Chapter Thirty-Eight
It was more than a touch scary imagining Luke in his real life and me there with him. It haunted my thoughts as I drifted to sleep last night. And when the sunrise woke me too early this morning, I scooted down in my sleeping bag and thought about it some more.
I had wanted to be able to say yes to him immediately, that it was a great idea and of course I’d do it. But Luke was right; I needed to fully consider it. There were implications in this decision that ran deeper than simply crossing my fingers that it would all work out. I would make a decision, and I would do it with intention, not on a whim.
What would it be like to be in a modern Western city with Luke? To be out in the open with him, not having to hide away in a tent or behind rocks? To not be constantly at the mercy of the hourglass of our dwindling time left together?
I launched Circ and scrolled through Luke’s account, studying the world that was his. And could be ours. I wanted him with all my heart, but everything in the background of the Circs he’d taken at UW and in the Seattle metropolitan area overwhelmed me. Was there really a place in all that for me?
I left my tent with plenty of time before our pre-breakfast guides’ meeting in the Cubans’ team tent. It was our final review of the details for the summit attempt, and even though no one had yet had coffee, the group was stirring with excitement. Almost everyone in the tent had summited before, and to most of us, the excitement wasn’t the prospect of standing on top again. It was that we knew how excited the clients would be in a few minutes when Jim gave the official announcement that we were leaving tomorrow.
When we broke to go into the big top, I wound up next to Luke. He snuck me a smile. Despite not being thrilled to be working on Everest this season, he was excited to get cracking tomorrow, same as everyone else.
Jim’s news was followed by cheers, confetti poppers, and some bottles of champagne Glissading Glen had kept stowed away in secret.
The big top cleared out quickly after breakfast. After five days of purposeful lethargy, we were all suddenly on fire with repacking gear, mending holes in clothing, deciding which trinkets to bring to the summit, calling home, and doing final posts for blogs and video diaries. I hurried through my own preparations so I could spend some time down at Winslowe Expeditions.
When I arrived, Dad was busy with Tshering and a grumpy client, so I went to the kitchen tent to make a batch of peanut butter fudge cookies for the Winslowe clients. Pertemba, the gossiping traitor, was in there, too, but at least he was polite enough not to bring up Luke. As I worked, I relished the smell of the fudge mixture heating on the stove and the feeling of Mingma’s favorite wooden spoon in my hand as I mixed the dough. I had been away from a kitchen for far too long.
I continued to think about Luke. About whether or not I could take the leap to follow him to Washington. And I was pretty sure I could.
It would be scary to go to the United States without a job already lined up, but I could stay with Doc for a few weeks, and once I found a job, I could move into that vacant room in April’s house. I’d ask her for more details later tonight. I wanted to talk to Dad about it first, to make sure that turning down Barrett Browning’s personal Tanzania offer wasn’t the stupidest thing in the world. Especially considering that my time in Tanzania could lead to an actual career with Esplanade Equipment, where I could help start up future CentralPoint sites. Like Patagonia.
As I rolled the cookies into balls and set them in neat rows on the cookie sheets, a vision came to me. I was sitting on the porch of that little white bungalow, a blanket over my lap. Luke came out of the front door, two mugs of hot chocolate in his hands, smiling as he handed me one and sat down.
I had wondered what it would be like to be with him in his world.
Amazing.
That’s what it would be like.
I challenged myself to picture the white bungalow again, but this time in Washington. I added drizzle to the vision and put the house on a hill with a view of the Puget Sound and the forested islands beyond. The sky would be gray with low clouds in the direction of the water, yet to the east, where the clouds were higher and thinner, the sun would be a breath away from breaking through into a misty rainbow.
I remembered Puget Sound views like this from when I was a child, especially along the drive from the South Sound, where Amy and I lived, to my grandparents’ house. It reminded me that not all memories of Washington made me anxious.
I could do this. I could continue my life back where it started.
Now, I envisioned the bungalow having a campfire ring out in the front where a big, warm fire was going with friends gathered all around it. These friends were fun, outdoorsy people, and we’d all be talking about the different things each of us had done that day. Paddleboarding, paragliding, hiking, rock climbing. Maybe some of the friends would be getting in from a big expedition, which was the reason we were gathering in the first place. Maybe Luke and I would have been among them. A mountaineering trip to Bugaboos in British Columbia, perhaps?
Dad found me as I was pulling the first sheet of cookies out of the oven. In a peace offering of sorts, Tattletale Pertemba said he’d bake the second sheet for me, and I followed Dad over to Winslowe Expeditions’s tiny communications tent.
“Let’s talk about tomorrow,” he said after somehow managing to swallow down a red-hot cookie. “I’m going to be blunt here. Your clients are under no illusions about the danger of this mountain. They know there is no guarantee that they’ll be coming back down. By this point, they’ve signed three or four waivers acknowledging this. You are a guide, not an emergency responder. It is not your job to put yourself in unnecessary risk to get someone to the top, or to get them down if you would be clearly risking your own life to do so. It is not the Sherpas’ job, either.”
Sheesh. “Okay, Dad—”
“This is serious. I’m not worried about your technical skill, judgment, or performing at altitude. But I know you, and I worry about the people part.”
His voice trembled, and I realized that me working for Global had been a bigger deal to him than he’d let on. It wasn’t just that I was guiding for my first season with somebody else’s company, it was the first mountain I was climbing without him. From here on, he could no longer personally look out for my safety.
I put my arm around him. Heck. I also wished it was him and Winslowe Expeditions I was about to launch this summit attempt with.
“You need to be prepared that if you find yourself in a situation that is risking your own life or others’ lives, you will need to leave your client behind,” Dad said, his voice still rough. “It will feel wrong, and it will be the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do, but never forget: it’s a commercial game up here. We offer a product that lots of people want: a chance to stand on top of the highest mountain on the planet. We don’t do it because we are bighearted. We do this to make a profit. Do not sacrifice yourself for that.”
I grimaced. He was right, but it was too terrible to think about. Especially as I pictured the trusting faces of Johnsmith, Phil, and Glissading Glen.
“Okay, Dad.” I exhaled, trying to force the inauspicious thoughts out of my head. “I need to get back to Global soon, but I wanted to see what you think about Tanzania first. I have to email Barrett before we leave. Like tonight.”
“Tanzania? You’re still considering that?”
“Well, kind of, but I’m actually thinking of—”
I stopped because Dad had pulled his soft-sided briefcase out of one of the big electronics boxes. My curiosity had me sitting up straighter as he lined up the numbers on the lock. It was the one lock that even I didn’t know the combo to. He popped the lock but didn’t unzip the case.
“If you go to Tanzania, just know that you’d be giving up climbing for a long time,” he said. “With your skill and passion for mountaineering, it doesn’t make sense to me why you’d be willing to do that. Let’s talk more about your idea of trying for a sponsorship.”
“That was part of my original plan for what I was going to do instead of college. Another reason I’m hoping to summit this year but, still, it’s such a long shot.”
“Not as much as you think. I’m positive you would already have sponsorships from some of the smaller companies if we hadn’t been keeping your name off Miss Eleanor’s register. If you work on your rock and ice climbing so that you’re climbing a few grades harder, and if you get a couple more peaks under your belt, with peers instead of me, I bet Esplanade Equipment would sponsor you. Do you understand what a big deal an Esplanade sponsorship would be?”
I nodded. Esplanade was the best-of-the-best in terms of mountaineering products and the caliber of their athletes.
“Mountaineering is, and has always been, such a core of their entire brand that I wouldn’t put it past them to consider sponsoring a long-term project like the Top Five. If they had the right athlete. I may be biased, but I think they could see that in you.”
My chest swelled. It was one thing to imagine an inroad to something impossible, but quite another to have someone else independently confirm it. Dad was an internationally respected alpinist, and to have his endorsement of my skill meant more to me personally than some company making the same determination.
“Do you think there’d be a chance they’d sponsor two people for the Top Five?” I asked.
“Well, you couldn’t do it alone. You’d need partners.”
“What about Luke? Do you think he’d have a chance at a sponsorship with them, too?”
Dad thought about this. “He doesn’t have nearly the experience you do on peaks above fifteen-thousand feet, but he’s been tearing up the Cascades ever since he started college. And if he’s anything like Gyalzen…”
He looked away, but not before I saw the sheen in his eyes. Going back to Tengboche to tell Mingma that her husband—Luke’s father—was dead was the hardest thing Dad had ever done.
I stood up and hugged him.
“Gyalzen could have done it,” he said, composing himself. “Luke needs more experience on the really high stuff, but I think he could do it, too. Is that what he wants? I thought he was going to medical school.”
“Maybe. I don’t think he’s fully committed to that yet.”
“You guys and those World’s 19ers books you are always lugging around.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you wouldn’t have a better partner than Luke.”
“I know.”
“Be careful with him.”
For a split second, I thought he was about to give me another protective-Dad warning. But what he actually meant was for me not to hurt him.
Dad opened the briefcase that was still on his lap. “Listen, Emily,” he said. “Something’s been bothering me, and I know you’re not going to want to talk about it, but it’s my job to say it even though you’re twenty. Even if you were forty. I’ll still be your dad even when you’re in…Tanzania. If it comes to that.”
He paused to look directly at me, to make sure I was paying full attention.
“I worry that one of the reasons you decided not to go to college is because of what happened with Amy. We never talk about it, and that’s my fault. I knew you didn’t want to, and I left it at that. I should have insisted.”
I shifted in the chair and crossed my arms. “You’re right about me not wanting to talk about her. I still don’t. And that’s okay. I’m okay with the fact that I do not have a relationship with my mother.”
“I understand that, because I didn’t have much of a relationship with my own parents. Teresa has always voiced something different, though. And you know what? With how things have come together this season, my opinion has changed. I don’t think it was a coincidence that you first considered taking a gap year shortly after Amy was released and started living in Port Townsend. I have a bad feeling that all this is wrapped up in your decision about Tanzania.”
I wanted to scratch at my skin, which was crawling with invisible pinpricks. I didn’t know where this was going, but I didn’t like it.
“Amy has been wanting to contact you,” he said. “Since she got out.”
I gave him a sharp frown I hoped would discourage him from going any further. He ignored me, riffling through the briefcase. “She wrote you a letter. It got here last week.”
Sheer panic grabbed me, panic equal to the moment the snowbridge had collapsed in the icefall.
“I don’t blame you if you have no interest in reading it,” Dad said. “You can tear it up and throw it away if you want. But for something—someone—in the past to completely halt everything you have been moving toward, that’s when we have to turn around and look back down the trail. If you don’t, you’ll never get higher than where you are right now.”
He pulled an envelope out of the case. Chills ran through my body even before the paper hit my hand.
It was my own stationery from when I was a little girl. Childhood stationery I had never used. Inside the bubble-gum pink envelope would be scallop-edged paper decorated with unicorns. I could taste the pasta from lunch in the back of my throat. It was like the night of the arrest was happening all over again.
“Emily?”
I snatched the envelope from his hand and shoved it deep into the interior pocket of my jacket. I stood.
“You okay?”
I nodded vigorously. “We’ve got an early morning. I have to get back.”
It took 100 percent effort to fake nonchalance as I gave him a good-bye hug, hoping he didn’t notice how much I was sweating. I left right away, before I lost it completely.