Brenden felt the run leveling off at the same time Kat saw the outlines of the buildings below. The two skiers skidded to a stop.

"Yeah," she cried. "You did it, Brenden. You got us down."

Kat threw her arms around the tall young man. In a magical moment, without either of them expecting it, their lips touched. And somehow, even with their goggles and hats, gloves and heavy clothes, they both felt warmed, melting into the kiss.

After picking Nelson up at the kennel, they headed for a German restaurant called Eichler's to celebrate with an end-of- the-season dinner. Yeager schnitzel with spaetzle and a delicious apple cobbler gave them just the reason they needed for a long walk under the stars.

The storm lessened, and Brenden hated the thought that he would be staying in the youth hostel run by the Winter Park disabled program. So it came as a surprise to him, and to Nelson, when Kat kept walking and arrived at the mountain cabin she shared with two roommates, who were both away for the weekend.

"Hey, Kat," Brenden said, smiling in the dark. "I thought I was the blind man. Aren't you a little lost? This isn't where I'm staying."

"I know," she said, stopping under the stars and turning to face him. "This is where I live, and I'm not ready to have this evening end."

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, the two young people kissed, not with the erotic pa.s.sion that Brenden had experienced with Lindsey, but with an intimacy and softness that spoke of something much deeper.

Kat pulled back, her breath coming in gasps. Taking Breden's arm and pointing it to the sky, she said, "I wish you could see them, Brenden. I wish you could see G.o.d's light show."

"You're the star, Kat," he said softly, drawing her close. "You're all the light I need."

They went inside, lit a fire, and sat, warmed by its glow and by each other.

Brenden knew that he wanted to marry Kat. He knew it at his very core, and yet the shadow of his blindness and what it meant seemed to sit between them in the firelight. Could he make a living? Could he take care of Kat and potentially a family? Would he be a burden, requiring her to do so much more than other wives, reducing him in her eyes as a husband, a lover, and a man?

She watched the expressions play over his face in the light. She knew how much she loved him and how much she wanted him to be hers forever. All evening she had sensed that this moment might be the right one. She felt instinctively that he wanted to ask her to marry him. And now, as she watched his face, she saw-what? Indecision? Conflict? Fear? That was it. It had to be fear-his fear-that being newly blind he would not be able to fulfill what she needed. And so she reached out and touched his face with her fingertips, tracing the worry lines she saw furrowing around his mouth.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly. "What's going on inside that big brain?"

Brenden reached up, took her hand, and pressed it to his cheek. "Kat, I . . . I . . ."

"Brenden McCarthy"-she laughed quietly-"are you trying to ask me to marry you?"

His sigh was audible. "Yes. Yes, I am, but maybe ..."

She interrupted. "Maybe you won't be able to drive? No problem. Maybe I'll have to tell you what's going on in a movie when we snuggle in the dark? That sounds pretty great, doesn't it? And about your clothes, I'll have to keep them organized so you don't go out looking like Stevie Wonder. And then there will be our bills and the mail and the Sunday paper. I guess you'll just have to put up with me reading those things to you, which means we'll have to spend a lot of time together. Isn't that too bad?"

"Kat, I need to . . ."

"Brenden," she said, leaning forward and kissing him, "don't you know how much I love who you are? Who you are as a person? I love the way when you talk to me nothing else seems to exist in your world. You're always right there with me all the time. I love to look at your smile because it's so real. It comes from deep inside you. It's as if your soul is speaking to me. I love how you touch me in a way that's intimate and reserved only for us. I know you'll work hard and that together we'll have a great life because we fit and because G.o.d made us for each other."

Brenden was crying now. He couldn't help it. But he pulled it together and dropped onto his knees in front of the girl.

"Kathleen Collins," he said formally, "will you marry me?"

He was surprised, very surprised, when Kat rose and stepped around him, going to the corner of the room where Nelson lay quietly.

Dropping down to the rug and taking the dog's head in her hands, she said, "Your master is asking me to marry him and make us a family. I'm saying yes, yes, yes, if that's all right with you."

The dog stretched and looked up at the young woman as if he understood the importance of her words. Holding her eyes and reaching up, he licked her cheek and thumped his tail in a rhythmic response that said, "It's okay with me, Kat."

Brenden joined them on the floor, and the group hug said life is going to be okay. No, more than just okay, much, much more.

chapter twenty-one.

As Mora watched Brenden and Charlie shooting baskets in the backyard, she considered the way he had learned to cope with his blindness nothing short of a miracle. She credited most of that miracle to Nelson, the marvelous guide dog that right now worked to bite a hole in the basketball. Every time Brenden dribbled it, Nelson tried to grab it. And Gus tried to grab Nelson while Charlie kept calling fouls on everybody.

Mora loved the peals of laughter and the enthusiastic play barking of both dogs. She heard another sound that also warmed her heart: the girl in the room with her, humming as she set the table.

She really liked Katherine Collins, especially because the girl never in any way patronized her son's blindness. Actually Kat didn't cut Brenden any slack when it came to taking responsibility for the ordinary things of life. Though she was always there to help him, he cut his meat at the table, kept his clothes organized, cleaned his apartment, and held the door for Kat like any young gentleman should when they were on a date.

They set the Columbus Day weekend for their wedding, and Brenden had done the right thing, going back to Vermont and formally asking Katherine's father for her hand.

So here they all were, including Charlie, preparing a special dinner to acknowledge the anniversary of Brenden's accident. That was the only word Mora could think of-acknowledge. It wasn't to honor it or celebrate it, or even to remember it with sadness. It was simply to acknowledge the fact that on June twenty-first a year ago, a major event occurred that changed everyone's life, most of all Brenden's.

The ball stopped bouncing, and Charlie fired up the grill. Moments later steaks were sizzling, soon to join a feast of baked potatoes with all the fixings, a Caesar salad, and an apple pie. All Brenden's favorites, along with an expensive cabernet that Mora selected as appropriate for the occasion.

"So what should we toast to?" Kat asked, raising her gla.s.s.

"I suppose you want me to say 'to us.'" Brenden laughed. "And that is important, the most important thing. But I think tonight it's important to toast to life and how precious it truly is."

There was a pause of a heartbeat before the people at the table clinked their gla.s.ses, as if they all were taking in the message and feeling it deep within their hearts.

"Slainte," Charlie said. "Isn't that the Irish toast your dad used to say?"

"Slainte" Mora intoned, and the gla.s.ses clinked again.

After the dinner dishes were cleared away, they all settled down around the fire. Nelson and Gus, who had finally played themselves out, sprawled on the cool cement of the patio, not at all interested in what was going on with the humans.

For the first time Charlie broached the subject of Brenden's last climb.

"Do you miss it?" he asked. "I mean, climbing?"

Brenden took the last sip of his wine and placed the gla.s.s on the table thoughtfully.

"Sure I do, Charlie, and when you talk about climbing, I think about how much it always meant to me. But not being able to see, well, you lose an awful lot."

Mora was surprised when Kat jumped in.

"Brenden," she said, taking his hand, "when we ski, I can't get over how much you get out of sharing the sport. You use all of your other senses. I mean, you've taught me so much about how to feel and listen, smell, and even taste. You're the guy who broke down the wine tonight, talking about its bouquet and all of its nuances. I certainly hadn't thought about any of that very much. Isn't it possible that the mountains could offer you new sensory levels that you hadn't considered before? It seems to me everything else in life does."

Brenden thought about it. "So what you're telling me is that I should get right back up on the horse and ride?"

"I think that's what she means, pal," Charlie said, "and I'd be happy to climb with you. I'm sure we could figure out how to do it."

"Well, that's just the point, Charlie. If I were ever going to climb again, I'd still want to feel that I was sort of doing it on my own."

As if on cue, Nelson stood and shook himself. Brenden called him.

"Come here, Nelson. Come here, boy."

The big dog immediately came to his master, dropping his head on the man's knee.

"Are you telling me you'd like to climb a mountain, Nelson?" Brenden asked. "Because if I'm going to do it, I'd like to share it with you."

"How would that work?" Charlie asked.

"Oh, we'd climb together, Charlie," Brenden said. "I'm not about to go up there alone, but maybe I could build some kind of special harness that would allow me to follow Nelson from directly behind. That way when the track gets narrow or we need to step up over rocks, I could read him. I'll talk to Smitty about it."

The trainer was intrigued when Brenden called.

"Hm," he said. "Well, I don't know much about climbing mountains, but if you want to work from directly behind Nelson and get the most possible flexibility, it seems to me that you'd want a two-handled harness. This would give you the ability to gain your balance from exactly the way the dog moved. It would also allow you to be even more sensitive to the angles when you step up or down. The harness would have to be quite a bit longer, so that when you go downhill you can still stand somewhat straight up. I mean, you wouldn't want to be reaching all the way down to Nelson's back, causing you to tip forward. Am I right?"

"I think you got it, Smitty," Brenden said. "I think that's exactly what I need."

"Let me work on it," the trainer said. "Let's see what the boys in the shop can come up with."

Two weeks later, the device arrived. Smitty made it about three times the length of a standard harness with three separate two-grip handles spread out along the shaft. This way Brenden could be as close or as far from the animal as needed, depending on the pitch and the angle of the mountain he climbed. Also, Smitty attached clip links to the harness that would allow Brenden, if necessary, to tie equipment or climbing ropes to the big dog just in case they came to a place where the man had to feel his way up a rock face and then help the animal clamber up.

"Wow," Charlie said, studying the apparatus. "This guy really thought it through when he figured out that both of you might need to help each other. Now look, Brenden, if we're really going to do this, I'm going to be right there with you."

"I know, Charlie," Brenden said, "but it's really important to me that Nelson and I handle this ourselves. I won't be stupid. If we encounter a problem we can't solve, I'll ask you for help. And I'll certainly be asking for directions. This whole thing is about interdependence, like Smitty always said. We need to be able to rely on each other. Actually, I think that's the way all of life's supposed to work."

Charlie shrugged. "Okay, pal, but you know I'm right there for you."

Brenden clapped his friend on the shoulder. "And we're right there for you too, Charlie."

They both laughed.

They decided that their first climb would be up Grays and Torreys, two fourteeners. They knew these were easy climbs, really just walks in the park for physically fit young climbers. But as Brenden found out quickly, the problem with teaching Nelson to guide over this kind of rough terrain was that the dog's instinct was not to go for it. To him, the loose rocks and angled steps were too dangerous for his master.

And so the day began with a problem. Nelson would not allow Brenden to make progress up the mountain, and no matter how much the man asked the dog to go forward, his friend said absolutely not.

"How do we get him going?" Charlie asked.

"Well," Brenden said, thinking about it, "the issue is you don't want to confuse his instinct to take care of me, get him pulling too hard and taking chances. But we have to encourage him that I want to do this. So here's what we'll try. At least for a while, Charlie, I'll follow you, holding on to your climbing rope, and I'll let Nelson be independent. Let's see what that does."

After about fifteen minutes of climbing, with the dog moving on his own, the men once again put the harness back on and encouraged the guide dog to follow Charlie. Though he was still careful, this time he got it, and Brenden was overjoyed as they snaked their way up toward the summit, never missing a step.

Charlie found it uncanny that the dog could pick out loose rock even better than the humans. The animal seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to placing his feet just so, and when Brenden followed him carefully, the blind man actually climbed over loose stone better than Charlie.

Arriving at the top, Brenden took it all in, and Charlie wished Kat were there to see his smile.

"Wow," he said to his friend. "Charlie, this is awesome. Can you hear the trout stream down below?"

Charlie listened. "Now I can"-he laughed-"because you pointed it out."

"And how about the smell of the pines? The wind is just right, and even though we're above timberline; can you smell them? And the air up here." Brenden took a deep breath. "It tastes so fresh and light. You know what, Charlie? Even the rock we're sitting on feels good, old and warm and good."

The young men were quiet, thinking their own thoughts but bonded-as they had been since boyhood-in the shared experience of the outdoors. Only the sound of the big dog's panting broke the silence, but he, too, seemed at one, relishing the beauty of this exquisite environment.

Brenden was surprised to find the climb down much harder. Even though Smitty's harness worked correctly, he often was forced to reach down when Nelson stepped off an outcropping, and there was something frightening about groping in s.p.a.ce for the next footfall. Climbing up, he decided, had been much easier because everything was in front of you. Going down, the trust factor between man and animal had to be even greater.

And often Brenden felt, as he searched for a footfall hold, that he was placing the dog under great stress, torquing the harness as he tried to find the appropriate purchase for his feet.

"What do you think, Charlie?" he asked on one of their breaks. "Do you think all of this works? Am I putting too much pressure on Nelson?"

"It's amazing to watch him, Brenden. When he knows that you're not sure of your balance point, he drops down, almost onto his haunches, and spreads his paws out so he's as solid as the rocks up here. Talk about adapting, Nelson really has it together."

"Thanks, Charlie," Brenden said. "I just wanted to make sure."

By the time they reached the bottom, Brenden's confidence was as high as the fourteener they had just summited. He believed he could return to the Maroon Bells. He believed he could make the climb on North Maroon that had cost him his eyesight, and he believed he could do it sharing with his two friends-the man he had known since childhood and the dog who had given him back his life.

chapter twenty-two.

Brenden couldn't sleep. He and Charlie drove to the Crater Lake campground to get an early start on the North Maroon climb. The blind man accepted the idea that as he worked his way up with Nelson, the overall climb would take considerably longer than when he had sight. In fact, they doubled the time allotted to complete the ascent and descent of the mountain. They figured if they left at first light, around 5:30 a.m., and a.s.suming a ten-hour climb with an hour of rest, they could get down by four or five in the afternoon, barring any complications.

It was mid-September, so they were still operating under daylight savings time, with sunset not occurring until around seven fifteen, plenty of margin.

They also decided to carry sleeping bags, an additional layer of warm clothing, and food rations just in case they were forced to spend the night on the mountain. As experienced climbers, neither of them took anything for granted when dealing with the capricious nature of the sport.

So why was Brenden feeling so much anxiety? Why was he lying awake in the dark? The big dog lying at his side was probably wondering the same thing because he, too, was awake, as always, supporting his master at all times and through any changes in the man's emotions.

As Charlie snored on, oblivious to his friend's tossing and turning, Brenden tried to figure out what was causing his anxiety. Was it fear of failure? He didn't think so. Was it the memories of his accident? Not really, he thought. It all happened so fast. The painful memories were only about his post-accident trauma, not the fall itself. So why was his stomach churning, and why was he awake? He remembered his football days and how he felt the night before a big game. Was this the same thing? Not really.

His coach once told him that there were two kinds of nervousness that people could experience when preparing to take on a major life moment. You felt instructive nerves when you were very secure in what you were going to do. In these cases your nerves weren't concerned with the consequence of your effort or the possibility of failing. They were only about playing the game to the best of your ability. Brenden remembered that at those moments his emotion was always to "bring it on, let's get started" because he was secure in his ability to quarterback the team.

He knew that people felt destructive nerves when they weren't sure of their talent, or when the fear of failure became more central than the belief in achieving the goal.

As he tossed and turned, Brenden decided that the best way to deal with his concerns was to commit to the certainty that he and Nelson were a team, and that the team was unbeatable.

Finally he fell asleep. But when five o'clock came around and Charlie touched his shoulder, he found himself immediately alert with so much adrenaline pumping through his system that he wasn't tired at all. With the temperature hovering around the freezing point, all three of the climbers were eager to get started.

This climb was quite different for Nelson because of the nature of the rock steps that wound their way to the top of the mountain. The animal quickly learned to stop when the step was high, allowing the man to touch it with his hands, drop the harness, and step up. The dog would then get a sort of running start and leap up onto solid ground. Or, on a couple of occasions when the dog and the man a.s.sessed that the leap was a little too high, Brenden would give the animal a boost from behind until he gained his balance on the top of a ledge.

This was not to say that the man helped the dog more than the animal helped him, but as Charlie watched, he was fascinated at the ease with which the two supported each other. In the eight months the man and dog had been together, it was obvious to Charlie that their bond was completely based on trust, and it was that trust that made their work such a process of sharing.

Arriving at Crater Lake, the men stopped for an energy bar and some Gatorade with both of them truly appreciating the beauty of the place.