Page 13 of Make Mine Sweet
I was never the guy with the plan. Everything just came to me. The climbing, the articles, the sponsorships, even what I achieved in our guiding business—I’d lucked into it all. Sure, there’d been a lot of hard work along the way, but even at the peak of my career, I hadn’t known what was going on more than a few months ahead of time. My schedule just magically filled.
Now? I’m nowhere near the peak of my career, and all I see is a long stretch of nothing.
“We need you here.”
They need the Ian I used to be, not who I am today. I’m not entirely sure who I am today. After my accident and surgeries, it took months to learn how to walk again and get my current prosthesis. Months more before I could safely travel over uneven terrain, let alone consider tackling a single-pitch climb or scaling frozen waterfalls. My brothers tried to keep me involved in our business, but it wasn’t the same. Demonstrating knot tying and how to wear a harness in our beginner courses can’t compete with the challenging treks I’d been known for.
So I ran off to Oregon. To regroup or…something.
“You were doing just fine when I left.” Better than fine, to be honest. Vaughn Mountain Views is more successful than any of us ever dreamed it would be. We started ten years ago on a hope and a prayer, and now we’re one of the best-known mountaineering companies in Colorado. They don’t need me leading the easy walks to keep that momentum.
“But youarecoming back.”
“Funny how you make that sound like a command.” Even when we worked together every day, he was only my boss in the loosest sense of the word.
“This is just a…sabbatical.”
That’s a generous term for what I’m doing here. “I have no immediate plans.”
“You’re impossible. Are you even doing any of that stuff you said you were going to do out there? Build up your endurance and all that?”
My gaze goes to the trail that starts just past my back yard. I’ve walked it a few times, but not enough to count as physical therapy. Not enough to make me think I could go back to the strenuous, often technically challenging week-long climbs I used to lead.
“I’m doing some of it.”
He groans. “Please tell me you’re not just wallowing out there.”
“Wallowing is such a dirty word.”
“What’s a better one?”
I pause for a second. “Contemplating the crushing weight of existence.”
“You are such a…” He seems unable to come up with the proper description. “When was the last time you went into town?”
I think back. “I had dinner with Amy and Jodi about a month ago.”
And went home right after we’d finished eating. I’d said I needed to let Dutch out, but really, their homey happiness made me feel like a ghoul draining their joy. I’d left for them as much as myself.
“You need to get out more.”
Dutch drops his tennis ball in front of me and lies down on the porch panting hard. Finally got him winded.
“You and Amy must be sharing notes.”
“Spend some time around people again. Get involved in the community.” He sounds like he’s leading a business meeting, outlining a list of to-dos. “Make a friend. Meet a woman.”
My thoughts careen straight to my new neighbor. Beautiful, soft, gentle. A smile that blinds you in the best way. In another life, I’d be looking for an opportunity to ask her out instead of doing my best to avoid her.
I was never the guy to avoid women before, but since she moved in, it’s my new hobby.
“Not happening,” I grumble.
Dutch’s ears perk up, and in a flash, he’s on his feet. Next second, Tess’s door flies open, and August bounds out.
“Dutch is outside, Mama!” he shouts over his shoulder. “Can I play with him?”
Before he gets an answer, he leaps off the porch and into the yard. Dutch has a miraculous second wind and sprints along with him, doing laps in the grass.
