When we turn a bend, we leave the drop behind us, and both sides of the road are now flanked by blessedly solid ground and snowy pines that stretch toward the heavens and spread out as far as I can see.
I heave a pent up breath as that knot in my chest slowly unwinds. "It's beautiful here. This isn't what I was expecting when Grace said we were going to Vegas."
He clenches the steering wheel, as a shadow falls over his face. "Is this okay?"
My heart bubbles with joy when I think how wonderful this trip has been so far. "It's more than okay. Thank you."
We drive past what looks like a big Bavarian lodge. Several cars are parked out front. "I think that's the place," I say as we continue up the road.
Andrés flashes a sideways smile. "Not there. You'll see."
We drive for about another mile and pull to the side of the road beside a few trucks.
When we get out of the SUV, the crisp, cool air assails my senses and chills my windpipe. I can hear screaming and laughter coming from beyond a copse of trees. Andrés lifts open the hatch in back and pulls out a long, bright yellow plastic rectangle with a rope tied to one end.
"What is this?"
"It's a sled." He drops it on the ground, and I watch it slide across the slick surface as if it's got invisible wheels.
I narrow my eyes. I sure hope he doesn't expect me to get on that flimsy contraption. "Where did you get it?"
"I bought it off some teens in the parking lot. I probably paid three times what they paid for it." His wide grin practically stretches ear-to-ear. "But it looks like fun, right?"
I grimace and take a step back as Andrés kicks it toward me. "You're not expecting me to ride this thing."
"Do you love me?"
Andrés's question catches me off guard, and even though his tone is playful, I sense an underlying desperation in his rigid shoulders.
"You know I do."
He bridges the distance between us in two strides, cupping my chin in his gloved hand. "Then make memories with me." He swallows and then fixes me with such a penetrating stare, I feel like I'm drowning in the depths of his dark eyes. "Happy ones."
Unable to speak through this tightening noose around my throat, I silently nod.
I take his hand and follow him as he drags the sled behind us. He helps me navigate a ditch beside the road. We walk toward the sound of laughter, and I am comforted knowing other people are nearby. After we walk through a copse of trees, I see the long slope rising at the end of the wide clearing. I watch as people climb up the side of the slope, mount their sleds, and then slide down the center, laughing and screaming all the way.
When we reach the base of the hill, my limbs ice over, and not from the cold, but from fear. I guess I've lived a sheltered life, because as I watch a kid on an inner-tube barrel past me, the notion of racing down the hill on an object without breaks terrifies me. I blame my fears on my adoptive parents, who were always too drunk or pissed off at each other to take me anywhere, with the exception of the few fishing trips my dad took me on, but even on the boat he usually drank a twelve pack.
I'm wishing I had a beer or two right now, so I can get up the nerve to get on that sled. Two kids on what appears to be a garbage can lid fly by us, nearly taking out my kneecaps before Andrés jerks me out of the way.
"Watch out for crazy drivers, mija," he gently scolds before he starts leading me up the slope.
Why I follow him, I have no idea. I feel like I'm stuck in a never ending dream as I trudge up the steep incline. By the time we reach the top, my chest is heaving and I'm straining for breath.
Andrés turns to me with a smirk. "It's a good workout."
"I'd rather be drinking rum at that lodge."
"This will be fun," he says with a wink. "I promise."
I only manage to slip and fall on my ass once as he's trying to help me get onto the sled. I don't know why my feet have to be so uncooperative before my butt finally makes contact with the plastic. Andrés tells me to fold my legs in and I stifle a scream when the ground slides beneath me. I don't even have a second to change my mind before he mounts the sled behind me and we are off. I'm so terrified, I think I forget to scream. Or maybe I do scream, but nothing comes out. Wind slaps my face, biting into my skin and chapping my lips as we zip down the slope at what feels like jetliner speed. That same kid who almost took out my kneecaps jumps out of the way as we careen toward the plain. We hit a bump and catch air before landing on the hard ground with a thud. I moan as pain winces up my tailbone, and this time I do scream as our little plastic rocket of doom continues its downward ascent. Even when the ground levels off, our sled propels us forward. I gasp when I see the tree line ahead. Andrés sticks out his leg, and we're spinning, over and over, until we come to a stop and topple to the side.