The Steeps

Chapter 6 - The Gift

They didn't talk much on the trek back to town, Nat leaving Casey to sort through what he'd seen. Hoped he hadn't overdone the hot-dogging, but figured it was a form of expression the kid understood. The vertigo thing? They'd have to see.  

Outside the stairwell going up to the loft, Nat handed over his snowshoes to Casey. "Take these up for me." He cocked his thumb at the skis he'd strapped back onto his back after his run. "I need to get these edges honed." 

Casey watched him go off down the alley. 

Nat called back to him, "And we need to think about school. Get you registered." At the end of the alley he disappeared onto Main Street. 

 Casey carried both pairs of snowshoes inside and took the creaky stairs up to his new home.   

He came in and elbowed the door shut, dumped the snowshoes in the corner. Took off his parka, went over and tossed it into the bedroom, onto the bed. Turned from the door – and stopped. Something in there had caught his eye. He turned back, paused at the door and then went inside. Went over slowly and lifted his parka off the bed – stared down at the shiny black piece of equipment there. 

A snowboard. A brand new Capita DBX snowboard. 

He sat down on the bed and picked it up. Turned it over in his hands. Studied its long, graceful shape. There was a piece of folded paper stuck in one of the bindings. He took it out and unfolded it and read the message: 

                                                Go for it!  

Had to smile.  

But he knew where this was meant to take him. 

He was out here now in the boonies and all he had going was the board sense he'd brought with him. It wasn't going to do him any good on flat ground. He had to go where he didn't want to be. 

He had to go high. High snow. 

Old dog, new tricks. 

                                                #          #          # 

He was hungry and there wasn't much in the fridge, didn't know when his father would be back. So he went across the street to the Copper Pot Café. It was early enough that they should still be serving breakfast. 

He went in, got a few glances as he looked around, spotted Vera wiping off a table and went over. 

"Hi." 

"Hello there." 

"I came to apologize for starting that business last night." 

"You didn't start it, I saw what happened." 

"Yeah, well, thanks for the burgers, too." 

"You're welcome. But you're on probation." She cocked her head toward the open kitchen where the owner was eyeing Casey over the partition. She finished wiping the table and pointed. "Go have a seat with your friend back there. And behave." 

"Huh?" 

Vera was pointing toward a booth in the back. "She was asking if I'd seen you or your father." 

Casey turned and saw Ronnie Riker watching him from a booth tucked under a set of moose antlers. He walked back to join her. 

"Hey." 

"Hey. How'd it go?" 

"How'd what go?" 

"Your outing this morning." 

Casey took a moment to process this. "It was you who put the board there." 

"Just following instructions." 

Casey slid in across from her. She checked out his face. 

"Nice eye you've got there." 

Casey touched the shiner he got last night. "I'm sure you heard about it." 

"It won't be the end." 

"I'll handle it." 

Vera came over with a pot of coffee and a cup for Casey. "You hungry?" 

Casey nodded. "Actually, yeah." 

"Copper Whopper is eggs, bacon, sausage and pancakes. Homemade toast." 

"Eggs over?" 

"You got it. Ronnie?" 

"Scrambled eggs and toast'll be fine." 

Vera filled Casey's cup, refilled Ronnie's and went to put the order in. Ronnie sipped her coffee, looked over the rim of her cup. 

"So you got to see your father ski?" 

"He's good." 

"He's the best." 

"So what happened? Why isn't he, you know..." 

"Because he can't help being Nat." 

"Meaning what?" 

"Well, for starters, he can't keep his pants on." 

"That isn't new news." 

Ronnie smiled to herself, "Yeah, but not what you think," and took another sip of coffee. 

"I'm listening," Casey said. 

Ronnie put her cup down. "Carson Quiller, Senior, your friend from last night's father, is part owner of the Ski Center. There was a rumor about Nat and Quiller's wife." 

"Beautiful." 

"Quiller got Nat fired from the ski school, hoping he'd leave town." 

"But he didn't." 

"No. And it gets better..." 

She told Casey about how she'd been riding up in the chairlift and seen the whole thing. 

"What thing?" 

She explained how underneath the lift, on one of the slopes near the bottom, all the ski school students, adults and kids, had been lined up along the side, waiting to be divided into classes. On the opposite side the instructors were lined up, all in their matching parkas.  

"The head instructor didn't know Nat had been fired," Ronnie said. "He always used him as the showpiece for the school. So he gave Nat the signal." 

At the top of the slope, above the instructors and ski students, mostly families on vacation to enjoy the wholesome Copper Crest lifestyle, Nat Janz began his graceful run. 

"Like I said, nobody has better moves than your father." 

As Nat approached the section of snow between the students and the instructors, he picked up speed and pointed for a mogul. 

"And like I said, he can't keep his pants on." 

Nat hit the mogul and flew high, did a magnificent forward flip and made a perfect landing. 

Then he dropped his pants. 

He continued on down the slope, his bare white butt mooning the open-mouthed ski students and instructors. 

At the booth, breakfast had arrived, Casey and Ronnie digging in. 

"If you live here," Ronnie said, spearing one of Casey's sausages, "there's no shortage of stories about your father." 

"I'm sure." 

"Or rumors." 

"So how come he's still at the Center?" 

"The subject of one of the rumors is also a part owner there. She got him the gig on the ski patrol. 

"How do you know all this?" 

"That particular subject is my aunt."