A Matter of Trust(60)
He had such a beautiful rhythm that her heartbeat settled down, and she took in the view, the pine-furred valley, the frozen waterfalls. Powder slicked her goggles, crusted on her neck gaiter, sprayed up over her board as she dug in. He stopped every hundred yards, maybe more, just to let her catch up, point out their next destination. Then, they’d hit it again.
The sun rose, shortening the shadows as they worked their way down across the bowl toward the granite face known as the Weeping Wall.
She recalled what she knew of it—a sixty-foot drop, nice soft landing zone, thick powder—at least that’s how Gage described it in his video. But he hadn’t taken his planned route. To the right, a frozen waterfall added drama, but the landing would be treacherous, mostly because of the ice forming below the powder.
He’d changed his line at the last moment and had probably saved his own life with the impulse.
Hopefully her brother had watched that part of the video, listened to Gage’s explanation of how he’d survived.
She’d done plenty of cliff jumping in her life—mostly ten- or twenty-foot drops. She could almost hear Gage in her head, from one of his many instructional videos put out by Xtreme Energy.
“Square up before you take your ride off. You have to be balanced before you launch or you’ll flip in the air.”
Unless, of course, like Gage, you wanted to do a flip.
“And don’t forget forward momentum—a little speed helps with your landing momentum. But you don’t want to fly into the cliff—too much and you’ll do a superman, probably into a tree or off a cliff.”
Those words, spoken before the Dylan McMahon accident.
“Finally, keep your eyes on your landing.”
That, she’d never accomplished. The world always turned to a blur the minute she launched.
Gage stopped on the mountain, this time in the gap above the Weeping Wall.
When she reached him, he handed her his water bottle and she took a drink.
“So, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to edge down to the left, through this channel, keeping clear of the waterfall. The ice is probably thick, but we’ll want to watch for crevasses.”
He couldn’t know, probably, how her eyes widened.
“Slide down until you’re right above the cliff, about twenty feet. You won’t want more of a run than that. But you need enough to clear the outcropping at the bottom, so don’t cut it too close.”
Her breath must have hitched, because he looked at her. “Ella?”
She didn’t move.
He grabbed her jacket. “Ella. Listen, you got this? Can you do this?”
She nodded, but it was more of a wobble of her head.
He reached down and clicked out of his board.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting into your head.”
She stared at him as he stepped in front of her and grabbed her helmet in his hands to center his gaze on hers.
“You’re only scared because you’ve built this up bigger than it is. We’re not dropping from a sixty-foot cliff, we’re suddenly dropping from Freedom Tower, right?”
She nodded.
“You probably saw my video—”
“A couple hundred times.”
His mouth tweaked up in a smile, just for a second, then he nodded. “Okay, then you know, first, we’re jumping into a pillow of powder. Second, I’ll go first. You just have to launch off, keep your eyes on me, and you’ll land right where you need to be.”
She nodded, trying to take in his words.
“Ella. Breathe. One full breath.”
Oh. She breathed out. In. Swallowed.
“Again.”
She repeated it.
He grabbed her shoulders. “Stop looking at what you can’t do and look ahead, to your safe landing. Visualize it.”
She gave him a wan smile.
He put his arm around her, turned her. “Look at what you’ve already done.”
There, above her, stretching nearly straight up into the clouds, the peak betrayed a beautiful curving S down the hill, a line so perfect it could have been made by one person.
“We did that,” he said. “And it’s because you let go, stopped looking at your feet, and just trusted the line.”
Huh. She had, actually. Started to feel it, believe in Gage’s rhythm, his ability to choose the right path.
He turned her back to him, and this time he lifted his goggles onto his helmet. “Listen, Ella. Remember what I said about trusting me? Even if it doesn’t make sense?”
She nodded.
“This is now.”
He didn’t smile, didn’t blink, just met her gaze with his.
“Okay,” she said.
“Atta girl.”
And then, he pressed a kiss to her nose, quick and fast, a cute gesture probably meant to reassure but which instead left her just a little weak.