“One of the guests waiting for the sleigh told me after you left. I went over to see if everyone was okay and they told me that they—and many others—have been following this account. Benny must have made it!”
“He did.” Somehow, Mom managed a dry laugh. “He decided that if he saved our December, he’d get a dog for Christmas.”
Nicole just closed her eyes, overwhelmed with love and worry.
“Well, I think he did,” she said. “I jumped on the account and there arethousandsof followers. So I posted an announcement—hashtaggrumpysantaismissing.I thought maybe people would know where they are—or pray.”
“We could use all the help.” Her mother fought the spinning wheels again, and the UTV crested a rise and lurched to a shuddering stop near Moose Creek. Nicole didn’t even want to look beyond the treeline to the ridge. She knew that drop.
“They’re back there,” Mom said, pointing. “On the other side of the creek.”
Between the trees, the creek shimmered like a scar of broken glass, ice cracked and jagged where the sleigh had gone through. Beyond, the snow stretched for what felt like a mile, but Nicole knew it wasn’t.
But at the other side, the slope plunged steep, a ridge of pines and stones and…no real trail. It was as close to back-country skiing as Nicole had ever done or ever thought she would do.
At one time, she could do a groomed black diamond if she had to. But that? That was rugged, loaded with trees, and would challenge an expert.
But…Copper.
Dad came running, snow flying at his boots, his face pale and hard. “You made it.”
Her mother staggered out of the vehicle, grabbing a mountain of blankets. Nicole leapt after her, boots sinking to her calves in powder as she reached for her ski equipment.
“Are they okay?” Nicole’s voice cracked as she peered through the trees.
“Red’s keeping Benny calm by the sleigh. They’re freezing. I’ve got to get them warm.” His eyes landed on the skis in Nicole’s hands. “Where are mine?”
“I didn’t bring them.” She lifted her chin, defiant even as her body trembled. “Benny and Red need you to get them back to the UTV. You’re stronger than I am. I’ll get Copper.”
Jack’s mouth flattened. “Nic?—”
“Don’t argue. I know how to handle him in a crisis.”
For a beat, his eyes bored into hers, fury and fear warring. Then his shoulders sagged, and the fury cracked into something more fragile. “Are you sure you can handle that slope?”
Nicole snapped her goggles down. “Never been so sure.”
Mom stepped in. “Nicole, are you?—”
“Mom, Dad, please. I can do this.”
They shared a parental look and gave up the fight at the same moment. It was the mountain, she knew, that would put up the real battle.
The creek ice groaned under their boots as Mom tottered, Jack steadying her with a hand at her elbow. Under Nicole’s arms, her skis and boots clattered, every muscle thrumming with adrenaline.
They reached the sleigh, which looked no worse for the wear, to be honest. But Benny’s face was blotchy and wet, cheeks flaming against the cold, his sobs ragged in the frozen air. Red held him tight, massive mittened hands dwarfing the little boy’s small fingers.
Mom dropped into the sleigh, wrapping the blankets around both of them and tucking Benny against her chest. “I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe.”
Jack got blankets on Red, covering the old man while Nicole snapped on her ski boots
“Listen, Nic,” Jack said. “Copper’s scared but not hurt. I saw him, and God willing he’s still at the bottom of the slope. You can get him.”
The confidence in his voice made her feel like invincible eight-year-old Nicole Kessler, who wasn’t afraid of snow or trees or steep, steep runs.
She dropped her skis to the snow. The sound of the bindings snapping shut under her boots jolted something deep inside her chest.Snap.Old muscle memory fired awake.
Jack stepped forward, his voice low, urgent. “Just—don’t kill yourself.”
