A Walk Along the Beach by Debbie Macomber Page 0,46
I had taken over all the tasks that Mom had once done. Many of the same feelings I’d had that month were akin to how I felt when Sean had been out of the country.
When he’d returned seriously ill, I found it impossible to leave his side until his parents arrived. He’d asked me, just an hour or so earlier, if I was all in with this relationship. I hadn’t answered him. I couldn’t. Not because I wasn’t sure. The truth was I was all in and that frightened me. It was too soon.
Conversations with my father were always short and to the point. After a few minutes he stood as if to announce it was time for me to go. If I didn’t know him as well as I did, I would have been insulted by the way he hustled me out the door.
“It was good to see you, Dad.”
“You too, Willa.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and pecked my cheek.
Not until I was at the car did I realize that of the three of us kids, he’d asked only about Harper. It was expected; I didn’t mind. Even before she developed cancer, Harper had been his favorite. I thanked God she’d survived, because I didn’t know what would have happened to our father if she hadn’t.
* * *
—
When I arrived back at our apartment, Harper was spread out on the sofa with Snowball asleep on her tummy. She seemed completely wrung out. Her face was red from exertion and her clothes clung to her body.
“Hey,” she said, turning her head to look at me when I entered.
“Hey, back at you.” I resisted the urge to mention how dreadful she looked.
“You’re late tonight. Sean hasn’t had a relapse, has he?”
I set my purse aside and walked into the kitchen and got a bottle of water. “Sean’s recovering more every day. His mother is concerned that he’s pushing himself too hard and I agree with her. I decided to stop off and see Dad after I left.”
“How is he?”
“About the same.” Same ol’, same ol’. “And before you ask, I didn’t see any evidence that he was drinking.”
“That’s good,” she said with a sigh. “How long are Sean’s folks staying?”
“They leave in the morning.”
Sitting on the chair angled next to the sofa, I looked at Harper. Her face remained flushed. In all the times she’d been to these conditioning sessions I had never seen her take to the sofa afterward. I broached the subject carefully. “How was tonight’s workout?”
“Brutal.”
Unable to resist, I felt I had to ask. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“Of course,” she replied flippantly, as if it was a ridiculous question.
Her attitude alarmed me. “Harper, climbing Mount Rainier isn’t a matter of life and death. If you don’t make it this time, there’s always next year. You don’t need to kill yourself to make a point. We all know how mentally tough you are. You don’t have anything to prove.” I resisted asking her if John had suggested the same thing. As her climbing partner and a physician, he might well have shared my concerns.
Harper laughed as if she found my warning amusing. “I didn’t come this far to back out now. A few of us are doing a practice climb this weekend. That will be the real test to see if we have what it takes.”
“Am I hearing a note of doubt in your voice?” I asked. From the first moment she’d announced this summer challenge, Harper had been gung-ho. She was singing “Climb Every Mountain,” the song from The Sound of Music, bragging to all who would listen about how she was a mountain climber. She’d been the one to talk a few of her friends into joining her. Not once in all these weeks had her confidence wavered. Although her words said otherwise, I sensed her hesitation.
“Promise me, after this weekend’s practice, that if you feel it’s too much you’ll bow out.”
“Nope. Not making that promise.”
“Harper!”
“I’m all in.”
Twice this evening I’d heard someone make that claim. I bit down on my tongue to keep from arguing. Anything more I said to talk reason would only cause her to stiffen her pride.
“It’s summit or plummet.”
“What?” I cried, thinking of the news coverage from last summer when a climber had fallen into a crevasse. Despite repeated attempts, the body had never been recovered.
“Don’t even think that,” I warned. It was bad enough that she’d voiced it.