Jonas, page 14
“What if—”
“No, Ina. I am alone, and that’s the way it has to be.”
Ina went quiet.
“Besides, he hasn’t exactly shown up on my doorstep asking to stick around in my life. I know what the EOD designation does to a relationship. Poor guy—I even kissed him—”
“You did what?”
“It was—impulsive. And right, too. Like, a goodbye, maybe.”
She opened the door to the kitchen. Dedi was up and perusing the fridge. Pulled out a container of eggs.
“You’re not running from him. You’re running from yourself and the fact that you really want him in your life.”
Dedi smiled at her, and she heard his words again. But we don’t stop living just because there is war. There is still love. There is still joy.
“It doesn’t matter what I want. Life isn’t about want. It’s about what is. Duty. Responsibility. You know that better than I do. How’s the new job?”
“Considering the Navy only has two ships, and most of what we do is patrol the border, there isn’t a high need for a translator. But I’m on the ready.”
“A good change from this summer.”
“Anything would be a good change after this summer. I’ve never heard so much cussing in four different languages.”
“That’s what you get for being so smart. Not everyone can speak eight languages. I’m surprised they let you transfer to the Navy. Who’d they get to fill your shoes as NATO liaison?”
“Oh, I’m still on call. But some young guy out of university. He can even speak Farsi.”
“I hope we never have a need to speak Farsi.” Sibba had closed the boot of her SUV. “I wish you were here to check in on Dedi. But I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Your grandfather can take care of himself and a small nation. Don’t worry. Have fun. Don’t die.”
“No promises.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
She pulled out her phone and hung up, then tucked it back into her pocket. “You sure you’re okay here tonight?” She directed the question at her grandfather.
“Please leave. I know when you have a burr in your britches.” He took out a pan. “Just don’t get yourself killed.”
She walked over and kissed his cheek. “I won’t.”
“Just in case you do—where are you going?”
“Razor’s peak. I’m staying at Kat’s hut tonight.”
He glanced out the window. “I guess you still have plenty of sun.” He reached out and pulled her close. “Come back with your head on straight.”
She didn’t ask him to clarify, but in her definition, that meant a new perspective—one without Jonas Marshall in it.
Two hours later, she’d driven to the trailhead, unloaded her pack, and hiked up the two kilometer trail to the Razor Mountain bivouac hut. Formerly an Italian military post, it had been converted over the years to a chalet with an expansive view of Triglav Mountain to the east. She reached the hut before the sun set, and watched it disappear behind the slopes of Tolminski Migovec to the west while drinking her soup.
In the main room, a stove pumped out heat to the winter room, or the lofted area above the great room, where she’d stowed her gear. A nip hung in the air, cooler up here, and she guessed tomorrow’s ride might be chilly.
But she loved the feeling of freedom.
“I brought you some tea.” Kat Rupchik came out onto the porch, dressed in a down jacket, a knit hat. She handed Sibba a warm mug. “Chamomile.” She wore age and sunshine on her weathered face, kind eyes. She ran the place year-round, sometimes acting as a rescuer, often just a therapist for travelers who needed an escape.
Or a reminder of all things good. Sibba knew her well. “Thanks,” she said, blowing on the tea. “I’ll add more wood before I go to bed.”
“Very good.” Kat stayed for a moment and stared out at the view, the mountains turning to darkness. “It’s late for you to come.”
“I needed to sort some things out.”
Kat nodded, drew in a breath. “The Lord is my shepherd. He makes me lie down in green pastures. Or mountains—either one.”
It wasn’t the first time Kat had quoted scripture to her. Now Sibba just nodded. “Good night, Kat.”
“Sweet dreams, Sibba.” She let herself inside.
Sibba sat on the porch a long while, nursing the tea. Seeing Jonas emerge from the woods in his canvas jacket, his wind-blown hair, those whiskers. But a partner, in love, walks the road with you. Helps to make sense out of the life we live. Gives it meaning.
She got up and went inside. Tossed more wood into the massive black stove, then ascended into the loft that housed ten cots. She’d already laid out her sleeping roll, and now pulled off her shoes and jacket, keeping on her leggings and thermal shirt.
Then she lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the lean strip of moonlight that cast into the room through the window. Into the middle of our darkness, God reaches out and saves us.
Yeah, well, He would not only have to reach into her dark—or at least shadowy—heart, but He’d have to show her a path beyond her own steps.
She closed her eyes, but her mind played games with her, stirring into her slumber images of Jonas, him laughing at her attempts at humor. Or the look in his eyes after she’d kissed him.
Just before she ran away.
She rolled over. The place had cooled. Maybe she should add more wood. Getting up, she headed downstairs in her stocking feet. She had just opened the stove with the hook when outside, footsteps sounded on the porch.
She didn’t think that Kat was expecting anyone else.
The door knob rattled, and she stepped back, still holding the stove hook when the door opened.
He stood against the darkness, the moonlit world behind him, his face obscured. But the outline of his form made her still.
She knew. It was her heart first, then recognition set in as he walked into the room, lit only by the firelight.
He still hadn’t shaved, and wore a stocking cap over that brown hair, but his eyes—oh, they found hers and latched on, such an intensity in them that she felt the storm inside.
Or maybe it was just inside her. “Jonas?”
“You’re a hard woman to find.”
He looked good in a lightweight parka, his backpack, hiking shoes.
Too good. “What are you doing here?”
He stiffened. Oh, that’s not what—but yes, what. Was. He doing. Here?
“I mean, oy, it’s a long hike up this mountain.”
He seemed to breathe then, and pulled off his hat, even while turning to shut the door. “Yes, it is. I had to hike the last half kilometer by flashlight.”
Only then did she see the headlamp attached to his hat. He shrugged off his pack, set it on the ground, then put his hat on top of it.
Turned back to her.
Then it was just them standing in the semidarkness, the heat of the stove between them, him slowly undoing her world. “I need you, Sibba.”
And surely, no, he didn’t mean it like it sounded. “You…need me?”
But yes, I need you too. The words were in her chest, her throat, on her lips—
“Yes. I think there’s another dirty bomb set to explode. And I need your help to stop it.”
Well, then. Okay.
Heart attack over.
Maybe.
“I promise, this is the fastest way down.” Sibba stood, harness on, her fluffy orange-and-blue chute spread out across the grassy hill.
A five-hundred-meter drop at the far side of the hill suggested there was no turning back, and Jonas had simply mentioned that. Sort of as a joke.
Not really.
“I won’t let you get hurt.” She held up a tandem harness.
“I trust you.” Really, he did. And the calm skies, the sunshine, the scent of the piney mountains around him—this was a good day to fly.
And they did need to get down the mountain pronto, so…
Besides, what was he supposed to do with that grin she flashed him? She wore a helmet and had pulled out an extra in her pack, along with the additional harness. She also wore gloves and a layer of fleece over her leggings and shirt.
“Are you sure your chute will hold me?”
“We call it a wing or sail, and yes, unless you’re over thirty stone. Then we might be in trouble.”
“What is that in English, please?”
She cocked her head at him. “Four hundred pounds.”
“I might be.”
“Doubtful.”
“I ate a lot of cheese.”
“You do look a little bloated this morning. And you snore, so maybe you’re fatter than you look.” She grinned at him, the sunshine in her eyes. “Just come over her and snap into the harness, Santa.”
He’d do anything for that smile. In fact, he’d had a hard time wiping from his brain her expression when he’d barged into the hut last night.
Sure, she wore surprise, but despite her words—what are you doing here?—something had flashed in her eyes that looked a lot like delight. As if, despite the fact she’d walked away from him, she wanted to see him again.
So, fist pump for the weatherman who hiked an extra three kilometers to track her down. And yes, he’d used the non-excuse, but very real danger, of another dirty bomb as a way to see her, but he wasn’t sad that she’d smiled and nodded and agreed to help him.
Provided he started with how he’d found her.
She’d closed the stove but lit a lamp, and they’d sat in the great room under the flicker of a wick, and he’d told her first how Sally had gone off the radar.
No, first he’d told her Tarek’s theory of how the Russians had hacked poor Frannie, then his phone call with Logan and Ham, and then he’d mentioned that Sally had vanished.
“You think she’s being rigged with a bomb?”
“I don’t know. But we need to find her.”
She’d worn a long-sleeved thermal shirt, a pair of black leggings, pink woolen socks, and had let her tawny-brown hair down, pushing it behind her ears now and again as she traced out an imaginary map of Slovenia on the wooden table top. He’d pinpointed where he thought Sally had landed.
“That’s just over the Croatian border. And while we’re not currently in a border war with Croatia…” She shook her head. “Let’s hope she landed in Slovenia.”
“And that something simply went haywire in her GPS system, and not that she was hijacked.”
Sibba had drawn up one knee, held it to her chest. “Hungry?”
“I ate some eggs with your grandfather when I went to your house.”
“That was four hours ago.”
“A little hungry.”
“I have cheese.” She got up then and went upstairs while he unzipped his jacket, pulled it off, and then unlaced his boots too.
The chill had found his bones, and he’d sat in front of the heater, warming his hands, when she came back down carrying bread and cheese and a knife.
About that time, a woman emerged from a side room wearing a fleece jacket and sweatpants. Sibba said something to her in Slovenian, then introduced her as the caretaker. Whatever Sibba said to her seemed to satisfy her, and she shook his hand, then headed back to her room.
“Thanks,” he said as she sat down again.
“Kat’s good people. She understands wayward hikers.”
“Is that what we are?”
She looked up from where she was unwrapping the cheese. “Maybe not lost. But definitely wayward.”
He raised an eyebrow.
She looked away and started to slice the bread. “I guess that Dedi told you where I was.”
“Drew me a map and offered to go with me.”
She grinned at that, offering a small laugh. “You’ll love this cheese. It’s called the King of Mountain Heaven.”
“That’s some cheese.” He took a bite. “Sweet. And tangy.”
“Yep. I love it with butter and bread.” She handed him a piece of bread. “We should probably save the rest for breakfast. We’ll need it before we fly.”
He’d stilled then, and she’d laughed. Raised an eyebrow.
Okay, then. “I’ll go flying with you.”
Dire words, but he meant them.
Mostly.
Because now that the sun was up and he’d had a full night’s sleep, he found himself standing on a cliff with probably too much cheese in his gullet for what was about to happen.
He stepped into his harness, which felt like a flimsy chair, and snapped together the straps. His backpack had been strapped onto the bottom, a lot like her extra bag.
She stood in front of him, checking his straps, tightening them while he held up his hands.
“How long have you been doing this?”
“I learned in the UK from some RAF pilots. Got instantly hooked. There are clubs, and I belong to one, but I prefer to fly alone.” She tightened down his chest strap. Met his eyes. “Except for today.”
“Yet you had a tandem harness and an extra helmet in your pack.”
She put on her sunglasses, then went around behind him and picked up a carabiner, hooking it onto his harness. “I was going to take Ina flying on the mountain. I hadn’t unpacked since that day. I just forgot about it when I drove out here.”
She attached the other carabiner and locked it down, then tested it. “Too much on my mind, I guess.”
Wow, he’d love to follow up on that. But at the moment, he wanted nothing on her mind but getting them off this mountain. Alive.
“Usually, I’d fly with my solo wing. The tandem sail can get a little unwieldy—”
“What?”
“—without a passenger. Although, last time I used it, it was fine.”
“How unwieldy?”
“Don’t worry, you’re great ballast.”
“I hope you’re not flying for tips.”
She laughed as she attached the wing to her harness with the carabiners.
“So, is this going to feel like I’m falling?”
“No. Like you’re flying, Spiderman.” She was sorting through the lines, making sure they were straight.
“Usually, flying comes with a choice of almonds or biscotti.”
“I gave you breakfast.”
“I’m not sure if I should regret that yet.”
Silence.
He glanced behind him and saw her check a small device. “What’s that?”
“A variometer. It’ll tell us our speed and alert us to any air pockets. If you weren’t with me, I could use it to help me find thermals. And it tracks my flight.” She shoved it into a pack at her hip. “Okay, listen. When the wing starts to fill, we’re going to run a little down the hill—yes, that one with the cliff at the edge—”
He had lifted his hand to point. She pushed it down.
“—and the wing will lift us off. If something happens, we have plenty of room to abort.”
“Abort? Is that a thing?”
“I’ve done this nearly a thousand times, so don’t panic, just listen to me.”
“Panic?”
“I can feel your heart beating.”
“No, you can’t.”
“It’s like the thunder.”
“I’m as calm as a tropical day.”
“Here’s the reserve chute line. Don’t touch it.”
He held up his hands.
“In fact, just hold on to your harness, here and here.” She banged the straps at his shoulders.
“I am attached to you, right?”
“You’re not going anywhere without me.”
That was more like it.
“Run when I tell you—not at top speed. We’re not in a race. Just enough for the wind to fill the canopy. It’ll lift us off gently.”
“Gently?”
“You won’t even notice.”
He’d bet he would.
Behind him, she turned to face the wing. “Ready?”
“Punch it!”
“Whatever that means. Okay, steady…” She tugged on the canopy, and he glanced back to see it rise. “Three, two, one…walk.”
She turned back around, and he started to walk. She fell in step behind him as the canopy rose above him. The lines began to tug up.
“Faster. But don’t sit down. Let it pull you—”
Already the canopy had risen, yanking him up.
His feet whispered against the ground—and then with a whoosh, he was flying.
The ground dropped out below, the cliff falling away, and just like that, they were soaring. Not weightless, but he sat back in the harness seat, holding on to the straps where she’d instructed.
“So…?”
“I’m a fan.”
She laughed, and it fell like sunlight into his heart. He looked back, and she held on to two handles, the brakes, moving them to direct them.
They soared over trees, the granite peaks rising around them. “Watch the birds—you can spot the thermals.” Her voice in his ear, and he watched as a hawk rode the wind. The variometer sang, and in a moment, she’d directed them toward it, and suddenly they rose.
“Did you catch that thermal?”
“Yep. I need to circle again to grab it. Lean in.”
She tugged down on her right hand, let out with her left, and he felt them rise again.
Below, the greenery rose up the peaks, the horizon stretching so far he could see Triglav peak and beyond.
“As the day heats up, the thermals will rise from the valleys. You could be up here for hours flying the valley breezes.”
“How do you not get lost?”
“Read the sun’s shadow on the trees.”
She rode the thermal around the mountain, then turned them south and directed them toward another slope. “There’ll be a beautiful heat pump up this little mountain, the way the sun is on it.”
Below them, in the distance, he spotted the parking area, their two vehicles like toy cars. Around it, thick spires of pine trees turned the foothills into a mass of green.
“We’re going to follow this ridge, get high, and then curl around into the valley and give ourselves a beautiful landing.”
“How fast are we going?”
“I try and keep our ground speed around thirty.”
