Logan
Julianna comes runninginto my office. She has her helmet and ski boots on, but the rest of the equipment isn’t attached.
My daughter is out of breath, but her energy has me looking up and concerned.
“What is it?” I ask.
It’s not uncommon for a guest to get injured on the slopes. We make everyone sign a liability waiver before going out onto the trails.
But why is Julianna rushing in here like it’s the end of the world? I didn’t even realize she was going out skiing this afternoon.
“It’s Cali,” she says, gasping for breath. Her cheeks are red, and she gestures for me to follow.
“What do you mean?” The gruffness in my voice can’t be hidden away or contained. What the hell did Cali do this time?
“She wanted to go skiing and fell off the chair lift.”
“Of course she did,” I mutter, and rub my forehead. I slip into my winter boots and grab a jacket, heading outside with Cali on my tail.
“Do you know if she was hurt?” I ask.
“She fell hard and then rolled down the hill. But she was still conscious.”
“That’s good.” At least the part where she was still conscious. “Why the hell was she on the slopes?” I head for the emergency equipment and grab a snowmobile with a sledding stretcher attached.
I grab a radio and communicate that one of our guests is likely injured and we need additional units out searching for her.
Julianna climbs onto the back, and I pull away, heading in the direction she instructs. “How the hell did she fall off?” I ask. The metal bar is supposed to keep any guests from falling over the edge.
“I don’t know. Her glove went over the edge and then her pole. The next thing I knew, she wasn’t seated next to me, and the chair was swinging like crazy. I was trying to hold on so I wouldn’t fall next.”
“I told her that she couldn’t go on the slopes! Dammit!” I shout, and press the gas harder, trying to get to Cali as quickly as possible.
Why couldn’t she listen to me?
The cold sting of the air and the wind from riding the snowmobile burn my cheeks. I’m not dressed for a snow rescue. And while I requested our ski patrol to help, they also have to keep an eye on the guests on the slopes.
The farther we get from the lodge, the colder every inch of my body feels. In the distance, I catch a glimpse of her dark hair against the snow. The sun is beginning to go down behind the mountains, and I radio in our location for assistance.
I slow the engine beside her and climb off the snowmobile.
Cali grimaces and shoots my daughter a look. “You calledhimfor help?”
I’m not happy about it, either. Why the hell was Cali on the ski slopes? She injured her ankle a few days ago and kept falling. What made her think this was a good idea?
I bend to Cali’s level, and Julianna grabs the first aid kit off the stretcher. “Grab me a penlight,” I instruct my daughter.
She unzips the bag and hands it to me. I flip it on and point it at Cali’s eyes, wanting to ensure she doesn’t have a concussion or any permanent brain injury. Her pupils react normally. That’s a good sign.
“Can you wiggle your toes for me?”
“I can stand, but my knee hurts,” Cali says. “And my ankle isn’t doing me any favors, either.”
“Don’t stand.” I don’t want to risk any further injuries. “I have a crew that’s on their way. We’re going to get you loaded onto that stretcher and take you back to Dr. Reynolds to examine you.”
As soon as the ski patrol team arrives, they slide her onto the stretcher, strap her in, and cocoon her in a blanket to make sure she doesn’t go into shock or get frostbite from the cold.
I drive the snowmobile back, taking my time, since Cali is attached. I don’t trust anyone else to the task. Once I arrive outside the medical building, she’s carried in on the stretcher.