Page 54 of When Love Is Lost and Found

I take a few tentative steps forward, but the closer I get to the windows, the more anxious I feel.

"I think I can see everything from here, thank you."

"You're afraid of heights?"

"No," I say. "I'm afraid of falling. What if one of those windows is not installed correctly? I'm fine right here, thank you."

"You can hold onto my arm if you want."

I instinctively reach for him, and as soon as I slip my arm through his, I feel better. Safe.

He puts his hand over mine and glances at me.

"Do you want to get a little closer? Or we can stay here."

I take a few more steps until we're an arm's length away from the windows.

"Thank you for bringing me up here," I say. "I feel like I'm on top of the world."

"You're welcome."

"I'd like to take the stairs back down." I say, "Would that be okay?"

He grins, knowing I'm giving him an exit that doesn't involve an elevator.

"Thank you," he says.

***

The long walk back to the hotel puts us both at ease. Between my fear of heights and his fear of enclosed spaces, we're both thankful for the solid ground under our feet.

"Where did you learn to braid women's hair?" I ask, wondering if he used to braid Susan's hair for her. The sudden chill of jealousy I feel doesn't go unnoticed.

"I learned it watching two of my students braid each other's hair during class."

"You allow hair styling in the classroom?"

"Of course not," he says. "I had to physically separate two sixth graders who had a death grip on each other's hair during a fight. They had pulled clumps of hair out. It was pretty traumatic."

"Poor girls," I say sympathetically.

"I'm not talking about them," he says. "I'm talking about me. It scarred me for life."

I laugh.

"Anyway," he continues, "I kept them in detention after school and made them braid each other's hair as a punishment."

I laugh again, realizing this story makes me like this man even more.

We enter the hotel and walk down the hall to the stairwell, but there's a sign on the door that reads Temporarily Closed.

"We can wait," I say, glancing at Jon.

"It could be hours before they open it. We have to meet Mom and Dad at the restaurant in an hour."

"I don't have to change," I say.

"It's okay. We can take the elevator."

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