greasy and eyes bloodshot from the sunscreen and sweat and her lips blistered, the
sight of Kelly took his breath away. It invaded what was left of his dwindling
memories of Jamie. It was difficult enough to remember what Jamie looked like
without waking to this other woman, this strange, harrowed beauty. But the truth
was, he did want to wake to her.
'It's just me,' he said.
'What would you think if we hooked up?' she asked. 'I think we're the last two not
paired off. And this is the last of the tents.' She seemed to think he might say no.
'I'd like that,' Abe said.
He reined it all in – the libido, the fantasies, the disbelief at his good fortune. In
itself, the prospect of a tentmate cheered him. He had grown tired of being alone at
Base, even with the traffic of visitors in and out of his tent. Kelly would be good
company, he sensed, and she could teach him things about the mountain. If things
worked out, they might even team up for some climbing and carrying. Abe had
noticed most of the climbers already matched up, and it was starting to look like he
and Kelly were the ugly ducklings. Thomas was looking at them from an uphill tent,
but when Abe stared back, he ducked away.
Quickly, because it was turning cold now, they set up house together. Kelly crawled
inside first. One at a time, Abe handed her the basics, staying outside while she laid
out their pads and sleeping bags, then hung a small propane cookstove by wires from
the ceiling. Elsewhere, other climbers were going through the same ritual, bracing for
night. One by one, they climbed into their tents and zipped up.
While Kelly worked in the tent, Abe watched Sonam, a Sherpa with gap teeth and
the slow gait of a sumo wrestler, chop pieces of ice from the bare glacier with his ice
axe. Like some burly Yankee peddler, he loaded the pieces into a burlap sack and
carried the ice around from tent to tent, leaving a pile of chips for each to use.
As Sonam approached, Abe could hear him mumbling prayers under his breath. He
dumped some chips by Abe and Kelly's door and looked up and said, 'Docta sob, docta
sob.'
'Thank you,' the doctor sahib said.
'Oh ho,' Sonam droned on, and returned to his prayers and ice delivery.
Abe was the last to get out of the wind. He took one last look at the mountain
overhead, then scooted into the doorway, feet last. He removed his shoes and clapped
off the limestone gravel and zipped the door shut. He was alone with one of the most
beautiful women on earth, but suddenly it didn't matter. There were more important
things than desire. Warmth and food and plain company easily outweighed other
inspirations.
Kelly had already fired up their little hanging cookstove and started a potful of ice
melting for hot chocolate. Until the team's second mess tent arrived with the next yak
train, the only communal meals the group was likely to share would be outside on
sunny days. For the time being, each pair of climbers cooked for itself. Over the next
two hours, Abe and Kelly took turns melting ice chips and cooking noodle soup or hot
drinks and melting more ice. It was vital that they drink two gallons or more per day.
Abe had quickly learned to read his urine, a literacy peculiar to high altitude
mountaineering. The darker the urine, the worse your dehydration, and at these
heights dehydration was a homicidal maniac. One's bodily fluids vanished into thin air,
expired and sweated away at dangerous rates.
It grew dark and cold, but they kept the flame at work under pot after pot of ice
melt. It gave them something to do while they talked. Abe learned a little about
Kelly's life in Spokane, that she was a biology teacher at a rural high school, that her
sisters all had babies, that she had been the youngest, and that her mother had long
ago despaired of her climbing adventures.
'It surprised me that you teach,' Abe said. 'They told me you were a model.' He was
thinking specifically of the hundreds of thousands of dollars in endorsement money
she'd brought in to the expedition.
'No way.' Kelly laughed self-consciously. 'It's one thing to hang clothes on a beat-up
blonde in the outdoors. As long as you keep the camera at a distance, I'm okay. But for
studio work, you have to be gorgeous. No wrinkles. No scars. No way. Not me.'
'But you must get a percentage of the endorsement money,' Abe said.
'Of course not,' Kelly said. 'I'm a climber, not a model.' She wasn't just shocked. She
was angry.
Abe saw he'd touched a nerve. 'I didn't mean to pry,' he said, and made himself busy
with the stove.
Kelly was frowning, figuring something out. 'It's okay,' she said. 'I just can't fight
everybody all of the time.'
'I don't know what that means.'
'This Barbie-doll crap. People act like I don't have any credentials. Like I'm here for
the photo ops but not for the climb.'
Abe didn't deny it. It was true. He'd heard the others talking. Until now it hadn't
occurred to him that Kelly might object to her role. 'Actually that sounds familiar,' he
said. 'They brought me along to doctor. But I came to climb, too. And I'm having my
doubts whether they'll ever let me.'
Kelly weighed his sincerity and was satisfied. 'That's what I mean,' she said. 'I know
I'm not the greatest climber in the world. I'm not a Daniel, say. But then no one else is
Daniel either. We all brought our weaknesses here.'
Now seemed the time for Abe to sketch some of his own past, and as an act of faith –
to whom he couldn't say – he mentioned Jamie.
'I didn't know her name,' Kelly said. 'But I knew you were married. Jorgens told me.'
Abe was quick to deny it. He had indeed said that to Jorgens, but only to gain some
sort of advantage that was lost to him just now. 'But I'm not,' he told Kelly. 'Not really.'
Kelly looked at him. 'Right,' she said. She'd heard that one before.
Abe started to elaborate. Kelly cut him off.
'I've been here before, you know. At the foot of the Hill with three months to go. A
woman in a tent with a man I've never met. And every time before I've thought, this
time it's going to happen. But every time it's been a bust.'
She was talking about Thomas, Abe realized. Thomas or others. Or perhaps she
meant only the summit.
Abe decided he was better off talking about her dreams of the summit than of
Thomas. 'How high have you gotten?' he asked.
'To the South Col,' she answered. Besides designating the easy route on Everest
Nepal-side, the South Col was also a feature, a broad dip in the ridge between Everest
and another of its satellite peaks, Lhotse. Situated at over 26,000 feet, the col
provided a virtual meadow for climbers to camp in before making their final leap
upward.
'So close,' Abe said. 'Was there a storm?' That was mountaineering diplomacy
talking. One put questions about failure delicately, and storms were a favorite
scapegoat.
'No,' Kelly said. 'I don't know what you've been told. But there was no storm.'
Abe didn't press.
'This might sound bizarre,' she said, 'but I once thought love might have something
to do with it.' And still she didn't say Thomas's name. 'I was wrong. Wrong up here
anyway. Up here it only breeds distraction. It gets in the way.' She glanced at Abe,
and he saw the plea in her eyes. 'That's not what love should be,' she finished softly.