Double Diamond

Double Diamond

  By Tanya Hess

  Copyright 2015 Tanya Hess

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Introduction

  Start of Double Diamond

  Jesse's Place excerpt

  How to contact the Author

  Acknowledgements

  I'd like to thank my family, who supported my dream to be a writer and believed in me enough to encourage me to keep going forward, to not give up, and to just keep writing. They may regret that one day; I think they've created a monster.

  And I'd especially like to thank you dear reader for choosing to enter the world of my imagination.

  Tanya

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  Introduction

  This book is set in a fictional area in the Vancouver area of British Columbia, Canada. I lived there for about 5 years in the early 90’s and volunteered on the ski patrol at Mount Seymour; was an avid reader; and had some great ideas for a coffee shop/book store….Of course I didn’t actually get around to starting one, but the idea did work itself into this book years later.

  The location is loosely based on the city of Vancouver itself and the surrounding areas as they existed in the 1990s, with a large dose of creative license thrown in to make the locale work for the story. The first aid and operation of a ski hill's volunteer first aid crew are loosely based on my memories of being a member of the Canadian Ski Patrol at Mount Seymour, but any comparison between actual people, places, or events is purely accidental. Many of the CSPS protocols have probably changed since that time, and my memory of processes probably hasn't done justice to the dedication, and time, today's hardy volunteers contribute to keep our local ski areas safe, and I do apologize for any errors or omissions that may give any incorrect impressions.

  This novel was written in 6 weeks, while my new baby girl napped. She was a great one for napping for the first….oh, about 6 weeks. It’s a sweet little romance written just to see if I could actually write a full length novel from start to finish. Of course it then took me another 15 years to bring it to a remotely e-publishable state. It was a rewarding process that I plan to repeat. In fact my second and third books are in the first draft stage and I hope to be releasing them to e-publication within the next year. Check out the excerpt from Jesse's Place attached to the end of this story.

  I hope you enjoy reading Double Diamond.

 

  Tanya Hess

  CHAPTER ONE

  His hearing was the first sense to recover. Feeling would come soon. He had a terrible premonition that the coming pain would be something he'd never wish on his worst enemy.

  With a low groan Andrew Peterson opened his eyes. He blinked to clear the rain and melting snow from his frozen lashes, and inhaled a long breath of cold damp air. “Shit.” He exhaled. “This can't be good.” His words echoed back at him, bouncing off the fog.

  He was lying on his back just off the edge of run number 4 of Snowcap Mountain. His right leg was bent in an unnatural angle with his foot buried under a mound of snow near his right hip. Or at least he was going with the assumption it was buried. He was pretty sure if his foot had been cut off he wouldn't be lying here quite so calmly. He'd never lost an appendage before, but he was pretty sure there would be screaming involved.

  He hadn’t chosen this spot to have a rest, it had just happened…Suddenly, and, if he remembered correctly, and his leg was any indication, a bit violently. Luckily, or unluckily, depending on his mindset when he considered it, the fall hadn’t been violent enough to knock him out cold; at least he was pretty sure he hadn't lost consciousness. For a normally very confident guy he was feeling a bit unsure of….just about everything. He prided himself on being in control; coming out on top at everything he put his mind to; and winning at all costs. He snorted. He wasn't going to win any prizes for his latest accomplishment, that's for damn sure.

  A clump of wet snow fell from the branches above his head with a soft plop. If it wasn’t so cold, and wet, and he wasn’t in so much pain, the sounds of the slowly melting winter forest and hiss of the soft spring rain through the heavy pine canopy would almost be….. relaxing.

  The next plop of wet snow skimmed his temple. No, definitely not relaxing, he grimaced, and it was pretty obvious that lying here for much longer wasn't going to be an option, unless he wanted to be buried alive, or die of hypothermia. Neither of which sounded any more appealing than losing his foot.

  As he lay in the snow contemplating his options, rivulets of ice cold rainwater ran into his eyes, down his collar, and seeped through his ski pants from too many points to count. He made a mental note to send a letter of complaint to the clothing manufacturer when he got himself out of his current predicament, or maybe he'd just buy them out and sell them off piece by miserable piece. With a curse he hunched his shoulders and tried to bury deeper into his soggy down-filled ski jacket. Unfortunately, as a means to additional heat, it wasn’t terribly effective, either.

  Crap. All those retail outlets sold anymore was crap, and the high end ones sold expensive crap. What the hell had happened to quality manufacturing? Pride in workmanship? His ability to stay upright on skis?

  With a sigh he carefully moved, flexed, and wiggled, one muscle group at a time, as he took an inventory of the bodily harm he’d inflicted on himself when he fell. He gave up when he reached his right arm. The list was going to be a long one. It was probably safer to just hang out for a few more minutes, get his bearings, and figure out a plan. He wasn’t going to freeze to death that quickly. Or at least he hoped he wasn’t. That would really wreck his vacation plans.

  He shivered. Damn.

  With a deep breath he reached out the arm that appeared to have suffered the least amount of damage in the fall. Struggling for leverage in the heavy, wet snow he positioned his elbow at his side and pushed himself into a sitting position. He blinked more water from his eyes and examined his surroundings.

  He saw fir trees, their branches bending low from the weight of the snow piled on fragile limbs, and snow banks shrinking almost visibly under the steady onslaught of the pouring rain, but not much else past the opaque curtain of rain and the thick blanket of fog. Over the steady drip of melting snow, and the hiss of the unrelenting downpour, he could hear the faint whine of the ski lift, and the ghostly voices of his fellow skiers echoing across the slope. Instead of making him feel better they only emphasized the miserable conditions, and how cut off he was from the hustle and bustle of the beginner and intermediate runs. Not too many skiers would be coming down the double diamond in this weather, he acknowledged ruefully, and if he was being honest with himself, just a little fearfully. Most skiers weren’t as daring, adventurous….or just plain stupid, as he obviously was. He barked out a croaking laugh. The sound echoed back at him again, a bit mockingly this time, he thought.

  Andrew turned his head and, squinting his eyes against the downpour, gazed to his left into the woods seeing nothing but the saturated snow covered landscape. To
his right he could just barely make out the ski trail through the trees and estimated that it was at least five meters to the edge of the run.

  Hell of a jump, he thought. Too bad he couldn’t stick the landing.

  Andrew strained to see further, but couldn’t make out where he was in relation to the rest of the hill. Nearly half way down the run, he thought, but couldn’t be absolutely sure.

  With a heavy sigh he let the pictures of the afternoon, like puzzle pieces falling into place, flash though his memory. The sudden downpour, splitting off from the girls, enjoying the free feeling of flying over the snowy, although wet, trail and then soaring through the air and tumbling…over and over and over. Angela was not going to be happy. He almost laughed at the understatement. She had trusted him to look after the girls. This was definitely not what she had in mind.

  He turned his head to examine the small spindly shrub his left leg was tangled with and gazed way up the large tree trunk only inches from his head. “You certainly aren’t on the trail anymore, Toto.” He paraphrased the line from The Wizard of Oz with a snort and made an attempt to straighten his leg. A sharp stab of pain sliced through his bent knee and he gave up with a groan. Leaving was obviously going to take a bit more time than he'd originally hoped.

  Catching a glimpse of one of his skis lying a few feet away, he carefully twisted around to look for the other. The movement caused something in his chest to grate together. Like a wire brush scraping against concrete: sharp, raw, intense, it hurt like hell. A cold sweat broke out on his brow and the snowy landscape weaved dizzily. A wave of nausea washed over him. This, he realized, was very definitely not good.

  Inch by careful inch he lay back into the snow, trying not to jar his injured ribs again. He closed his eyes, pressed one hand firmly against his wounded chest, and focused again on just breathing as he slumped lower against the pile of snow that had formed when he came to a skidding halt. He wiped one half-frozen glove across his face to clear the water out of his eyes, again. Damn this rain. What the hell had he been thinking? This was not skiing weather, and no one would ever convince him otherwise. If it hadn't been for the girls, and their pleading, tear filled eyes, he'd be safely reading in front of a roaring fire right now. A twinge of guilt hit him at the unfair thought; this wasn't the girls' fault, it was a result of his own stupidity.

  A fresh wave of pain washed over him. Clenching his teeth, he inhaled as deeply as his aching chest would allow, and then slowly exhaled. It was pretty obvious he wasn’t going to get out of here under his own steam, but that’s OK, it’s a small hill, he told himself optimistically, trying to keep his spirits up; someone would be sure to come along soon.

  He hoped fervently that he was right.

  Turning his face up to the sky, he looked through the dripping branches of the massive Douglas fir tree that soared high overhead and whistled tunelessly to break the eerie silence. Then, closing his eyes once again, he fell silent and listened… and waited for help to arrive.