Page 18 of Into the Sky With You (The Ladies Alpine Society #4)

T hey departed the inn mid-morning to no fanfare. Not at all like the expedition from two years ago, which had mules and a cart. There were only four of them this time, and Karl and Julian carried the heavy tent poles, and Ophelia and Justine split the canvas walls and food.

A gnawing foreboding gripped Ophelia, and no matter what she thought about it, the feeling wouldn’t pass. Even as the bluebird-cloudless sky insisted on optimism, her mind couldn’t forget what happened at their last attempt on the Matterhorn.

The descent down the mountain in the dark had been the worst moment of her life, and it had lasted thirteen hours. Helping secure her injured father in a rope-lattice cot, strung between her brother and Karl, had been surreal. But now that fever-dream came back to her mind’s eye, more real with every step.

She shoved the uncertainty away. They’d learned from their mistakes. They had a smaller group and better equipment this time. The weather was good. Julian was not her father.

Yet, her mind kept treading over the same thought, that she had killed her father with her ambition, and she was about to kill Julian with it this time. That Justine and Karl might be seriously hurt, just as Prudence and Eleanor had been. And if Julian was hurt like her father, were they strong enough to carry him down? Or would they have to leave him to go get help? Would he die there?

The fear was overwhelming.

But then they got to Schwarzsee, where the whitewashed walls of the simple church gleamed in the sun. They stopped for water and had fruit from their packs. Julian stared at the Matterhorn, so elegantly framed by the grassy hills there. He sat on the warm rock, and while Ophelia wanted to sit with him, she couldn’t bear it. The idea that any of them might be harmed was making it difficult to speak.

Justine noticed, her gaze sliding Ophelia’s way frequently. She whispered something to Karl, and he summoned Julian. Justine shouldered her pack and came to where Ophelia stood.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she said, gesturing to Ophelia’s pack. “It’s easier to talk when you’re walking.”

Ophelia shouldered her pack and obediently matched Justine’s shorter stride. The sun was still out; afternoon clouds had not yet appeared. The Matterhorn sat aloof and heavy in front of them. Just like last time, they would camp at the Hornli Ridge and wake up to begin climbing in the pre-dawn light. Because it wasn’t necessarily the ascent where accidents happened. The vast majority of expeditions were injured on the way down. They needed the light for the descent.

When Ophelia didn’t respond, still unable to bring voice to the gnawing anxiety, afraid to give it voice, Justine supplied it.

“Is it because of what happened last time?” she asked.

Ophelia nodded. A lump formed in her throat. Of all the ridiculous bodily responses. The lump made it hard for her to breathe. She gulped for air. Justine stopped and pulled at her arm, to ensure she stopped as well. The two men were well ahead, seemingly unbothered by the extra weight of the tent poles.

Justine gripped both of her arms. “Everything is going to be fine, Ophelia.”

Pushing the lump away with all her might, Ophelia nodded. She closed her eyes, wishing away the terrible thoughts.

“We have Karl, a literal guide. Then you, who have a lot of experience. Then Julian, who is even more experienced. He told Karl he was out on mountains almost every day of the last ten years. Some of them with higher altitudes than this one. He knows what he’s doing.”

Ophelia nodded, gobbling up her affirming words as if they were tender morsels and she no better than a dog.

“If anything, I’m the weakest of everyone. And you know that I’m not falling. I can’t. I’m too close to the ground.”

Ophelia’s laugh came out suddenly, surprising her. Justine was right, of course. She was upset over imaginary things, not real events. “Perspective,” she said, meaning she needed to have some.

“Perspective,” Justine echoed back to her. “Shall we catch up to them?”

Ophelia smiled, feeling that lump in her throat receding, and the air all the more tolerable. “Let’s go.”

Justine’s conversation was constant, which Ophelia found enjoyable. Others, she knew, found Justine to be too talkative, but at moments like these, Ophelia doubly appreciated Justine being exactly the way she was.

The stretch from Schwarzsee to the Hornli Ridge was pleasant and not at all difficult. The men were there constructing the tent frame when they arrived. The mountain loomed behind them, huge and imposing. The afternoon clouds gathered at the top, and Ophelia wondered what it would be like to look at them from the top down instead of the bottom up. She got out the tent’s canvas and handed it over to Julian. Between the two men, they had it set up in no time.

“Tristan is especially proud of this tent,” Ophelia added, given both Karl and Julian were looking at it with suspicion.

“It feels like it’s going to blow away in the wind,” Julian said.

“I’ve never successfully had a tent on this ridge,” Karl added.

Ophelia picked the biggest rock she could find and hauled it into the tent. The flapping of the canvas was loud from inside. And she wasn’t certain they would all fit. She scrambled out. “I’m beginning to have my doubts as well.”

“Why was he so proud of it?” Justine asked.

“The canvas is supposed to be wind-proof, and the tent poles are supposed to be lighter than the previous style’s.”

“Wind-proof?” Julian asked, raising one eyebrow. He ducked inside for a moment, but when he emerged, he shook his head. “I can’t feel the wind, that’s true. But it’s like being in a rock grinder.”

“Can’t be all that bad.” Justine ducked in, followed by Karl.

Karl’s head peeked out from between the flaps. “I don’t think we would all fit in here.”

Justine pushed past him and emerged back out into the fresh air. “There is no way I could sleep in there. The sound is deafening.”

“Should we take it down?” Julian asked. All three of them looked to her.

Because she was expedition lead. Giddiness flooded her. Any of them were strong, capable personalities. It would be reasonable to defer to Karl as an expert in alpine climbing, or Julian, with his ten years’ worth of experience. But she was the declared leader, and this was her expedition.

“We should take it down lest it blow away,” Ophelia said. The men nodded their assent, agreeing with her choice, and began to dismantle it. Pride welled in her. This would be the adventure she’d longed for, she was sure of it. The gnawing sensation evaporated, carried away by the whipping wind.

They settled in against the embankment of rocks that had grown since the last time they were there. Still, it was cold, and her ears ached from both the chill and constant whine of the wind. They set up their blanket bags, ate their cold dinner of cheese, apples, and nuts, and settled in. They would rise at three in the morning to begin their trek.

Justine and Karl snuggled in together, sharing body heat, and Ophelia shivered. Julian gazed across the hard rocky ground and pulled his arm out of his blanket bag, offering her a place next to him.

Ophelia frowned. Propriety dictated...

“Oh, go ahead,” Justine said. “It’s freezing, and there’s two blankets between you. I won’t tell.”

Karl snorted, pulling his wife closer. Julian chuckled, nodding his head to reiterate the invitation. So Ophelia scooted over like an inchworm, awkwardly sliding over the protrusions of rock to settle in Julian’s embrace.

Warmth and peace blossomed and in minutes, Ophelia was deep in sleep.

*

It was dark out, but Julian’s eyes popped open. Ophelia still lay sprawled across his chest, and he did not wish to move her. Still. He glanced over at the other slumbering couple, and spied Karl striking a match to check his watch.

“Is it time?” Julian asked, breaking the ice-thin silence.

“It is.” Karl shook out the match and pulled on his sweater and heavy woolen coat before exiting his blanket bag.

Julian was loath to move Ophelia, but he reminded himself that there would be opportunities to revel in her proximity later. He had just gained her forgiveness, and he was not about to disappoint her by not waking her. He touched her gently and murmured her name until she stirred.

Everyone dressed quickly, drinking water and pulling on their hobnailed boots. They took turns sewing the gaiters to their trousers at both the knee and to their boots, to protect their legs from snow. While the women still wore skirts, the thick woolen stockings might as well have been trousers. Though Julian still had to focus his mind as he sewed the gaiter flap to the inner lining of Ophelia’s boot. She had a very shapely leg, and he remembered what it had felt like to wrap his hand around her bare ankle.

With the moon already setting and the only light a bit of stardust, they left what they could at camp and started across the shoulder-wide stretch of the Hornli Ridge.

They were roped together at the waist, with Ophelia at the front, Julian second, Justine third, and Karl last. She set a commanding pace, but not an uncomfortable one. Indeed, as they picked across the dark ridge, skirted a bulbous formation and began a scramble up the face of the Matterhorn, Julian found himself enjoying the exertion. It was... fun.

Rarely had he found compatriots for such a climb, and here he was exchanging grins with each of them as loose rocks rolled down, or one of them peered across a glacier. Words weren’t needed. Stories weren’t told. They all took turns letting out whoops of joy after jumping off a boulder, or when a fresh, cold breeze whipped past them.

They stopped and turned as the sun rose, sitting on a stone ledge wide enough for all four of them. From midway up the mountain, they swung their legs out over the expanse beneath them passing around slices of Frau Brunner’s day-old buttered bread and sour apples.

“This couldn’t be more perfect,” Ophelia whispered.

Julian found her hand and was happy when she squeezed his back. Justine put her head on her husband’s shoulder and sighed as the orangey-pink newness painted across all their faces.

They were at one of the edges of the world, a place that felt as if very few would ever trespass its exact stones. Their toil and sweat granted them the precious dispensation to see the sun rise in such a spectacular manner.

Once the sun had climbed into view, Ophelia stood. “Climbing?” she asked.

“Climb on,” Karl said.

They continued up, stopping only when they arrived at the chimneys—a place heavily discussed the day before en route to Schwarzsee. Ophelia’s face went ashen. This was where Rascomb had his fatal injury. It had turned the previous party around, as it had many other expeditions. They unroped while Karl pulled a belt with a metal loop from his pack. And before Julian unlooped his climbing ax, he took Ophelia’s gloved hand again. It took her a moment to blink and turn to him, squeezing his hand, an expression of determination on her face. Once he had that assurance, he adjusted his clothing until the rope was snugly fit around his waist and the ax dangled from his wrist by its fabric loop.

“Ready?” Ophelia prompted, and they all nodded, performing the same actions with gear from their own packs. Armed with far more equipment than last time, Julian knew she was overcompensating for the previous failure. But it made sense. And he would happily carry safety gear. Ophelia nodded to Karl, who had successfully climbed this chimney formation dozens of times.

He spidered up the ice and stone wall faster than Julian could trace. While Julian had been nicknamed the goat, Karl was far more capable. His prowess was impressive, and a goat nickname was not near apt enough.

At the top, Karl fastened the rope and threw it down for them. Ophelia glanced at both him and Justine before taking the rope and threading it through the metal loop on her belt. Her ax dangled from her wrist, easy to use should she need the grip. But she didn’t. She deliberated upon each move of her hand and her foot, which meant that her climb took ten times longer than Karl’s had, but she reached the top without a single slip. Justine went next, and like Ophelia, she pondered each move. But with her short stature, she was unable to use the holds that both Ophelia and Karl had. Still, she scrambled her way to the top.

Julian was last, and while it was cold business to press his body against a sheet of icy rock, he had been through worse. He didn’t dare say so, but it was not the ordeal he’d worried it might be.

At the top, Ophelia stared off into the distance as they stowed their gear.

“Are you well?” he asked.

She turned to him, her eyes startlingly blue in the midmorning light. “We’ve already made it farther in a few hours than we did that entire day.”

He heard the sadness in her voice, tinged with astonishment. As if she hadn’t believed it could be such a smooth endeavor.

“Karl. It’s time for you to lead the way.” Ophelia sighed and tied in, now taking the second position. Justine came third, and Julian was in the back.

They hadn’t but stepped around a rock when they discovered the beginnings of a small hut.

“I didn’t expect that,” Justine muttered.

But then, there had been many deaths, and this chimney had been the crux of the route for many expeditions. It made sense that if a shelter were to exist anywhere on the mountain, it would be there.

“I’d heard about this,” Karl called from in front.

They peered in, only to find one small room with no furnishings. It was purely meant for shelter. This would save more than one climber’s life, that much was certain. Thankfully, they didn’t need use of it.

They skirted around the rock and began another ascent, full of boulders. They were tiring, yes, a staircase made for a giant. None of the distances were large enough for each climber to require assistance, but each step required a great deal of effort. Their pace slowed as they neared the next change in rock texture.

Scree fields. Julian hated scree fields. Some loved them—the scramble was part of the fun. But he’d a fear of them suddenly, for no real reason. It was the inability to make certain purchase. But one couldn’t effectively climb a mountain without entering scree fields on a regular basis.

They stopped on the top of the last boulder, breathing heavily, staring at each other, nodding in silent agreement that they were accomplishing their goal well. Crusty snow coated the far side of the scree field, giving them ample views of how the icy side closest to the mountain was pulling away, ready to come crashing down. It was reminder of how lucky they’d been with the weather so far, but the warmer part of the day was still ahead of them. Snow and rockslides remained pending disasters.

“Climbing?” Ophelia prompted.

They all nodded and Karl set off, leading them in a diagonal across the scree field. It was a longer route, but it kept them from a steep angle that would make it more likely for them to slip. It was drudgery, Julian’s feet sinking into the small mounds of pebbles. The rhythmic crush of them trudging up the hillside put them into a trance. He was grateful for the gaiters, as they kept out the smallest of them. He could feel the snow-tinged air coming off the other side of the mountain, and he knew they were close. This would be the push right here.

He heard it before he felt it. The too-low sound of a foot sinking deeper than it ought, then the yelp as Karl slipped. Ophelia must have looked up too quickly, because she too was sliding down the mountain on her belly.

Justine cried out in alarm, still standing. Julian rushed up to her, grabbed the ax from her pack loop, and slammed it as hard as he could into the rock. If there had been more time, he would have instructed Justine to grab his, as the only way to access the tool was to take the pack off entirely.

He hoped Karl and Ophelia would stop sliding of their own accord, but they were too far to the left of the mountain face, which cut off in a sheer drop. If they fell there, it would be fatal.

Julian threw himself to the ground, gripping the handle of the ax, hoping he had enough purchase to keep them all on the mountainside. “Get down!” he screamed at Justine.

Justine obeyed, and they both watched, terrified as the people they loved slid further away. She was murmuring No over and over. His mind wouldn’t work. It was as if even his lungs wouldn’t work without Ophelia in the world.

His body ached in abject and impotent fury as he watched. Ophelia ducked her golden head. Her shoulders strained as she dug in, pebbles flying as she pushed her feet out wide. Karl did the same, but Julian couldn’t watch the man. His heart was shooting away from his chest, tucked safely inside Ophelia’s woolen layers. Please , he begged over and over again. Please . He couldn’t be left alone again. Not now.

The ropes grew taut as the span widened between Julian and Justine and Ophelia and Karl. But they were slowing! Julian caught his breath. They might make it. The sound stopped. Julian refocused out of his terror. All he could hear was his own ragged breath.

“Fee?” Justine called out. “Karl?”

Ophelia was dug in, her golden head down in the scree. But at least she wasn’t falling.

The guide lifted his hand and gave a curt wave. He clawed his way over to Ophelia, and Julian watched with desperation. But she lifted her head and waved. Julian heaved in relief, eyes welling up. What would he have done if he’d lost her?

The two heads were close together, then Karl shifted and Ophelia took out his ax from his loop, and then she turned and he retrieved hers.

“Don’t move,” Karl called.

“Hang on,” Julian told Justine.

None of them spoke as Karl and Ophelia pulled themselves back over to them on their bellies, breaths heaving and the puff of steam from their mouths a joy. When they got close enough, Justine pulled Karl into her arms, and Julian did the same—hauling Ophelia the last foot and rolling over onto his back.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he breathed, his eyes closing for the first time since the horrific sound of their slide. He opened his them and inspected her. Smudges of dirt streaked her face, and a small cut on her forehead oozed bright red. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “Only scared. But that was temporary. My mittens are a bit scuffed.”

Which was an understatement. The drab brown things had an open flap, displaying the innards of undyed wool. He held her close.

“We’re nearly there,” she said, calm and unflappable.

“I thought you were scared,” he said, thinking she might need longer to steady herself.

“I was scared. When I was sliding. But now I’m not sliding, so I’m no longer scared. We should get to the top.” Ophelia rolled off him and pushed to her feet, pulling the rope line clear of the others. “Let’s get to it.”

Julian shook his head in amazement. He thought he was good at keeping his feelings at bay.

They got to their feet, restored axes to pack loops, and carried on. For they couldn’t exactly stop there on the scree field, could they? He admired her. More than he’d ever thought possible. Her bravery. Her skill. Any person—male or female—would not be thought a fool if they sank into a babbling wreck after such a slide. But Ophelia lifted her head and told them to climb.

*

Nearly there. Ophelia was sweating beneath her dress, and the accordion bunching had failed early on. She no longer had the luxury of hands-free skirt hiking. It was her damned skirt that caused her to slip and lose her footing, and she might never forgive dresses for nearly killing her. Karl had turned to see what the issue was and misstepped, which had startled her in turn, and down they both went.

She appreciated Julian’s concern, but they needed to focus. Past the scree field was one last climb, and then they would be at the top. Head down and eyes open. The air was cold in her lungs, but her icy veins only invigorated her.

Fog enveloped them, misting around them and obscuring everything but the rock in front of her. It was difficult to see Karl ahead or even Justine and Julian behind, their outlines obscured, the edges of the mountain a mystery. But then they trudged clear of the fog, and she felt the sun strong and warm on her back. The sweat dripped from her temples and she wanted to tear the woolen cap from her head, but she didn’t.

Suddenly, Karl stopped and ushered her forward. “This is it. Ophelia. You first.”

They’d done it. They were here. She took the final steps up the ridge. And there was the top. She summited.

This was no peak, but a flat stage, small and mighty. Her eyes welled up. This was what it was for. All around her was a lake of clouds. She stood in the sky.

Julian was beside her. She smiled, no doubt like a lunatic, but she didn’t care. This was it. They were here. She gripped his hand hard. How she’d wished her father could have seen this: the stretch of clouds, the incalculable blue of the sky, the yellow sun hot and bright. But he would have been proud of her. After all, she was Ophelia Bridewell, and when she got an idea into her head, it was going to happen. And she’d gotten that from him.

“This is incredible,” he whispered.

She stifled a sob. “Welcome to the sky.”