Page 57 of Loud Unspoken Memories

“Amazing,” he says reassuringly. “Now climb up a few more rungs. I’ll be on your left.”

I do what he asks, my mouth bone dry and my stomach churning at the thought of what happens if I don’t succeed.

“Okay, great. Now look at me.”

I shake my head, acid eating my insides.

“Marti, I’m right here. Look at me.”

When I open my eyes, he’s on my left. He’s upside down. His face is bright red, but his lips dance with a crooked smile.

He reaches out and grips my arm. “I guess we’ll be even after this.”

“No we won’t be. You’ll still be one up on me. And I’d like to keep it that way if you don’t mind.”

He chuckles. “Okay. You can do this. My foot is wedged pretty tightly. The problem is I can’t lift myself up to free it. I need you to get directly under me so I can use your body as leverage. You’re going to have to hold on tight, with everything you have. Most of my weight will be on you.”

“What if I—”

“Look at me. Sweetheart, you can do this.Wecan do this. Together.”

He gives me clear instructions about where to anchor my hands and feet, wedging myself into a hunched position so he can push himself up using my back.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

Before he puts any weight on me, he reaches out and secures my knot, making sure it’s not going to give should either of us fall.

“Hold on. I’ll try to do this as quickly and safely as I can.”

“Do it, Dallas.”

He grunts as he uses his ab muscles to lift his body as far as he can until his back is resting on my back. He’s heavy. My arms shake and burn as I hold on as tightly as I can.

“Almost there,” he says.

My foot slips and I scream. I regain my footing, tears streaming down my face. “I’m okay.”

“Jesus,” he says, his voice laced with fear.

“Go. I’m good.”

Putting even more of his weight on me, I try to keep myself from being pushed down. I gather up all my strength and hold myself steady, ignoring the intense pain of my arms practically ripping from their sockets.

Suddenly, his weight is gone. Just as I start to panic, he says, “I’m free.”

The breath I take is what it must feel like when a baby is born and they get their first lungful of air.

More tears streak my face, this time from relief.

“Hold tight,” he says. “I’m going to climb around you.”

I keep my eyes closed, feeling his body work around mine.

“Okay, I’m right behind you. We’re going down together.”

“I hope you mean on the ladder.”

He presses into me and whispers close to my ear, “It’s nice to know you haven’t lost your sarcastic wit.”

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