The sound grew, and her heart jerked hard at the realization it was an engine. Relief slammed her, and so did a wave of dizziness at looking down.
From the corner of her eye, she caught movement and turned her head to see a cloud of churning snow rolling toward the tower.
“Oh my god! Hey!” Jolie peeled her fingers off the railing and waved, even as she realized it was useless. Unless the person was looking up at her, they’d never see her.
She waved more frantically. The motion threw her off balance enough that her foot skidded again.
Using her upper body strength—thank god she was used to carrying heavy trays of food—she pulled herself up and into the beam, locking her arms around it. As she clung on, breath coming in hard pants, the cloud of snow stopped.
The wind cut off any chance to hear the engine, but a minute later a shape appeared through the snow. Her heart jolted higher into her throat when she realized it was a snowmobile climbing the ridge fast, the engine roaring as it angled toward the base of the tower.
“They see me!” Only her mouth moved on the words, her throat clotted with relief and fear.
The machine closed the distance and stopped. She waited what felt like an eternity before she made out a form through the shifting whiteout. Judging by the height and build, it was a man.
He moved like the wind didn’t touch him the way it hit her. He didn’t call up, just started climbing. She lost him in the snow once or twice, but the wind blasted the other direction, giving her a clear view of him.
Four flights up now, he stopped and tipped his head back to look at her. Her heart rolled over.
“Hey! I’m here!”
“Stay where you are.” His voice sliced through the wind.
Watching him climb at a steady pace as if he’d done it a hundred times before, she forgot to hold on so tight and her feet slipped out from under her. She scrambled to right herself.
She lost him again, and the noise of his footsteps on metal was stolen by the shrieking gale. By the time she caught sight of him again, he was one flight below her. He stopped on the small platform and looked up at her.
She let out a low wail.
“You’re fine. Just hold on.”
“I am holding on!”
His mouth twitched but he didn’t speak again as he climbed the final flight with the sure-footedness of a mountain goat, which existed on these very mountains for all she knew.
He reached the top, dressed in white snow gear, a black beanie pulled down to his brows. He shifted closer. She let go of the support with one hand and immediately slanted to the side.
She whipped her arm around the post again and held on, shaking with fear and cold.
“Don’t reach. Let me come to you.”
She nodded frantically. He moved toward her.
“Slippery up here.”
“Little bit.”
His lips twitched again. When he was two steps away, he held out a hand to her. “Slowly let go and grab my hand.”
Forcing her muscles to unlock and obey took an act of will, but if she could raise three kids, she could do this.
She extended an arm, relief slapping her when his hand clamped on hers. She lurched forward, and he stopped her. “Don’t rush. We’re going to do this nice and slow.”
His reassuring tone pierced her panic. She nodded. “Okay.”
He adjusted her grip on the railing, moving it into a better position. “Keep contact here at all times. Stay close.”
He moved first, then paused for her to mirror him. Every step she took, she waited for her feet to slip out from under her. The wind shoved at them, but he seemed to anticipate it and adjust faster than she could think.
