“We’re in the middle of a real badass snowstorm,” Ronnie said. “Our driveway’s completely drifted and the Interstate’s closed.”
“Oh.” Shake glanced out the window at the snow and then relaxed against her pillows. Ronnie hadn’t changed his mind after all. He was just being cautious about their safety. For some reason, this small gesture made her heart swell. Ronnie being thoughtful and mature. It was a whole new side to him. “So when do you think we can get out of here?”
“I don’t know.” His eyes bounced down to where the baby lay sleeping in her crib. “Maybe tomorrow. It depends on when our snowplow guy shows up.”
Shake gave a little shudder. “It scares me to spend one more night under this roof.”
“We’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of that.”
“Your mother wants to get rid of our baby. Give it away or maybe even sell it.”
“There’s no way I’m gonna let that happen,” Ronnie said. He gazed at Shake and offered her an encouraging smile. He thought how funny it was that Shake had never played into his rape fantasies. Of course, that first time at Club Paradise, she’d pretty much attacked him. Pulled him into the dancers’ dressing room and whispered into his ear how hunky he was. Said she wanted to be his girlfriend. He’d never forgotten that. Those might have been the kindest words that were ever spoken to him. Now something inside him made him want to protect Shake and the baby. Create a little bubble of safety for them. This feeling was new to him and he decided to proceed cautiously.
“I’m still worried,” Shake said. “Your mother is getting freakier and freakier.” She didn’t want to bring up the subject of this past Tuesday night, when Ronnie had slipped out with his mother. Didn’t want to pry too much. She might lift a rock and find something ugly and dirty wiggling around underneath it.
“How are you feeling?” Ronnie asked.
“Hurts,” Shake said. She knew what Ronnie really meant. How are you feeling down there? “But I can still get to the bathroom okay. Probably could walk around if I really had to. I know I could make it down to the car.”
“Good. I’m gonna put together a few things downstairs. You still got that purple duffel bag?”
“In the closet,” Shake said. It was still half full from when she’d tried to run away before.
Shake’s new, improved Ronnie gave a half smile. “Start thinking about what you want to bring with you. Tonight I’ll help you pack.”
44
SCALING the cliff was definitely not a piece of cake. With the relentless wind buffeting her and tiny snow crystals stinging her eyes and face like needles, Afton felt uneasy and clumsy. Still, she was moving from one rock to another with what she hoped was a degree of authority. Moving steadily upward, always gaining ground, digging in with her crampons, using her ice ax to find purchase.
Halfway up, the easy lower half, she snugged one end of her rope around an outcropping of rocks. She calculated the distance upward, and looped the other end around her waist in a sort of self-belay. Now if she fell, she might be able to arrest her fall if she could react fast enough. A small comfort, but not insignificant in the scheme of things.
The top half of the cliff was much more difficult. The angle she’d taken had led to a daunting wall of limestone that left her feeling exposed. Afton crab-stepped to her left, hoping to find a few decent handholds and toeholds. She was wearing thin climbing gloves and her fingers were starting to stiffen up in the cold. She forced herself to stop moving, laid her cheek against the frozen wall, and jammed her right hand inside her coat. She waited two minutes while her hand thawed out, and then did the other hand.
There. Much better.
Afton started climbing again, slowly and methodically, finding a lip of rock here, a nose of rock there. As she muscled herself upward, her entire body began to warm and she began to feel in sync with the climb.
Twenty feet from the top, the juts of rock flattened out even more. Now she was free climbing, searching for fingerholds instead of handholds.
But there have to be some good holds, right?
Not necessarily.
Gotta be a couple. Somewhere.
Afton flattened herself against the sheer rock face and peered up, half closing one eye. There they were . . . a few cracks and juts of rock. She knew that a successful ascent depended on strength, control, and finesse. She just prayed she had enough energy left to muster all three of these elements.
Twenty feet above her, now fifteen feet above her, she could see a cornice, a dangerous overhang of snow. That would be the tricky part, the part where she’d depend solely on her upper body strength and the sharpness of her ice ax.
She felt almost mechanical now. Climb, thrust, climb. Keep the rhythm going. She stretched an arm high above her head, swung her ice ax hard, and hoped for the best . . .
Whack!
The steel claw bit in securely.