Uncle Ted says. “How do you know Dean, Tristan?”
“Climbing club.” I peck my mother’s cheek. “Thanks for the ride. Have a good doctor’s appointment. See you right after school.” I turn to my uncle as I get out of the car. “And thanks, Uncle Ted.”
I’m heading for the school steps when Brigit appears out of nowhere, fingers locked on Dean’s left ear. She blocks my way but addresses her brother.
“Where were you last night?”
“In Tristan’s barn,” Dean says, squirming. “Ouch. Lemme go.”
Little brat’s trying to get me in trouble.
“And why is that?” she demands, looking from him to me.
“Just wanted to see where he lived,” Dean says.
“So now that you’ve seen our estate” — I speak up teasingly — “kindly wait for the gold-embossed invitation before you visit next.” I turn to his sister. “I didn’t see him till he dropped out of a tree in front of me this morning. He followed me from the barn after freaking out our hens so much they didn’t lay.”
“Only two of them,” Dean corrects me.
“I’m sorry,” she says, and her face relaxes. “He sneaks out a lot, but not usually all night, and certainly not trespassing on other people’s property.”
“And asking them for breakfast and a ride to school,” I can’t resist adding, since it doesn’t look like he’s in deep enough doo-doo.
Dean gives me dagger-eyes like I’m a traitor. Brigit’s frown returns.
“Tristan can go!” Dean says suddenly, brightening. “He got permission from his mom.”
I expect her to start in on him again, but she turns an unexpectedly warm smile on me. “Is that true? You’re joining our trip on Sunday? That’s great news.”
I shift from one foot to the other. Why is it such great news? I don’t even know this woman. She needs slave labour? Or maybe Dean’s coming and she wants a babysitter?
“I’m honoured to have Julian Gordon’s son along. You look a lot like him, you know.”
“You knew my dad?” I’m astonished. She moved here only two months ago from Lillooet, right? Barely enough time to have heard anything about my family. Obviously too late to have met him. Maybe she just saw a photo in the Lillooet newspaper at the time and noticed ’cause she’s a canyoneer, too.
“Anyway, don’t worry,” she says, like I haven’t spoken. “I won’t be putting you to work or anything. You’ll be a special guest. There are three others joining us: a couple and an experienced canyoneer on vacation from somewhere in Europe.”
“Dominik. From Poland,” I guess.
Her eyebrows rise. “Oh, you know him? Okay, all the better.”
“Is Dean coming?” He’s a good enough climber, I figure. But —
“Absolutely not. I’ve hired a babysitter for him.”
“Okay.” I wink sympathetically at Dean as he wriggles clear of Brigit’s hold like a salmon from an eagle’s claws.
I get a quick grin back as he disappears into the wave of students entering the school.
Brigit and I discuss what equipment I’ll need, and she gives me directions for when and where to meet up with the group.
“So glad you’re joining us, Tristan. See you soon.” She beams me one of the sunniest smiles I’ve had from anyone in months.
I turn and walk into school, both confused and giddy. I’m going on an adventure, and a professional canyoneering guide not only knows I’m alive, but also maybe respects me, has heard that I’m a good canyoneer. I feel myself smiling, really smiling, for the first time in ages.
“Phil!” I shout when I spot my friend. “Guess what!”
CHAPTER 5
The Sunday customers turn out to be Dominik plus some smoochie newlyweds, Harry and Angela Siefkin. Definitely nervous novices, I decide, overhearing the questions with which they pepper poor Brigit and her thirty-five-year-old boss, Alex, during the entire bouncing truck ride to our hike-in point:
“How long is this canyon hike?”
“If we get scared, can we turn back?”
“You’ll show us how to put on all this gear, right?”
“Why do we have to wear helmets?”
“Just checking, but you said we’d be back before dark?”
“Relax, you’ll love it, and you’re with my best guide!” Alex says after answering their questions. “And yes, I’ll be at the end point with the truck to pick you up well before dark. Here we are!” He pulls the Chevy up to the trailhead, hops out, and stretches. “Lucky we had such a dry winter, so we can start trips early this year.”
A little too early, I’m thinking; Dad would never have put his customers in a stream in June, when the air is still chilly, and there’s more chance of a downpour and snowmelt bringing flash floods. Still, I’m not that worried. It’s only a little early, and it’s only the Upper Canyon.
“Alex is more about profits than safety,” Dad used to worry out loud to Mom and me. But I figure he was exaggerating because the two were competitors. “Plus, he spends all his days off going into the canyon alone,” Dad would say. “For no reason he’ll ever tell me. Fool.”
Of course, Alex’s guiding service has raked in the dough since Dad disappeared.
“You mean June isn’t such a good time to try canyoneering?” Harry asks, frowning as he and Angela sign release forms that protect Swallow Canyon Expeditions if anything bad happens. Dominik and I, having already signed ours, busy ourselves helping Brigit unload gear.
“I’m just saying we don’t usually start up until July,” Alex says cautiously, “when water levels in the canyon tend to go down. But this winter has been unusually dry, so you’ll be absolutely fine. It’s special being on the first trip of the year!”
“Can’t wait,” I say, my body tingling with excitement as I arrange my wetsuit and ropes in my backpack and strap my helmet on top of it. I can’t help feeling like a freed prisoner after a tough fall and winter spent mostly indoors. But I’m also proud of how I’ve kept Mom and me going. Giving some stuff up — big deal. This day will have been worth the wait.
“Seek out the seed of triumph in every adversity,” Dad used to say, quoting some guy named Og.
Alex has said little to me the entire drive; maybe he’s a little uncomfortable around me because of his and Dad’s relationship, or maybe he feels sorry for me about losing Dad. Anyway, he turns to me now and says, “Glad to see you back at it, young Tristan. Your dad would be proud. How’s your mom
