Eye of the Needle

Brian asked for love lost or found or somewhere in between...Wild Celtic asked for something fairy tale-ish. This is the start of the fairy tale, to be continued.

The first time I saw him, I fell from the ledge with nothing below me but fifty feet of air ending in broken rocks.  

~

I was very sick as a child and almost died.  My mother left me and Dad when she couldn’t take anymore.  Dad took care of me and after a long time, I got better.  He homeschooled me and did a good job.  I could have gone to college a couple of years ago but he said I should wait until I’m eighteen to get the most out of the experience.  I think he meant boys but that’s the only thing we don’t really talk about.  
 
So, instead of going to college early, I learned how to climb.  It was healthy mind, healthy body in our house, especially with the memory of my illness.  Dad had a big project at the lab so he wasn’t home much and I liked being outdoors.  I always left him a note before leaving; back later, Aoife.  He trusted me.  We were pretty close. 
 
I was fit but it took about a year to build the endurance and mental strength for me to feel confident within the type of climbs I could enjoy.  I didn’t want to be competitive about it.  It just settled my mind to concentrate on finding the holds and using my body with the rock on the way to the top.  I liked to stand on the very edge and look out.  It made me feel like I could fly. 
 
On the day I saw him, I hadn’t even intended climbing.  It was just a beautiful day so I set out for a long walk, carrying lunch and water in my little backpack.  I walked without thinking but noting my direction all the same.  When I came to the Eye of the Needle, I felt like it was my destination all along.  I drank some water and looked at the entrance to the valley, a narrow gap broken in an outcrop of rock that gave the Eye its name. 
 
I stepped through the Eye, feeling a chill as the sun was blotted out by the shelf of stone above me.  I emerged in the valley and took in the view.  The ancient river had cut a narrow section through the rock, leaving a sunny, tree-filled haven behind.  The river itself had been reduced to a stream, fast running and clear.  It was just deep enough for small fish to thrive.  I took a step forward and startled a heron fishing along the edge of the stony beach.  It took off, grey and ponderous, the deep sound of its big wings very loud in the gallery of rock.  It scared me and I laughed at myself. 
 
I made my way to the stream and found a mossy bank to sit on.  Across the water, the wall of stone looked interesting.  I thought I might manage it.  Leaning back, I saw that the top was about seventy feet up and looked like it might be flat.  I stood up and found a place in the stream with a stepping stone.  I spent a few minutes assessing the wall and choosing a path. 
 
Then I started to climb.  It was an easy enough climb even in the wrong shoes.  I was about twenty feet from the top and reaching for a good place to jam my fingers when I saw him.  First, there was the rock and then there was him.  I missed my hold and my shoes were no good for grip.  I fell.  I saw shock register on his face and his hand came out towards me.  I see it sometimes still, missing me, as I fall away from him.  
 
But he didn’t miss.  He grabbed my t-shirt at the chest and yanked me back.  He pulled me against him and put his arm around my back.  I couldn’t tell what was holding him, but he was holding me.  His eyes were dark blue and he had a couple of freckles hiding in his tanned skin.  He looked angry but when I let out the breath I had been holding, he smiled at me.  He turned me to face the rock and I took hold.  He smiled again and was gone.  It was like he became part of the stone.  I closed my eyes and centred myself, breathing slowly.  When I opened my eyes, there was no sign of him.  I concentrated on climbing without thinking.  When I got to the top, I sat on the grass.  I felt something like a shiver and knew without looking that he was sitting beside me. 
 
‘Thank you,’ I said, keeping my eyes on the view of the valley.
 
He didn’t answer, so I looked at him.
 
‘How were you holding on to the wall?’
 
‘It’s easy for me.’  His voice was pleasant, accented but clear. 
 
‘How..how did you get up here?  You were beside me and then..you weren’t.’
 
He shrugged and smiled.  I wanted to hear his voice again.  ‘What’s your name?’ 
 
He took my hand and stroked the back of it. 
 
‘Don’t you know me Aoife?  I’ve been waiting so long for you.’  He put my hand against his chest.  I could feel his heart beating, too fast.  I knew I should pull away.   I knew he was crazy, or I was.  But I didn’t pull away.  Instead I looked into his eyes and heard my voice say something I couldn’t have known. 
 
‘You’re Finn.’