He smiled and squeezed my hand. “Not bad either.”
Chapter 19
Leap of Faith
Cody rejoined us and we followed the marked trail to the viewpoint, a cliff overlooking a spectacular vista of jungle and the distant misty shape of Orinoco Falls. Under normal circumstances, the view would have been breathtaking. But then I saw the setup for a bungee jump, and I was terrified.
“I know you hate heights,” Ray said. “I’ll go first.”
Though his affair had surprised me, I still knew my husband inside and out. He was dying for the chance to do the bungee jump.
I was tempted to agree immediately, but something stopped me. Throughout our marriage, I’d often let Ray handle the physical challenges while I managed the intellectual ones. It was a comfortable division of labor, but it had also created a dynamic where he sometimes saw me as less capable, less adventurous.
“No,” I said, surprising myself. “I’ll go first.”
Ray’s eyebrows shot up. “You sure? You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“Maybe I need to prove something to myself,” I replied.
Ernie and George arrived shortly after us, both breathing heavily from the exertion.
“Bungee jumping?” Ernie read from their clue. “Oh hell no.”
George clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, all that blubber you’ve got, you’ll bounce easy.”
Race officials checked our head-held cameras and then fitted us with wireless microphones – the better to capture my screams of terror for television, I assumed – and led us to the platform. Adrienne and Fletcher were already down on the ground, heading to their next destination.
"I'll go first," George offered. "Show you there's nothing to it."
I nodded gratefully. As George was secured into the bungee harness, Ray pulled me aside.
"You sure you don't want me to go first? Prove that it's safe?"
"I may be scared, but sometimes growth happens at the edge of fear," I said. "You taught me that. On that first hike in Colorado."
Before Ray could respond, George's whoop of excitement cut through the air as he leaped from the platform. His initial shout of fear quickly transformed into laughter as he bounced at the end of the bungee cord.
"That was AWESOME!" he yelled as he was lowered to the safety mat below.
A guide approached me. "Ready?"
I swallowed hard. "As I'll ever be."
I stood at the edge of the bridge, looking down. It was a long way. White water rushed over stones a thousand feet below me. I figured you could drop a five-story building into the gorge, and maybe the spire on the roof would reach the bridge railing I was clutching.
The guy in charge of the bungee jump was a moon-faced Venezuelan. He tapped me on the shoulder and pointed at the harness. "You go?" he asked.
I hate heights. I have since I was a kid. I remember going up on a Ferris wheel and getting stuck at the top when I was about six or seven, and the fear that gripped me so much that I couldn't speak or move. My dad had to lift me out of the carriage when we finally made it to the ground.
"Come on, Jeffrey," Ray said. "Get a move on. Those sorority sisters are breathing down our asses."
Typical Ray. When I get nervous or scared, he gets angry. But then something changed in him. Ray usually pushes me until we're just at the point of a huge fight—and then steps back. This time, he reached out and took my hand, and little zings of energy shot through my skin. Call me a fool, but after so long together, his touch still thrilled me. "You can do it, babe," he said.
"Remember," the guide instructed, "arms out like a swan dive, eyes on the horizon, not down. When I count to three, just step forward. The bungee does the rest."
I nodded, unable to form words.
"One... two..."
