Page 16 of One Last Run

In all her years of skiing, she’d never been afraid of crashing into a tree, but strapped to this murder board, she just might meet her end.

“Toe edge,” the ski instructor, an entertaining and sarcastic Aussie man named Glen, called out. The group was fanned out across the bunny hill, practicing their heel and toe edge balance. Danica thought it could have been an effective torture technique. Her quads burned, her knees hurt, and they hadn’t even gone down the entire damn hill yet.

“Naur,” Danica whined, flailing her arms and falling to her knees.

“Ah, right, make fun of the person trying to help you,” Glen called back.

“Does Australia even have snow?” Maggie complained. “Have you ever even snowboarded? Did you lie on your resume, Glen?”

“We ski, for the record. But the snow is better here. Why do you think I’m not in Straya, hey?” Glen said, giving her a pointed look before walking off to help a younger girl.

Danica hated not being good at things immediately. She pushed herself back up, the board sliding precariously beneath her. Thank goodness it was only Maggie here with her, who hadn’t even laughed despite Danica falling every ten seconds since she’d gotten strapped onto this board.

“I’ll buy you a drink at the bar tonight,” Maggie offered, looking at her with pleading puppy eyes she couldn’t resist.

“Ten drinks,” Danica bartered, falling backwards again. She concentrated on not putting her arms out to catch herself for fear of breaking a wrist, letting her ass take most of the force like Glen had instructed at the beginning of the lesson. Imagine breaking a bone on a bunny hill without even going down the run yet. Kiera would never let her live it down.

“A million drinks,” Maggie said, nodding. Though her arms flailed and legs trembled, she stayed upright — unlike Danica.

Glen appeared above Danica, his ruddy, sunburned cheeks wrinkling at the edges as he smiled down at her. “Come on, you’ve got this,” he said, reaching out a hand to help her up.

“Leave me here to die,” Danica whined.

“You’ve been in this lesson for twenty minutes,” Glen chided, laughing. Danica accepted his help, allowing him to steady her as she rose.

“I’m a skier. I know how to ski. I know the skiing moves. I pizza. I french fry. I do not heel edge and toe edge. The human body shouldn’t be able to balance like this.”

“She would know, she’s a doctor,” Maggie said with faux solemnity.

Danica added a sheepish shrug for emphasis.

“You may be a doctor, but you’ll be a boarder before the end of this lesson. Now come on.” Glen let go of her and she slid a few inches, wobbling, but remained upright. “That’s it. Steady.”

The lesson continued in much the same way, with Glen teaching Danica, Maggie, and five others who were alarmingly younger than them how to step out of their bindings and push their board with their free foot to get on a lift.

Maggie seemed to be catching on much faster than Danica, and they spent the next hour of the lesson practicing a falling leaf pattern down the bunny hill. Danica chanted in her head, “Leaves fall, not me. Leaves fall, not me” the whole way down.

They got on the small, slow lift and Danica never felt more at a loss without her ski poles. It was easier to balance with them and she didn’t have to hop and maneuver her entire body quite as much to get into position. She awkwardly shuffled onto the magic carpet, a little moving walkway for lift-averse beginners, which was quite possibly the most terrifying thing she’d ever seen.

“They say the learning curve for snowboarding is way steeper than skiing,” Maggie said from behind her. Her perfectly coiffed blonde bob remained intact as she removed her helmet and readjusted her ear warmer.

“I believe that,” Danica said, her legs like jello as she wobbled a bit on the conveyor belt. “It’s way harder to balance.”

“Pete said she’ll take us up some greens after lunch if we want,” Maggie suggested. Greens were beginner trails, so Danica had a chance of staying upright for at least a portion of them. However, inviting Pete along was quite possibly the worst idea Maggie had ever had, second only to these lessons. Danica slid as she tried to climb off the magic carpet, falling onto her knees forthe millionth time. Maggie shuffled beside her, lowering to the ground beside Danica.

Danica groaned, pressing her lips into a thin line as she maneuvered to sit down on her ass instead of her knees. “Snowboarding is a young man’s sport, Mags. What possessed you to think this was a fun idea?”

Maggie sniffled in the cold air, putting her helmet back on her head. “Life is short.”

Danica nodded, knowing that full-well. She’d seen plenty of miracles in her career, but she’d also witnessed a lot of heartbreak and grief. But then again, she had a therapist, so she at least had a place to express the emotions connected to the tumultuousness of having the pediatric patients.

Maggie rested her forearms on her knees as she stared down at the bunny hill before them. “You have kids, and then suddenly your life is only about them. They’re parasites who take over every thought in your brain. I wanted to do something just for me. Something I never got to do as a kid, but not something I’m only doingformy kids.”

Danica turned, picking up on a wistful tone in Maggie’s voice. “I think that makes perfect sense, but I have to ask. Is everything okay with the kids?” Maggie had two boys and a girl, all under six. That situation would exhaust anyone.

Maggie waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, yeah. I wouldn’t trade them for the world.”

“And with Gwen?” Danica added.

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