Bob Traviston gave Maggie a diamond necklace for Valentine’s Day and she was moved to tears. Maggie had been getting consistently more emotional since Lindsey’s and Hillary’s escapades, and since Sarah had gone public with the pregnancy. And, he thought secretly, there might be a little something else going on with her.

Maggie had been asking Bob to see the doctor about his apparent lack of interest in sex, but Bob—being a man—preferred to see a doctor only if a limb were actually falling off. “I’ve been to the doctor,” he said. “I’m in perfect health.”

“But you’ve never mentioned this,” she argued.

“How do you know?” he returned. But he was thinking, of course I never mentioned this! Besides, it wasn’t as though he didn’t have erections. Well, in reality, he rarely had them anymore, and they were usually those early-morning events that went away pretty quick.

But because Maggie had been getting a little tearful lately, and Bob had to admit that he’d almost completely lost interest in sex, he made an appointment. For a checkup. The prospect of telling the doctor he wasn’t getting it up anymore surpassed daunting. He could face Congress with less tension.

At the doctor’s office, all his vitals were checked, he peed in a cup, an order for routine blood work was written up. “Anything else we should check?” the doctor asked.

“Hmm,” Bob said. “Let me think….”

“Anything your wife wants us to check?”

Bob sighed deeply. “My wife has been complaining about the infrequency of…” He couldn’t go on.

The doctor flipped through the chart. “How infrequent?” he asked without looking up.

“Never,” Bob admitted. What the hell, he thought. It’s going to come out eventually.

“Hmm,” the doctor said. “Hmm. Here’s one thing. Let’s change that blood pressure medicine you’ve been taking the past couple of years. And if there’s no improvement, we’ll get you to the urologist. You’re too young to give up erections.”

The prospect of going to the urologist for this problem filled Bob with dread. If there was one thing a man never wanted to own up to, it’s that he was having trouble getting it up. Anything else, okay. But not that.

The whole thing just depressed him. Quieted him out. He was starting to come out of his denial, aware that it wasn’t the job, the hours, the pressure. That perhaps accounted for his blood pressure being elevated, but not the rest. He began taking the new blood pressure medicine, knowing in his gut that he was going to end up dropping his drawers for another doctor pretty soon, admitting the unadmittable.

But at least things were getting a little easier in the family arena. Hillary had a soft cap of new hair on her head and announced she was trying out for cheerleading. Lindsey brought home a progress report from school that boasted straight A’s in all honors classes.

He thought a lot about how much he actually loved his wife. He found her incredibly attractive; he considered her his best friend. No matter how hard this situation was, he made a decision he would pursue a cure.

He got into bed with his book while Maggie scrubbed her face and brushed her teeth in the en suite. He could hear her in there, changing. It was cold in the room, so he turned on the gas fireplace with the remote at his bedside. She came out of the bathroom wearing her long, concealing, decidedly unsexy flannel nightgown. She’s given up on me, he thought. I’ve given up on me. She’s going to have an affair before long, if she hasn’t already.

Then an idea occurred to him, for the first time in at least a year. She got into bed and turned off her light. She leaned toward him, kissed his cheek and snuggled down into the bed, her back to him.

He put aside his book, turned off his light, and lay down.

“Don’t fall asleep with the fireplace on,” she said sleepily.

“I won’t,” he said. His pulsed picked up. Hope I don’t have a heart attack, he thought. But no, that heart rate was not a medical thing. It was caused by a vaguely familiar emotion.

He rolled over and spooned her. His hand crept under her arm and she snuggled against him. He cupped her breast, kissed her neck and voilá! The old boy sprang to life!

“Bob?” she asked, a little weakly, feeling something against her bottom. Something hard and strong, something she had greatly missed. She rolled onto her back. “Bob?”

He kissed her. One of those short sweet husbandly kisses that had become routine for them. And then, uncharacteristically, he covered her mouth in a hot and serious kiss. She opened her lips under his and answered in passion. Then he rose above her and said, “I’ve been to the doctor. Turns out, it was probably my blood pressure medicine, which I changed about a week ago.”

“You didn’t say anything,” she said, startled.

“Well, I wasn’t all that optimistic that the cure would be an easy one.”

“Oh my God, Bob! You did this for me!”

He kissed her again. “I did this for us,” he said, lifting that boring old granny gown and snaking his hand underneath. “I think we need to spend more time together,” he said.

 

Late February arrived and Pete was invited to Sunday dinner at George’s. “Aunt Clare has a boyfriend,” Hillary said in awe.

“It is too totally weird, seeing your mother kiss the football coach,” Jason said, and Pete reached out and palmed his head, giving it a rough shake, making him laugh.

When it was just the sisters in the kitchen, Sarah put a hand on her still-flat tummy and said, “I’m going to have to trot my boyfriend out pretty soon. I should probably spring him on the kids before I start to show.”

“Which is just around the corner,” Clare pointed out.

“Did you know he came over here one evening and talked to Dad?”

“When did that happen?” Maggie asked, picking up plates.

“A few weeks ago. Right after I told Dad about the baby. He wanted to be sure Dad knew he wasn’t running for his life, I guess.”

“How’d it go?”

“Well, there weren’t any punches thrown,” Sarah said.

“Are you still skiing every Monday?” Clare asked. “Because I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.”

“Sam worries about that, too. I’m just about done skiing.”

“I like the sound of that, that he’s concerned.”

“He’s a little overprotective,” she said.

Was it solicitude and courtesy? Sam just being responsible? Clare wondered.

“I suppose I could go a little easier. Tomorrow will probably be my last Monday chasing the ski patrol around the slopes.”

“I could wangle a day off from Dad,” Clare said. “I worked six straight days last week and I’m supposed to be part-time now, so I can work on the old house. Why don’t I go with you? If you ski with me, you’ll take it lots easier.” And, Clare thought, it’s time to see them together. She believed she would be able to tell much from the way they interacted, the way they looked at each other.

“Have you gotten over your urge to end his life?” Sarah asked.

“I think I can control myself now.”

“Then okay. That would be fine,” Sarah said. “I might not go home with you, however.”

Maggie fluffed Sarah’s curls. “Are you happy, honey?”

There was no hesitation. Her smile was quick and genuine. “I am.” She shrugged. “My timing could be better, but my life couldn’t. He makes me very happy.”

Clare took the day off from the store and picked Sarah up at ten in the morning. They stuck to the tamer slopes, skiing for a couple of hours without seeing Sam. Clare was looking for him, eyeballing every ski patrol who crossed their paths. “Did you ever wonder if they hire these guys by looks?” she asked Sarah.

“Ski patrol and firemen,” Sarah said. “Calendar boys. Here he comes,” she said, pointing up the hill. Sam was traversing down the slope in sleek, wide turns, punching through the powder, a rooster tail of white crystal flying up behind him. It was a magnificent sight. “The best-looking one out here.”

He came to a stop in front of them. He popped up his goggles and with that heart-melting grin said, “Hi, girls.” He leaned toward Sarah and gave her a little peck on the cheek. “You’re behaving. That makes me happy.” Then, “Clare. How’s it going?”

“Good. And she’s only behaving because she’s with me. I just don’t have any stamina this year. I’m already exhausted.”

“You’ll get it back.”

The sound of distant twittering could be heard. Clare popped off her glove and reached into her snow pants to find her phone. She scooted away a bit to take a call from Pete. She put the phone to one ear and covered her other ear with her hand. While she listened, she watched Sam and Sarah. He looked down at Sarah and Clare saw her sister had his complete attention. She couldn’t see Sam’s eyes, but she thought if she could she would see something more than solicitude there. She watched as Sam took off a glove and touched Sarah’s face, tilting it upward to say something that made Sarah smile, then laugh.

“What?” she said to Pete. “What did you say?”

“I said, Jason cut school. The gossip is that he’s up there, snowboarding.”

“How would he manage that?”

“Stan drove to school today. Did you tell him you were going up there with Sarah?”

“No. Since we haven’t said anything to the kids about Sarah and Sam, he wouldn’t know they’re up here on Mondays. And I haven’t seen him.”

“Well, if he saw you, he probably ran for his life.”

“Oh, he’s in so much trouble!” she said. “Thanks for the tip.”

She put the phone away and went back to Sarah and Sam. “My confidential informant at Centennial tells me Jason skipped school and is rumored to be up here snowboarding.”

“I haven’t seen him,” Sam said. “They groom the hills on Tuesday—so Monday’s a pretty light day. Not that many people out there.”

“He’d be bored on these hills,” Clare said.

“That little brat,” Sarah said. “Bet I know where he is. Rest a minute, Clare. I’ll be right back.” She took off for the lift on the other side of the intermediate hill she’d been skiing with Clare.

“You be careful!” Sam yelled after her.

“I’m always careful!” she yelled back.

Sarah moved quickly toward the lift. Jason would have headed for the harder, longer slopes, probably the expert runs or snowboard park. And Sam would have spent much of the day around them, too, so if Sam hadn’t seen Jason there were only two possibilities. Either Jason saw one of them—Sam, Sarah or Clare—and left before getting caught, or went into the restricted areas to stay out of sight.

She looked over at Sam and Clare as the lift scooped her up and carried her upward. Good, she thought. Let them talk awhile. Get any unfinished business sorted out and behind them. They all had many, many years ahead of them as family. There was no point in being haunted by old romances. And Sam would have to be sure, once and for all, whether he could move ahead without having any feelings stuck in the past.

It was impossible for Sarah to love any two people more—Clare and Sam. She needed them both in her life, and without the slightest hint of complications.

She got off the lift at the crest of the hill known as the Crown, a challenging slope for advanced skiers and snowboarders. She looked around and down. She didn’t see Jason’s purple stocking cap anywhere. To her left were red flags and a warning sign, no ski patrols beyond this point. She had no intention of skiing in a restricted area—she just wanted to look down the slope and see if anyone was there. She moved cautiously across the ridge past a small stand of trees and scanned the landscape. Nothing. Thank God. Maybe he did have a brain.

Just as she was about to go back to the expert slope and make a run down to Clare and Sam, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. And it was purple. There were two of them. They were coming from the far south of a hill that when it was open was known as Big Bear. The stupid little fool. She was going to go get him and when she caught him, beat him senseless. He was about halfway down when she pushed off.

 

As Sarah neared the lift, Sam looked back at Clare, and she saw a wistful look in his eyes. She immediately thought, oh no! He can’t still be pining! “My sister is very happy, Sam.”

“I think pregnancy agrees with her,” he said. “Want to go sit down for a while?”

“I don’t want to keep you from your job,” she said. “I’m fine. I’ll just wait here.”

“You look content. Happy. Life must be treating you well.”

I’m not real content at the moment, she thought. I don’t know how to handle this. She looked in the direction Sarah had gone and saw her getting on the lift. “Yeah,” she said, somewhat absently. “Great. I’m great.”

“Okay, you’re not that happy,” he said. “Well, I’m sorry about that, but I think we’re all doing pretty well, considering how awkward this has been—me and Sarah. You. Maggie. Your dad. Did Maggie tell you she came to see me? At work?”

“Yeah, I knew that was going to happen. How’d it go?”

He shrugged. “It was half an ass chewing and half a warning that Sarah might not be as rock solid as she appears. Maggie told me about the nervous breakdown. It’s really hard for me to grasp. She’s not like that with me.” His voice had become soft. Almost soothing.

“She hates that we think she’s fragile. It makes her furious. Did you tell her what Maggie said?”

“I did. You’re right, it makes her furious. But I talked her down—I think she understands Maggie meant well. I’m glad to have a chance to talk to you about it. Sarah told me everything—from those crazy growing-up years and all the wild oats, to the time following your mother’s death. She’s been through a lot, but I think she’s stronger now.” He chuckled. “She must have really been something when she was a kid. Now that, I believe.”

“I’m amazed you told her.”

“Of course I told her, Clare. We had a couple of very long discussions about it and I’m confident that she’s all right. I don’t think you have to worry about that anymore. Let me worry about it.”

“Sam, she is so in love with you, it’s almost painful to watch. If you hurt her, I don’t know what it will do to her.”

“I’m not going to hurt her, Clare. You have to believe me. I’m going to do the right thing. I want to do the right thing.”

“Good,” she said.

He cocked his head to one side and said, “It seems like there’s something you want to say to me. Let’s get it out.”

“No, there’s nothing.”

“For Sarah, Clare. She’s completely devoted to you. If there’s anything you wonder about, let’s clear the air.”

“Well,” she said, hesitatingly.

“Say it.”

She took a breath. “You seeing Sarah…It didn’t have anything to do with me, did it?”

His brow furrowed. “In what way?”

“You weren’t trying to get back at me? By taking up with my little sister?”

“How would that get back at you? I guess I don’t get it.”

“I know you thought you were in love with me and I hurt you. You might’ve been needy. Or, I don’t know. Angry.”

His grin was suddenly huge. “Aw, Jesus, the way you women think.”

“Well you have to admit, it’s pretty strange that we’d only broken it off by a month or so when—”

“When Sarah laid her trap for me and I fell right into it?” He laughed. “Clare, you’re a great catch, no kidding, but if you hadn’t cut me loose, I wouldn’t have Sarah.” He whistled. “You have absolutely no idea what I have now. All that I have.”

Whatever that look was that had crossed his features, she must have mistaken its meaning. God, it wasn’t for her! she suddenly realized. It was for Sarah! “You almost sound as though you’re in love with her.”

“Do I now?” he asked. “I never believed you for a second, you know—that there was someone out there who would be perfect for me. Breaking it off was the best thing you could ever have done for me because I would have never even looked at Sarah if we were together.” He shrugged. “I’m just a plain old one-woman man. And…I didn’t know I could be this happy.”

“Oh, God,” she said. “Oh, Sam!”

“You knew what you were doing, Clare. It wasn’t right. This is.”

“Sam, that’s wonderful.” Clare threw her arms around him and hugged his neck. “That’s so wonderful!”

He almost fell over from her assault, but righted himself and laughed at her. “Does this mean you’re not disappointed that I’m completely over you?” he asked.

“You’ll just never know—”

His radio sputtered. “We’ve got skiers in restricted areas. Big Bear.”

“Sarah!” He bent and popped the bindings, stepping out of his skis.

“She wouldn’t go in a restricted area,” Clare said.

He put the skis over his shoulder and started to jog away from her. “She would if Jason were there!”

A couple of ski patrols ran out of the pro shop and headed for snowmobiles. A couple more jumped on the lift Sarah had used. They’d go up to the ridge, but these patrols were not going to go into restricted areas. Skiers knew they went there at their own risk. Sam ran to a stand of snowmobiles, propped his skis on the back, strapped them in and fired up the machine. The advanced hill nearest Big Bear was too steep for the snowmobile; he could better access the area from the ridge above the intermediate grade. Skiers were coming down the hill and he kept his ride as close to the trees as he could without grazing any of them. When he got to the top, he drove along the ridge and up the next slope to a higher one. When he got to the top of the expert hill to the north of Big Bear, he got off and put on his skis. Going through the red flags, he made his way as quickly as possible to the top of the Big Bear run.

About halfway down the hill he saw a skier and snowboarder, stopped. Talking. Sarah had gone in pursuit. He wasn’t going to follow her, but watch her descent, and when she was out of danger, he’d take the expert hill down. And spank the daylights out of her. “That damn woman,” he muttered. Then he heard a loud crack and a rumble and said, “Son of a bitch!”

 

Jason was wedging right and left when he saw his aunt Sarah’s pink bib and jacket—coming down the hill after him. He put a little speed into it and then asked himself why bother—she’d catch him anyway and his ass would be in a sling. So he wedged right and stopped. Stan kept going. He was going to get out of harm’s way.

She came upon him easily, sending up a spray of snow as she stopped. She whacked him right up the side of the head with one mittened hand. “You little jerk,” she said. “You’re an idiot.”

“Hey, Sarah, cut me some slack.”

“Slack? In your dreams. When we get down I’m going to have to hold your mother back.”

“I saw you guys—and we’d already spent a bunch of money on the lift, so we just thought we’d stay outta sight and get a couple of runs in before going home.”

“You cut school! You’re on a restricted hill! You’re history!”

There was a loud boom. They turned and looked up. A heavy shelf of snow had broken off the ridge and hit the hill above and just barely to the right of them. If they stayed where they were, it was going to bury them.

“Go, go, go!” she yelled, though she could barely be heard against the thundering noise of the avalanche. “Outrun it, Jason! Go!”

Sarah couldn’t do anything but fly. She jabbed her poles into the snow, flipped around and took off. She couldn’t help Jason, couldn’t give him speed. All she could do was pray that he’d know what to do. It was every man for himself. The avalanche was coming down to the right, so she cut down and left, tucked her poles and prayed. She neared the tree line that separated the runs and cut as close as she dared, as far from the avalanche as she could get and keep going down. She weaved in and out of the widely separated trees near the run, but where they got thicker, she was forced to stay out. There was too much growth, rocks and junk to go through the bush to the run on the other side of the tree line that separated the slopes.

Sarah expertly maneuvered, shushing around the trees, the barrage getting ever closer. Inside her mind was screaming, Please, Jason, please. Run, run, run. Outrun it. She cut left, right, left, right, barely dodging the trees. She felt the wind of the falling tonnage of snow whip at her from the side—it must be right next to her. She was clear of it or it would have buried her by now, but the bottom was not yet in sight. And then it happened; all the dust from the snow was blinding. A whiteout. She could barely see and was too close to the trees to continue skiing. She slowed, came up to the tree line and hung on to a trunk. She looked to her right. If it wasn’t passing her, she was toast. She heard the rumble as it roared by.

The avalanche seemed to have spared the very left side of the slope, which meant only half of that weak shelf had let go. She prayed Jason had cut across to safety, but she highly doubted he would dare the trees. And if he had, he might not be able to handle them as well as she had; he was getting good, but not that good. She must get down and see if he made it. It was hard to see. It would be a little like skiing by braille. And she’d have to get out of the trees.

She pushed off and was moving through the trees when her ski went over something—a rock hidden in the snow perhaps—giving her left ski a fast, erratic turn. And she felt it—her knee seemed to pop and snap. She went down. A tendon, she thought immediately. Probably a torn anterior cruciate ligament, a very common skiing injury.

She dragged herself against a tree. If any more of that snow shelf let go, she was sunk. Trapped. Dead. The trees wouldn’t keep her safe; there was no shelter out here. She was going to rest a minute before doing anything. She thought about going down on one ski—she could do that. Or maybe it would be better to slide. She could sit on her skis—but it was impossible to bend her knee. Maybe she could crawl or roll the rest of the way. But at the moment there was just too much pain. And she still couldn’t see anything as the whiteout slowly, so slowly, settled to the ground.

 

Sam saw Jason and Sarah take off like the seats of their pants were on fire, but it was only a few seconds before their images were obscured by the dust of the rapidly descending flood of snow. He saw Sarah’s bright pink jacket as she cut left, toward the trees, but he lost sight of Jason in the white cloud.

As soon as the thunder subsided, he keyed his radio. “Control, I made one skier and one snowboarder on Big Bear, trying to outrun the avalanche.” The air was thick with snow, slowly settling to the ground, but so gradually he still couldn’t see anything down there. The fallout hung in the air for what seemed like forever. He waited until he could see a path near the top, and it was the longest few minutes of his life. By the time the cloud was somewhat settled, there were two more ski patrols off the lift and beside him.

His radio answered him. He tipped his head to the left to listen to the transmitter attached to his shoulder. “We don’t have them down here. Yet.”

“Damn it,” he muttered.

“It was a boy on a snowboard and a woman on skis,” he told the patrols. “The woman cut left and I lost the boy. She might’ve taken refuge in the trees. I’m going down.”

“It’s unstable, man,” one of the patrols said. “You shouldn’t chance it.”

“Yeah, well, if she’s down there, I’m going to get her out of there before the rest of it goes,” he said.

“We’ll go down The Crown and work our way up with a toboggan and search poles,” the other patrol said.

Sam didn’t even bother to respond. Enough of the snow had settled so that it looked more like thick fog than a whiteout. He pushed off and skied down. He prayed as he went, and he skied as slowly as he could make himself. He didn’t want to miss her; he didn’t want to hit a tree. Those trees, he found himself thinking, just have no give. The powder was deep and too soft, the air was white with fallout from the avalanche. He stayed close to the tree line. At about the place he thought he’d seen her cut over, he slowed to a near stop and peered into the trees. He was afraid to shout, afraid he might create an echo that would dislodge more of the weak shelf.

If I lose her, I’ll die, was all he could think. I can’t live like that. I’ll never make it without her. Not now.

The fresh dusting of snow had covered any tracks, and then he saw a couple. Around this tree, around that. Damn, she was good. At the speed she was going, to clear those trees in the middle of that horrendous avalanche was astonishing. Then he saw a flash of bright pink, crumpled up against a tree. “Skier versus tree,” he said into his radio.

He made his way cautiously into the trees, shushing between them slowly. Her head was down, one knee bent up and the other leg straight. Move, he was thinking. Let me see you move! It seemed to take forever to get to her, but at last he was next to her. He knelt down. “Sarah!” he whispered.

She looked up at his face, tears of pain streaming down her cheeks. “’Bout time,” she said. “The service around here sucks.”

He put his gloved hands on her face. “God, Sarah! What were you doing?”

“Going after my nephew. Please. Tell me he made it.”

“I lost sight of you both, but I saw you cut toward the trees. I died a hundred times. Did you hit the tree? Your head? Anything?”

“No. I was doing pretty good, then my knee went out. I think I blew a tendon or ligament. Oh man, it hurts.”

“Thank God it’s just your knee. We gotta get out of here,” he said. “A big piece of that weak shelf broke off. It’s just a matter of time before the rest of it goes.”

“I can’t ski. Sam, you shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous.”

“You think I could leave you? Come on, up on the good leg. We can’t wait for rescue—we’re gonna do this the old-fashioned way.” He picked her up and leaned her against a tree, balanced on her good leg. He popped the bindings on her skis and once off, they began to slide down the hill. He braced himself against the tree and said, “Put your arms around my neck, and let me do the work—if you try to help, we’ll fall.” He lifted her into his arms. She let a small yelp of pain escape as her knee bent over his arm. He kept his shoulder against the tree. He kissed her cheek. “Just trust me, Sarah. Stay very still.”

“You’re crazy. You just skied into the path of an avalanche.”

“I’m crazy? When we get off this stupid hill, you’re going to stop doing these insane things. I can’t take it.” Then more quietly he said, “Aw, baby. You scared me so bad.”

“Sam, put me down. We should slide. Or roll.”

“We’re going to do this, Sarah. I’m getting you down.”

“But it’s so hard to see.”

“Then don’t look. I know this hill,” he said. “You just hang on and try not to move, try not to throw me off balance.”

She buried her face in his jacket. There wasn’t a wind and the air began to slowly clear. He pushed off the tree carefully, putting him out on the run. Heavier now with his burden and without the use of his poles, the soft snow nearly covered his skis and their progress down the hill was agonizingly slow. “I don’t know what you were thinking,” he said. “Don’t you know how much I love you?”

She kept her face buried against his chest. He nearly lost his balance once, but Sarah, trusting him, remained perfectly still as he straightened again.

“I know you need time to figure this out, but damn it, I can’t live without you. It’s too late for me to change course now—I need you. I’ve never…” He stopped talking as he wobbled slightly. “Halfway, honey. Stay still. That’s my girl.”

She tightened her arms around his neck. “I never thought I’d have anything like this in my life,” he said. “If I lost you, I don’t know what I’d do. You’re my world, Sarah.”

The two ski patrols he’d left up top were making their way up the slope from the bottom on a snowmobile dragging a rescue toboggan. He met them halfway and decided not to hand her over. “She’s pregnant,” he said. “Bouncing down on the toboggan or snowmobile isn’t going to cut it. Follow me down.”

“We gotta get off this hill,” one of them said.

He continued his slow, careful descent. “If you want to go ahead, I’ll understand,” he told them.

They stayed behind him, braving another avalanche to pick them up if they fell. But Sam exercised all the caution he could muster, kept his speed slow and went carefully down the hill. “Almost there, Sarah,” he whispered. “Almost there.”

At the bottom of the slope he stopped. One of the patrols jumped off his snowmobile and stooped to pop off Sam’s bindings. Sam stepped out of the skis and left the patrol to pick them up. He settled Sarah against his chest. Carrying her now on terra firma, he walked as quickly as he could away from the offending hill. The snowmobiles carrying the other patrols whizzed by, one with Sam’s skis balanced over his shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” she said to him.

“And why can’t you?” he asked. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I couldn’t do anything else.”

Sam saw that the area had been evacuated and the skiers were all down, gathered around the lodge. An ambulance stood waiting, its red lights a strobe on the white hills. At the front of the crowd he made out Jason and Stan with Clare. “They made it down, honey. They’re fine.” He headed for the lodge as quickly as he could.

“Thank God,” she said in a breath. She looked up at his face and said, “We’re safe now, Sam. Put me down. I’m too heavy.”

“I’m not putting you down.” He kissed her forehead as he walked. “God, I was scared to death.” He glanced at her tearstained face. “Is the pain terrible?” he asked her.

“I don’t have any pain.” She touched his frosty cheek. “I love you, too. I can’t live without you, either.”

He hugged her tighter. “Then why do you make me beg?” he asked.

“I like the sight of a good man groveling,” she said through her tears.

“Well, then you must be ecstatic. I’m completely desperate for you. All I want is to lie beside you every night for the rest of my life. Sarah, I love you so much.”

She put her hand against his cheek and just drank in his beautiful face. But Sam didn’t hesitate—he didn’t waste any time looking dreamily into her eyes. He made fast tracks toward the lodge.

There was a loud crack, a boom, and Sam turned back toward the dangerous slope to see the rest of the weak snow shelf let go and fall with explosive force to the hill below, its weight and girth crashing into the trees where only a few minutes before, Sarah had heard the words that made her life seem complete. The voices of the skiers gathered in front of the lodge rose as one in awe of the avalanche’s power.

Sarah grabbed the front of Sam’s jacket and gave it a hard yank to get his attention. She kissed him. Long and deep. Then she said, “Okay, then. Marry me. Right away. I want to do it now. Before you change your mind.”

“I’m never going to change my mind, baby,” he said. “Never.”