She must have heard the disappointment in his voice.
“I’m happy to see you, too.” She pushed past him, glanced around at his mess. “You’ve redecorated—a little less nineteen-fifties, a little more Jim Beam. I’m not sure I like it, but I guess it’s the new you.”
Something about that seemed like an insult, but before he could work it out, she started picking up his trash.
He shook his head. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I don’t want to trip and break my damned neck.”
He tried to bend down to pick up a beer bottle but came close to falling.
“Sit down. You got coffee in that kitchen?”
“Yep.” His ass landed on the sofa where it had been these past two weeks.
In a few minutes, Megs returned with a cup. “You drink yours black, right?”
He took the cup from her. “Thanks.”
She went back to picking up empty bottles and pizza boxes, carrying them out to his recycling bins. Then she opened his curtains, flooding the room with daylight that made his head ache. “That’s better.”
“You came here to clean my house?”
“I came here to tell you a story.” She sat on the other end of the sofa, crossed her legs. “Back when God was still a child, Ahearn and I came to Colorado to tackle the famous fourteeners.”
“You reallyaretelling me a story.”
“A true story. Drink your coffee and listen.” Megs went on. “We were on our way down from the summit of El Diente—that’s in the San Miguels—when our good buddy Dean slipped on talus, fell, and broke his ankle. Have you ever climbed El Diente?”
Conrad nodded. “It’s steep, lots of loose talus, and some drop-offs—big cliffs.”
It was an easy place to kill yourself if you didn’t know what you were doing.
“We tried to get Dean on his feet. We thought maybe he could hop down the mountain with the two of us for support, but, as you say, it’s steep. After some slipping and a near fall, the three of us decided that it would be best to leave Dean behind with some food and water and head down the mountain to get help.”
Conrad nodded. “That makes sense. If you’re all injured, no one gets out.”
Climbing sometimes involved making tough choices.
“That’s how we saw it. We made it back to our truck and drove to the nearest town, but no one there was willing to head out that late in the afternoon to rescue a climber. There were no rescue teams at that time. Climbing was a young sport. The sheriff’s department promised to head up to get him the next morning.”
Wait. Had she told Conrad this story before? It sounded familiar.
“That night, the San Miguels were hit by a freak snowstorm—whiteout conditions, freezing temps.”
“I guess it’s lucky you got down.”
“Lucky for us. Not so lucky for Dean.”
Conrad had forgotten about him. “Shit.”
“We headed up the next morning through deep snow, but it was too late. Dean had frozen to death right where we’d left him, the food and water we’d left behind with him frozen solid.”
“God. I’m sorry.”
“I grieved for a long time afterward, and I blamed myself. I ran different scenarios through my mind. If only we’d done this or that, Dean might be alive.”
Conrad shook his head. “You can’t know that. Maybe you would have all died up there in that snowstorm.”
