Callum

 

The woman stopped and pushed up her pink headband. "And what kind of tree is this?" she asked, stabbing at the trunk with her pink ski pole.

I stopped and looked behind me. "I have no idea," I sighed. "There are no leaves on it."

She blinked and looked upward. "Can't you tell by like, the bark pattern or something."

"I told you," I said, gritting my teeth to keep the smile on my face. "I'm not that kind of tour guide." I pointed with my pole up the steep grade. "We still have quite a bit of a ways to go, so..."

But her husband had caught up with us by now and was peering upward as well. "It's probably an oak tree, Marie," he said. "You can tell by the spread of the crown."

"Do you really think so? I'm not sure, can you reach for my guidebook? It's in the front pocket of my pack."

"There's nothing here," he said, tugging at the zipper.

"You're not even looking," she complained

"Yes I am, and there's no book here."

"Of course there is, I remember packing it with my very own two hands, Tim."

"Well there's no guidebook here, Marie, and I'm telling you this is an oak. I wish you would just listen and take my word for it sometime."

"I would, except you've been wrong too many times..."

"Excuse me," I broke in. The two of them whirled to stare at me like they had forgotten I was there. "You asked me to get you to the top of the falls in time to get some good photographs. We're going to lose daylight if we stay here like this."

The two of them grumbled, but repositioned their cross-country skis, and made to follow me.

Cross-country skiers were the worst. Of all the tours I'd run, I'd found them to be the most finicky. It seemed to be a matter of equipment. Hikers, with just their boots and packs were less of a pain in my ass then skiers with their myriad of straps and poles and boots and goggles.

Of course, they were also the ones that paid the best. And backcountry cross-country tours were my bread and butter during the winter months, so I had to suck it up and deal with them, even though I looked like an idiot on skis.

I pushed ahead, putting up a punishing pace, forcing some distance between me and their squabbling. All day long, throughout this entire tour I’d been in a state of high piss-off, even before they started asking me questions about the flora and fauna of the region that I had no possible answer to. In fact, that rage had been boiling in my chest since yesterday.

Ever since the McCabe's Christmas party.

The forced exertion was working, and soon Marie and her fat husband fell silent, too short of breath to ask any more stupid questions about the local wildlife. I was pushing them to get to the top of the southern ridge, the roundabout back way to get to the top of Reckless Falls. These two, of course were not the type to go the easy route, which was to park at the base of the Falls and walk up. No, I had to take them down the winding trail that followed Reckless Creek, periodically crossing over in the places where the ice was strong enough to hold. It was a stupidly long and roundabout way, but the end result was always worth it. The gully widened, and I heard Marie catch her breath. And even though I'd been a simmering cauldron of anger all day long, I couldn't help but smile with pride. Yeah, bitch, they don't have views like this where you're from, do they? This is my home, this is my hometown and from this angle it's pretty much perfect.

Ahead of us was the top of the Falls, and spread out below that was the view the town was famous for. Two humped mountains curve down into a scooped out bowl filled with the narrow ribbon of the lake. Reckless Creek dove down to meet it in three exuberant leaps, the falls from which the town took its name. But right now, they were completely iced over, a shimmering chandelier. With the sun diving low behind Whaleback Mountain, the angle was just perfect to set the whole thing glittering like some kind of fairyland.

"Oh," Marie said breathlessly. "This is very nice."

I pushed off to the side so as not to ruin their pictures, and kicked off my skis. Then walked closer to the edge.

Below me, two figures were moving along the lower trail. My heart didn't know whether to sink or rise upon spotting Harper's bright green jacket.

Gray and Harper picked their way carefully along the trail, pausing every so often to point at the frozen-over falls. They didn't seem to be doing anything more than talking, a fact that made me inordinately glad. But when Gray reached behind him to help Harper over a slippery patch, holding her hand for far longer than was necessary, I couldn't suppress the low growl in my throat. I had the sudden urge to reach down and pack a snowball and chuck it at him from way up here.

Gray was still holding her hand as they emerged breathlessly at the top. He was my best friend. He'd been in love with her forever. He deserved to be happy with her, to have something good happen in his otherwise shitty life.

I shoved my hands in my pockets. That's it, I told myself. I'm done. I'm not going to try this anymore. I've made up my mind. Gray and Harper should be happy together, and I shouldn't stand in the fucking way. I'm not going to stand in the fucking way.

But when she got close enough to see me, and her green eyes lit up like emerald fire, I realized there was no way I was ready to let her go.