25

The evening meal passed in relative quiet—at least for a bustling hotel. But Cassidy couldn’t wait to spend more time with her grandparents. Nothing could put a damper on the joy she’d felt the last day getting to know them.

As soon as she’d gone back and forgiven them, a beautiful blanket of peace seemed to rest on her shoulders. Now she couldn’t wait for Dad to get back so he could share in this joy.

Grandmother Callaghan sat at a table in the dining room with her tea, waiting for Cassidy to be done.

“Grandmother.” Cassidy plopped in a chair across from her. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

“Not to worry, my dear one. It has been fun to watch you work.” She pointed at her bowl with her spoon. “What is this delicious dessert you created?”

“Lemon soufflé. It’s Mrs. Johnson’s secret recipe.”

“It’s delightful.”

“Thank you.” Praise from the woman who gave birth to her own mother gave her more happiness than she could have known. “Where is Grandfather?”

“He’s been so tired from the travel and excitement of finding you that he went to bed. He hoped you wouldna mind.”

“Not at all.” Cassidy smiled and folded her hands. “Would you tell me more about the family?”

“I’d love to.” The lines on her face crinkled around her eyes. “Did you know you were named after my family?”

“Yes. My dad told me that my name was the last gift that my mother gave me before she died.”

“Cassidy is a good, strong, noble Irish name. It was my family name. My father’s name—your great grandfather—was Ewan Cassidy.”

“What does it mean?”

Grandmother laughed. “It means ‘clever one’ or ‘one with the twisted locks.’ But your mother’s hair didn’t have a bit of curl, and neither does yours.”

Cassidy wondered if that was why dad always called her “Clever Cassidy” as a little girl. The memory brought a smile to her face. “Tell me about my mother, please.”

“Oh, she was such a sweet girl. She was our pride and joy. Voice like an angel. She loved to help with church—especially with the children. And the children loved her. She was always so happy. Her father—your grandfather—used to say she was ‘as sunny as the day she was born.’ Nothing ever seemed to make her sad—unless it was some injustice done to someone she loved.” Her grandmother frowned. “Like the way we treated your father.”

“Was it really just that Dad was part Athabaskan?” Cassidy hadn’t really meant to ask the question aloud, but now that it was out, there was no taking it back.

Grandmother sighed. “No. At least not for me. I think it was more about losing my daughter. You see, we knew we wouldn’t stay in Alaska forever, but if Eliza married your father, I knew she would never leave—because I knew your father would never leave. It was clear how much he loved this land.

“I think there was a part of me that was jealous of the affection Eliza held for him.” She shook her head. “I was so wrong. I had my piety and my religion, but no charity—no love. I can only pray your father will find forgiveness in his heart.”

Cassidy smiled. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. I’ve never seen Dad refuse someone forgiveness.”

“Perhaps no one has ever hurt him as much as we have.”

Shrugging, Cassidy didn’t feel she could countermand the woman’s statement. “With Dad it’s never been about the degree of wrong done him. He forgives openly and willingly because he wants forgiveness in return. At least that’s what he’s always telling me. If I know him as I think I do, he’ll be seeking your forgiveness.”

“Oh, but he doesn’t need to. The only thing we ever held against him was loving your mother—and we both know that wasn’t a sin or anything that needs to be forgiven.”

Now that they were talking about her father, Cassidy couldn’t help but let her worries creep to the front of her thoughts. If something happened up there, she wouldn’t get word until long after the fact. He could die . . . they could both be killed by an avalanche or lose their footing and fall off the mountain and Cassidy wouldn’t know about it until days, even weeks afterward. She truly regretted having spent any time in anger toward Allan and her father.

“I can see you are far away.” Grandmother stifled a yawn.

“I was just thinking of my father up there on the mountain.” Cassidy stood and forced a smile. “But I’ve kept you up way too late as it is. Why don’t you let me walk you to your room?”

“I’d like that very much.”

The frailty of her grandmother’s arms couldn’t be hidden by the woman’s thick sweater. Cassidy slowed her pace and once again sent a prayer heavenward, thanking God for the opportunity to be reunited with family before it was too late.

Once she had her grandmother safely delivered to her room, Cassidy walked outside. The summer days of long light were gone and now the skies were dark. At least here she had the glow of electric lights to mark her way, but on the mountain they had nothing more than their lanterns.

She looked in the direction of Denali and wondered where they were. Were they safe? Wrapping her arms around her body, Cassidy couldn’t help the thought that came to mind.

Why didn’t she tell Allan that she loved him?

The wind was stronger than any he’d ever felt. Allan bundled up inside the tent he and John shared and drank the tea before it lost all its heat. He also wrestled with his conscience and God. For so long now he had blamed God for his father’s death, but now that he was here . . . near to where his father had died, Allan felt he had to make his peace.

I don’t really know where to start. He tried to imagine God sitting on His throne in His full majesty. I’ve been so wrong—so angry. I knew it wasn’t right to blame You or John for Dad’s death, but I had to blame someone . . . and . . . well, I couldn’t blame Dad. Even though he was the one who made the decision to come. He knew all the risks, but came anyway.

I think for a long time I’ve been mad at him more than anyone else, but I couldn’t admit it. Not to myself or anyone else, and certainly not to You. Allan had been considering this for most of the climb that day and now that he’d allowed himself to realize the truth, it was like a dam had burst. His emotions and memories flooded down over the years.

“I need Your forgiveness.” The words were barely whispered but seemed to echo in Allan’s head. “Please, God—Father—forgive me.” For a moment the wind ceased and there was absolute silence. With it came peace to Allan’s weary heart.

Then just as quickly the wind started up again and the tent shook harder than before.

John entered as he tried to shake off all the snow. “It’s not good.”

Allan nodded. “I guess that storm you prayed for is upon us.” He didn’t speak very loud, but he knew John heard him.

“Yes. I knew God answered prayers, but I guess I didn’t realize what I was asking for.” John sat down by the camp stove and extended his hands. “I tried to convince Frank to join us here, but he refused. ”

It had been three days since they’d left the native men, sleds, and dogs at a camp on the glacier. Each day, they’d made a little progress, but John and Allan purposefully slowed their pace. Frank had been edgy and irritable, but the weather had been nice, so they’d pushed on. Today, they made it over a towering wall and could no longer see the camp below them. Which meant the men from the camp couldn’t see them either. And that made Allan’s hackles rise. Up until this point, they’d had other people around them. But now, they were truly alone with Frank. And they didn’t know what he had planned.

A strong sense of foreboding filled him.

John sat cross-legged on the floor and then pulled out his notes and a map. “We’re in dangerous territory. Not good in the middle of a storm.”

“Do you think Frank will suspect if we suggest we turn around?” Allan handed him a tin cup with hot tea. John took it and sipped it before answering. He set the cup aside and returned his attention to his book of notes.

“Probably. At least if we don’t wait a few days to let the storm pass. We have enough provisions.” John closed his book. “And Frank will remember from the last time that we had to hunker down and wait more than once. There’s also the possibility that this storm will last for a week or more. Up here on the mountain it’s not at all unusual. Maybe if it continues we can convince him that it’s impossible to go on—that we simply waited too late in the season.”

Allan nodded. “I think we have grounds to declare that now. It’s obvious the snows are going to be heavy. We can remind him how difficult it is to break a path through new snow. I’m sure he must remember that.”

John grimaced. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s miserable up here. He doesn’t want to be here.”

“Sure, I’ve noticed.”

“Well, that means he came here for an entirely different reason than just to climb. A reason that made him willing to risk his own comfort—possibly his own life. What isn’t clear is what he has planned. I think you and I should sleep in shifts so that one of us is always awake. I just don’t trust him.”

The gravity of the situation before them scared Allan.

“I suggest we pray. It’s the only surety we have.”

John smiled, seeming to sense the change that had taken place in Allan’s heart. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

Another day, another train. Cassidy watched the southbound train pull in. No doubt filled with hungry men from the railroad. The workers had been flooding in and heading south the past couple days now that their work was complete up north. A lot of them wanted to get home before the snow started to fall. And she couldn’t blame them.

She went back into the kitchen to see what needed to be finished up for dinner. Time with her grandparents had been wonderful, but she still couldn’t wait for the return of Dad. The time with her grandparents had also taught her that time was short—if Allan Brennan came back and told her he cared for her, then she would sit him down and tell him that he needed to let go of his anger toward God before she could give him her heart. No more mincing of words. No more waiting for him to see the light. She cared about him. A lot. Enough to tell him the truth.

The railroad agent, Mr. Fitzgerald, entered the kitchen and called out, “Miss Ivanoff!”

She wiped her hands and went over to him. “Yes, sir.”

“We’ve just gotten terrible news that there’s a massive storm sitting over the mountains. Some of the men say the natives told them it was worse than anything else they’ve seen.” He looked down at the floor. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I wanted to tell you personally.”

A hand flew to her mouth. Her worst fears had just come true. She’d been so consumed with her grandparents and her own thoughts that she’d hardly given the weather any thought.

After dinner, Cassidy received permission from Mrs. Johnson to take the rest of the evening off.

Racing up Deadhorse Hill in her apron and dress, she didn’t care a lick about her attire or any danger that might befall her. She just had to see for herself. Had to get a glimpse of what the men were all talking about around the tables. The light was fading fast, which only made the urgency greater. She stumbled on something and barely righted herself before hugging the ground. Another time, the thought might have amused her.

When she finally reached the top, an icy wind cut across her. The temperature had dropped considerably since earlier in the day. Cassidy drew in her breath and held it before turning to face the view. Thick, black, swirling clouds to the west told her the story she didn’t want to hear. The Great One was completely engulfed, and the storm was moving toward the hotel at a rapid pace. For a moment she was mesmerized and then a blast of cold wind hit her face. She let out the breath she’d been holding and fell to her knees. “Oh, God, please don’t take them from me! Please!”

Her mind raced to remember their plan. If they’d followed the itinerary, Dad and Allan . . . and Frank would be close to ten thousand feet up the mountain. This storm could cover them in hours, and they might be buried alive. They might already be! The temperatures would be subzero and there would be no place to take refuge except the tents they’d carried with them. And depending on how quickly the storm came up, they might not even have had time to erect the tents.

“No, Dad would have been more aware of the weather than that,” she told herself aloud. It did little to comfort her.

“Miss Cassidy, Miss Cassidy!” Thomas’s voice drifted up to her. “Miss Cassidy!”

She tried to collect herself and stood. “I’m here, Thomas.”

“Miss Cassidy, we need to get down from here right now. The storm is coming this way. Mrs. Johnson told Mr. Bradley where you went and they sent me to fetch you. They’re preparing for a doozy down at the hotel.”

She nodded. “I just had to see for myself.” She pointed toward the mountains.

When Thomas’s gaze followed her finger, he gasped. “Oh no! But I’m sure Mr. Ivanoff and Mr. Brennan are hunkered down and waiting it out. Nobody is as smart as your dad when it comes to that mountain.” He grabbed her hand. “But we’ve got our own problems. We’ve got to get down.”

Sheets of rain began to pelt them with no mercy, and Cassidy half ran, half slid her way down the top part of the hill. The wind was a constant opponent, leaving her exhausted, just fighting to stay upright. Finally, Cassidy gave up and plopped down. She began to work her way down, letting her backside anchor her to the ground. It kept her center of gravity lower, and her feet could at least guide her over rocks. Thomas looked at her like she was crazy, but he soon joined her, offering whatever help he could. He stayed beside her the whole time, making sure she didn’t get to going too fast.

By the time they reached the bottom of the hill, the rain had turned to snow. And by the time they made it to the hotel doors, it looked like a full-on blizzard.

If it was this bad down here, how bad was it up on Denali?

Oh, Lord God. Please help them!