143 A Day on the Slopes and a Careful Request
143 A Day on the Slopes and a Careful Request
She nodded slowly, still confused but willing to comply. “I promise, Dad. Just Ms. Vance**
When we finally reached the bottom, a resort staff member was waiting with a wheelchair. Shanice hovered nearby, concern written across her face.
“Excellent,” I smiled, feeling disproportionately pleased by her acceptance. “I’ll text you to arrange details.”
We found a comfortable spot in the lodge where Elara could elevate her foot while watching the slopes through the large windows. I ordered hot chocolate for all of us before settling into the chair beside her.
“My ankle,” she admitted, voice tight with pain.
We found a table at the resort restaurant, ordering burgers and fries. Shanice’s enthusiasm returned at the mention of food, and she chattered excitedly about her morning adventures.
“Well, don’t let me interrupt your family day,” she said with a knowing smile that irritated me. “Good seeing you, Beck.”
I kept a careful eye on Elara and Shanice as we headed back to the slopes after our short break. The morning had gone well so far, but I couldn’t shake the protective instinct that had settled over me since we arrived.
After we said our goodbyes, with Shanice giving Elara an enthusiastic hug, Elara limped carefully toward the parking lot. I watched until she disappeared from view, then turned back to my now–awake daughter.
“Of course.” I nodded, feeling an unexpected reluctance to end our day. “But before you go… would you consider joining us again? Perhaps for dinner next week?”
Elara looked at Shanice’s disappointed face and softened. “What if I take a break for an hour, then join you for a couple of gentle runs? I don’t want to ruin Shanice’s day.”
“I’m just being cautious,” I replied. “One injury today is enough”
“I’m perfectly capable of continuing” Elara added. “The doctor said it was minor.”
143 A Day on the Slopes and a Careful Request
“Ms. Vance!” Shanice had turned back and now skied carefully toward us. “Are you
hurt?”
“Ms. Vance showed me how to do snowplow turns properly,” she informed me between bites. “My instructor never explained it that clearly.”
“Nearly three years,” I answered, keeping my tone pleasant but distant.
“Just twisted my ankle. I’ll be fine,” Elara assured her, but when she tried to stand independently again, the pain was evident on her face.
“She seemed to think we were…” Elara trailed off, gesturing between us.
Shanice frowned, confused. “Why not?”
“He also said you should stay off it,” I reminded her.
“Beck?” she called hesitantly. “Beck Donovan?”
“I think we should call it a day,” I suggested, earning an immediate protest from both
females.
Elara moved with natural grace beside my daughter. Her form was impeccable–clearly, she had significant experience on the slopes. The elegant way she navigated the
terrain made my job of watching them both much easier.
“Thank you,” I said finally, keeping my voice low. “For today. Shanice has had a
wonderful time.”
I studied her face, recognizing the determination there. “One hour minimum. And only the easiest slopes afterward.”
“It’s just a minor twist,” Elara was insisting when I caught up with them at the resort’s
medical office.
“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice close to her ear.
“But we just started!” Shanice objected.
“See? I told you,” Elara said, throwing me a look that was half triumph, half annoyance.
After a brief standoff, Elara relented and allowed herself to be seated in the wheelchair.
I gathered our discarded equipment while Shanice stayed with Elara.
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143 A Day on the Slopes and a Careful Request
“Elara Vance,” she replied. “That’s it.”
“Thank you,” Elara said, already attempting to stand.
“She should stay off it for the remainder of the day,” the doctor continued, ignoring her comment. “I’ll wrap it and provide some anti–inflammatory medication.”
“It’s complicated,” I replied, choosing my words carefully. “But it’s very important. Can you promise me that?”
“Like her mentor,” I replied, earning a small smile from Elara.
While the doctor worked, Shanice edged closer to me. “Is Ms. Vance going to be okay?” she whispered.
“This is Elara Vance,” I said quickly, “a business associate. And my daughter, Shanice.”
“What’s your full name?” Shanice asked Elara suddenly. “Like, your whole name?”
I tensed slightly at the question, but Elara answered easily.
“You don’t need to stay,” she said. “Go ski with Shanice.”
“You don’t have to hover,” she said after the second incident. “I’m not made of glass.”
“Is that the only reason?” Elara asked, her direct gaze meeting mine.
“Put your arm around my shoulder,” I instructed. When she hesitated, I added, “Please, Elara. Safety first.”
“Dad, watch this!” Shanice called, attempting a more confident turn than before.
Once the doctor finished wrapping Elara’s ankle, he handed her a small packet of pills. “Take these if the pain bothers you. Ice it tonight and elevate whenever possible.”
The mountain was getting crowded. Weekend skiers filled the runs, many with questionable control of their movements. I positioned myself slightly behind Elara and Shanice, ready to intervene if needed.
“Looking good!” I shouted back, genuinely impressed with how quickly she was
improving.
I reacted instantly, pushing forward and positioning myself to break her fall. She tumbled directly into me, and I caught her weight against my chest, my poles dropping
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143 A Day on the Slopes and a Careful Request
to the snow as my arms wrapped around her.
“I thought that was you!” She smiled, glancing between me, Elara, and Shanice. “I almost didn’t recognize you with…” Her eyes lingered on Elara and Shanice, clearly making assumptions about our relationship.
She started to protest, but another attempt to put weight on her foot silenced her objections. Without waiting for further discussion, I positioned myself beside her and slipped my arm around her waist.
“Good girl,” I said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Now, should we do one more run before heading home?”
“People make assumptions,” I replied with a shrug. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Heads up,” I called ahead, moving closer to Elara and Shanice.
“No middle name?” Shanice pressed.
Shanice reluctantly agreed, settling into a comfortable position in her chair. Within minutes, her eyes drifted closed.
“Ms. Vance is good at explaining things,” I agreed, smiling at Elara across the table.
She reluctantly complied, and I felt the weight of her arm settle across my shoulders. The proximity was distracting, but I focused on getting her safely off the slope.
The doctor, a friendly older man with a weathered face, smiled knowingly as he examined her ankle. “Minor dislocation,” he confirmed after a gentle probe. “Not too serious, but you’ll need to rest it.”
She checked her watch and sighed. “I should probably head home soon. I have some
work to finish before Monday.”
“When you talk about Ms. Vance to anyone–your friends, your teachers, anyone at all -just call her Ms. Vance. Don’t use her full name.”
She nodded, trying to regain her footing. When she put weight on her right foot, she winced noticeably.
“I can manage,” she insisted, but accepted my steadying hand nonetheless.
“I’ve enjoyed it too,” Elara admitted. “She’s a remarkable girl. Very bright.”
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< 143 A Day on the Slopes and a Careful Request
I moved quickly to her side. “Easy now.”
“Former colleague,” I clarified. “From before I moved here.”
“Shanice, ski ahead of us and alert the staff at the bottom,” I directed. My daughter nodded and moved down the slope with purpose.
She hesitated, studying my face carefully. “I’m not sure that would be appropriate.”
“No, I’m not tired,” Shanice protested unconvincingly, another yawn betraying her.
“And leave you standing here alone? Not happening.” I tightened my hold slightly.
“We’re almost there.”
I turned toward the voice, recognizing Linda Harmon, a former colleague from Chicago.
“You can’t ski on that,” I said firmly. “Let me help you to the lodge.”
“I think someone’s ready for a break,” Elara observed gently.
“Why don’t you rest for a bit?” I suggested. “We can do a few more runs afterward if you’re up for it.”
After she left, Elara raised an eyebrow. “Friend of yours?”
“Why not?” I pressed gently. “Shanice would be thrilled. And it would give us a chance to discuss her project further.”
An hour later, true to her word, Elara insisted on returning to the slopes. Her ankle was obviously still tender, but she hid her discomfort well as she helped Shanice practice her turns on a gentle run.
“Time for lunch,” I announced, ignoring my daughter’s half–hearted objections.
“Linda,” I acknowledged with a polite nod. “Nice to see you.”
“Oh! Nice to meet you both,” Linda replied, her curious expression poorly concealed. “I haven’t seen you since you left Chicago. How long has it been?”
“Deal,” she agreed.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “Just go get someone with a sled.”
Beck’s POV
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143 A Day on the Slopes and a Careful Request
After lunch, Shanice’s energy dipped noticeably. She tried to stifle a yawn but failed, her eyes growing heavy.
“What is it, Dad?”
Outside the medical office, Elara tested her weight on the wrapped ankle. She winced but maintained her balance.
“She’ll be fine,” I assured her. “Just a small injury.”
A woman passed our table, glancing our way before doing a double–take. She stared at me for a moment, her brow furrowed.
She considered this for a long moment. “Alright,” she finally agreed. “For Shanice. And because you’ve been very helpful today with my ankle.”
“Shanice,” I said, my tone serious enough to capture her full attention. “I need you to do something important.”
“No,” I admitted honestly. “I’ve enjoyed your company today. And I think you’ve enjoyed
ours.”
“That’s pretty,” Shanice decided before returning to her fries.
For a moment, we stood frozen in that position–her back against my front, my arms encircling her waist. I could feel her quick breaths, the slight tremor in her body from
the near–miss.
“Elara Catherine Vance,” Elara elaborated with a small smile. “Though I rarely use my
middle name.”
I noticed a group of rowdy teenagers approaching from the side, moving too fast for the beginner area. Their loud whoops rang across the slope as they weaved recklessly between other skiers.
Our progress was slow and awkward. Halfway down, Elara’s frustration became
apparent.
As we headed back to the slopes, I couldn’t help glancing toward the parking lot where Elara had disappeared. The secret I was keeping from her weighed heavily, but I wasn’t ready to reveal it–not when everything was just beginning to fall into place.
“Standard procedure, ma’am,” the staff member explained. “We need to get you to the
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143 A Day on the Slopes and a Careful Request
medical office for assessment.”
Too late. One of the teens cut sharply across Elara’s path. She swerved to avoid a collision but caught an edge on the packed snow. Her ski wobbled, and she began to tip sideways.
With my daughter dozing, Elara and I fell into a surprisingly comfortable silence. She sipped her coffee, occasionally glancing at Shanice with a soft expression that made me wonder if she was thinking of her own daughter.
“In a bit,” I replied, watching my daughter sip her drink contentedly. “First, I want to make sure you’re actually resting.”
“I don’t need that,” Elara protested when she saw the wheelchair.
I stayed close, ready to assist if needed. Twice more, careless skiers came too close, and I found myself positioning my body to shield Elara from potential collisions.
By early afternoon, Shanice’s energy was flagging despite her protests to the contrary. Her turns were becoming sloppier, a clear sign of fatigue.
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