A Walk Along the Beach(39)

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When I arrived back at our apartment, Harper was spread out on the sofa with Snowball asleep on her tummy. She seemed completely wrung out. Her face was red from exertion and her clothes clung to her body.

“Hey,” she said, turning her head to look at me when I entered.

“Hey, back at you.” I resisted the urge to mention how dreadful she looked.

“You’re late tonight. Sean hasn’t had a relapse, has he?”

I set my purse aside and walked into the kitchen and got a bottle of water. “Sean’s recovering more every day. His mother is concerned that he’s pushing himself too hard and I agree with her. I decided to stop off and see Dad after I left.”

“How is he?”

“About the same.” Same ol’, same ol’. “And before you ask, I didn’t see any evidence that he was drinking.”

“That’s good,” she said with a sigh. “How long are Sean’s folks staying?”

“They leave in the morning.”

Sitting on the chair angled next to the sofa, I looked at Harper. Her face remained flushed. In all the times she’d been to these conditioning sessions I had never seen her take to the sofa afterward. I broached the subject carefully. “How was tonight’s workout?”

“Brutal.”

    Unable to resist, I felt I had to ask. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“Of course,” she replied flippantly, as if it was a ridiculous question.

Her attitude alarmed me. “Harper, climbing Mount Rainier isn’t a matter of life and death. If you don’t make it this time, there’s always next year. You don’t need to kill yourself to make a point. We all know how mentally tough you are. You don’t have anything to prove.” I resisted asking her if John had suggested the same thing. As her climbing partner and a physician, he might well have shared my concerns.

Harper laughed as if she found my warning amusing. “I didn’t come this far to back out now. A few of us are doing a practice climb this weekend. That will be the real test to see if we have what it takes.”

“Am I hearing a note of doubt in your voice?” I asked. From the first moment she’d announced this summer challenge, Harper had been gung-ho. She was singing “Climb Every Mountain,” the song from The Sound of Music, bragging to all who would listen about how she was a mountain climber. She’d been the one to talk a few of her friends into joining her. Not once in all these weeks had her confidence wavered. Although her words said otherwise, I sensed her hesitation.

“Promise me, after this weekend’s practice, that if you feel it’s too much you’ll bow out.”

“Nope. Not making that promise.”

“Harper!”

“I’m all in.”

Twice this evening I’d heard someone make that claim. I bit down on my tongue to keep from arguing. Anything more I said to talk reason would only cause her to stiffen her pride.

“It’s summit or plummet.”

“What?” I cried, thinking of the news coverage from last summer when a climber had fallen into a crevasse. Despite repeated attempts, the body had never been recovered.

    “Don’t even think that,” I warned. It was bad enough that she’d voiced it.

“Chill, Willa,” Harper said, laughing. Holding on to Snowball, she swiveled her legs out and sat upright.

When it came to my sister’s welfare, “chilling” was a problem. My natural inclination was to worry about her. But I realized now that, having survived cancer, Harper wanted to live life to the fullest.

“Oh, before I forget, Chantelle sent a text,” she said as she set Snowball down on the floor. “She wants to do a fitting for our dresses.”

“Great. When?”

“This weekend. It should be on your phone, too.”

I collected my purse to retrieve my phone. I hadn’t looked at it in several hours. Sure enough, there was a text from my soon-to-be sister-in-law. “Saturday at noon.” The note said Lucas would be coming with her. I hesitated. My weekend was already busy.

“I can’t be here.”

“Did you let her know? We’ll need to find another date.”

“No way,” Harper protested. “We’re close enough to the same size. If the dress fits you it’ll fit me. I don’t want to hold up Chantelle.”

I didn’t feel good about trying on Harper’s dress, especially since the design was different from my own, shorter; besides, Harper had bigger boobs than I did. If it didn’t fit her at the wedding, I’d feel dreadful.

She must have read the hesitation in my eyes because she braced her hands against her hips and sighed heavily, as if I was being unreasonable. “Come on, Willa. You can do this one small thing, can’t you?”

“Let me think about it.” The timing wasn’t great. Friday night was the Relay for Life event. Both Harper and I were deeply involved in that. Then on Saturday, Harper intended to do this practice climb. Another weekend would work much better for us both. I was surprised Harper hadn’t suggested that.

    With my phone in my hand, I sent Chantelle a text. Need to reschedule. Is that a problem?