Page 52 of On the Slopes of Tahoe
I take the brunt of it, falling onto my back and losing my breath as she lands on top of me. We slide a few feet down the slope and her eyes go wide—which I can only see because she’s not wearing her goggles.
“Hi,” I croak, unable to take a full breath. My hands work fine though, and I push her strawberry-blonde braid back over her shoulder.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” Rory attempts to clamber off me, but I hold tight, enjoying the unexpected press of her body against mine. She pushes some of her weight into her hands though, and air rushes into my lungs.
“I’m fine. Are you?” I let go of her braid and swipe my thumb across her freckled cheek.
“Yeah.” She puffs out a breath then inhales another big one. “You just surprised me is all.”
“You and me both. I’m sorry, I was focused on Willow.” The reminder has me moving again, trying to dislodge myself while Rory moves with equal urgency, or as much as we can while still strapped to our boards and tangled in the snow.
Once I’m up, I take several large bunny hops up the slope until I can see Willow. She has one foot unstrapped and is skating her way toward us slowly. She clearly didn’t carry her speed enough and got stuck. I’m just glad she didn’t come flying up to add to the dogpile I created. I offer a wave and she waves back, her face a little grumpier than it was a few minutes ago. No one likes getting stuck in the flats.
Rory hops up next to me, a grin playing around her lips. “I can’t believe you crashed into me.”
“I can’t believe you were just standing at the top of the hill,” I retort, incredulous.
“You have me there, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to take in the view of home for a minute.” She turns to face the lake below, where the sun glitters on the blue water that, despite the low temperatures, never freezes over. The shoreline turns icy, but the center of the lake is always like this.
“I’m going to miss this place,” I admit, mostly to myself, but she turns to look at me.
“It’s going to miss you too,” she says, and I hear what she doesn’t say.I’m going to miss you too.
“Rory!” Willow calls, finally making it up the little hill to us. “You’re here! Daddy told me you were working today.” She glares at me like I lied to her.
Rory, picking up on the tone too, comes to my aid. “I was… well, I am. I needed some fresh shots of the mountain, so I came up for a couple runs. I can finish this one with you if you want, but then I have to go back to the office.”
Willow’s face falls but she rallies a small smile and nods. “Okay.”
“Maybe you can tell your dad not to crash into me this time.”
The race to the bottom is much less exciting than the first half, at least in terms of collisions, and we’re all a mess of smiles and laughs, standing off to the side of the growing lift line.
“Time for me to get back to work. Thanks for letting me ride with you, Willow. See you guys for dinner later?” she asks, eyebrow raised. That look holds more promise than the possibility of a meal.
“Absolutely.” I wink, though I’m not sure she can see it behind my goggles.
She pats Willow on the top of her helmet. “Give your dad a run for his money, okay?”
“I will,” she responds in her sing-song voice.
Rory slides away with a wave and a backward glance, and we join the lift line to make our way back up the mountain.
“Willow?” I ask, and she turns to face me on the chair.
“How’re you feeling about going home next week?” It’s time to stop dancing around the subject.
She shrugs, but when her shoulders drop, they slump in a little. “I don’t know. Mom won’t be there, will she?” I hate the tiny bit of hope in the question. It cuts like a knife. We haven’t talked much about Talia, and something about Willow calling her “mom” right now breaks my heart. I’ve lost a mom, now she has too, and I understand just how painful that is.
“No, sweetheart, she won’t be there.”
She sniffles and grabs my gloved hand in hers, tilting her helmet-encased head up. I wish I could see her face more fully.
“I thought I’d miss being home for the summer, miss my friends. But I’m glad we came here. I like it here.”
“I like it here too.” I squeeze her hand.
“I keep thinking… will everyone still be talking about Mom leaving? Like, when I go back to school?”
