“I’m fine. Really. Done this a thousand times.”
Suddenly, my eyes flicker from the concerned older lady’s face to the ground below. Good God! I really am teetering near the top of the evergreen.
My thick tortoiseshell glasses slide dangerously close to the tip of my nose.Darn it!I shrug, trying to use my shoulder to push them back up. Instead, they free-fall.
“Dammit!”
Instantly blind, everything about this tree-climbing endeavor seems really, really,reallystupid. Like leg-shaking, arm-trembling, palm-sweating idiocy.
“Oh God!”
“Mon couchon, you’ve dropped your glasses.”
My stomach roils, twisting and turning, and a cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. I hear the frenetic tearing of cat claws on bark as Dumpling races back down the tree trunk. Her form is a distant blob, disappearing into the myopia I’ve struggled with since puberty.
“Cat, you need to come down. You’ll be late for work.”
“I can’t, Gran,” I whisper, every part of me quivering, including my voice.
“Can’t? Why not?”
I don’t want to admit I’m wrong, but it’s the elephant in the backyard. “Umm … I climbed too high. I need help getting back down. Do you think Ralph’s home and could bring a ladder over or something?”
“Ralph who?”
The question nauseates me. Before his passing Grandpa got very confused. I can’t stand a repeat of this with Gran.
To top it off, I left my cell phone inside.Thisis not my day.
“Tilly!” I exclaim. “Won’t she be here soon?”
“Tilly? Yes, of course.” It never ceases to amaze me how Gran can remember some things with perfect clarity, like her beloved home health nurse, yet completely forget a neighbor of thirty years. “But in an hour or so … isn’t this her grocery pick-up day?”
An hour or so?Terror rips through my core, heart racing. There’s no way. I’m already shaking like a brittle fall leaf in adust devil. I won’t be able to last that long. I wedge myself onto a large limb, tangling my legs in its branches, clinging to more overhead, and pressing my back against the trunk.
“I can’t wait an hour,” I gasp, throat tightening. “Oh God,” I whisper, regretting my impetuous move. “I need you to call for help.”
“From whom?”
“Nine-one-one,” I pant, internally kicking myself for my stupidity.
“Are you injured?” Gran asks.
I imagine her scrunching her face skeptically, but I don’t dare look down. Even if I could, she’d resemble a big, peachy, faceless blob. “No, but I can’t get down without my glasses,” I gasp between fast-paced breaths.
Gran heads toward the porch. I whisper a desperate prayer as the tree sways in the breeze.Please, no wind. Not right now.
“Hurry, Gran,” I mutter.
She reappears, cordless phone in hand, stubbornly refusing to make the switch to a cell phone. “What was that number again, Cat?”
I inhale, letting the breath out slowly and trying to calm myself. “Nine-one-one.”
“Please, God,” I talk to myself. “Don’t let me die like this. Give me one more chance, and I promise I’ll start living my life. Not let it pass me by, but actively participate in it. Appreciate it. Spend a little less time on my TBR and more time on my IRL.”
“Be a little naughty,” Gran chimes in, French accent lilting.
“Yes,” I murmur. “If that’s what it takes. “I promise when I’m out of this tree to do something a little naughty for once … maybe even a little dangerous.” My heart plummets at the last three syllables. “Okay, not height-dangerous. More like romance-dangerous.”
