Page 27 of New River Gorge(ous)
She steps closer to me, till there’s just an inch of space between us. My hand tenses on the doorknob.
“I don’t know anything about Addie, or why she did that, but it seems like her loss.”
I swallow, wanting to pull Brooke in and kiss her but knowing that it’s not time to do that, not now. “Thank you.”
Her eyes narrow at the lame response. I’m not sure what to say to anyone about Addie, least of all myself, but Brooke’s kindness makes me even more awkward.
“So you do want to go on a date with me?” she asks.
I nod, tongue-tied.
“When?”
Her question unlocks my frozen tongue and brain, and I suddenly have an idea.
“Tomorrow? Want to hike at ten?”
“I’d love to,” she says as she places her hand over mine on the doorknob. Her palm is cool and soft, and I’m tempted to catch it with my other hand just to hold it longer, but she twists her hand on top of mine, and the door springs open.
She walks into the cooling evening air before I can understand what just happened.
I breathe out a prayer. “Lord, I don’t know what you’re doing, but I like her. Please don’t let me mess this up.”
14
Brooke
What does one wear on a hiking date with their attractive neighbor? Technically, their meemaw’s neighbor, but semantics.
I settle on a pair of black athletic capris, a pink short sleeve top, and a light pink jacket. It’s still cool in the mornings here in the mountains. When I told Meemaw about our date last evening, she laughed and clapped her hands together like a child.
“I knew it!” she exclaimed and then turned to her friend who brought us dinner—Miss Essie—and told her all about how I would be getting married before long.
It was a lot. But part of me really wants to believe that it will be that way. That Beck and I might work out. I was the little girl who dreamed of being a princess, rescued by her prince on a white horse. Beck isn’t the prince I imagined, but I’m willing to shove my childish imaginings aside and experience real life, and a real date, with Beck.
A knock on the front door startles Meemaw awake from where she’s been dozing on the couch.
I spring up off the floral cushion and smooth out the non-existent wrinkles from my athletic outfit. When I open the door, Beck stands there with his hat in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. I can’t see his full face over the bouquet, but his eyes are bright, and if I had to guess, he’s smiling.
“Miss June,” he says to Meemaw as I usher him inside. “These are for you.” He shows her the flowers, and she smiles.
“He’s a gentleman, Brooke.” She nods in approval at me.
“I try,” Beck says before turning back to me. As I see his face, I realize he shaved.
He extends the flowers to me, and I take them and put them in a vase for Meemaw. When I return, Beck is sitting on the couch next to Meemaw, asking her questions about her ankle and her recovery.
“How are you getting around now? Any pain?”
“No, no pain, just using that silly scooter thing you brought over.”
Beck brought the scooter over?
He nods solemnly. “And you’re not using the scooter as a step stool, right?”
Meemaw frowns. “This bossy doctor I know told me not to.”
I laugh at their banter. I had thought that Beck was annoyed by Meemaw, but it seems that under that gruffness, there’s a heart of gold.
