“Hold on!” Ophelia screamed.
But soon he was past her, and then past Justine, who exclaimed, “Scheisse!” And while he didn’t have time to ponder what language to swear in, it struck him as oddly funny.
Oddly funny for a man who was about to fly off a cliff onto a glacier far below. He tried to sink his feet into the snow, but it was crusted over with ice. He couldn’t get purchase. He flipped onto his stomach, digging the spikes they’d nailed onto the front of their boots into the ice. A mitten slid off and he sank his nails into the ice, feeling them give way against the superior force of Mother Nature.
Ice shards cut across his face, stinging his skin.What a terrible waste, he thought.I just fell in love.
And then the rope around his waist yanked him hard to a stop. His intestines squeezed like they were being pressed into jelly, but he was grateful. The coolness of his emotions evaporated. His heart pounded hard as nausea flooded him. He laid his cheek on the freezing icy crust of the ground.
“Julian!” Ophelia shouted.
He steadied his breath and got to his hands and knees, testing the traction of his location. “I’m all right,” he called back.
The rest of them let out a collective sigh. He looked up to see them all sitting on the side of the mountain. Ophelia had run uphill to the nearest boulder, effectively looping the rope that connected them all around the rock, which was then used to anchor him.
His hands shook. Not far away was his mitten. His fingers throbbed, and when he inspected his bright pink hand, he saw blood from where his nails had almost been torn off. Slowly, he inched over to his mitten. And then back to the trail where his friends waited for him. Time, for once, was on his side, and they could take longer here if they needed.
Ophelia unwrapped her rope and joined him, touching his cheek, her finger coming away with a sliver of blood painted across her pad.
“Let’s get off this fucking mountain,” Justine said, breaking their trance.
“Ready?” Ophelia asked him in a whisper.
Julian nodded and straightened. More than she knew. He was ready for all of it. Marriage, London, writing, perhaps taking up teaching, or if Ophelia wanted to keep exploring, he would do that. He didn’t care anymore. His life was meaningless without her. Had it ended there, and he was merely another life claimed by the Matterhorn, every breath he’d ever taken would have been wasted.
His triumphs had been empty. Another man would have come along and made the same measurements, the same survey, done the same calculations to discover the topography. But going forward, he would be a man who loved Ophelia Bridewell, a man who would be the companion of a fearless lady explorer. A woman who blazed trails and uplifted other women. He could help her credibility in the wider world. He could help her publish. And that would be how his legacy could be remembered. A man who did not take, but rather a man who gave.
And if she would let him, he would give it all to her.
The rest of the mountain passed in a daze for him. At one point, Justine slipped and twisted her ankle—surprisingly difficult to do in the hobnailed boots. Karl fussed at her, and she fussed back until Ophelia prodded them on.
As Justine claimed, her limp evened out as they continued. The wind chilled them as they passed back over the long, thin Hörnli Ridge, until they dipped low enough to escape it. By late afternoon, they arrived back at their camp.
Julian stared at the tent poles and blanket bags they left there. They were all exhausted and hungry and cold. Even the exultation of summiting had faded. They all wanted to be back at the inn, tucking into a large, hot dinner.
Without much conversation, they packed up their remaining items and trudged on. Another few hours to the inn. They walked quickly now that they were on a relatively flat trail. No more ice or scree or lethal cliffs. The dirt on the trail made him feel almost weightless, considering the difficulty he’d already subjected himself to. He glanced over at Ophelia, who seemed tired, but happy.
She flashed him a smile that energized him. Her lifelong goal was accomplished. A sense of pride bubbled up inside of him as well. This was not the most elevation he’d ever scaled, but it had been technically more challenging.
They passed the white-walled church, knowing there were only a few more miles left until dinner. The timing would be perfect, though Julian wished they weren’t conforming to European standards of being dressed for the evening meal. He wanted to drop into his seat as he was, needing the energy to bathe.
As they passed through the trees, still not talking, Julian had to marvel. The difference a year had made for him. A confirmed bachelor, dead set on returning to South America. Now, a man who intended to marry the woman marching next to him, ready to take his next cues from her.
There was clamor in the back of his head about money and work and setting up a life for them. But his heart was clear and true. He would make this work in whatever way he could. They would, as Ophelia said, figure it out.
“Almost there,” Karl called over his shoulder.
Ophelia glanced at him, this time a mischievous grin replacing her wide smile. Her pace quickened. He grinned back; food, clean clothing, a warm bath, those were all waiting for them. He matched her pace. When he caught up, she quickened more, and he matched. Soon, they were all-out running, leaving Karl and Justine behind them. Their packs shook awkwardly on their backs, but it didn’t matter. He carried more weight, and Ophelia was quick. They matched pace until they collapsed in front of the inn, gasping for breath.
“I’m telling your mother how uncouth you are,” Justine called to Ophelia as she and Karl made their way to the inn at a regular pace.
Ophelia let out a peal of laughter that Julian had never heard before. It sounded like bells. He wanted to hear that sound every day for the rest of his life.
*
They all droppedtheir packs in Justine and Karl’s larger double room. One by one, they all surreptitiously rolled their shoulders, the ache of heavy packs finally easing. She caught Justine’s eye. “We did it,” Ophelia whispered.
“I knew we would,” Justine whispered back, and then threw herself into Ophelia’s embrace. Over Ophelia’s shoulder, Justine added, “Your father would be so proud of you.”
