Unless the very climb itself killed her. Nevertheless, Daffy trained her gaze on Gus’s broad back.
“You won’t fall if you look ahead.”
Each step forward was an act of her will. An act of trust. But the higher they got, the easier she breathed. “If I fall, tell my parents I went down singing.”
“What song?” Gus’s words floated back on the wind. “You know they’ll ask.”
“Just listen. You’ll hear it when I’m going down, arms and legs flailing.”
“Then be sure to sing loud.”
Her laughter eased the tightness in her stomach, tossing it away over the edge. Fine. Let those emotions fall away. In fact, the higher they climbed, the more her confidence grew. The view was incredible.
“You never said what you were going to do that scared you, Gus.”
“I’ll tell you…the top.” The wind garbled his words.
“It has to be real,” she hollered back. “Not wear a pink tie with a lime-green shirt.”
“…do that…for fun.”
“You have to talk to beautiful Coral Winthrop when she arrives for the wedding.” Daffy cupped her hands around her mouth. “That’s what you have to do, mate of mine.”
As they rounded the curve in the cliff, the path narrowed. Daffy had to push against a continuous wind. The cold sank through her jumper, causing her to shiver. Even so, her legs burned and trembled from the steep grade. “Gus, I’m not sure—”
“Don’t quit.” He continued around the rock face.
Watch Gus.The wind tangled his dark hair. She stepped on a sharp rock, twisting her foot, but she muffled her cry and forged ahead.
“Almost there.”
Thank God.
In mere moments, the incline leveled off and the climb seemed over all too soon. Ducking under a curved tree trunk growing out of the rocks, the two of them emerged into a half circle cut in the stone, flowing with grass and flowers.
Gus ushered her forward. “The Hand of God.”
“Wow…just wow. It’s beautiful.” Worth every fear and perilous moment of the climb.
In this space, the wind behaved like a gentle breeze, teasing the wildflowers. Four reaching pines bent over four large stones.
“We’re standing in the palm?” she said, turning a slow circle. She wanted to take it all in. Store it in her heart forever.
“If the trees are the fingers, yes.”
To the right was a whitecapped North Sea tossing and turning toward the curve of the horizon. The storm clouds rumbled and rammed together.
But in the midst of it all, there was peace. The Hand of God, carved by wind and rain into the rock wall, was a place of refuge.
“Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Gus spoke in a hushed, reverent tone.
“More than I imagined.” The climb, the struggle, now seemed part of its awe and wonder. “I’ve seen pictures, but not one of them did this justice.”
With a swell of courage, she moved closer to the edge, arms wrapped around her waist, and faced the world.
“An investor came in a few years ago and wanted to construct a suspended walkway to attract tourists. Set up a souvenir shop by the quay, hire tour guides, exploit our little natural wonder. But the hamlet council walked out before he could finish his pitch.”
“I’m glad. The climb should be something a person decides to take on her own.” She met his gaze. “Take the risk.”
