Page 76 of My Favorite Hero

It was a woman.

And her name was Casey.

CASEY

I sat on the back deck, enjoying the breeze. We were having the perfect weather. Warm and lovely, but not hot and sticky the way Ontario summers could be. It was only June, and I knew those times would come soon enough.

In the meantime, I was loving the days we had. I took a sip of my iced tea, the lemon and lime flavor I added giving it a great tang. Idly, I wondered if Thorne would like it.

A shiver went through me at the thought of Thorne coming home. I hoped he’d missed me the way I missed him.

I liked the new dynamic, although it was a little confusing. We agreed no strings, no relationship, yet he’d kept me close after we’d started this agreement. I’d even slept in his bed the last two nights before he left for his shift, wrapped in his arms, unable to leave. Both mornings, he’d fed me breakfast, then sent me through the closet with a kiss to my forehead, telling me to stay out of trouble as if he was used to sending me off to work every day. And his antics at the grocery store had been amusing and sweet, even though I gave him shit about it. He wasn’t acting the way I expected him to. It was almost as if he cared.

It was all still new, though, and I was sure that would wear off quickly.

I watched the wind move the branches of the tree in the corner of the property. It was a massive oak tree and had seemed tall when I was a child. It was majestic and full, providing shade and a lovely canopy of green.

A memory I had forgotten stirred. Lou loved to craft things—something I swore I got from her since my mother could barely sew a straight line and hated all things glue and glitter.

Lou and I had spent a rainy day making wind chimes. Not just any wind chimes. These were long, cascading streams of color. Lou filed the sides of broken bottles in blues, greens, and clear until she was certain the edges wouldn’t cut us. We added glitter, making them extra sparkly. We covered bottle caps in bright ribbon, adding twigs and pieces of metal she had from other projects. She had some old bells we attached in key places, once having decided on the length of our musical hanger. We put beads of glue with clear glitter on long pieces of string so they looked like water drops, shimmering in the sun. Then we constructed the longest “wind chime” and carried it out to the backyard the next day when the sun was out. Together, we climbed a ladder and scaled the tree, draping our beautiful creation over the branches, turning the tree into a spectacular display of imagination and color. We shimmied down and stood back, admiring our handiwork. The breeze shook the branches, the glass and metal making clanging sounds, and the twigs hit the bells, making them ring out in song.

I’d thought it was the most beautiful tree ornament I had ever seen. One of the neighbors informed us it sounded like an out-of-tune fifth-grade band, but Lou and I loved it.

My mother had very little to say except the roll of her eyes.

I sighed as I remembered the fun of it. And how hanging in the tree gave the chimes room to ring freely.

I glanced to the kitchen where I had hung my other two banned wind chimes. Banned from outside the house.

But Jesse never said anything about the tree. They were small, and he probably wouldn’t even notice them. He was already used to the one by my bedroom window, and although he wouldn’t admit it, I think he liked it.

The tall extension ladder now hung on the side of the garage, Jesse deciding he would use it often in the summer. I could lean it against the tree, hang the wind chimes, and be back on the deck and reading by the time Jesse got home. I had at least three hours.

The added bonus was that he’d be distracted by the scent of the roast I was cooking. He’d be far more concerned about filling his plate than any sound he might hear. It was a perfect plan.

I sprang from my chair. I was so doing this.

The ladder was more cumbersome than I expected. Jesse made it look as if he was carrying nothing heavier than a blanket. It knocked me off-balance more than once, and I winced as I hit the heavy metal on my hip. I finally got it to the tree and lifted it, leaning it on the trunk. I pulled and pushed it into a spot, hoping it would stay in place. I picked up the wind chimes carefully, draping them over one arm. I stood, peering up into the branches, choosing the spots to hang them. Both had empty spaces under them so the wind chimes could swing freely and sing out.

I was excited as I climbed, feeling like a kid again. I stopped at one branch, hanging the smaller of the two chimes, untangling a few of the lines. As I reached to make sure it was in place, the ladder lurched a bit, and I grabbed at it, my heart racing. I chuckled, thinking it had simply sunk more into the trunk and I was overreacting. I gave the chimes a push, smiling as they twirled and tinkled. I wanted to clap in glee but decided that wasn’t the best idea on a ladder. Jesse would be angry if I didn’t practice safety.

Not that I planned to tell him I’d been up on a ladder. I was sure he wouldn’t notice the additions. The leaves were budding and filling in daily, and the chimes would be hidden from sight. He would think it was the one outside my bedroom window and complain.

I grinned, thinking of his curmudgeonly ways.

I climbed a few more steps, then spotted the perfect branch about six feet above me. I hadn’t extended the ladder, so I had two choices. Put the wind chimes where I’d first planned, or retreat to my childhood days and climb the last few feet. I’d always loved climbing trees—I was older now, but I decided it had to be like riding a bicycle. Once you knew how, you were set. It was all about balance. Lou had taught me, my mother yelling at us not to fall and that I shouldn’t be climbing trees. We ignored her and scaled many trees.

I clipped the wind chimes to my overalls and slipped them inside the bib to keep them safe. Then I crawled onto the branch closest to me, reaching for the one above to steady myself. I kicked off the ladder to help with my reach and pulled myself up. I found the next branch, swinging myself up, pleased and proud. I had forgotten how much fun it was.

I reached the branch I wanted and realized how far I would have to stretch to get the wind chimes on it. Taking a deep breath, I gave myself a pep talk.

“You can do this, Casey. Hold the branch above and balance on the lower one, clip the chimes on, and shimmy back. Easy. You got it.”

Using my hands like pulling a rope, I slid toward the middle of the branch. I heard a creak and froze. The wind felt stronger up here, and I shook my head at my overactive imagination. I carefully put one hand into my bib, pulling out the chimes. There was another creak, and my foot slipped. I cried out but managed to stay upright. I made a snap decision and hung the chimes where I was. I pushed them toward the end of the branch and decided that would do. In hindsight, I should have stuck to the lower branch, but it was too late and the task was almost done.

I swayed a little and had to grip the branch above me to steady myself. Then I made the biggest mistake of all. I looked down, and I froze. The ground was so far away. I shut my eyes, blocking it out, and took a deep breath. “Step carefully,” I muttered. “Just a few steps to the trunk then you can relax for a minute and climb down.”

Step by step, I went, the creaking louder and more frequent. I heard a snap, and I lunged forward to the thicker part of the limb, grabbing the trunk. I stayed where I was, catching my breath, and looked back. The branch was hanging, broken where I had been standing. If I hadn’t moved, I would have fallen and hurt myself badly. I gathered my courage and looked down to the next limb. Had it moved? It was too far away to simply step down. Then I remembered swinging up.