22. Risk and Reward
22
RISK AND REWARD
Ford
“Sit,” I repeated sharply, my eyes fixed on the winding road ahead. Mara hesitated for a moment before dropping into the seat and buckling her seatbelt. I could feel her excitement vibrating through the air like a live wire, and it made me nervous.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Sean—how he used to pull stunts like this when we were kids. One summer, he leaped off the roof into our pool, missed the edge by inches, and ended up sprawled on the pavement with a broken wrist. Even now, I can still hear our nanny’s scream. He laughed it off, of course, but I’ve never forgotten the way my heart dropped, knowing it could have been so much worse. That recklessness? It runs in my family, just not in me.
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” I said firmly, my fingers white-knuckled on the steering wheel.
Mara swiveled to face me, a huge grin on her face. “That was amazing.”
I forced a smile, but my heart was racing. “I’m glad you loved it, but you nearly gave me a heart attack.” I glanced down at her hand, still gripping mine tightly. “You scared me.”
Her smile faltered as she noticed my unease. She reached for my forearm, her fingers soft against my skin. Warmth seeped through me, but I couldn’t quite shake the tight coil of fear in my chest. She had this effect on me—this reckless joy—but with every risk, all I could think of was what could go wrong. I pulled away, my eyes fixed resolutely on the road ahead. We still had a long way to go, and I couldn’t afford to lose focus.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” she said. “I didn’t mean to. The impulse swept over me and I couldn’t stop myself. I think it’s part of the whole seize the day kick I’ve been on.” She hesitated, then said, “I’m glad I did it though. I think it must feel something like that to go hang gliding or skydiving.”
I forced a laugh. “I wouldn’t know. I have a healthy fear of heights.”
“Really?” She squeezed my hand. “I would have pegged you for a daredevil. Did all those genes end up in your youngest brother?”
I glanced over at her. “Watching Sean take stupid chances with his life stopped me. He was reckless when he was a kid. At least he has some common sense now. Even so, being a stuntman is risky. What sane person puts themselves in danger?”
She swiveled in her seat, adjusting her seatbelt as she studied me. “Are you ever worried you’ll look back on your life and regret the things you didn’t try? The chances you didn’t take?”
I sensed there was more behind her question. This wasn’t just about standing up in the car.
“I’m more about looking back on a long life full of achievements rather than regrets,” I said, glancing at her. “Some risks are worth it, but I’ve seen enough accidents to know when to pull back.” I paused. “Besides, I’m not keen on losing you before we’ve even gotten started. I have to accept some blame though. My entire industry glorifies that sort of behavior. Plus, there are millions of videos and memes floating around of people doing stupid stunts.”
She shook her head. “People can be pretty reckless.”
I gave a wry smile. “Like jumping off bridges and posting videos about it? Or walking on the parapets of buildings?”
“Parapets?”
“The wall around the top of a building,” I explained.
“A parapet sounds like something you’d find on a castle.”
I grinned, enjoying the banter. “That too. Are you into architecture?”
She swiveled to face forward again, pulling the seatbelt firmly against her hips. “Not really. I never really thought much about it. I take it you are?”
“You’d be surprised at the things you pick up as a director. Architecture, labor laws, building codes, stunt mechanics. Not to mention more obvious areas of expertise like writing, cinematography, acting, sound, and so forth.”
She shot me a wry smile. “I’ve noticed you can be a little detail oriented.”
“You got me there,” I admitted. “About certain things.”
“A control freak, too.”
The corner of my mouth twitched as I unsuccessfully tried to hide my smile. “Does it show?”
“Occasionally, Mr. Director. It’s in the job title.” She cast me a sidelong glance. “Did it drive you nuts that I didn’t sit down the moment you told me to?”
I stopped trying to suppress my smile and let it spread across my face. “Maybe,” I glanced at her, “but I also liked seeing you let go. Moments of pure release are good for the soul.”
She grinned as my words sank in and relaxed into her seat.
I took a sharp turn onto a road that hugged a steep hill, and Mara let out a squeal.
“Serves you right.” I revved the engine. We climbed up the hillside and the landscape whipped past us in a blur.
Just ahead, the trees thinned and then disappeared on the downhill side of Mount Washington. I caught a fleeting view of the spot where the three rivers converged far below us. Water from the enormous fountain in Point State Park sparkled in the sunlight.
At the top of the hill, I turned onto a narrow, brick-paved side street and found a parking spot.
I opened Mara’s door, and she stepped out onto the uneven pavement. “The bricks are gorgeous, but can you imagine trying to walk on them in stilettos?” she asked. “I’m glad I wore my wedge-heels. The Chuck Taylors would have been even better though.”
At the top of the hill, we crossed to the far side of Grandview Avenue. Mt. Washington dropped off below us, offering a breathtaking view of the city. Pittsburgh sat nestled in the triangle where the three rivers converged. The fountain sparkling in the sunlight at the tip of Point Park punctuated the city like a period at the end of a sentence.
Mara let out a sigh. “What a fabulous view.”
A little farther down the street, I pointed out the unusual building that sat cantilevered above the steep slope. As we watched, the strange-looking angled train came trundling up the slope and disappeared into a chute extending from the bottom of the building.
“This has to be the Duquesne Incline.” Mara picked up the pace in her excitement. “I’ve been meaning to visit, but I never seem to get around to it.”
I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her closer. “You really need to get out more,” I murmured in her ear.
Mara slowed her pace, the usual spark in her eyes dimming as she looked out over the city. I could feel the shift in her mood before she even turned to me, her arms wrapping around herself, as if pulling inward.
“It’s funny,” she said, almost to herself. “Before you, I didn’t realize how much of myself I’d cut off. I blamed it on starting the business, but... I think losing Chance was the real reason. It was easier to withdraw than to face the world without him.”