Matinees With Miriam. Vicki Essex

looked up, frowning. “Maybe I should just call the fire department.”

      “No need for that.” She couldn’t bear it if they saw her like this. And who knew what the fire marshal might say if he discovered she was living here. “A lot of them are volunteers from around the county. They’ll probably be getting ready for bed. Or they might have a real emergency.”

      She could see Shane’s brow furrow even from up there, and she got a feeling he was holding something back. “What’s wrong?”

      “Is the ladder safe?”

      “I’ve never fallen from it.”

      “And the catwalk?”

      She huffed. “What’s the matter?”

      He wiped a hand across his mouth. “I should call the fire department.”

      “No! Please, Shane—” she gripped the rope and spun herself around “—I’m begging you. I don’t want them here.” She couldn’t handle a bunch of townspeople shaking their heads at her. Whispering about her. Stupid girl, getting herself tangled up there...

      He didn’t look convinced. Desperate, she made a bargain. “Look, if you help me down, I’ll listen to anything you have to say, sit in on all your presentations, whatever. Just don’t call anyone else.”

      He hesitated. “All right. Hang on.”

      It took a really long time for him to climb the ladder. The rungs rang with each step. The higher he got, the longer the pauses between clangs. Eventually, he reached the catwalk. He gripped both rails, the rope he’d found slung over his shoulder. His jaw worked as he focused on her. He’d gone quite pale.

      “Are you all right?”

      “I...have a thing...about heights.”

      “It’s not that high up,” she assured him hastily, though Grandpa had told her a stagehand had once fallen and broken both legs decades ago. “Just don’t look down.”

      “Wasn’t my plan.” His voice was thin, coming out on a shaky breath.