Author's note: Happy (almost) August, everyone! (It's hard to believe how fast time is flying!) I'm back with Chapter 3! A quick shoutout to my friend Paths Through Lavender Fields for inspiring the statement toward the end of this chapter about Sam finding "fulfillment in helping bear her [Lillian's] burdens." In Chapter 13 of Paths' story "Neither Diamond Sunbursts or Marble Halls," she notes that Lillian had Sam to share her burdens with, and so I borrowed that concept and brought it over to this story as well...hope you don't mind, Paths!
Also, I feel like I gained (or might have gained?) inspiration for the "vine" analogy toward the end of this chapter from something I read before in the world of When Hope Calls or When Calls the Heart Fan Fiction, but I can't remember for sure...if anyone also used an analogy somewhat related to this, thank you for the inspiration, and please know I'd credit you if I remembered where exactly the analogy was!
I hope you enjoy Chapter 3, and that it's ultimately "uplifting" for you! (Couldn't resist the pun!) Thank you again for all of your support, everyone! I appreciate it greatly!
Surrendering to the Skies, Leaning Into Love
Chapter 3: Fighting Fears, Taking Flight, Setting Regrets Aright
Continuing to lead the way, and striving to inspire fortitude in Lillian as she came within inches of the physical manifestation of her fear of heights—that is, the Ferris wheel—Sam stepped aboard the attraction first. He hopped on the base of the seating compartment heartily and easily, as if he were simply boarding the horse-drawn carriage he and Lillian had been transported in, to Brookfield's train station, by Chuck earlier that day. Not ruffled in the slightest, there were no hints of fear present whatsoever in his handsome frame.
Lillian wished that she could exhibit such insouciance, but she settled for reluctant resolve instead. For a fleeting moment, she felt, ironically, like the third wheel in the equation, tagging along unenthusiastically as Sam and the Ferris wheel met each other in companionable greeting. Yet, she then reminded herself that the reason Sam had suggested she board the spiraling spectacle alongside him in the first place was that he sought the fulfillment of her own good. He wanted nothing more than for her to confront her fears head-on, with his succorance—even if her head felt fuzzy with apprehension.
Though her right foot suddenly seemed to be as heavy as the Titanic, she managed to lift it onto the base of the seating compartment with much effort. She then swung her left foot, also weighty with unease and hesitance, up to meet it. Feeling as if officially boarding the Ferris wheel had taken all of the vitality out of her, and as if her legs were now nearly detached from her body, she crumpled to the seat weakly and woozily, teetering like a tall, unstable mound of toy blocks.
Before she could completely tip forward and transform from a set of wobbly toy blocks to the sheer embodiment of the sinking Titanic, she was salvaged in the nick of time by a set of broad, stabilizing hands. Placed on the front of her shoulders, they acted as pillars of sustenance to her faltering weight. "Careful there," cautioned the source of the hands, his chin dipped down in concern and his unclouded sky blue eyes pursuing Lillian's glazed-over ones in worry. Sam waited until she regained enough of her balance and sense of equilibrium that he was at least somewhat more assured she wouldn't keel over, before gently withdrawing his support. However, he kept his hands at the ready should she look precariously unstable again.
In a distraught daze once more, Lillian was so submerged in dread and trepidation that her traditional, yet always lovely, rose quartz blush—typically propelled forward by meaningful moments of closeness to Sam and by her elevated sense of self-consciousness around him—didn't make its usual guest appearance. Instead, an unsuppressed groan emerged from her throat and lips.
"I can't believe I'm actually doing this," she bemoaned, her already light complexion renouncing all remaining traces of color and becoming an alarming alabaster shade, and then even further blanching to become a disconcerting frosty white hue. The sickly winter tones that had overtaken her face looked out of place amidst the colorful chords the summertime fair had struck, with its countless concession stands, stages, signs, Midway games and rides, and dapperly dressed guests a hodgepodge of hues in the background.
To make matters more concerning, now that Lillian was on board the monstrous, revolving beast—actively facing her fear of heights—her shaking had become more vehement than it had been when she was still glued to the stable sanctuary of the ground, merely anticipating the ride. Meanwhile, Sam had started to second guess the prudency of this Ferris wheel ride, fearing that Lillian might pass out from pure terror. He thought to himself that starting off their courtship with half of them incapacitated—due, a great deal, to his promptings that she embark on the ride in the first place—would be a most unsavory way to begin it.
"Sam, what was I thinking in agreeing to this?" Lillian lamented, hyperventilation beginning to hit her heartlessly. With a brutal wallop, her potent fear seemed to suddenly extract most of the oxygen from her lungs, leaving her rapidly gasping and scrambling to catch her breath.
"Breathe, Lillian, breathe," Sam instructed, as he put both hands on the front of her shoulders again in an effort to prevent her from capsizing and to help alleviate her anxiety.
"I'll be here right beside you the whole time," he reminded her, striving to take the edge off her fears with solacing reassurance. He latched his eyes, now a Neptune blue in their intensity, onto Lillian's, and their vivid shade relayed his tangible, tenacious determinedness to see her through the ride.
"Take three deep breaths, and breathe in and out slowly," he directed with verbal precision, even as his typically steady heartbeat acted like a drum solo gone haywire due to disquietude from her distress. Seeing the ordinarily poised and breezily elegant Lillian Walsh struggle to draw a calm breath had him uncharacteristically rattled in turn. For Lillian's sake, however, he strived to maintain an unperturbed, even-keeled countenance and stable tone of voice that exuded tranquility and spoke nothing of his inner anxiety.
"We can count to three together, okay?" Sam offered, in an attempt to facilitate her deeper breathing, thinking privately to himself that several deep breaths would also do him a world of good.
Knowing oxygen was key to both staying conscious and trying to get more of a hold on her hard-to-govern nerves, which felt to her as if they were wild buffalo charging her left and right with their hazardous, piercing horns, Lillian nodded her head in assent.
"One...two...three," They recited in unison as they drew breaths in comforting conjunction. Lillian's voice sounded much frailer than Sam's robust one, yet it was still discernable nonetheless.
By the end of the third breath, her heartbeat had decelerated slightly, she felt a shred calmer, and hints of color had returned to her elegantly hewn cheeks. Nevertheless, her heart still pounded against her chest with the breakneck speed of a top-notch marathon runner, she was still trembling more than a sinner before God, and her face still looked akin to white plaster. The key difference was, instead of holding her emotions together, as plaster holds the various panels of a wall together, Lillian was crumbling to her anxieties, her dismay written all over her twisted face.
"I...I don't...I don't think I can actually do this, Sam..." Lillian stammered in a near sob. As she second-guessed her ability to take courage and go through with the ride, tears of overwhelm congregated in her eyelids. Sam could sense she was employing every last reserve of strength she had in order to keep them from spilling forward onto the safety bar of the seat that rested below them.
His hands still at rest on her shoulders, and his eyes still steadily bound on hers, Sam set into motion an encouraging talk that rose up from the ground level of his soul, as the Ferris wheel itself stayed at a standstill. "Lillian, listen to me," he entreated, his eyes serene estuaries that drew upon a river of kindness and pulled the current of Lillian's heart toward them, keeping her own eyes anchored on his.
"If anyone can triumph over their fears, and get through a Ferris wheel ride, it's you. You've been through adversity and out the other side many times before. You've risen above all of the challenging times and grief in your life with grace and grit. If you think about it, this Ferris wheel ride is just a physical symbol of how you've risen above your difficult life circumstances," Sam posited, with a wisdom that could have only been endowed upon him by the Holy Spirit and with eye contact that never faltered. His eyes were like perfectly balanced tightrope walkers, trained on Lillian's eyes as their destination, never deviating in focus and taking no missteps in the pursuit of steadying and bolstering her quivering spirit.
"If it's still too hard for you to believe that you can make it through this ride, that's okay. I believe in you, and your Heavenly Father, who has always given you the strength and power to stand up to your fears and challenges, believes in you, too. Lean into us, Lillian. We've got you," Sam affirmed, delivering his words with a conviction so compelling that the fretful lady by his side started to feel her fears draw back to a degree as Faith squared up to them in the doorway of her soul.
Buoyed by Sam's chivalrous touch and inspiriting words, Lillian felt as if she was thrown a life vest amidst the threatening riptide of her impending tears. She perceived a torrent of tension blessedly take leave from her body, and the intensity of her quivering lessened considerably. Her own eyes, clearing like fog pierced by the sun, flickered in recognition and appreciation of the symbolism Sam had put forth. She then nodded in agreement at his insight and in stouthearted surrender at what they had set forth to do, placing her elbows on the safety bar of the seating compartment to ready herself as best she could for the ride.
There was a bit of a delay to the start of their ride, as the ride operator who let them on the Ferris wheel, seemingly having just finished his work shift for the day, was interchanged with a new ride operator. Sam and Lillian looked on as the two employees exchanged various words and swapped places.
"Let's hope this new ride operator knows how to work the wheel just as well as the previous one did, or this first Ferris wheel ride of mine may very well be the very last for us both. I'm praying with every fiber of my being that it is not his first day on the job, Sam. If it is, a curious 'Death by Ferris Wheel' headline may mark our upcoming obituaries, piquing the intrigue of the public and drawing in readers to Brookfield's newspaper," Lillian declared. Her eyes were shut tight in a pained anticipatory grimace, and her tone was awash with a strange mixture of jesting sarcasm and utter somberness.
Sam knew that Lillian's intense terror was authentic, and that a part of her was not completely joking by her statement. Yet, her underlying sarcasm slit him in the heart, and, as much as he tried to prevent an amused reaction from surfacing, he couldn't help but release a rush of effusive laughter from his chest that was like bubbling lava. Displacing his hands from Lillian's shoulders, due to the eruption of guffaws that rocked his body and sent tremors down his own shoulders and arms, it was now Sam's turn to struggle to catch his breath.
Lillian had heard Sam Tremblay laugh many times before, heartily and good naturedly. The sound of his laughter was as rejuvenating and as attention-inducing as vivacious, roaring ocean waves crashing against the shore. It never failed to sweep her up in its might and magic, making her laugh without reservation alongside it. But never had she seen his laughter so free and full and uninhibited. His chest and throat were teeming with a seemingly endless supply of runaway chuckles, and he released them from the portal of his lips as effortlessly as a commanding gust of wind swings open a gate, emancipating wild horses from captivity.
Her heart suddenly felt loads lighter—Sam's laughter was like a bouquet of balloons that had fastened itself to her heart, lifting it up—and she felt much more at peace, as his laughter also simultaneously grounded her, lowering her tension. She giggled copiously alongside him in turn, her own laughter exploding like countless pieces of paper confetti around her as her cheeks recaptured some of their pretty pink color. To laugh and make Sam laugh, and to procure a respite from her ever-looming unease, felt like such a relief for her spirit. Indeed, it really did feel as if her heart and soul were floating...
OH, BUT WAIT! Lillian realized with a start, aghast. It wasn't just she and Sam's shared revelry that was making her feel as if she had set sail in the sky: THE FERRIS WHEEL WAS MOVING, and they had started to ascend, moving upwards and backwards in an eccentric counterclockwise motion! Lillian's eyes seized Sam's in high-speed panic and her face once again shed the ounces of color she had worked so hard to regain, like a snake sloughing off its skin in seconds flat.
Before she could even think twice about the gesture—and subconsciously setting aright her deep regrets from earlier, which still sat, unfulfilled, in the hallway of her heart—Lillian immediately and instinctively reached out for Sam's left hand with her right, catching hold of it tightly.
"Don't let go," she implored him, her motion and accompanying instructions conveying the depths of her heart and soul to Sam with incontestable clarity. Her eyes, taking on a turquoise tone, relayed absolute seriousness and paralleled peacock feathers in their intensity as they captured his in a split-second of vulnerability before looking straight ahead at the smorgasbord of steel spokes that pervaded her view. In becoming unnerved by the movement of the Ferris wheel, she had, in fact, suddenly gained a greater audacity to disclose and impart her heart, without reservation, to Sam. Surprised by her uncharacteristic boldness toward him—though also grateful for the Ferris wheel's aid in abolishing her overthinking and strengthening their connection—she felt a bashful warmth overtake her cheeks, chasing away the pale shade that had just assaulted them.
Still, she knew the only way she'd make it out on the other side of the ride with her sanity intact was if she tactilely joined forces with the man beside her, in order to tangibly perceive and receive his strength. Also, Lillian wanted to communicate to Sam that, even though she didn't quite trust the structure she was seated in—nor was she completely certain about the new ride operator's skills, though she knew, deep-down, that all employees had to be qualified—she did trust him, and she was counting on him to see her through the wild ride.
As Lillian surrendered to the skies and sought haven in Sam's secure grasp, the wings of her heart assumed a wavering cadence, flittering and fluttering like the wings of a butterfly not bound by the captivity of her own preconceived limitations. And yet again, her lungs briefly drew a blank on how to breathe. A dizziness that was more delightful than distressing danced over her, disorienting her in a good way. Ascending above her surroundings and yet, simultaneously feeling firmly rooted in an indescribable safety as she united her hand to Sam's...both of these experiences filled her with a fresh sense of wonder and awe as well as a momentary influx of overwhelm.
With her hand having found harbor in Sam's, however, Lillian quickly discovered that being transported away from her comfort zone of solid ground and up to the skies wasn't nearly as horrifying as she feared. She soon settled into their connection with ease, relaxing her firm grip on Sam's hand ever-so-slightly so that she could comfortably nestle her fingers against his, yielding to his support. She found that joining her hand to Sam's and keeping it snug in his was as natural as securing the front door of the orphanage to its latch, in order to maintain refuge.
As a matter of fact, having Sam to face her fears with, hand-in-hand, had miraculously cut the intensity of her nerves in half, tempering the previously powerful hold they had on her. Her hand, smooth and lightweight as a pebble, rested perfectly inside Sam's much larger and rugged, yet warm and welcoming, one. His hand felt like a sheltering nest and a steadfast landing place for her to rest—her own solid ground, even as they were suspended in the air.
Though Sam was expecting Lillian to need a substantial amount of assistance to see her through this thrilling fair ride where heights had the spotlight, he was not expecting her to reach out for his hand so quickly. Yet, all of a sudden, her hand, delicate as satin but staunch in its resolve, was affixed to his as firmly as one ship is moored to another. In transferring her oppressive freight of fear to him, she also gave him the gift of a more unguarded heart, and he accepted both without reserve, lightening her load.
Lillian need not be concerned about Sam leaving her to her own defenses, as he would never abandon her in her time of need, and as he found fulfillment in helping bear her burdens. Nor did he have any desire to let go of her hand, which brought him profound peace and repose to hold. Linking hands with Lillian assuaged Sam's mangled menagerie of thoughts and made the continual flurry of clamorous fair activity all around the couple inexplicably fade away into the distance, similar to the way the ends of certain watercolor brushstrokes mystically lighten and vanish on the edge of a page.
A tender feeling sprouted within Sam's soul, wrapping around his own heart like burgeoning vines and spreading to and through his arm so that his hand held onto Lillian's with a keen protectiveness. He wanted nothing more than to continue to see Lillian through—not just the ups and downs of the Ferris wheel ride, but the pinnacles and valleys of life.
Saying a quick prayer of thanks to God for their courtship—and another prayer that one day not too far off it would turn into something still deeper—he breathed in the revivifying evening summertime breeze that graciously skimmed his cheeks, and he wholeheartedly absorbed the gradually diminishing sunlight as if it were a warm hug. And together, hands joined, he and Lillian floated further toward the sky.