Pickleballers

Chapter Nineteen

Nineteen

Annie’s fingers dug into Meg’s upper arm. Although there wasn’t a chance she would admit it, Meg was beginning to agree with Ethan’s initial assessment—the side trail was downright dodgy. They clung to a path that hung along the cliffside like a rickety gutter. Instinct shouted at her to turn around. After several tense minutes, the trail—if the indentation in the foliage could be called a trail—moved inland.

“Look.” Meg made her voice light and reassuring. “No more cliffside. This is better, isn’t it?” she said, taking the opportunity to unpeel Annie’s fingernails from her skin. While Annie’s feet dragged, Meg continued her assault. She barged forward, kicking aside gigantic ferns and stubbing toes on poorly placed rocks that were small enough to hide beneath the ground cover, but big enough to be a nuisance.

The back of her neck prickled where she felt Ethan’s eyes on her. If he wanted, he could convince the group to turn back. And they would listen, because these Olympic Mountains were his childhood backyard. But he stayed quiet and let Meg lead the way. Because even if this trail was a dud, all of them had the sense to recognize that hiking in the old-growth forest was a journey through wonderland. Nature here had an explosive quality, as if the massive trees and boulders were the debris left over from some ancient cosmic fireworks display.

They picked their way like this for half an hour until Meg paused, uncertain. Either they had lost the trail or reached the end. The mountain walls met at a small, stony patch of land. To one side, the earth dipped down into a bottomless chasm. Across the gap, Meg could see rock face on the other side—several feet away.

“There used to be a suspension bridge that crossed to the other side,” Ethan said. “When they widened the main trail, the Park Service took it out.”

“Oh well.” Annie’s theatrical sigh tried in vain to convey disappointment. “Looks like the end of the line.”

“Too bad,” Rooster concurred with unmasked sarcasm. “Give me a sec before we head back, will ya?” Rooster ducked into the woods. “I gotta see a man about a horse.”

As they waited, Annie plastered herself against the wall and Meg peered out over the drop-off. Heights never bothered her. In fact, she found the combination of the wind, the view, and the circling of gray jays overhead stimulating. It was a shame they were forced to turn around. Once she started on a project, her every pore pushed her to complete it. This mountain? She really, really wanted to make it to the top.

Maybe after they backtracked, if they still had gas in the tank, she could convince them to continue up the main trail. But she knew Annie and guessed that Rooster, too, would be done. And Ethan? He was here only because Rooster had dragged him along. She would be on her own if she wanted to make it up the mountain.

“Holy shit!” Rooster called. “You gotta see this!”

Ethan tromped through the thick greenery, moving with care toward Rooster’s voice. Meg followed, and Annie, faced with the choice of seeing what the fuss was about or being left alone on the ledge, trailed behind. Twenty paces past the landing, Meg’s legs halted.

“That,” Ethan said, “is not the Park Service bridge.”

From one side of the mountain to the opposing cliff four feet away, someone had laid a plank bridge, the width of a pair of tree trunks. How its creator had managed to set it across the divide was a mystery. On the opposite side, a queen bed–sized patch of earth hugged the other side of the gap.

Mouth drying to sand, Meg gaped. If she could caption the view, it would read The World’s Worst Obstacle Course . The danger did not end on the bridge landing. Behind the slim spot, a knotted rope climbed up fifteen more feet of cliff face. Meg’s gaze surveyed the rising rope to where it was secured in a thick knot around a tree trunk at the top.

What kind of sadist had built this terror trap? And what kind of idiot would opt to take on the challenge? She turned to the metaphoric mirror and was surprised to discover her own reflection. This kind of idiot.

Sure, she recognized the sheer stupidity of considering the dare, but at the same time, she was dead done with taking the easy way out. This was her chance to step out of her comfort zone. Risky? Sure. Life-endangering? Definitely. But maybe upping the stakes was exactly what Meg needed to give her life a serious shove (once her brain used that word, she retracted it immediately). A nudge in the right direction. This was her chance to turn over a new Meg.

“I’m gonna do it.”

Annie made a tiny choking noise. “What? You can’t.”

“Meg.” Ethan’s voice had a strained quality. “Look. I’m going to backtrack and head up the main trail. If you want”—he hesitated—“you can come with me.”

She wished his invitation hadn’t sounded so stilted. She didn’t need his obligatory compassion. “I’m going to cross here,” she repeated. “Look. You guys don’t have to come along, but I really need to do this.”

“Oh, no,” Rooster said. “Not by yourself, you don’t. Can’t say I’m happy about it, but if you’re going, I’m going.”

“You two are being idiots,” Annie said. “I’m going down the mountain.” She looked pointedly at Ethan for backup. “We all should go down the mountain.”

Measuring the progress of the debate like a spectator at a friendly pickleball match, Ethan lifted his brow placidly, but he said nothing.

“Annie,” Meg pushed, testing. “I’m telling you we can do this. Together.”

“Peer pressure is the tool of the intellectually stunted.”

Rooster tested a foot on the plank bridge. “More solid than it looks.”

Annie scoffed. “Now you’re on the crazy train, too? Tell you what. I’ll wait here and watch you two lunatics. Ethan and I, the sensible humans, are going to stay on solid ground to administer medical care and make the 911 call.” She tugged her cell phone from her pocket. “Yep. I have a signal. You’re good to go.”

Ethan inched toward the edge to inspect. A rock, dislodged by his shoe, bounced once and disappeared over the precipice. There was no sound of it landing. Coolly, he assessed Rooster, then shifted to Meg. Her blood fizzed under the intensity of his stare.

“Okay. I’ll do it,” he said, still staring at her, calm as tea with crumpets.

“ Et tu, Brute! ” Annie groaned.

Terrified as she was, Meg felt her shoulders relax minutely. “Great.” Her eyes swept the cliffside, planning her traverse. “This would be a piece of cake if we had some rope.”

Annie brightened. “Oh! I have a rope.” She slipped her pack from her shoulders and dumped the contents of her bag. Out tumbled a hefty rope. Heavy-weight carabiners jangled from the coil. “I told Mayumi we were climbing a mountain and she lent me this stuff.”

“No wonder your bag was so heavy.”

Without missing a beat, Rooster looped the end of the rope around a sturdy pine and threaded it through. He tugged on the rope to tighten the grip. Using the carabiners as guide loops, he threaded a harness around his pelvis and legs.

“Wow.” Ethan said. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

Rooster shrugged. “Cowboy trick,” he said as he designed a similar harness for Meg. From the impressed look on his face, Ethan’s esteem for Rooster had just jumped off the top of the graph.

Meanwhile, Meg’s brain was doing an excellent job of obfuscating the danger. A rope tied around the waist made crossing an abyss on a double-wide log bridge safe. That made sense, right? In fact, this was going to be a cakewalk. Too bad there wasn’t cake at the end. Meg loved cake. Especially chocolate cookie crunch cake. Or mint-chip ice cream cake. Yes. That was the one she preferred.

Near to her, Ethan’s voice was quiet. “Hey…” Meg glanced up from her cake reverie. His lips parted, like he was about to say something.

“You ready?” Rooster called, cutting off the moment.

“As I’ll ever be.” Still locking eyes with Ethan, she waited, hoping that in the intensity of the moment, he would say something. Don’t do it might be preferable. Stay here with me . If only it were that easy. If only they could go back to playing truth or dare on the pickleball courts.

But although Ethan continued to hold her in his sights, he said nothing.

Meg gave her waist strap a decisive tug and scooted toward the makeshift bridge. If she didn’t go now, she might not go at all.

With her fist, she gripped the end of the rope that she would secure on the other ledge. The near end was fastened around the pine, and Rooster grabbed on, leaning his weight back for added safety.

Meg exhaled her anxiety. This was about conquering obstacles. She would not be forever known as a kitschy crafter, a people pleaser, or the sucker who’d kissed the Destroyer of Courts and then caved under his stare. She would become the hero of her own story.

Her second boot was on the plank now, and she inched along, committed. Squinting through her eyelashes, she watched her footing. Four feet of DIY bridgework was a hell of a lot longer and scarier than it seemed from the ledge. She inhaled in staccato puffs and held the air inside her lungs, too tense to release it. Just four steps. Three. Two…

At last, her foot made purchase on the opposing ledge. Exhilarated, she raised her hands above her head. “Woo-hoo!”

Above their applause, Rooster’s voice reached her. “How was it?”

“Great. Easy,” she lied.

Her hands shook but she managed to get the trembling under control, and she tied the end soundly around the thigh-thick trunk of an established ponderosa. When she looked back across, Ethan was already harnessed up.

As he stepped onto the planks and began inching across, Ethan’s jaw set, and only the tremor in his fingers gave away his nerves. Two steps in, his body swayed unpredictably, and for an infinite instant, Meg’s terror turned her veins to ice. Then, recovering quickly, he straightened. Still, Meg did not exhale. It was so much worse watching someone else traverse the gap than crossing that death-maw herself. Especially when that someone happened to be a man she apparently still cared about with infuriating persistence, if the thunderous thudding of her heart was any indication. At last, Ethan launched himself onto solid ground. Before either of them had their senses back, he had enveloped her into the circle of his arms.

Ethan’s body was trembling. “That was terrifying,” he whispered into her hair. Every centimeter of her skin reacted. She wanted to hold him and keep him safe and stay like that until the sun went down for the last time in human history.

But then Ethan pulled away. He put his hands on his knees and collected himself. As he lifted his face, his gaze hooked hers. What were they? What was this?

Oblivious to the drama playing out on the other side of the chasm, Rooster posed on the ledge beside Annie. He stared into the middle distance, arms outstretched and one knee bent. Blowing powerfully through his mouth, he bent at the waist and pressed his palms flat to the gravelly ground.

“What’s he doing?” Meg called across. Annie shrugged.

Rooster rolled, one vertebra at a time, to a standing position. He pressed his palms together at chest level. “Sun salutations.”

He held completely still, a picture of calm. Then, in six quick, balanced strides, he joined Meg on her side of the ledge. He shrugged off Meg’s astonished expression. “I visualized success,” Rooster explained.

“Annie?”

“Still a no. A no-way-in-hell.” Her perky good cheer returned. “Thanks, though. Now that you’ve crossed the Bridge of Death, I’ll just watch you guys struggle up the side of the cliff on that knotted rope that looks like it has the weight-bearing capacity of dental floss. I can call the emergency chopper. And if by some miracle you make it to the top, I’ll take your car to Port Angeles and wait for you there. Or better yet, I can flag down some lunatic stranger out looking for hitchhikers. That would be a safer choice than you all are making. But you guys go on ahead. I’m staying on this side.”

The three of them unharnessed and left the cable tied across the plank bridge. Truth was, Meg hoped that for the way back, Ethan could show them a saner way down the mountain. Could she come back this way if she had to? People were capable of all kinds of things when under duress or sufficiently incentivized. Weren’t there videos online of mothers lifting minivans off toddlers and cheerleading teams scaring away bull elephants? If there were not, there ought to be.

Now that they had made it across the chasm on the plank bridge, there was the cliff wall to contend with. A splintery climbing rope hung down its sheer face. She scanned the platform ledge hoping to miraculously find another option. Other than the straight-up ascent, there was a narrow path along the ridge that might have once worked as a switchback before erosion chewed gaping chunks out of the trail. Now only a mountain goat or Super Mario would entertain that climb. So, if they wanted to reach the top, the rope was the only option. Meg channeled the epic motivation of a panicky cheerleader facing off against a water buffalo and jumped to grab the lowest knot on the rope.

She hooked it. For a moment, she hung there. Her feet swung three feet off the ground. She pivoted and threw an arm to reach the knot above her while heaving her body upward. Her fingers gripped the knot but slid off the splintery twine. Although she adjusted in time to remain clinging to the lower knot, her body banged against the cliff wall.

“Careful!” Annie yelled, her voice falling at the end with recognized pointlessness.

Meg mustered her strength and gripped the rope. With all her might, she pulled. One hand over the other, using her legs to stabilize and lift, Meg raised her body up, up, up the rope. She dragged herself to the top with every stitch of her strength. Finally, when her shoulders leveled with the ledge, she hesitated only a moment before sacrificing grace for efficacy. Thrusting with her last ounce of force, she threw her torso onto the rock platform. This time, she did not have the energy to shout “Woo-hoo!” so she just thought it really hard.

She rolled onto her back and breathed through her mouth until she recovered enough to scoot to the edge. Already, Ethan was midway up the rope, climbing with the ease of a natural athlete. Lifting himself onto the top of the climb, he gave her what might pass for a congratulatory nod. Then he dipped his head over the edge and reached down for Rooster. “Just get to here. I’ll help pull you up.”

“I got this.” Rooster waved Ethan off. “You’re lookin’ at Spider-Man.” Rooster leapt for the rope and power-armed up the first five knots. “I got monkey-grip. Skills like an orangutan!” Stretching and contracting, his legs worked the rope like an inchworm, while his strong hands—

Rooster gasped. “Oh shit!” And they watched in horror as Rooster lost his grip and began to tumble, flailing in helpless slow motion. As he fell, his eyes connected with Meg’s, and she threw her arm in his direction on instinct, but she was way above him. His body thudded down to the ledge, landing on the ground with a reverberating shudder. The awful sound sent an electric shock down Meg’s spine.

“Oh my god, Rooster!” she cried.

“Rooster!” Ethan shouted. On the hard dirt, Rooster lay on his back, his arm slung beneath him at an awkward angle. Unblinking, his eyes reflected the open sky. He did not move.

“Oh no. Oh no! Rooster!” Meg’s heart pounded in her throat. Why wasn’t he moving?

Ethan called across the gap. “Annie! Can you see him? Is he okay?”

In a millisecond, Annie was crouching beside Rooster on the ledge, two fingers against his throat.

Meg’s voice trembled. “Is he…?”

“Rooster.” Annie took control. “Can you hear me?”

“Oof. Ow. I think I hurt myself.”

His face contracted in a mask of pain. Meg’s momentary relief that he was alive was replaced by worry. “Should we—” she started.

“Stay where you are,” Annie commanded, and Meg wasn’t sure if she meant it for her and Ethan or for Rooster. There was very little space on the ledge, so the two of them stayed put, hovering over the worrisome scene below. Not that she could have gotten down easily if she had wanted to. Annie placed a cautionary hand on Rooster’s chest to keep him lying down. “Where does it hurt?”

Rooster’s forehead wrinkled. “Annie? You…you crossed the bridge. All by yourself.”

Annie’s head jerked up. Her neck swiveled back to the rickety planks that spanned the yawning abyss, and her eyes went wide. Her body teetered. For a frightening instant, Meg feared Annie would faint, and then what would she do with two incapacitated hikers, knocked out on a cliff’s ledge on an uncharted trail in the Olympic Mountains?

Ethan shouted down, “What’s happening?”

Rooster moaned. “My hand.” His face scrunched up with a rush of pain. “I think I landed on it.” He rocked a shoulder forward, trying to dislodge the hand beneath him.

Shaking herself, Annie came to her senses. “Hold still. Let’s check the rest of you first, before we get that hand out.”

Meg turned to Ethan, her face wreathed with concern. He shook his head helplessly; there was nothing they could do. Below, Annie instructed Rooster to wiggle his toes. She checked out his legs, his back, and his skull, until Rooster lost patience and waved her off. Rolling toward his good arm, he struggled to sit up. His other arm dragged along, and when Meg got a look, she sucked in her breath. His right thumb and pointer finger dangled beside his palm like limp hot dogs.

“Oh no. No. No. No-no-no.” Meg shook her head, refusing to accept what her vision proved.

“No, what? What’s no? Why does she keep saying no?” Rooster pointed his face down toward his hand. “Ah! My hand! Holy shit! Look at my hand!”

It was impossible not to look at his hand.

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Annie soothed. “Let’s see if I can stabilize this until we can get you to a hospital.” While she unzipped her pack, Rooster winced, cradling his hand in front of him like a grenade. Annie produced a roll of medical tape and a wrap and created a thumb brace using a piece of a plastic spoon she found at the bottom of her pack. “You can never be too prepared.”

She dug out an orange pill container and he held up his good hand in protest. “Whoa. Nothing stronger than aspirin, okay?” Nodding, Annie found some aspirin and he gulped them down gratefully. With his thumb and finger secured, Rooster got to his feet.

Rooster’s and Meg’s eyes met, each person concluding silently what they all knew. Their hike was over, that was clear. But what was more, her tournament partnership with Rooster was done for. Meg’s chest clenched with compassion for Rooster’s pain, and disappointment for her own. There was nothing to do but head down and get him to a hospital.

“Dammit.” Rooster bowed his head. “I screwed everything up.”

Rooster’s features were racked with regret. With one fall, they had lost their shot at winning the Lakeview beginners’ spot. It wasn’t Rooster’s fault. If anything, Meg was the one who had insisted they do this. Still, it crushed her to have to release that final hope of teaming up to contribute to winning those new courts, not to mention beating out Vance and édith for the Lakeview slot.

And that wasn’t the only bump in the road. She had made it over that ridiculous bridge and up that damn rope. Now they would have to do the whole miserable obstacle course in reverse. She scooted to the edge to peer over the lip of the cliffside. It hadn’t seemed so high on the way up.

Below her, Annie fidgeted as she surveyed the rickety bridge. Her Adam’s apple bobbed. In Rooster’s moment of need, she had skittered across the planks without hesitation. Crossing back would be another story.

Not one of the hiking crew moved, miserable with inertia. Rooster injured, Annie terrified, Meg worried. And there was Ethan. On a ledge above a cliff, stuck. Unable to do anything, alongside a woman he wanted nothing to do with.

The plink-plink sound of a rock bouncing down into the canyon jostled them from their individual pity parties. Awake now, with her danger radar on high alert, Meg turned toward the eroded switchback that snaked its way toward the crowded ledge. She gasped when she spotted the sound’s source.

Head tipped forward, horns pointed, legs splayed, the intruder let out an angry bleat. No doubt about it. That mountain goat was pissed.