest, and he remembered the last time she’d said those words to him.
His body hardened. After last December, he would have sworn he’d never want anything like he’d wanted Jane that night. But this felt deeper and wilder. Talking to Jane about his parents last night, hiking with her today, had widened the crack in his heart that Jane had first put there so long ago. For years she’d been pushing against it and pushing against it until now, suddenly, it split apart.
It was like a dam breaking. And what rushed in was Jane, all Jane, his need for her and his desire for her and the hunger that made his bones shake in his body.
He’d turned off the flashlight, and it was pitch-dark in the tent. But he knew the lines and curves of Jane’s body better than he knew his own, and as his hands molded themselves to her shoulders, her back, her hips, he wanted to go on touching her forever.
Her breath hitched and turned ragged, and he loved knowing it was because of him. He slid a hand between her thighs and parted them, and when her legs fell open, his fingers found so much heat and wetness that he groaned.
She pushed herself up into his palm and murmured his name. “Caleb . . .”
He stroked and delved until she was writhing beneath him. Only when she begged him—please, Caleb, please—did he slide a hand under her thigh to hoist her leg over his hip. Then he pushed inside, slowly, afraid of coming too soon.
He rested his forehead against hers, his whole body rigid with the determination to last until Jane could come with him. He could tell by the heat and pulse of her body, the way she squirmed and moaned and dug her nails into his back, that she was close. He began to move, rocking against her with each thrust.
Then there was no more restraint. They were moving together with fevered intensity, hungry and savage, desperate and wild. They came at the same time, their bodies shuddering with release, and when he collapsed against Jane, he murmured her name over and over, his lips vibrating against her skin.
The cold had been driven away. The warmth they shared felt strong enough to heat the whole world. He rolled onto his side, bringing Jane with him, stroking her hair with one hand as she nestled against his chest.
They fell asleep heartbeat to heartbeat.
Jane woke in a blissful cocoon.
Caleb was all around her. His scent, his skin, his warmth, his strength. Snuggled together inside a double sleeping bag, they couldn’t have been any closer, but suddenly it wasn’t enough.
She slid her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his bare chest, just below his collar bone. She tangled her legs with his, rubbing against him like a cat, and she felt him harden as he woke with a rush and a surge, sliding his hands into her hair and pulling her up for a kiss.
Lips and tongue and teeth, hot and wet and carnal. When he slid inside, the friction and fullness almost made her come right then.
He rolled them over so she was on top. She heard someone moaning and realized it was her, and then she remembered they were by themselves on a mountaintop with no one around for miles, and she let herself cry out.
She arched her back and squeezed her muscles tight, and Caleb groaned as he came, his body pulsing inside hers.
In the utter darkness of the tent, it felt like they were alone in the universe, a spark of heat in a cold world. As she slid down Caleb’s body to find a nook for her head, his hand stroked her back and he murmured her name.
The next time she woke, it was dawn.
She didn’t want to move. She wanted to stay in the circle of Caleb’s arms for the rest of her life, no matter how long or short that might be.
But then she remembered that the fog and clouds were gone. She’d watched it happen last night, the stars winking at her as they appeared, one by one, in the velvety darkness.
And now the sun was coming up. She had to go out and look at the view.
She slid carefully out of the sleeping bag, doing her best not to wake Caleb. She pulled on her pants and shirt and jacket and unzipped the tent flap to grab her shoes.
A minute later she was standing outside, the whole world at her feet.
She hadn’t known it was possible to see so far. The mountains seemed to stretch out forever in every shade of brown and green, beneath a sky so translucent it was like the inside of a robin’s egg. Away to the east, the sun was rising in a glory of colors—coral and rose, tangerine and peach, lilac and violet.
“Now this is what I call a morning.”
She turned her head and saw Caleb standing beside her, the scruff of his beard catching the sunlight and his eyes like moss and amber.
“It looks like God does puffed sleeves,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows. “Meaning?”
“Well, look at it.” She gestured toward the sunrise. “Talk about unnecessary flourishes. I mean, all those colors are just excessive. What useful purpose do they serve, except to be beautiful?”
He slid a hand into her hair and combed through it slowly.
“Okay, you’ve convinced me. Not everything has to be useful.”
They stood there awhile longer, watching the sun make its slow, majestic way above the horizon. Then Caleb spoke.
“Are you ready to say goodbye to Sam?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes.”
They carried the urn to the place they’d been yesterday. The wind wasn’t as strong, but it was still at their backs, and as they stood there at the edge of the world, Jane imagined Sam’s voice whispering to them.
Now that’s what I’m talking about.
Knowing this was what Sam had wanted didn’t make it any easier. Jane put her hand on the lid of the urn, but she couldn’t make herself lift it.
It’s all right, Jane. You can do it.
Then Caleb’s hand was covering hers. “Will you let me help?”
Tears sprang into her eyes as she nodded. They took off the lid together and set it on the ground, and then they tipped the urn and cast the ashes into the air.
For a moment she saw them, a fine dust scattered on the wind.
And then they were gone.
“Goodbye, Sam,” she whispered.
Stay safe, little sis. I love you.
Caleb put an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him, his strength like an anchor in a stormy sea. They stood there for a long time.
Then she straightened up and took a deep breath.
“Well,” she said. “I guess it’s time to hike down this mountain.”
On their way back to camp, Jane didn’t hear Sam’s voice. But she knew, somehow, that her sister was closer than ever.
Before they set out on the return trip, Caleb made oatmeal and hot chocolate for breakfast. Then Jane helped him pack everything up.
The ashes hadn’t weighed that much, but when she put on her pack, the urn inside seemed as light as a feather.
“You should give me something more to carry,” she said to Caleb, watching him hoist his big pack onto his shoulders. “This isn’t a fair division of labor.”
He smiled at her. “Don’t worry about me, tenderfoot. We’ve got a long hike ahead of us.”
She supposed it was long, but it felt easy. Going down was a lot less stressful than going up, especially with perfect weather and the trekking poles to absorb the shock when the trail was steep. They stopped at the shelter where they’d drunk coffee the day before, and while they munched on protein bars, Jane swung her feet like a little kid.
“Jane.”
“Yes?”
Caleb had been thoughtful on the hike down, even distracted. A few times when she’d called out to him it had taken more than one try to get his attention. Now, as she turned to look at him, his expression was serious.
A moment went by.
“What?” she asked finally, her curiosity growing.
“I want you to come to Australia with me.”
She stared at him. What, exactly, was he asking her?
“You mean . . . like for a visit? When you go back?”
He shook his head. “I mean for as long as I’m there. I want you to live with me, Jane.”
She was so stunned she didn’t know what to say.
“But . . .” She struggled to form a coherent sentence. “But you wouldn’t even stay with me for Christmas.”
Not exactly the most important point right now, but it’s what her brain came up with.
“I know. And I’ve regretted it ever since.” He reached out and took her hand. “I think you’d love Australia. It’s beautiful.”
After what they’d shared during the last forty-eight hours, Jane knew her feelings for Caleb ran deeper than friendship and physical attraction. There was something else there, too—something she’d never expected. Something that made her weak in the knees when she looked at him, and not just because he turned her on so damn much.
So why wasn’t she happier that Caleb had invited her to Australia?
She bit her lip. “It means a lot to me that you asked. Honestly. But . . . have you thought this through?”
He frowned a little. “What do you mean?”
When he held her hand and gazed into her eyes, he was pretty much irresistible. He hadn’t said he loved her, or asked her to marry him, or talked about how long he wanted them to be together, but this was a pretty big first step.
So why did it feel wrong?
“You want me to just . . .” She gestured toward the ridge, as though Australia were beyond it. “Pack up my things and go to the other side of the world?”
He raised an eyebrow. “They have stores in Australia, you know. You don’t have to pack much. I’m a big believer in traveling light.”
“I know you are.” She took a breath. “But I don’t travel light. I own a bookstore, for one thing. How am I supposed to travel with that?”
“Hire someone to manage it while you’re gone. New York can still be your home base.”
How could she explain to him that it wasn’t just what she did for a living, but how she liked to live? And the fact that he didn’t seem to be taking that into account?
“I’ve got at least a hundred books I wouldn’t want to be without. Do you know how much a hundred books weigh?”
“Get the e-book versions and read them on your phone.”
“Some of them are signed copies or rare editions. Some of them are from my childhood, the first books I fell in love with. Reading them is a tactile experience. E-books aren’t the same.”
He sighed. “Okay, fine. You can ship them.” His gaze slid down her body, and even with the bulky layers of clothing between them, her skin tingled as though he’d touched her bare skin. “Especially if you read naked.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “What would I do while you were off on your expeditions? Besides read naked.”
There was a spark in his hazel eyes. “You’d be with me.”
Okay, she hadn’t expected that.
“I see,” she said slowly. “So I’d be trekking with you, hiking and white-water rafting and climbing mountains.”
“I watched you up on that summit, Jane. You’re a natural.”
“That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever done in my life. But—”
His face lit up. “That was only the beginning. We’ll go around the world together. Places you can’t even imagine.”
“But that’s not how I want to live.”
Silence.
Then: “What do you mean?”
She sighed. “You liked Anne of Green Gables, right? But that doesn’t mean you suddenly want to be a children’s librarian. I loved hiking with you, Caleb—but that doesn’t mean I want to live like that.”
She saw the disbelief in his eyes. “But I saw your face this morning. I’ve never seen you look so happy.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been that happy. I’d climbed a mountain for the first time in my life, and the view was like something from heaven. I felt closer to Sam than I ever have before, and I said goodbye to her. And you and I . . .” Her body tingled again as she remembered. “And you and I made love. So yes, I was happy. But that doesn’t mean I want to be your hiking partner. I can’t step into Sam’s shoes.”
His brows drew together. “I would never expect you to. That’s not what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“To be with you.” He looked frustrated. “Don’t you want that, too? You don’t have to go on expeditions with me—not all of them, anyway. Not at first. We’ll get a place.”
“A place,” she repeated slowly. “And what would I do there?”
“Anything you want.”
“Could I open a bookstore?”
He frowned. “That wouldn’t be practical.”
“Why not?”
“We wouldn’t be in Australia for that long,” he said, his voice defensive.
“How long?”
“Well . . . I have expeditions scheduled through July.”
“And then?”
He made a wide sweep with his hand, as though encompassing the whole world. “Wherever you want. Europe, Asia, South America.”
She thought about that. “Wherever you want, you mean.”
“No. It can be your choice. Sometimes we’ll go where the business is, of course. But most of the time I plan expeditions where I want to go, and people will pay to come along.” He paused. “This time we’ll plan where we want to go.”
A part of her was tempted. But—
“I’m not saying I don’t ever want to travel. I would like to. But, Caleb . . . my life in New York isn’t just a default setting. It’s the life I’ve built for myself. It’s part of who I am.”
He was looking at her like he couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Living in one place like that, in a city—” He shook his head. “Your life could be so much bigger than that, Jane. You could be bigger.”
And with those words, a wave of coldness went through her.
What had tempted her wasn’t the life he’d described, but Caleb himself. Her feelings for him were so overwhelming that it would be easy to say yes, to give up everything and go with him, follow him anywhere, just so she could be near him.
But if he thought her life was small—if he thought she was small for living that life—then he didn’t really value her. The life he was describing was based on what he valued. He wanted her to be part of it, but he didn’t want his own life to change at all.
She stood up abruptly. “Let’s go. It’s only forty-five minutes from here, right?”
“Jane—”
She picked up her trekking poles. “I don’t want to talk anymore right now.”