Page 34 of Love In Translation

“I would be surprised if you weren’t,” Rheo commented.

“I hid it well,” Fletch continued. “Only my Sherpa knew anything was wrong. One day, on the Khumbu Icefall, I fell apart. The icefall is, believe it or not, one of the most hellish and dangerous places on the mountain. Many people have lost their lives there. You have to cross these incredibly deep crevasses, and while you are clipped into a fixed rope, it’s not for the fainthearted. I started to cross a ladder, got halfway across, and froze. I simply couldn’t move.” He smiled softly. “I suppose it would be similar to what happened to you when your words disappeared.”

“Yeah, much the same,” Rheo responded, before fiercely adding, “except my life wasn’t in danger!”

His smile broadened just a fraction. “I was roped up. But on that ladder, I had to decide whether my Everest dream started or ended there, whether I’d let fear win and go home. So I started talking to it, treating it like it was someone on the trip with me. I told Fear he could hang around, but he had to shut the fuck up. He was only allowed to talk when he had something important to say. He wasn’t allowed to keep muttering in my ear, pointing out every perceivable danger. He was there with my permission, and I was tired of his shit.”

Rheo cocked her head, listening carefully.

“Sounds weird, right?” Fletch asked her.

She shook her head. “Did it work?” she asked. Stupid question; she knew he’d stood at the top of the world.

“Yeah. I reached the summit four weeks later.”

“It took you four weeks to walk up one mountain?” she asked, horrified. “God, why would anyone want to do that?”

He laughed. “No, we go up the mountain to higher camps, then come down again, partly to stock the camps, mostly to acclimatize. We spent weeks on the mountain before I made the final push,” Fletch explained.

“And Fear, did he shut up?”

“Mostly,” Fletch replied, his tone low. “He’d start at three in the morning when the wind howled and the mountain creaked. He grumbled a lot, but I never allowed his voice to become loud enough to drown out my desire, my need, to conquer that fucking peak.”

He hadn’t loved it. He’d climbed Everest because he had to, because he’d regret it if he didn’t.

“Would you go back?” she asked, but suspected she already knew the answer.

“To Base Camp?” He shook his head. “No, I don’t think I will. Not for a long time anyway. There are other mountains to climb, other peaks to be scaled.”

Rheo placed her cheek against his shoulder and sighed. “My losing-my-words-trouble seems so small compared to yours,” she said, linking her fingers in his.

Fletch turned and placed his hand on the side of her face, lifting her chin so their eyes met and held. “You can’t compare fears or pain or lives, Rheo. Just because I had a panic attack on Everest and you had one in a meeting room of the UN building doesn’t make mine better than yours. They both affected us in different ways. One wasn’t more impactful than the other. If anything, I think yours had more impact. It forced you into a different life and you ended up here.”

“Because I ran away,” she muttered.

“Or maybe you retreated to gather your strength and regroup.”

Fletch was being kind, nicer than she expected him to be.

Rheo did feel her battle with fear was more of a gentle hike than a scramble up a dangerous-as-hell mountain. But if he could face his fears on an icefall in some far-off country, why couldn’t she face hers here, in the Pink House? If he could make his fingers move and his legs work to cross crevasses on rickety ladders, why couldn’t she find a little confidence to believe in herself and what she did?

She wanted to, she did, she just didn’t know how. But she had to. Somehow.

Fletch kissed her temple before dropping his head to kiss her mouth. “Come back to bed, sweetheart. Let me love the worry out of your mind.”

“Can you replace it with a solid dose of courage, and a backbone while you’re at it?” Rheo asked as she followed him back to bed.

He smiled, his thumb tracing the outline of her lower lip then placing a hand on her chest, just above her heart. “It’s in there somewhere, Rheo. You’ve misplaced it, not lost it.”

As Fletch pulled his T-shirt off her body and stepped out of his sweatpants, she desperately hoped he was right.

Eight

After another spectacular night without sleep—why waste time sleeping when he could have sex with Rheo?—Fletch yawned as he walked into the office of his favorite guide outfit in Gilmartin. Although smaller and less slick than the bigger, more established operations around town, Mick and Sam radiated authenticity and had Louie’s same can-do attitude. They worked hard, were hungry for business, and gave their clients personalized attention.

Fletch, who’d interacted with many outfits over the years, hoped they’d make a success of their fledgling business and, as they grew, hoped they’d keep the personal touch.

He stepped inside their open-plan office and immediately sensed the tension in the room. He looked from one worried face to another. “What’s the problem, guys?” he asked.

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