Page 107 of Thus with a Kiss I Die
“You’ve almost got it!” Elder told me.
I inched my hand across the stone.
Friar Camillo shouted, “The seams are going!”
“Grip her under that arm.” Cal sounded as strong and encouraging as his father.
“No, wait!” I could almost reach the rail’s far edge.
But I was too late.
The bodice ripped.
My gaze met Cal’s.
For the merest moment, he alone held me.
My shoulder joint wrenched and popped.
His too—for a spasm of pain crossed his face.
Friar Camillo released the material and grabbed my armpit.
I was supported.
All of us shook hard under the strain.
“Cazzo!”Elder shouted. “They did it!”
Premature celebration did not please me, but I couldn’t waste my breath with reproaches. Instead I grasped the top rail’s far edge.
For the first time since my daring grasp of Cal’s hand, I was able to relieve the men of some weight.
For the first time, I thought I might survive.
The line of my eyes cleared the rail. I got my elbow up.
The men put their feet on the ground. Our weight no longer teetered over the rail.
Below I heard shouts of “Huzzah! Huzzah!”
I hoped they weren’t cheering the view up my gown.
Cal wrapped his fingers around my skirt’s belt and steadied me.
Friar Camillo used both his hands to support me now.
The men, gasping with the effort, pulled me over the rail.
I flopped like a dead fish on the floor.
Elder shouted, “Rosie! Too much ankle. Too much! Fix your skirt!”
I glared at him. “Focus!”
“Nice ankles, good calves, and a pleasant glimpse of thigh,” he advised.
Fine. Even under duress, I had to behave the part of alady.Staggering to my feet, I shook out my skirts.
