“Doing my best.”
Liza let go of her wrists and Ginger slid down the wall into his arms as his hands moved up her body. Her booted feet landed on the top step and he had just the right leverage to hold her steady as the ladder swayed.
“Hang on there, Ginger,” he said, needing her to stay still until the
metal frame steadied. Then he helped her down a rung, then another, until he could pull her against him and keep her stable.
When he spared a glance up at Liza, she was assessing the fire behind her. Her head whipped back to the window. Their gazes locked. She mouthed the word hurry.
“I’ll be right there, darlin’.”
Then he looked below him to the spectators gripped with the same fear he felt. “Someone help her,” he said of Ginger’s shaky descent.
“Ladder won’t hold much more weight,” Eddie warned.
“I can help her,” Lydia said as she stepped forward and started to climb the ladder. “I don’t weigh as much as you men.”
Chris helped her up with a hand on her elbow until she was out of his reach.
“You okay?” Jack asked Ginger.
She nodded. “Just can’t seem to get my trembling fingers to work.”
“Let Lydia help you down. Slowly.”
She stayed put, her arm wrapped around a rung, as Jack moved back up the ladder. In the distance, he finally heard the sound he’d been waiting for. But he couldn’t abandon Liza and hope the fire crew got to her in time. The attic would burst into flames at any moment now, he feared, and she was already coughing and hacking from the smoke inhalation.
He moved carefully up the ladder so as to not shake it while Lydia and Ginger climbed down. When he was positioned again, he looked up at Liza and said, “Take your shoes off. Those heels won’t help you. You’ll slip when you land.”
She was going to have to slide further down the outside of the building than Ginger had, hopefully making it safely to the top step. He’d have to catch her when she got there. Keep them both steady so they didn’t fall over. No easy feat. Not one he was even sure he could accomplish. But he wasn’t going to tell her that.
Liza discarded her shoes as he’d requested, then climbed over the window ledge. She held herself steady for a moment, her forearms resting on the covered sill as she gripped it tight.
“Slow,” he said. “Easy.”
If she slid too fast, he’d never be able to stop her. They’d both keep going ‘til they hit the ground.
Hoping to calm her nerves, he said, “Worse that’s gonna happen, we both fall and break some bones.”
That was probably a lie. They could break their necks, for Christ’s sake. But he wanted her to stay steady and focused. Not paralyzed with fear.
As she started to lower herself, though, everything went awry.
“Oh fuck!” she yelled in terror as the rug began to slip. It slid over the edge of the sill with her weight and Liza went with it, sliding down the side of the building like a kid riding a sled down a slippery ski slope.
“Liza!” his heart leapt into his throat.
She screamed as her body made contact with his. He tried to get a grip on her, but it all happened so quickly and he didn’t have the best stance, wasn’t balanced well enough. She slipped partially through his grasp and screamed again—this time in raw agony—as her side connected with the top step. He had a grip on her shirt though and held it tight as her bare feet searched for a rung, much lower than where he was positioned. She slipped a little further, finally landing on a solid step, though he could see her ankle was twisted in an unnatural way.
She wrapped her arms around the side of the metal frame and held fast to it. The ladder swayed from the sudden and unstable weight, but the boys below held it in place.
Jack was bent over, with one hand holding her shirt, the other holding the top step, because he was about to topple over.
“Don’t move,” he said between clenched teeth. “Not an inch.” He fought to steady himself.
Liza stilled and he regained his balance. When the ladder stopped shimmying and shaking, he said, “Are you holding on tight?”
“Death grip,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”