Page 26 of Pitcher Perfect

Charity let out a good-natured laugh. “This is the ghost of your sister calling. I’ve been trying to reach you about your car’s extended warranty.”

I snorted. “Brat. Where are you headed next?” I put in my wireless earbuds and resumed food prep.

“On my way to Machu Picchu. I’m staying in Lima for a few days, then I’ll head to a town called Huyro to work on a dig for a while. Peak shovelbum lifestyle.”

When she’d studied archaeology in undergrad, she’d had grand plans to lead major research projects in southern Italy. But once she began her master’s, she realized she preferred the travel and getting her hands in the earth far more than writing academic articles and playing politics. She ultimately decided to take on short-term projects and work enough to fund her travel between jobs. It felt like I was living vicariously through her while getting to skip the sketchy bathroom situations and scary bugs.

“That sounds amazing. What’s the new project?”

“Some conservation work in the park at Machu Picchu, probably a lot of ceramics.” She went on to talk about the opportunity to find some ruins since the area hadn’t been explored much for archaeological finds.

I’d always loved history and enjoyed geeking out on Charity’s work.

“What’s new with you?”

I filled her in on how the truck was doing and the Portland Pairing competition.

“That sounds like an amazing opportunity for you. So, you’re really settling in Dahlia Springs then?”

I tried to gauge her tone, but I couldn’t sense anything other than interest. “Trying to.”

“I didn’t think you’d ever want to leave Portland. All those great restaurants,” she teased.

“I was ready for something different.” Something calmer. “Being an hour from Portland is still way better than Idaho.”

She made a wistful sound. “I wish I remembered those trips out there better.”

With me being a few years older, my memories of our Oregon Coast trips and stops in Dahlia Springs were understandably more vivid. I wished she had clearer memories as well, but hopefully, she could make new ones and visit me when she got back into the country.

“Speaking of home…” She trailed off in a tone that sent my hackles up.

“What’s wrong?”

“I finally got ahold of Dad. Have you talked to him this week?”

I put my knife down and gripped the edges of the counter. “Not since we texted about it last week. What’s wrong? Is he sick?”Not again. I can’t go through this with another parent.

“Jules messaged me that her brother got laid off from the company. I guess they laid off a bunch of people, and she asked how Dad was feeling about it. She thought he got laid off too.”

“You’re kidding. Fuck.” My mind raced to problem-solving mode. I could probably send him some money to tide him over until he got a new trucking job.

“Caleb, stop it.”

“What?”

“You know what,” she said in her bossiest tone. “You’re trying to come up with a solution. It’s not your responsibility to fix everyone else’s problems. I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s been driving trucks for decades. Surely, another company will want to hire him.”

She was right. Dad might be late in his career, but he had a ton of experience. Anyone would want him. Hell, he’d gotten lots of job offers over the years from other companies but had remained loyal to his since they’d hired him right out of high school. Something nagged at the back of my mind, though. I worried it wouldn’t be that easy to find something else while he was a few years from retirement age.

“Seriously. Let him sort it out. He’s an adult, and you’ve got your own shit to worry about. Promise me.”

“Only if you promise to tell me if you hear anything new.”

She chuckled. “Deal.”

I crossed my fingers behind my back, just in case. Old habits and all that.

I sat on my couch while finishing our conversation. Once we hung up, I dropped my elbows onto my knees and covered my face with my hands. Moving to Oregon after college to attend culinary school was one of the hardest decisions I’d ever made. Leaving my dad, my sister, the home I’d shared with my mom before she passed away—it had nearly been too much.

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