~*~
This is crazy, Elaine thought. I should never have let him talk me into this.
Waiting at the bottom of the ski lift, clutching her hired skis and stocks in her hand, Elaine hoped she did not look like the other novice skiers who wobbled awkwardly on their skis, stocks flailing, toward the lift.
‘Doc!’
She turned to see Brendan Savage walking toward her dressed in a plain blue ski jacket and racing pants, mirrored sun glasses pushed up into his brown hair. He raised a hand to greet her. She smiled and shook her head in disbelief.
Brendan Savage had to be the only person on the ski field who could make walking in ski boots look like a natural form of locomotion.
He stopped in front of her, planting the ends of his skis in the snow and looked her up and down. ‘You look like an old hand,’ he remarked with a smile.
Elaine tugged at the fashionable headband she had borrowed from one of the nurses. For the first time since What’s-His-Name, she had actually taken some care in her appearance; her long brown hair back tied back into a pony tail with a few elegant wisps framing her face and emphasing her high cheek bones. Just a touch of makeup completed the picture
‘Wow,’ the nurse remarked. ‘You scrub up pretty well.’
Elaine thought of the blonde in the surgery the day before. Perhaps that had been part of the problem three years ago. She couldn’t compete with top models.
‘Are you sure you haven't you got something better to do?’ she asked. ‘Like training for world championships?’
He smiled, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling into well practised lines. ‘It can wait. Alan wouldn't forgive me if I didn’t look out for you.’
Her hand tightened on the stocks. Alan was organising her life-- again!
‘When did you speak to Alan?’
As if reading her mind, he put up a gloved hand, the blue eyes creasing in amusement. ‘Hey I’m not doing this for Alan. I just texted him last night. Told him I’d hooked up with you again and he told me to look out for you.’He tilted his head and smiled at her. ‘Friends?’
She took a breath. How could you stay mad at a man who smiled at you like that?
‘Friends,’ she conceded.
‘Good. Now, Dr. Swift first lesson--How to Put your Skis On.’
The second lesson, How to Get on a Ski Lift, achieved, Elaine sat back on the padded seat and took an appreciative breath of the clear, cold air.
‘Man, this is a great country.’ Brendan remarked, breaking the awkward silence between them.
Elaine had to agree. The view from the ski lift was uninterrupted perfection, a picture postcard of blue skies, hazy mountains and gum trees dark against the white snow. Below her the early morning skiers cut through the fresh snow of the wide beginner's slope. She smiled as one snowboarder came to grief beneath them, coming up laughing with his face covered in snow.
Perhaps she could come to enjoy this after all.
Of course it helped to have a patient teacher and once she had gained her balance Elaine proved to be a quick learner. She only fell over twice and, to her surprise, she survived unscathed.
By the end of the morning Elaine brimmed with new found self confidence in her ability as a skier.
They shared a lunch of sandwiches and hot chocolate in the cafeteria. Champagne and caviar could not have tasted better, Elaine thought. Acutely conscious of the admiring glances Brendan drew from others in the crowded, steamy room, she listened with rapt attention as Brendan told her about his life on the circuit.
‘Can we try a different slope?’ she suggested while skilfully clipping her skis on with all the assurance of a person who had been doing it for years.
Brendan raised an eyebrow. ‘Sure, doc. Let's see what you're made of.’
Poised at the top of the run which seemed to fall away in a sheer drop, Elaine's confidence slid away. She would have loved to return to the familiar security of the nursery slope.
‘Take it slow and steady. There's no race to get to the bottom. You go and I'll follow,’ Brendan was saying.
The reassuring and professional tone of his voice calmed her nerves. Elaine took a deep breath and turned her skis downhill. She carefully traversed the top part of the slope. Feeling very pleased with herself, she looked up at Brendan who leaned on his stocks watching her progress, his brown hair lifting in the gentle wind, eyes inscrutable behind his sunglasses. He raised a hand in salute and she smiled in response.
This is great, she thought, carefully negotiating her next turn. She wondered what Brendan was doing tonight and whether he would be interested in sharing a spaghetti bolognaise at her flat.
That momentary lapse in concentration proved her undoing. Her skis assumed a mind of their own, slipping from under her. She hit the slope with a thud and careered downhill, sliding and tumbling in a tangle of stocks, skis, legs and arms. When she came to rest, she lay very still, face down in the snow, gasping for breath.
Dimly she heard the whoosh of Brendan's skis coming to rest beside her.
‘Elaine are you all right?’ Genuine concern edged his voice.
No I'm not, she thought as she slowly regained her breath and did a mental stock take of her limbs. Surprisingly, ankles, knees, legs, arms and shoulders all seemed intact. Only her dignity had sustained injury.
She chose not to move.
‘Elaine speak to me!’ He touched her hair, smoothing it back from her face.
Her gloved hand tightened on a fist full of snow. Gathering her strength, she rolled over, hurling the snowball straight at his handsome, anxious face. For a brief moment, a hundred conflicting emotions registered in his eyes, relief, shock, and anger among them.
‘Why you...!’ he spluttered wiping snow from his eyes.
‘That's what you get for dumping me with a text message!’ Elaine sat up, laughing.
A well-aimed snowball in the face stopped her laughter. She retaliated and the two of them sat on the side of ski slope hurling snow at each other like a couple of children.
‘Enough!’ Brendan spluttered at last, holding up his hands in surrender. In one swift movement that took her completely unawares, he caught her by the waist, dragging her toward him.
‘Enough’ His voice softened as he brought his face down toward hers.
Elaine did not resist. Like the snow caught in her collar, she felt herself melting into his embrace. Her arms slid around his neck and her mouth came up to meet his. Their lips were cold and at the first touch they hesitated. Then they met with a powerful urgency that Elaine had never experienced before and did not remember from their earlier dates.
The fact that they were sitting on the side of the busiest ski run on the field or that they were attracting more than their share of amused glances from passing skiers and cat calls from boarders ceased to be of importance.
For her part, Elaine willed the moment not to end. She sent a silent, telepathic word of thanks to her brother for sending her to the snowfields and realised she had quite forgotten 'What's His Name'.
No, she did not remember it being like this last time. Surely this was where she belonged. The strong arm that encircled her and the lean athletic body beneath her touch was hers forever.
But forever is a long time and Brendan drew back, shaking snow from his hair. He held her close, kissing her forehead. She stared up at him and he smiled, tracing the line of her nose with a gloved finger.
‘Come on doc. If you don’t get down this mountain, you’ll be late for surgery.’