Page 18 of A Girl Like Janet

that was almost fluorescent. She was laughing, weaving her way between less experienced skiers. Her long blonde hair flew

out behind her. Reese followed, swiftly traversing the snow-covered terrain with commanding skill. One glance at the happy

couple was like a knife twisting in Janet’s heart.

“If it hurts, don’t watch,” Gail said, laying her hand gently on Janet’s shoulder.

It was crazy to torture herself, but she couldn’t force herself to look away. “No, I want to see what kind of skier Bunny

is.”

With Gail at her side, Janet stood apart from the crowd and waited until Reese and Bunny had gotten back on the chair lift.

It was easy to follow their progress with Bunny’s bright pink outfit lighting the way. Finally, they were out of sight. She

didn’t know how long it would take before they came down the slope, but Janet was prepared to wait.

A long time later Janet recognized the couple weaving their way down the slope. She swallowed tightly. Bunny was fantastic,

absolutely fearless as she agilely manipulated her body over the moguls, snow spitting out from beside her.

“Come on.” Gail tugged at her arm. “You’ve seen enough. Besides, I’m getting cold.”

Tossing one last envious glance over her shoulder, Janet continued toward the Village Inn. Wasn’t it enough that Bunny had

Reese? It was unfair that she was a gifted skier besides. Janet paused and looked to the bright, blue skies, almost angry

with God. There didn’t seem to be any justice left in the world.

A half hour later, sitting around a large table drinking hot cocoa with several others from Dyna-Flow, the pain of seeing

Reese and Bunny began to ease.

Dressed in a ski cap and gray cable-knit sweater, Samuel Edwards joined the group. “There’s my best girl.” He sat beside Janet,

who scooted to make room for the older man in the upholstered booth. “You’re looking mighty pretty these days,” he chided,

squeezing her hand. There seemed to be a murmur of agreement from the others sharing the booth.

“Thank you, Mr. Edwards.”

“None of that formal stuff here. We’ll save that for the office. You call me Sam, like everyone else.”

A smile hovered over her lips. Calling the elder Mr. Edwards by his first name was as unnatural as referring to the U.S. president

as Ronnie, instead of President Reagan. “If you insist.”

“I do, my dear.”

Gradually the group dwindled down until there was only Gail, Janet and Sam Edwards. “It looks like everyone is having a good

time.”

“We are, it’s marvelous,” Janet confirmed.

“Excuse me a minute. I’ll be right back.” Gail slid out of the seat and headed toward the ladies’ room.

Janet’s gaze followed her friend; she felt slightly uneasy sitting alone with Reese’s father. Her gaze centered on the mug

of chocolate she was cupping with her hands. At the sound of an angry snort Janet looked up. Reese and Bunny had come inside.

Apparently they chose to ignore Janet and Reese’s father and chose a booth on the other side of the room.

“What’s wrong with that son of mine?” Samuel Edwards murmured, his head tilting in the direction of his son across the room.

“What is it he sees in these blondes? Dating one after the other. I should be a grandfather several times over by now and

all Reese cares about is...” He let the rest of what he was going to say fade away.

Bunny and Reese were sitting beside one another. Reese’s arm was casually draped over Bunny’s shoulders while they stared

lovingly into one another’s eyes.

Janet unconsciously bit into her bottom lip to prevent a rush of pain from slipping out. When Reese lowered his head and gently

placed his lips over Bunny’s, Janet thought she would die. Unable to watch, she jerked her face around and closed her eyes

until the searing pain passed. When she looked up again, Samuel Edwards was studying her closely. She couldn’t bear it, not

for another moment.

“Please...” She slid from the booth. “I must leave.” Her knees were shaking as she hurried out the door.

“Where are you going?” Gail ran after her.

Janet looked around her wildly. “Skiing. We’re here to ski, aren’t we?”

“Yes... but—”

“That’s the problem with my whole life.” Tears welled in the depth of her eyes, threatening to spill. “I live in a nice, packaged

little box, I never let loose.”

“Janet”—Gail said her name thoughtfully—“what happened? Why are you crying?”

“I’m not,” she protested. “It’s the cold. My eyes always water when it’s this chilly.”

“What are you doing?” Gail demanded when Janet snapped her boots into the skies. “You’ve already been skiing; you’re exhausted.”

“I’m not, I’m invigorated. I’m going to allow a little adventure into my life. I’m... I’m going to ski Priest Creek.”

“Priest Creek?” Gail repeated with an astonished gasp. “You’re crazy! That’s an advanced course, one of the most difficult.

You’ll be killed up there.”

“Listen, friend, I’m a lot better skier than you realize,” Janet insisted. “I was sticking around the easier slopes so you

wouldn’t be alone. I’m headed for the big time now.”

“Janet, you can’t.” There was a frantic edge to Gail’s voice.

“Just watch me,” Janet shouted and without a backward glance she headed for the Priest Creek chair lift.

The double chair extended almost two thousand feet vertically. Janet sat, her hand desperately clenching the metal frame.

A tear spilled down her face and she furiously wiped it aside. She may not be another Jean-Claude Killy, but it wasn’t from

lack of trying.

As the chair progressed up the mountain, Janet watched the skiers slice their way through the snow far below. This was the

intermediate course and already she could see it was far beyond her skill. She held her breath. If this was the intermediate

slope, what would the advanced be like? More unsettling was the thought that there was only one way down.

It wasn’t crowded at the top, not like it had been in the other areas. Janet paused, looking down the slope. It was steep,

steeper than she had ever imagined. This wasn’t the type of course where she could progress slowly downward. She would need

to twist and curve her way. She stopped and looked over the slope again. It was a long way to the bottom, a very long way.

The wind whipped up tiny particles of snow and as Janet stared into the clear blue sky they looked like small bits of floating

blue crystal.

It had been pure lunacy to attempt this run, Janet realized, but it was too late. Far too late. Her heart was hammering wildly

and her palms were sweating. For a second she paused to murmur a desperate prayer.

Heaving a giant breath, Janet’s gloved hands dug her poles into the snow as she lunged forward. She knew it would be important

to keep up her speed. Mentally she reviewed everything she had learned over the past years, refusing to dwell on the seriousness

of her predicament.

Thirty feet from the top and she took her first tumble. Stunned, she lay twisted in the snow, uncertain what had happened.

She sat helplessly for a few minutes, shaking with fright as skilled skiers whipped past, throwing pitying glances over their

shoulders.

“You can do it,” she told herself, audibly mumbling the words. “Don’t look down... don’t look down.”

Her knees were shaking once she was upright again. She forced herself to start, using her ski poles to push off. If she hadn’t

been so frightened the course would have been exhilarating, her senses vibrantly alive. But the only thing Janet sensed now

was the danger she had gotten herself into.

The second fall came only minutes later. She wrenched her ankle and bit into the fleshy part of her bottom lip to keep from

crying. Experience told her she wasn’t badly hurt. Slowly she righted herself and gently tested her ankle. The course ahead

was full of heavy moguls and complicated twists and curves that were far beyond her experience or capabilities.

The thought came that she could die right here and no one would know or care. Several others whizzed past with no inkling

of her situation.

“Show a little mettle,” she chastised herself out loud. “You are going to ski off this mountain and arrive in one piece and

prove to the whole world how wonderful you really are.” The thought was so ludicrous she almost laughed. There wasn’t a thing

she wanted to prove to anyone. If anyone needed proof, it was herself and the test was now!

Every move was deliberate and exaggerated as Janet skied as far to the right as possible in order to stay away from the other

skiers. She didn’t want to distract or trip them with her bumbling movements. She had long since lost her precious cowboy

hat. It lay in the snow twenty feet above her, but it might as well have been twenty miles.

Her mouth felt dry. The dehydrated feeling extended all the way clown her throat, so that every swallow became painful, as

if something was grating against her larynx.

A hundred feet from the top and she took her third tumble. Her left ski shot out from under her and she fell sideways, her

shoulder receiving the brunt of the fall. The right ski was at an awkward angle behind her and she spent several tedious minutes

straightening her leg and ski.

The feeling of panic was so strong that she began to shake with it. Barely a hundred feet from the top and she had already

fallen three times; the run was almost two thousand feet long. How would she ever reach the bottom in one piece? Tears burned

in her eyes, only adding to her frustration.

“Oh, Jesus, please,” she prayed, “just get me out of this alive.” Leaning heavily on her poles she managed to stand up. “You

can do it,” she told herself, but the words sounded weak and unconvincing. “You can do it,” she repeated as if desperately

hoping to persuade herself.

She only managed to go a few feet, slowly gathering speed, when she felt her balance give way and she fell backward. Flat

on her back in the powdery snow, Janet recalled lying like this as a little girl and moving her arms back and forth to form

“angel’s wings.” She needed an angel right now, a guardian angel. It would be safer for her to take off the skis and crawl

off the mountain.

What did people do if they realized they couldn’t make it down? Wasn’t the ski patrol supposed to be around to help someone

like her before she became a mountain casualty? Only yesterday she’d seen them hauling a woman down from the mountain in a

wire litter.

What did she have to do to get help? Pulling herself into a sitting position, she looked around her frantically. A few uncaring

souls slid past her, but there wasn’t anyone with the familiar ski patrol patch that she could see.

Every muscle hurt; she was cold and miserable. “I’m not going to make it,” she cried, her voice so weak it was barely audible.

“I’m trapped like an animal.” She hiccupped on a huge sob and dug one ski pole in the snow to help raise herself. “Keep going,

keep going,” she mumbled urgently. Gathering her resolve, Janet stood, frustration hunching her shoulders while her poles

were poised at her side. She felt a spray of snow splash against her as another skier came to an abrupt halt directly behind

her.

“You crazy idiot, what are you doing here?” The contempt in the familiar voice caused Janet to gasp. Her eyes grew round with

pain and confusion.

“Reese, oh, Reese,” she whispered and burst into tears.