A Sister Would Know

Amalie felt a buzz of anxiety. “Not knowing what?”

“Nothing. It’s just that you two seem like nice people.”

“And so was Helena.” Amalie turned to face the wall, lowering her voice so Davin couldn’t hear her above the sound of the television in the next room.

“She may have made some bad choices in her life, but basically Helena was a good person.”

“A good person?” Grant’s incredulity was clear, even over the phone. “Look, she was your sister, and you can believe what you want. But if it wasn’t for her, Ramsey Carter would still be alive today. Denise Carter would still have a husband. Her kids would have a father.”

There was something so inherently unfair about Grant’s judgment. Amalie twisted the telephone cord and fought for self-control. “It works both ways. Nobody forced Ramsey Carter to go up that mountain with Helena. Did it ever occur to you that the ski trip could have been Ramsey’s idea? That it might be his fault that Helena died?”

“THERE ARE OVER 130 avalanche slidepaths that intersect with the Trans-Canada Highway along the Rogers Pass route through the Selkirk Mountains,” Grant told Davin later the next day, after Amalie and Davin had sat through the Snow Wars video in the information center theater.

He was still a little angry with himself. Even though he’d claimed to have arranged this outing for Davin’s sake—he knew the truth. He’d wanted to see Amalie again.

“Maybe some parts of the world aren’t meant to be lived in,” she said now, studying a picture of the 105 mm howitzer used to trigger avalanches in designated situations.

“The trains need to travel through the mountains somehow,” Grant said quietly. “So do motorists. This corridor was the best available.”

“But it’s so dangerous.” Despite her thick wool sweater, Amalie looked chilled. She hugged her arms around her body, her gaze caught by the view from the glass entranceway. She didn’t seem to appreciate the scenery.

“Yes, it’s dangerous,” Grant agreed. “In an average year we have about 1,500 slides along this highway. Can you imagine how many are happening out in the wilderness?”

Davin whistled. “But you control the avalanches, don’t you, Mr. Thorlow? With the howitzer.”

“That’s my job, but avalanche control is hardly an exact science.” Grant shoved his hands into his dark-blue nylon pants. Amalie had moved on to another exhibit.

Don’t stare, man! This is one woman who’s definitely off-limits.

“We monitor air temperature, wind speed and direction, precipitation and relative humidity,” he continued. “Then we perform field tests to check the layers in the snowpack. But people who think they can predict the timing and size of an avalanche with certainty are just kidding themselves. Even the avalanches we trigger intentionally sometimes surprise the heck out of us.”

“Why are there so many avalanches on this part of the highway?” Davin asked, his attention on a large model of the mountain pass that dominated the main room of the information center.

“Steep slopes, lots of snow.” Grant shrugged. “Those are the basic ingredients.”

Amalie was now walking around the three-dimensional replica of the mountain pass. She was about to ask him a question, when he noticed someone at the main doors.

Denise Carter stood there, her brown hair tied back in a ponytail and cheeks pink from the cold. She spotted him right away and he stepped forward to engulf her in a hug.

“Denise. How are you? How are the kids?”

She shook her head at the first question, only answering the second. “The kids are coping…Mom and Dad are with them.” She leaned into his chest, crumbling like powered snow in a harmless sluff.

And then she noticed Amalie.

“Helen?” First shock, then hatred transformed her features and stiffened her body.

“No. I’m her twin sister. Amalie Fremont.”

“You didn’t tell me Helen had a sister. That she would be coming…That she looked so much like…” Denise glared at Grant as if he’d betrayed her in some way.

“Amalie lives in Toronto. I didn’t expect her to travel all this way.” Grant began explanations, then halted. “I’m sorry, Denise. I should have prepared you. I was shocked, too, the first time I saw her.”

Amalie had her hands to her face, as if trying to conceal the features that reminded them all of a different woman.

“You shouldn’t have come here.” Denise made a move toward Amalie, whipping off her mitten to point her finger.

“Denise.” Grant took hold of her arm. “There’s someone else you should know about. A child. His name is Davin.”

At the sound of his name, Davin glanced up from the model. “Hi there,” he said uncertainly, eyeing the peculiar expression on this new stranger’s face.

Denise looked back at Amalie. “Your son?”

“I adopted him and raised him from birth,” she answered. “But he’s really…he’s really Helena’s child.”

“Helen had a child?” She whipped around to Grant. “Did you know this?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Denise. Come on, let me take you home. Or maybe you’d like to go have a cup of coffee. We can—”

Denise shook off his hand. Spinning back to Amalie, she pointed her finger once again.

“Ramsey was a good husband until he met your sister!”

In a flash, anger became despair. Denise began to sob. Grant pulled her against his body, but his gaze stayed on Amalie.

YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE COME. Amalie read the message in Grant’s face as clearly as if he’d spoken the words.

Helena was a person, too! she wanted to cry back at both him and Denise. Her sister deserved to be mourned, deserved to be missed, deserved to be cared about.

Remembering Davin, Amalie reached for the boy and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. He was staring at the crying woman, watching as Grant urged her out the door and into his truck.

“Why does everyone hate Helena so much?” he asked finally. “Was she a bad person?”

Resentment tightened Amalie’s chest as she turned her back to the door, to the people who had just left. True, Denise was in pain, but she was a mother, too. How could she have said such things in front of Davin?

“They just didn’t know her, Davin. That’s all.” She gave him a hug and made a second, silent deduction.

And neither did I.

CHAPTER FOUR

“YOU KNOW RAMSEY was in the middle of renovating our basement, don’t you?” Denise asked.

She’d stopped crying at last. Now she was sitting in Grant’s living room, holding the cup of tea he’d made her out of desperation. He hadn’t known where else to take her. She hadn’t wanted to go home, couldn’t face a restaurant. So he’d brought her here.

Grant was prepared for a lot of emergencies. He’d led many a search-and-rescue operation, could provide basic first aid better than many doctors and had even survived a couple of unexpected encounters with grizzly bears.

But what to do with a crying woman? That wasn’t one of his fortes.