Chapter 82

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Philip asked, rambling behind me along the glass bottom trail, overlooking the magnificent views of the Grand Canyon.

Along with a crowd of other onlookers, we stood at the edge of the precipice, my palms slick with sweat, head dizzy. I felt Philip’s hand on my shoulder. “I want my father’s resting place to be home,” I said.

Philip looked around at the other tourists. “I don’t think this is legal,” he whispered.

“It won’t take long. Luckily, there’s not a lot of wind today,” I said, ignoring his comment.

Philip kept his eyes on the sightseers.

My clammy fingers slipped a few times as I tried opening the urn. When I got a sure tight grasp on the lid, I set the urn on the railing, and dug inside for the bag of ashes.

Philip stood behind me to block my activity from the other tourists’ stares.