Any Day Now. Robyn CarrЧитать онлайн книгу.
closer to God and she’d had very little training in religion, except for that relatively short period of time her father had believed he was Christ.
As she came around a curve in the path she looked up to see three men climbing the flat face of the hill on one side of the mountain. She moved closer until she could actually hear them—a little talking, a few grunts, the soft whisper of their climbing shoes sliding along the rock face and wedging in. As she got closer still she realized she knew them—Connie, Rafe and Charlie. She’d seen them in town and they’d been around the Crossing a few times. They were from Timberlake Fire and Rescue. She wondered if they were training or playing; they weren’t wearing uniforms and there didn’t seem to be any fire trucks nearby. But those boys could certainly do lovely things to shorts and muscle shirts.
She watched the clever shifting of their hips to give them lift; the muscles in their calves and arms were like art. Little buckets hung off their belts in the back and they dipped into them for chalk, the sweat running down their necks and backs. My goodness they were a lovely sight, slithering up that rock face, their shorts molding around their beautiful male butts.
She couldn’t help herself, she was thinking about sex. She had so much mental and spiritual work to do she wouldn’t risk getting screwed up by falling for some guy. But it had been a bloody long time.
The last man in her life, Crazy Derek, should have cured her of all men the way he’d cured her of drinking.
She sat down on a rock to watch them for a while. She was achingly quiet and still lest she make a noise and one of them fell. She was afraid to even drink from her water bottle. One of them seemed to briefly dangle in midair by his fingertips as his feet found a crevice to toe into, giving him another lift up the rock face. She held her breath through the whole maneuver. That’s when she noticed he wasn’t wearing a harness. That was Conrad! The other two were all trussed up but he had no anchor. God, she was suddenly terrified. And exhilarated. The freedom of it, moving up a dangerous rock without a net. She couldn’t imagine how powerful he must feel, how uninhibited. It must feel like flying without a plane. It was the impossible, yet accomplished with an almost mellow gliding movement.
It didn’t seem to take them very long, or maybe it was because she was mesmerized by the steady climb, but soon all three of them disappeared over the top of the rock. She let out her breath and gulped her water.
She was exhausted and decided she’d had enough of a hike. She headed back to the campground. When she got there it was early afternoon, the camp quiet, and Sully was sitting on the porch eating a sandwich. She ambled over and sat with him.
“Good hike?” he asked.
“Beautiful. Isn’t it late for your lunch?”
“Aw, I got caught up in cleaning and painting trash cans. They were looking pretty awful.”
“There were three guys rock climbing,” she said. “That really big, flat rock face that looks like you shouldn’t be able to find anything to hang on to, yet they slithered up to the top like lizards. What does it take to do something like that, Sully?”
He swallowed a mouthful. “Insanity, if you ask me.”
“I assume you haven’t done that?”
“I’ve done a little climbing, not up a flat rock like that. I’ve climbed where you can get a good, solid foothold and grip, a decent angle. I’m not afraid of heights, but I’m not real comfortable with falling off a flat rock like that.” He shook his head. “They love that rock. Ever been to Yosemite?”
She shook her head.
“They climb El Capitan—it’s flatter and way steeper than that. They pound in their spikes and anchors to hold their tents and camp hanging off the side—it’s the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen. Look it up on your computer—look up ‘climbing El Capitan.’ It’ll scare the bejesus out of you.”
“Watching them was terrifying and exciting, but I’m not afraid of heights. Cal doesn’t much like heights. He has trouble even looking at pictures of scary heights.”
Sully grinned. “When you get some pictures or a video, show it to him.”
“I wonder if I could learn to do that,” she muttered.
“No, you can’t,” Sully said. “I forbid it.”
So that’s what a real father sounds like, she thought. A normal father—sane, decisive, controlling.
She went to get her laptop and came back to the porch. Before she opened up and signed on she asked Sully if he had any chores she could do for him.
“Nah, I got nothing much to do,” he said. “Where you having dinner later?”
“I’ll be around here. Why?”
“I got some salmon, rice and asparagus. If I share it, will you make it for us?”
“I’d be honored. Where’d you find asparagus this time of year?”
“I paid top dollar at that green grocer in Timberlake, that’s where. I don’t know where it comes from but the stalks are fat and juicy and plump up like steaks on the grill. You like that idea?”
“I love that idea,” she said. “I’d love to share your dinner. I’ll cook it and wash up the dishes after. What time would you like to eat?”
“Since I’m just getting lunch, is seven too late for you?”
“Just right,” she said. “Gives me a little time to play on the computer and maybe read.”
It was about four when campers started coming back to the Crossing, washing up after their day of exploring. Then a big Ford truck pulled up and the three rock climbers piled out. They nodded to her and said hello as they passed to go into the store.
Connie came back, holding his bottled water in one hand and an apple in the other. Without asking, he sat at her table. “How you doing?”
“I watched you climbing that steep, flat rock.”
“Did you? We call that rock face Big Bad Betty. She’s mean as the devil. I didn’t see you, but we don’t look around much. You have to be pretty focused.”
She closed her laptop. “What does it sound like up there?” she asked. “When you’re hanging on by your fingertips, what does it sound like?”
He smiled at her. “There’s a little wind,” he said. “The swooshing of hands and feet as you look for a good hold. Breathing—the sound of my breathing is loud in my head.”
“Heart pounding?” She wanted to know.
“No. Just a good, solid rhythm. You have to like it, feel it, be safe in it or your diaphragm will slam into your chest, close it up and bad things happen. No pounding. It’s tranquil.”
“Does it make you feel powerful?” she asked.
“It makes me feel independent. Self-reliant.”
“Free?”
“Yeah, free. But it takes thinking. Planning. I’ve climbed that rock a lot and I planned ahead. I know where to go. Even when you climb a new rock you plan ahead—look at video, pictures, listen to what climbers say, try it with a harness and ropes first to see the lay of the rock. And even then you have to be flexible. Sometimes you have to improvise. But it feels so good. Every grip and hold has to be just right and when you get it, you know you got it. It’s a smart sport. No one can get too much of that feeling.”
“You weren’t wearing a harness. I didn’t see any ropes.”
“Free solo,” he said. “As climbing challenges go, it’s the best.”
“And when you get to the top?”
“Eureka. Hallelujah.”
“I saw you go over the top and disappear but I didn’t hear anything.”