"She didn't say anything about Devil's Pass last night." he complained. "With that condition up there, I wouldn't let her go. Robbie must be out of his mind."
Cynthia sipped her coffee and said nothing. She doubted very much that Robbie and Scotti had even gone near the lowest lift on the Pass. Further up the Valley was another small resort town. A little shopping that Scotti liked so much, a snack, and there were plenty of motels along the road. She never underestimated Robbie's salesmanship.
The avalanche hit at ten o'clock. Before that, she and Doug had had their lesson, worn themselves out on the lower slopes near the hotel and were having hot drinks on the outdoor terrace. There wasn't much to see. The area lay behind a ridge that cut off the village from the avalanche site. There was plenty of sound. A godawful roar that drowned out all sounds on the terrace. An awesome, prolonged roar that froze everybody in place. And went on and on. Over the ridge there appeared a vast white cloud of flying snow, rising, rising just like a slow motion film. It started as a rumble that quickly became thunder and then went on and on, suggesting the awesome power of tons and tons of snow in rapid movement.
"Great Christ!" cried Doug jumping up. "Scotti!"
Everyone was paralyzed and then people started to run about the terrace and shout and wail and yabber in high excitement. It was a chaos. It was the more chilling because there was no danger on this side of the ridge.
She had to take Doug to his room. The poor man was a basket case.
As a surgeon he had nerves of steel. As a parent he was worse than a baby. She left him taking a sedative and crying "Scotti, Scotti," with great tears running down his face. Her reassurances made no impression whatsoever.
Down in the lobby, she found people acting very much like they might in a mine cave-in disaster. Almost everyone had family or friends who had headed for the Pass that morning and that was the center of the bog slide. Radios were turned on, TV sets brought the news and people moved about talking softly and with tragedy written on their faces. The hotel people dashed about madly trying to soothe their guests, insisting that there was no need for panic until further news came in. Which would be slowly, because telephone lines were down. But rescue teams were already out and soon the air filled with the sounds of helicopters.
Cynthia had her queasy moments. Yet she found it impossible to think of Robbie as dead. Even if he hadn't changed plans and gone to Penrod, even if he had gone on up on the Pass, he'd survive somehow. She felt very tense, but kept hold of herself, realizing that the grief could come, lots of it, when the bad news arrived if it did. She'd had lots of good years with Robbie and she certainly didn't wish him any physical harm.
She went back to her room. It was obvious that there'd be no hard news for hours yet. The morbid crowd only depressed her. She barely had time to pour a drink before Doug flung her door open and marched in, his face blazing.
"It was Robbie's fault. Robbie killed my daughter! I'll kill him."
"Oh, now, Doug."
"That bastard. That asshole sonofabitch." He found Robbie's suitcase and hurled it against the wall with a loud thud. He jerked open the closet door and began to tear Robbie's clothes from the hangers.
"Doug, for God's sake!" said Cynthia. "If she's dead, he's dead."
He did not seem to hear her. He raged like a madman. Frightened of his great strength, deeply disturbed by his distress, Cynthia blurted out:
"We don't even know they went to the Pass. They probably went to Penrod."
He stopped crashing around and stared at her. His face was a sudden flash of hope.
"Why did you say that?"
"They might've gone shopping, and-and-"
"Shopping, for Christ's sake. She took her gear. Are you nuts?"
There was no time to think. All she wanted to do was calm him down at any cost.
"I think they went to a motel in Penrod, Doug."
He looked stunned. "A motel?"
"From what happened last night-"
He grabbed her by the shoulders so hard it hurt. "What happened last night?"
"I mean-I mean-" She started to weep.
It was too late to hold back the story. He practically choked her and she spilled out the story. Robbie and Scotti had had sex last night That meant to her-maybe they'd didn't go skiing at all.
His face was both white and red.
"Robbie and Scotti? Oh, good Christ!"
There was some rancor in her. "I told you your friend, Robbie, is one of the world's great studs."
He just stood there, stunned. "Well, it's your fault, Doug. You never let the girl date. The two of you hang around together like a couple of sex-mad lovers. Everybody thinks the two of you are lovers. You never date any women. It would be better if you chased young boys, even. Something, anything."
He literally screamed. He came at her and, arms flailing, knocked her across the room to fall on the bed. He raved like a madman and then rushed out of the room, cursing.
Cynthia sat up, holding her swollen, aching and red-bruised jaw. I have, by God, had it, she thought. With Robbie. With Doug and with that silly girl. She cried, long and hard, and then began to pack her clothes… by early afternoon the hotel was cheerful again. Rescue teams returned with party after party. Helicopters brought in more. The Pass had not been hit directly. Lots of people had close escapes but so far only a couple of deaths were known. Gradually the lobby and bars began to take on a party atmosphere, a celebration. What had been a shattering catastrophe at ten o'clock began to turn into a pleasant adventure to spice up life, as skier after skier told his own avalanche story.
CB radios were at work, flashing down name after name of the survivors. Or the unhurt, thought Cynthia. The avalanche had been a buffoon, full of sound and fury but hurting practically nobody. She was one who received a message, but not from the Pass.
"Scotti and I went to Penrod," the radio operator had scrawled. "We are both okay."
Cynthia headed upstairs to find Doug and then felt her tender, swollen jaw and went to her own room instead.
Doug-was already there, sitting in a brocaded chair with a sheepish look on his face.
"I guess you know," she said.
"I know, Cynthia. I gave one of the operators five hundred dollars and talked to Scotti. They went to Penrod, all right. I asked her what motel and she told me before she knew what she was saying."
She looked at Doug more closely. The big man looked absolutely crushed.
"What I did in this room. What I said and did to you," he moaned.
"What you're doing to that girl and yourself." She mixed drinks.
He took his and held it. "Scotti and Robbie had sex," he said in a voice of total disbelief. Two great tears rolled down his cheeks.
"I should be the one who's crying, Doug. Robbie is my husband, but Scotti's only your daughter." She wondered how she'd ever seen anything in this childish man.
He took a slug, brushed away the tears and made a gesture.
"It looks like you're packing."
"I've had it. With you, Scotti and Robbie. As soon as I knew he was all right-and I was sure he was-I wanted to be ready to go. Okay?"
"No, goddamit, it's not okay." For a phlegmatic man he was hitting a lot of different moods today. Now he scowled.
"Tell me one good reason."
"I've got one good reason." He came towards her.
"Oh, for God's sake, Doug. That was last night. That was in another lifetime. I've had it up to here with your prudery and your rages. Get out."
He walked up to her and hugged her. "Maybe I want to get in."
She broke free. She laughed. "Men are crazy. You can't possibly be thinking of sex after all that's happened today."
"But Robbie had his cock in her," he cried. "That bastard had his cock in my darling girl."