Falling for Mr. Wrong(70)

“He’s not a jerk.”

Could she undo years of silence? Fix it with a single shot, like an explosion at the heart of a dam? What if she broke the barrier, and found there was nothing on the other side?

Mick shook his head. “We’ve been down this road before. You know you can’t get involved with anyone. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

Kelsey stared, wondering how it was possible she’d never heard the desperation in his voice before, or seen how vulnerable he was under all his bluster. “Dad, why do you want to climb Annapurna?”

“That’s a silly question,” he said, backing away a few inches in surprise. “Because it’s Annapurna. It’s an incredible peak. Because we’re climbers and that’s what we do.”

“Not because of Mom?”

He looked away. “No,” he said. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Kelsey paused, trying to sort out the jumble of emotions lurching inside her. “How come you’ve never asked me that question?”

He wrinkled his forehead, confused. “What are you talking about? Why haven’t I asked you why you want to climb Annapurna? Is this something that man put you up to? Or your friend Marie?”

“This isn’t about them,” she said. “It’s about you. And me.”

“Fine.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, looking for all the world like a petulant teenager. “You want me to ask you? I’ll ask you. Why do you want to climb Annapurna?”

“I don’t,” she replied simply. The relief of saying it was so overwhelming, she actually felt light-headed, her head swimming with the weight that had been released.

“What are you talking about? Of course you do. We’ve been planning this forever.”

“You’ve been planning this,” she corrected. “You and Mom were planning this, and then she died, and you kept planning. But I didn’t want it. I never wanted it.”

“It’s a little late to mention that now, don’t you think?”

Instead of answering, she crossed over to the pile of photographs that they had been sorting through on the floor. She bent over and picked up one of her mother and father, laughing at their wedding. It had been a simple affair, with only the two of them, a small circle of friends, and a lay pastor they’d brought in to conduct the ceremony. Her mother wore a circle of flowers in her hair. Her father wore a pair of black pants and a white shirt. He was laughing. Kelsey couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him laugh like that.

“We never talk about her,” Kelsey said.

“No,” he said, unable to take his eyes away from the photo.

“I still miss her.”

He took the picture from her hands and traced the edge of it with one finger. He opened his mouth briefly, as if he might say something, but then closed it. His eyes were dark and bleak.

“Dad,” Kelsey asked, her voice strangely clear, “what will happen if I don’t go with you to Annapurna?”

He jerked up to look at her, and she saw the fear in his eyes. “What do you mean? You have to go, Kelsey. Everyone is counting on you.”

“You don’t know, do you? You’re scared. Scared that you might kill yourself.”

He clutched the picture more tightly in his hand.

“I mean, not just do something risky, or try to summit when the conditions are bad. I mean really kill yourself. Jump into a crevasse. Step off the edge of a cliff. That’s what you’re scared of, isn’t it? You can’t trust yourself. That’s why you bring me along.”

She expected the revelation to bring fresh pain, but it did not. She had been dancing around it for too long, knowing the truth but not wanting to admit it. Finding every way she could to shield him from his fears. Being there so he didn’t have to face it. And in doing so, she had enabled that fear, maybe even perpetuated it.

His hard, wrinkled face began to crumple. “I miss her, too, Kelsey. I miss her every day. When I’m on the mountain I feel closer to her. It’s almost like she’s there with me.”

The weight of their shared loss suddenly became fresh, and Kelsey staggered under it. “I know you loved her, Dad, but it’s been sixteen years. You’ve got to find a way to move on.”

“You make it sound so easy,” he said. “You have no idea what it’s like.”

“I lost my mother,” she replied. “And then I lost my father, too. I guess I know a little something about it.”

He sank down to the floor and brushed his hands over the pictures. “She was incredibly brave. And so smart. Much smarter than me. You’re so much like her, you know. She would have been incredibly proud of you.”