A Little Too Late (Madigan Mountain #1)(67)

And it must be bad, because otherwise Bert wouldn’t call. “Okay, what do you think I should do?” Frankly, raccoons are easier than this.

“I dunno. He’s not really dressed for sitting out there in the snow. Got no gloves or hat. How about I pull a sled around? You talk him onto it.”

“Fine. See you outside.”

“I’ll give you a fifteen-minute head start,” he says.





By the time I reach my boss, he’s lying back on one of the lift’s chairs, staring up at the sky. One leg dangles down to the snow, the other is bent, his foot propped on the seat. The chair sways gently when he sighs.

“Mark?” I say carefully. “Everything all right over here?”

“Hardly,” he grumbles. “Fuck the Sharpes and their fancy-ass whiskey. I had a ten-year chip.”

“A…what?” I ask, trying to understand.

“Ten years sober,” he slurs. “Now I don’t even have ten minutes.”

Yikes. This is not my area of expertise. “Those ten years still count, Mark.”

“Fuck everything.” He swings around and sits up properly.

Taking that as an invitation, I sit down beside him. “Was it really the Sharpes’ whiskey?”

He pulls a fancy, decorated flask out of his pocket and hands it to me.

There’s the Sharpe snake logo etched into the metal. “They gave this to you?”

“Fuckers. Told them a dozen times I don’t drink. One of ’em tucked that in my pocket on his way out.”

I don’t point out that he didn’t have to drink it, because I have no idea what his triggers are. I just put the flask in my own pocket. “You can fix this,” I say. “Where do you want to be in ten more years?”

“On a beach with Melody,” he mumbles. “But I don’t want my kid to hate me, either. Or the whole damn town. I just wanted to retire without turning everybody’s life upside down.”

“What if they needed changing?” I whisper. “Reed wants to help. Why don’t you let him?”

He hangs his head. Maybe it’s not fair to argue with a drunk man. But somebody has to sort this out, and I think that somebody might be me.

“Reed will resent me,” Mark says. “He hates this place. They all do. If he comes back here out of obligation, he’ll just hate me more.”

“That’s wrong,” I insist. “Reed needs to be needed. We all do. He got excited about the mountain again, and you just threw that in his face.”

Mark puts his head in his hands. “I love that boy. I never wanted him to leave. I never wanted any of them to leave. I shoulda said so.” He takes a shuddery breath.

“You’re still here though, right? You still have a chance to say it. It’s not too late. It’s never too late. The greatest gift you can give someone is your love.”

I know this is true, because I’m so terrified, too. It’s scary to put yourself out there. Rejection is traumatizing.

And I think Mark is just like me.

The buzz of a snowmobile’s motor growls in the distance. A moment later, Bert pulls up beside the lift.

“Oh look,” I say. “Bert is here. Want a ride home, Mark?”

“Subtle,” he mumbles.

He staggers to his feet, and I grab his arm and walk him over to the snowmobile, where Bert hops off and hands me his helmet.

Dutifully, I get onto the sled, while Bert makes sure Mark is holding on tightly and wearing a helmet. I text Melody to tell her what’s happened and ask her to meet us at the door. Then I drive slower than I’ve ever driven, heading to the A-frame, taking care that Mark doesn’t fall off.

Melody starts yelling more or less the minute we arrive. “God, Mark, really? You are going to be so mad at yourself tomorrow.”

“Save it, woman,” he growls. “I’m already there.”

“You’d better call your sponsor in the next five minutes, or I will not be responsible for my actions.”

“I mighta lost my phone somewhere.”

Melody has a lot to say about that, too.

Good thing I’m done here. I stammer out a goodnight and then burn rubber driving away from that mess.

As I motor toward the shed, my phone vibrates in my pocket, but I wait until after I’ve parked the sled and removed my helmet to check my messages. The unanswered call was from Reed. Call me, he’s texted. I miss you.

I stare at that message a long time, but I don’t call.

In the first place, I don’t have any idea what to tell Reed about his father’s relapse. If I tell him, is that betraying my boss’s confidence? Is it screwing with Reed’s head?

And in the second place, I’m angry. He’s in California, living his life, trying to put Madigan Mountain behind him.

I’m here, neck deep in all the issues he left behind.

He can hear back from me later. When I’m not so angry.





CHAPTER 31




THAT DIAMOND MINE





REED

On those rare occasions when I’m surly for more than one day in a row, Sheila usually ignores me. She “forgets” to include me in the lunch order, for example, and steers a wide berth around my desk until I remember how to be human again.