Page 133 of Free Heart
“Ah, good idea,” I say, encouragingly.
“I figure since I’m internet famous now, someone will want to get on the channel.”
“Dan, I think they’d just be honored to climb with you. You’re that good.”
He smiles. “I am.”
“Some of them might even like you foryou.They might want to be friends.”
“I’m always telling Peggy Jo I have some. This will be more proof.”
I put my hand on his leg and squeeze before returning my grip to the steering wheel. “Heads up that I’m probably going to vote for the lemon,” I say. “What about you?”
“Strawberry,” he says with a firm, decisive nod.
“Why?”
“Because they’re my favorite berry”—he counts on his fingers—“and because pink is my favorite color.”
“It is?”
“Yup.”
“Huh. Well, who knew?”
“I did,” Dan says. “And now you know too.”
There are so many things still to learn about Dan. I can’t wait to spend forever uncovering them all. I can only hope the climbers he meets over coffee at Camp 4 will find him fascinating too.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Dan
At four thousandfeet elevation and near the granite cliffs by Yosemite Falls, Camp 4 is an iconic destination. Climbers and tourists have, for years, battled it out over the slots. This frozen morning, there are only a handful of fellow climbers around, and most are huddled around a central fire.
Seeing me, Amalia rushes to greet me and, seeing my disappointment, promises that in the late spring and summer months there are a lot more. But I don’t need a lot…I just need one or two reliable belayers who are willing to help me get back on Heart Route.
“You’re Dan McBride, right?” a scruffy-looking guy in a beanie and unzipped puffer coat asks. He puts out the hand that isn’t clutching a steaming mug of coffee. “I’m Amalia’s boyfriend, Jory. I hear you’re looking for someone to help with belaying.”
“I am.”
“Well, you’re in the right place. Everyone here…well, everyone here today, anyway, are all great climbers.” He claps me on the shoulder and guides me toward the small ring of people.
Some are unkempt and grubby, real dirtbaggers. Others have the fresh and pink sheen of a recent shower. Every last one is clutching biodegradable disposable cups of coffee, and a few are munching on some tasty-looking donuts. I look around and am delighted to see there are six entire boxes of them.
“Hey, everyone, this is Dan. He’s never been to one of these events—” Jory says loudly.
“I know you!” one bearded guy calls out. “You’re on YouTube.”
I say nothing about the latter half of his statement because that’s just a fact, but I have quibbles with the former. “I’ve never met you in my life,” I say.
Everyone chuckles, like I’m trying to be funny.
“You’re famous,” Amalia says, laughing. “Everyone knows you.”
“They know who I am. That’s not the same as knowing me.”
“Pedantic—” Jory says, lifting a finger. “Climber. Let me think…I’m betting…autism for the win?”
