23. Grady
CHAPTER 23
GRADY
It’s been a few days since the career fair, and the deadline for the council meeting is looming. So is my deadline to convince Spencer to stay in Heartwood. She spent the last few days furiously working on her computer at my dining table, putting together her portfolio for this job that she’s determined to get.Little does she know, I’m just as determined to show her that she can have everything she wants right here in Heartwood, too. Something she said at the fair gave me all the inspiration I needed, and now I have a laser-like focus on my end goal.
“Where are we going that you had to get me up at the ass-crack of dawn?” Spencer groans, her voice still sleepy. The sun hasn’t even risen over the mountains, and that’s the point, but knowing how much she hates mornings, it was a risky move on my part. Waking her up today was like poking a sleeping bear.
“You’ll see. Just drink your coffee,” I say, handing her the thermos I brought with me for this very reason, to keep her from getting too grizzly.
We round the corner, and I pull the car into the lot next to the baseball diamond. It was the largest open space in town, and the only place that Carl agreed to meet. The moment I park the car and turn towards Spencer is the moment I realize that the risk of waking the sleeping bear was worth it. The look on her face when she realizes what we’re out here to do …
“A hot air balloon?” She beams at me, jaw nearly in her lap. “You got me a hot air balloon? Are we going up in it?”
“No, we’re just here to watch it from the ground,” I deadpan. “Of course we’re going up in it.”
Spencer just about spills the carafe of coffee as she flings the door open, squealing with delight at the surprise. I realized yesterday that if Spencer is going to be convinced to stay in Heartwood, it’s going to take something big. It’s going to take something that can compete with all the exciting adventures she’s been on around the world. If she loved looking at the hot air balloons in Turkey, then I’m willing to bet that going up in one over the Rocky Mountains at sunrise would be a close competition.
Spencer is halfway across the field, approaching the bright rainbow balloon. By the time I’ve reached her, she’s craning her neck to look up at it in awe.
“Howdy,” Carl says, climbing out of the basket and landing on the ground in front of us. “Ready for your flight?” He makes it sound like we’re getting ready to board an airplane, but the reality of it makes my stomach feel watery. This is no airplane. Up close this thing is … terrifying. The basket looks as though it could barely hold two of us let alone three, and the sides seem … a lot lower than I would have thought for something that is supposed to keep us thousands of feet above the ground.
I’m second-guessing my decision to do this when Spencer pipes up.
“Yes!” she squeals “I have dreamt about doing this for years!” She claps her hands like a kid waiting to open presents on Christmas, and it almost makes it worth the fact that I’m about to shit my pants. I thought public speaking was terrifying, but this …
Carl waves us over and starts to go through a brief explanation of the basket, the balloon, and what we can expect throughout the ride.
“What kind of safety equipment is there?” I ask. My voice comes out shakier than I expect it to. Carl looks back at me and blinks slowly. Once, twice. It’s not the first time he’s been asked this question, right?Was that a stupid question?
“I’ve got three parachutes on board, and a fire extinguisher.”
“Parachutes?” I say, aghast.
“Yup. Not much you can do once this thing decides to go down but jump ship. I’ve never had to use them though. The chance of a ballooning accident is rare.”
“But not impossible,” I add, the words squeaking out of my throat that is getting tighter by the second.
“No. Hence, the parachutes.” He winks, but I’m not amused.
“Come on, Grady. You like a little danger, right?”
“A little danger.” I emphasize the word little . Like not wearing a helmet on my bike when I ride it a block or two home. Not like plummeting to my death. Suddenly, Carl and his Costco jeans and New Balance sneakers don’t seem like someone I should be entrusting my life to in a virtual picnic basket three thousand feet in the air.
Yet here we are, and Spencer is taking his hand as he helps her up the step into the death trap. I follow close behind, but I don’t take Carl’s hand even though he’s extended it to me.
Why did I think this was a good idea again?
Spencer is practically buzzing with excitement as I climb into the basket after her. Right. That’s why. If this is what it takes to get Spencer to see what she can have here, I would do it ten times over. Hell, I would bungee jump off this thing if that’s what I had to do.
Carl is the last to join us, and he closes the gate, latching it behind him.
No turning back now. I decide that my only option now is to trust Carl. After all, he came highly recommended by Eleanor when I called her last night. Though now I wonder if that had more to do with him being the only hot air balloon tour offered in Heartwood. The fact that he just happened to have an opening the very next morning could also be interpreted as a red flag, but it’s no longer a helpful thought as he releases the ropes around the outside of the basket holding us down. My stomach lurches as the basket lifts off the ground.
Spencer twines her hand through mine. It’s soft and warm and it settles my nerves. Heat radiates from the flame keeping the balloon aloft overhead, heating us against the cool spring morning. If this is my last day on earth, I decide, this is how I want to go.
We rise higher and higher into the clear sky, coming to meet the height of the mountains around us. As we do, the sun comes into view over the horizon, casting a warm glow on our faces. I glance down towards Spencer. She’s closing her eyes, leaning her face against my arm. A tear trickles down her cheek.
“Talk to me, Rebel. Are you okay?” I ask her, my heart dropping at the sight. Maybe this wasn’t the right thing to do. Maybe this hot air balloon has made her realize that she misses the wide-open world. Maybe this has worked against me.
“This is perfect, Grady. Absolutely perfect.” My panic eases as she stretches up onto her tip toes to place a soft kiss on my cheek. “Thank you for doing this.”
We float up here, weightless, for another hour or so before Carl brings us back down to earth. As magical as the whole experience was, I can’t help but let out an audible sigh when I get out of the basket and feel solid ground beneath my feet. I can feel the colour returning to my face.
“That bad, huh?” Spencer asks with a smirk, noticing the way my shoulders visibly relaxed when my feet hit the grass.
“I don’t love heights,” I admit.
“Grady!” she shrieks, playfully shoving my shoulder. “You didn’t tell me you were petrified the whole time!”
“Okay, well I wouldn’t say petrified . I think I held it together.”
“Yeah, if you call closing your eyes the whole time holding it together.”
“The sun was bright,” I lie. In fact, the sunrise was just a convenient cover.
“Sure.” Her eyes crease at the corners as she squints at me, forming those little crow’s feet that I wouldn’t change for the world.
She flops down on the seat next to me when we get back to the car. I open my mouth to ask her if she wants breakfast, but she’s distracted by something on her phone.
“Everything okay?” It’s the same look she gets when her mom texts, but I happen to know that Marla will still be asleep when we get back.
“Yeah. It’s just my agent.” Right. The portfolio she was working on. “She said she loves what I’ve put together so far.” A half-smile forms on her mouth.
“That’s good, right?” I ask. Every fibre of my being hopes that Spencer will say no. That my plan is working, my grand gesture enough to convince her that she doesn’t need that job. She doesn’t need to leave. There’s something in her expression that seems like she’s deflated a bit. She shakes her head, a crease forming between her brows.
“Yeah. No. It’s great,” she says. “It’s just still not enough for the rep at Mile High. They want a guarantee that I’ll be able to deliver. They want to know that what we’ve done here has worked. That we’ve won at the council meeting.”
“We will win at the council meeting,” I reassure her, though every part of me wants to tell her that she should turn the job down regardless of what happens. That I would do anything to take care of her, give her a home here. I know that won’t work. I’ve also come to accept the fact that when it comes to Spencer, this has to be on her terms. All I can do is continue to show her that what we have is worth more than any job, apartment, or trip could ever give her. The feeling I get from this thought isn’t all that different from the feeling I had going up in the balloon, my gut tightens, bracing myself. I just hope that when Spencer decides what she wants, it doesn’t send me crashing down to earth at terminal velocity.