“Descending is more difficult.”
“I want to try.”
Maeve’s warning echoed in my head.
Support was not control.
“One attempt,” I said. “At the first sign of dizziness, we stop.”
“Agreed.”
“The powered chair goes down before you.”
“Yes.”
“You keep your right hand on the rail.”
“Yes.”
“Say it as though you mean it.”
“I will cling to the rail with the desperation of a sailor in a hurricane.”
“Acceptable.”
He finished his eggs.
The staircase took fifteen minutes.
Noah stood at the top with his right hand locked around the rail. Caleb had installed a second temporary rail at hip height, making the descent safer.
I positioned myself one step below Noah and slightly toward his injured side.
He placed his right foot on the first tread.
Then the left.
He breathed through the movement.
“One,” he murmured.
I kept silent.
The second step came more easily.
At the fourth, his face tightened.
“Pain?”
“Pressure.”
“Hip?”
“Yes.”
“Do we stop?”
“No.”
