“But I’m not her.” Kelsey had to swallow hard and force herself to say the words. “And I’m not going to risk killing myself just so you can keep chasing your fantasy of her. I’ve organized my whole life around protecting you, Dad, and I’m done with it. I just had a man look me in the eye and tell me he loved me and I’m not going to walk away from him so you can pretend she’s still alive.”
Mick picked up another picture, this one of Kelsey when she was a newborn, a tiny tuft of hair on top of her head, her mother carrying her on her chest, supported by a long piece of cloth that she had wrapped around her back and shoulders.
Kelsey sat down beside him and took the picture from his hands. Her father had taken that picture, and so many others. Kelsey as a baby, gumming a piton. Kelsey at age four, a rope tied in a harness around her chest as they hiked up a steep trail. Kelsey, the adolescent, all knobby knees and elbows, long brown hair neatly braided, grinning at the top of a rock.
She had been loved. It hadn’t been a traditional childhood, but it had been full of love and laughter. And then her mother died, and everything changed. No more pictures. No more grinning on top of tall rock faces. Just solemn expeditions. Summits. Always preparing for the next climb. “All I know is that I’ve been alone ever since she died, and I’m tired of it.”
Mick held out his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I thought you loved it. I thought you were happy.”
“You never asked.”
“I’m sorry.” The words were a whisper, so quiet Kelsey almost didn’t believe she’d heard them. But they were real.
“It isn’t only your fault,” she admitted, thinking of Marie and all the times her friend had told her to say something to her father. Of all the times she had wanted to stay home for the weekend so she could go to a school dance, but went climbing with her dad instead. Of all the dates she’d canceled so she could get in one more training run. Of the resentment that had built up for years. “I should have said something a long time ago.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “So what do we do now?”
Kelsey squeezed his shoulder gently. “I’m going to hope that I haven’t lost my chance at something special. You’ve got to decide if you want to keep living.”
Tears coursed down his cheeks as he picked up the wedding picture again. “Oh, Kelsey.” He blew out a long, slow breath. “I wish it were that easy.”
“I didn’t say it was easy,” she said. “I guess at one time I would have thought it was easy, but now that I’ve met Ross,” she paused, shuddering at the barest thought of losing him, “I might understand, just a little.”
“We always knew one of us might die,” he said. “It was part of what we did. We understood the risks. After you were born things changed. We both became more cautious. I worried about her, and you. We had promised each other when we first got married that we would keep climbing and doing what we loved. But I wanted her to stop. I wanted her to go back, not try to summit. I wanted her to be with you.”
The revelation was piercing. Kelsey’s heart clenched. “Dad, I never knew. I just thought…”
He gave a wry smile. “You thought I didn’t care. But I did. I still do. And I still believe that you have to commit to it, Kelsey, one hundred percent, if you’re going to do it.”
More tears coursed down her cheek. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t. I hope you can forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” He looked from her back to the picture in his hands. “You know, she always told me that having a child was like having a piece of forever, right there in front of you. It’s like looking at the summit fresh, every morning.”
Kelsey wiped her eyes. “That’s really beautiful.”
“I had forgotten she used to say that.” His voice trembled. “I’m glad you reminded me.”
…
Mick stumbled out of the house a few minutes later. Kelsey stood in the hall and watched him get into his car and drive away. She wasn’t sure if she had done something good or terrible, and she feared it was a little bit of each. Sobs were growing deep in her chest, but she held them back, not knowing if she could survive the storm of them on her own. She halfheartedly considered calling Marie, but wasn’t ready to face her friend after their fight earlier that day. She knew everything that Marie had said was true, but that didn’t mean she liked admitting it.
“Are you okay?”
The deep voice startled her and she jumped. Ross had been sitting in one of the old plastic chairs at the far end of the porch, buried in shadows. He rose and came into view, the shadows making him seem even taller, his chest even broader.