“That’s five minutes more than I’m prepared to give.”
“You’re angry.”
“You think? What gave me away? Is it the fact that my expression generally matches my mood so what you’re seeing here—” she drew circles in the air around her face “—is angry face, not happy face, puzzled face or concerned face. If I had a lied-to face, I’d be wearing that one, but I don’t have that face. You, on the other hand, give nothing away. When we were naked in that bed, I had no idea you weren’t who you said you were.”
“I am who I said I was.”
“You have a whole history that you forgot to mention.”
“I didn’t mention it to begin with because I wasn’t sure how to handle it. It’s a sensitive topic and I didn’t want to upset you all. I’m not here to write about the accident. I never was.”
“Maybe not, but you’re here because of the accident. You didn’t just pick us randomly from a map. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t just call and say, Hi, remember my parents? I’d like to talk to you all.”
“It wasn’t that simple. You were too young to remember it, but immediately after the accident, tensions were high.”
“You mean that your aunt behaved like a crazy woman, although how she could possibly have been in a position to form an opinion on what happened when she spent her days working in a Manhattan high-rise is beyond me.” She knew she was being unfair, but her sense of betrayal blocked her ability to be calm and rational. Instead all she could think was what it must have been like for Suzanne, physically and emotionally bruised by her own close brush with death, tormented by her own questions as to whether she could somehow have avoided what happened.
Posy had the insight to know her reaction was about more than Luke. It was about Hannah. It was about the complexity of relationships.
“Trudy was close to her sister—” he hesitated “—to my mother. She was distraught.”
“I saw the news footage. Your aunt was like a wild animal, yelling and hysterical.”
There was one photo in particular that she remembered where Luke’s aunt had cornered Suzanne and was clearly shouting. Suzanne had the look of an animal being hunted. It had made Posy feel sick to see that photograph.
Luke took his boots off and walked over to her. “I’m not defending her. And you’re right, part of her reaction stemmed from the fact that my aunt didn’t understand climbing at all. She lived in a city and worked in an office. She loved art and opera. She didn’t understand why her sister chose to climb, she didn’t understand the appeal or why anyone would take a risk. We both know there are two types of people in this world—those who understand climbers, and those who don’t. Answer a question for me—when you go out on a rescue, are you angry with the people for exposing themselves to the elements?”
Posy stared at him, wrong-footed by the question. “No.”
“You go into those mountains, in sometimes lethal weather conditions, to find someone who put themselves in that position through choice. No one forced them to go. It was voluntary. And there you are, having to take Bonnie out into the snow and bad weather. Both of you could be killed. That doesn’t make you angry and frustrated?”
Posy stared at him. “Of course not.”
“Right. But someone from the outside, who doesn’t have that love for the mountains, passion for climbing or understanding of the pull of the outdoors, doesn’t get it. You’ve seen it as often as I have—people being blamed for being ‘selfish.’ For putting other people’s lives at risk. And yet the rescuers themselves don’t feel that way. They understand what draws people to the mountains.”
“So you’re basically saying your aunt’s behavior should be forgiven because she didn’t understand the whole mountain climbing thing.”
“I’m giving you the context for her reaction. And the need to blame someone is a common aspect of grief.”
“And she chose to blame Suzanne, who was already traumatized. Did you know that she gave up guiding after that? She never climbed again. She felt responsible.”
He took the hit without flinching. “And my aunt contributed to that.”
“Yes. And also to the nightmares and the continuing feelings of survivor guilt that never go away. You have no idea.” Posy scrambled to her feet and took off her coat, shaking snow over the floor. She wasn’t going to be sweet-talked. She wasn’t that easy.
“I went through it, too, Posy.” For once, he wasn’t smiling. “I lost my parents that day.”
All the fight went out of her.
She dropped onto the sofa, exhausted and confused.
She felt something wet on her hand and glanced down to see Bonnie licking her.
“Your dog is worried about you.” He paused. “And so am I.”
“It’s a bit late to be worried about me.”
&n