Jax sees the look and mutters, “She should pay more attention to her kid instead of worrying about a few curse words.”
I turn to look, and I see that child playing right by the edge of the trail, overlooking a steep descent into the crater.
I hang back a little as the group slowly shuffles along a dirt path that circles the rim of the volcano. Ahead, the trail narrows, hugging the inside of the mouth, spiraling in circles around the massive crater. The dormant volcano teems with life: Birds, reptiles, flowering trees of all kinds that I’ve never seen before. It’s going to be a pleasant, shady, if slightly humid, trek down to the bottom, where we’re scheduled to swim in a hot spring and eat a picnic lunch. From there, we’re supposed to follow an underground tunnel to the outside, where golf carts will be available to drive back to the hotel.
To both my and Jax’s surprise, Austin is here, but of course, still behaving like his aloof and stoic self. Why did he even bother to show up if he’s so blasé about it? A strange knot forms in my stomach; it’s because he felt obligated to join us after our massage therapists teased him about my invitation. And now, it feels like I’ve been chasing him, which I have not.
Impossibly, Austin seems even more distant than usual, but then again, his aviators hide a lot.
Finally, I see what’s got him preoccupied. He’s watching the errant kid.
The kid, whose name is Isaac from what I’ve gathered from his older sister’s scolding of him, is ignoring his sister’s admonishments. “Isaac! You’re missing it. The part about the island gods.”
Isaac is far more interested in examining a giant tortoise that has ambled up the path. He mounts it like it’s a horse, and the tour guide stops talking.
“In 1877—Please get off the tortoise before you injure him. Now, where was I?” Unlike a lot of the overly accommodating resort employees, I can tell Brooks pulls no punches when guests are misbehaving.
The mom scoffs, “Well, you don’t have to be so sharp with him. He’s only seven.”
Surprising me, Jax claps back in defense of our tour guide. “Well, if you won’t supervise your kid, someone has to.”
I glance over at the mom, who looks like she’s about to take off her earrings. Jax looks back at her as if she’s daring her to make a move. Austin is smirking, apparently looking forward to a catfight.
That’s when it happens.
Isaac, the little shit, slides off the tortoise’s back and, with a loud “Whee!” goes tumbling down the wall of the crater.
“Isaac!” the dad shouts while the mom screams.
Then everyone in the group is panicking and rushing to the edge.
When I look down, little Isaac has slid down the earthen slope on his stomach, slowed by the friction of soil and rocks and small plants. He is unhurt and indeed looks as if he’s having the time of his life.
I watch as Austin curses, then climbs down after him. “Hang on,” he mutters as if this happens every day.
We all watch as Austin grabs hold of a vining plant and lowers himself down, calmly talking to Isaac the entire time. Isaac’s feet slip around on a mossy rock, but he’s holding on to the base of a small tree.
Austin is about three feet above the kid. “Isaac, buddy, how are you doing?”
The kid responds, and for the first time, sounds a little worried. “I’m…I’m okay.”
Austin is trying to hang on while holding onto the line and unwind it. He finally has enough slack let out that he can drop it down to Isaac. I’m sweating so much my whole body is soaked. Even though this is a tense moment, I can’t keep my eyes from traveling down to those mountain climber calves.
Not the time, Sierra, I think to myself.
The vine drops down to where Isaac is, but just as he’s about to grab for the vine, his feet slip in the mud three more feet. The entire group shrieks in fright. Austin gives up on the vine idea and then inches his way down. He’s just going to grab this kid, somehow.
Thank god Isaac is now staying put. I look over at his mom, and I can’t help it; I feel a little sad for her. Sure, she should’ve been watching her kid, but no mother deserves to go through this. Finally, Austin has climbed down to where Isaac is, and carefully he loads the kid on his back.
“Okay, buddy?”
The kid’s voice is shaky, but he says he’s okay.
With the kid on his back, Austin begins his slow, careful climb up the cliff. The tour guide has climbed down to meet them halfway, having lashed himself to a tree near the top of the cliff. He reaches down and grasps Austin’s hand, and the two big, masculine arms strain as they together work to pull themselves and the child to safety. When all three reach the trail at the cliffside, the tour guide passes the kid off to Isaac’s father as Austin slumps over in a heap.
Everyone else rushes around Isaac and his family, making sure he’s okay. The tour guide is checking him over for injuries.
Me? I’m checking on Austin.