A Matter of Trust(36)

Gage glanced over at Ty assembling his navigational gear—GPS, compass, map.

“Don’t for a minute think that God has forgotten about you or doesn’t have your back. And don’t base God’s love or desire to help you on your opinion of yourself. Base it on who God says he is.”

Gage said nothing, and thankfully, Chet didn’t press him. Instead, “Now listen, you stay safe and come back.”

In other words, live.

“Roger, Boss.”

The simple objective ticked off in the back of his brain as Gage hung up and took inventory of his gear.

Ty added the navigation equipment to the table. “You’ve got skins, an avi beacon, a probe, a signaling mirror, a whistle, an ice ax, and a two-way radio.”

“Grab me another set of batteries,” Gage said. He added a head lamp, a first aid kit, matches, a lighter, a camp stove, a knife, a two-man bivvy, and a sleeping bag to the pile.

“I really hope I can find these kids in the next couple hours. I don’t want to spend the night on the mountain.” He grabbed his pack and began to tuck in the supplies.

“I don’t want you to either.” This from Jess, who came over with rations—energy bars, a dehydrated pack of chili mac, and some beef stroganoff. “I’m still trying to decide if I think you’re crazy or brave.”

“He’s in love with the girl,” Ty said, bringing over an emergency blanket. “Ella.”

Gage looked up at him. “What?”

Ty handed Jess the blanket. “I figured it out.” He turned to Jess. “Last night, when he saw Ella Blair, he went white and turned grouchy.”

“I was trying to find her brother before he did something stupid. Like this,” Gage growled. To the back of the pack he attached his folding ski poles and tucked his skins into a side pocket.

“And then we got back to the condo, and he went into hiding. Turned on The Fugitive.”

“Wow, yeah, that’s bad,” Jess said.

Gage frowned at them. “The Fugitive is a classic.”

“I’m just saying—when you want to think and pretend you’re not brooding, you watch classics.” Jess folded her arms. “Usually westerns, but I can see the draw of The Fugitive. All that running.”

“Whatever.”

“He knows Ella, from before,” Ty said. And then he turned to Gage. “And that’s where it gets complicated. I kept thinking, the entire time she was talking today, why would Gage even talk to the woman who’d prosecuted him in civil court, stripped away everything he had—”

“Her brother is missing!”

“And then I went back to what he said last night about knowing her—he went skiing with her a few times.”

“Gage went skiing with her?” Jess looked up at him.

Gage held up his hand. “Enough.”

“Oh, Gage. Dude.” Jess stood up. “Now you’re really busted because we know you—you ski alone. Always.”

Ty walked up and handed Jess toilet paper, an extra pair of socks, and binoculars. “Exactly. And the rest isn’t hard to figure out. The way I see it, Gage fell for Ella, somehow, and then she broke his heart.”

Gage stood up. “Quit analyzing my life.”

“And he hasn’t gotten over her,” Ty finished.

Jess gave him a sad look, and he wanted to punch Ty in the mouth. “Thanks for that.” He nearly said something about the torrid nonaffair these two were having, trying to fool everyone, but he had more important things to worry about.

Still. “We had one date, nothing more. She only liked me because I was famous in that corner of the world.” He knelt and shoved his sleeping bag into the top of his pack. Then he added an insulated hydration bottle to the outside pocket.

“Let’s go.” He hoisted the pack onto one shoulder and grabbed his helmet. “I’ll keep in contact with PEAK once I get to the top. Hopefully I’ll be back for pizza tonight at the ranch.”

Ty sobered now, clamped him on the shoulder. “And here’s where I say I wish I were going with you.”

“Your knee still isn’t what it should be and we both know it. The stress of the powder would make you the third person I have to carry off the mountain. There’s plenty of things you can do that I can’t, Ty. It just so happens that backcountry skiing is in my wheelhouse. I’ll be fine. You show up at the bottom, okay?”

Ty nodded, and both Ty and Jess followed him out into the lunchroom. He’d opted out of his red ski patrol jacket and now grabbed his gray down ski jacket. He picked up a smaller terrain map, folded it, and shoved it into his zippered pocket. Then he pulled his gaiter over his neck, zipped up his jacket.