“Way to stick it, man!”
“Great dyno!”
“Sick!”
A few moves later, Chaska reached the top of the wall.
More cheers.
“Belcourt is a strong climber, but he’s also extremely level-headed.” Megs had to raise her voice to be heard above the din. “I’ve seen him take a few whippers—serious falls—that would have made most of us scream. He didn’t make a sound.”
“It’s true.” Winona took a bite of the ice cream she’d ordered for dessert. “He doesn’t get scared. When I climb with him, I can see him doing the math in his head.”
Chaska switched places with Sasha, who had been his belayer—a term Naomi now understood.
“There’s my girl.” Megs watched Sasha rope in, pride on her face. “She’s been the world’s top-ranked female sports climber for three years running.”
Naomi had been looking forward to seeing her climb. “That’s what I’ve heard.”
“My brother is good.” Win took another bite of her ice cream. “But Sasha—she’s an artist.”
Naomi immediately understood what Winona meant. Chaska had climbed with strength and grace, but Sasha moved as if gravity had no hold on her. She was fast, smooth, elegant, flowing upward as if she were unstoppable.
She reached the crux, exploded, missed the handhold—and fell.
Naomi gasped, but Chaska caught Sasha’s fall, leaving her suspended mid-air.
“Damn!” Megs laughed. “I think she’s tired. She’s been at it all evening.”
There was a chorus of disappointedawwsmixed with laughter.
“How many margaritas was that, Sasha?” Eric called to her.
Sasha motioned for Chaska to lower her to the ground. Far from being upset, she was laughing, apparently as easy-going as she was skilled. When her feet reached the floor, she gave Chaska a hug, and the two of them started untying themselves.
“How did the Team get started?” Naomi was certain there must be a story.
“I was climbing with friends on El Diente. This was back in the day before climbing was big and before there were search-and-rescue teams equipped for technical backcountry rescues. Our buddy Dean took a tumble not far from the summit and broke his ankle. Ahearn and I helped him get to a safe place, left him with food and water, and went for help. But there was no one prepared for that kind of rescue, no one who could respond immediately. The sheriff’s department said they’d head out for him in the morning. That night, the San Miguels were hit by a freak July snowstorm. By the time we reached him the next afternoon, Dean was dead, killed by the cold. I swore on his grave that nothing like that would happen again.”
Naomi saw on Megs’ face the grief—and guilt—she still carried with her. “You took tragedy, and you turned it into something good.”
Megs nodded. “We’ve saved thousands of people—a couple hundred every year—but I still wonder if Dean would be alive if we’d made a different choice.”
Chaska walked up to the table, a grin on his face, sweat trickling down his temples and staining the front of his T-shirt.
“Way to go, Belcourt.”
Naomi looked up at him, unable to keep the smile off her face. “You were amazing.”
“Yeah?” He reached for his water and drank. “You ready to go home?”
There was something in the way he said it, something in those dark eyes, that made it hard for her to breathe.
“Yeah.”
Winona glared at her brother. “Can I please finish my ice cream?”
Chaska steppedout of the shower, towel-dried his hair, then walked from the bathroom to his bedroom, the women’s voices drifting up from the living room below. He’d be going to bed soon, so he skipped the boxers and slipped on a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt, then made his way downstairs.