Towering

them down when I’m up. They might help you grip.” He examined the rope. “What kind of rope is this? It’s really static.”
    “Oh, that.” I looked down, not knowing what he meant. “It is hair.”
    His eyes widened, somewhat comically. “Your hair?”
    “Um, yes. I have been here a long time. It grew; I cut it. One makes do with what one has. Do you not think we should try to climb instead of talking? I’m cold.” Probably, the less said about my hair, the better. He probably thought I was so strange. I was strange. I could not believe I was actually here, talking to someone, a man, anyone other than Mama. I knew I should be afraid of him. Yet, I was certain he would not hurt me, no matter what Mama would think.
    “Sure,” he said. “It’s just . . .”
    “What?”
    He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just . . . cool. And, man, your hair is . . . something.”
    “Thank you.” I thought that was a compliment.
    “And it will hold you?” He stared at it.
    “It held me, when I came down.”
    “Good point. And hey, I’ve already fallen through the ice today. What else can happen? Here’s what we’re going to do.”
    He took the rope, the length that coiled on the ground, and wrapped it firmly around my waist several times. Then he tied it very tightly. He was so close to me and his hands were very strong.
    Now, I was tied to the tower. But what was he doing?
    “It’s a sort of harness. You’ll have to hold on too, because it’s not very good. I mean, it should really be separate, not the same rope. But it’s better than nothing.”
    “What will you do?”
    He looked up the height of the tower. The wind whistled through the trees. “Watch me. Do what I do.”
    He placed his foot on one of the shingles, testing it. Apparently finding it adequate, he grabbed a higher shingle and pulled himself up, then finding a knot in the wood, on which to put his other foot. He repeated this process, climbing higher. “I’ll try to lift you,” he said, “but you should try to climb too. You’ll be tied to me, so you won’t fall.”
    I nodded, shivering. I was cold too. Yet, despite it, I felt a thrill of excitement, watching him, rather the way I imagined it felt for ladies at court to watch their champions at a jousting match. His wet shirt clung to his muscles, which flexed with each new grip upon the tower. He was so handsome!
    Higher and higher he climbed, and when he chanced to look back, I waved and smiled.
    Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he reached the windowsill. He threw his leg over, bobbling slightly. I gasped. He caught himself and climbed inside.
    “You made it!” I yelled.
    He said something I could not make out.
    “What?” I yelled.
    He stood there, breathing heavily. He must be tired, too tired to lift me up right away. I nodded, to show I understood. He pointed to me, then threw down an object. His glove. Then, the other. I slipped them on to my hands. They were big on me, though they had probably shrunk some from being in the water, and they were cold.
    They were his.
    I studied the rope around my waist. He yelled something else, but it was lost in the wind.
    “What?” I cupped my hand to indicate I couldn’t hear.
    “Try to climb up yourself. If you fall, the rope will catch you.”
    “I will try.”
    Remembering what he had done, I searched for a foothold. I found one and stepped on it. It held me. I pulled myself up with my hands on another shingle. I found another foothold and stepped upon it.
    I was doing it.
    From above, I felt the rope around my waist go slack. I looked up to see Wyatt holding the rope, making it taut so that, if I fell, I would not fall all the way.
    “That’s good!” he said. “Look up at me! Don’t look down.”
    Of course, as soon as he said that, I looked down. But the ground was not so far below me, and the snow looked soft.
    “Rachel! Up here!”
    I looked up, but he was still so far away.
    “Come on! You can do it.”
    My foot began to feel uncomfortable. I searched for another foothold and found one. I pulled myself up, then my other foot. I shivered, fearing I would lose my grip. Yet, the exertion made me feel warmer. I found another foothold and pulled myself up again.
    “Good for you! Keep going!”
    I was closer. At least, I could hear him better. I was doing this! I was doing it!
    The rope was taut above me. I took another step up but lost my grip on the tower. My tower. I clung to it with both arms but felt