Page 18 of Trusting the Grumpy Mountain Man
"Borrowed clothes have worked so far." I hand her the smallest harness. "Unless you're afraid of heights."
The challenge works as intended. Her chin lifts, eyes narrowing. "I'm not afraid."
"Good." I help her step into the harness, keeping my touch professional despite the intimacy of adjusting straps around her thighs and waist. "I'll belay you myself."
The teens watch with undisguised interest as I explain the basics to Riley. She listens intently, focus absolute as she absorbs the instructions. It's the same quality I've noticed when she observes the program, an ability to fully engage with what's before her.
"Ready?" I ask, securing myself to the belay rope.
She nods, approaching the wall with determination. Her first attempt to pull herself up fails, arms not accustomed to supporting her body weight. Instead of giving up, she adjusts her grip and tries again, this time successfully finding footholds.
"Keep your weight on your legs," I call up to her. "Arms are for balance."
She follows the instruction immediately, her movements becoming more fluid. What she lacks in strength, she makes up for in careful planning, analyzing each move before executing it. Halfway up the wall, she pauses, breathing hard.
"You're doing great," I encourage, maintaining steady tension on the rope. "Take your time."
"It's higher than it looks from the ground," she calls back, voice tight but controlled.
"Focus on the next hold, not the height." I keep my tone matter-of-fact, the way I would with the teens. "One move at a time."
She continues climbing, methodical and determined. When she reaches the top, the teens break into spontaneous applause. The smile that spreads across her face is genuine, unguarded ina way I haven't seen before. Something pulls tight in my chest at the sight.
"Now what?" she calls down.
"Now you trust me to lower you safely." I shift my stance to better support her weight. "Lean back into the harness and walk your feet down the wall."
I see the moment of hesitation, the natural fear of leaning backward into empty space. Then determination settles back over her features, and she leans back, placing her trust in my hands and the rope between us.
I lower her slowly, our eyes locked the entire descent. When her feet touch the ground, she's breathless, exhilarated.Beautiful.
"That was amazing," she says, color high in her cheeks.
"You’re a natural talent." I begin unfastening her harness, fingers brushing against her waist. "Most first-timers don't make it past the halfway point."
"I had a good instructor." Her eyes meet mine, something unspoken passing between us.
The moment stretches until Darius calls for his turn on the more advanced route. I step back, returning to instructor mode, but my awareness of Riley remains acute for the remainder of the session.
As the sun begins to set, I send the teens to prepare dinner under Jesse's supervision. Riley lingers near the climbing wall, watching the golden light filter through the pines.
"Thank you," she says when I approach. "For teaching me."
"You're a quick study." I coil the climbing ropes, giving my hands something to do besides reaching for her. "In more ways than one."
She tilts her head, questioning.
"Your assessment of the program," I clarify. "It's evolved since you arrived."
She shrugs. "The evidence demanded reevaluation." She steps closer, helping me gather the equipment. "I'm still documenting compliance issues, but there's more to consider than I initially recognized."
"Such as?"
"The comprehensive approach. The individual attention. The measurable progress." She hands me a carabiner, our fingers brushing. "Traditional metrics don't capture what's happening here."
"Does your department care about what metrics don't capture?"
Her hesitation tells me everything. "They should," she finally says. "If the objective is truly rehabilitation rather than punishment."
