Page 30 of New River Gorge(ous)
“I like to take pictures of things to put into a scrapbook.” She shrugs as I raise my eyebrows. The sign is completely ordinary, but something about her wanting to remember this moment makes my heart thrum.
We walk a few steps stiffly side by side before she reaches over and grabs my right hand with her left one.
Her hand is cool and comforting and soft. There are a few calluses there too. More than anything, I’m grateful for her lead.
“You nervous, Dr. Beck?” she teases as she looks at my eyes with amusement.
“You have no idea,” I say back to her, swallowing. “I’m a little bit…” I pause while I think about the right word. “Out of practice on dates.”
“I think you’re doing great,” she says generously. I know I’mnotdoing great at this, but I really like Brooke. I don’t want to mess this up.
“Oh!” she exclaims. “Look, a snake!”
I follow where she points with her right hand and see a black snake sunning on a rock to the side of the trail. My mouth drops open. This is a red flag for me.
“Do you like snakes?” I ask, alarmed.
“Not at all,” she says back with a laugh. “But that one’s over there. And we rarely see them in Michigan.”
Michigan suddenly sounds a lot better than the frigid, barren polar wasteland I’ve been envisioning.
“Do you like snakes?” she asks.
“Not even a little bit. Too many horror stories to count in the E.R., and also my sister…”
“You have a sister?”
“Yes.” I think about what to say next, because it’s clear Brooke expects more than just a one-word answer here. I inhale,trying to find courage. “Her name is Beatrice, but she goes by Bea. She’s three years older than me, so she’s thirty-one, and a herpetologist. She always loved snakes, and she forced me to learn far too much about them when we were kids. She’s studying them in the Amazon or something right now.”
Brooke’s brow furrows and she blinks deliberately. Twice. “Your sister is studying snakes? In the Amazon?”
I nod, unsure of what else to say about Bea and her love of reptiles as Brooke blinks.
“Okay.” She draws out the last syllable and sighs. I wish I was better at conversation, but it’s a skill I’ve not honed. Solving medical emergencies? Yes. Talking to people? No.
“So, what made you want to be a doctor?” she asks.
She’s having mercy on me. At least, I hope it’s mercy and not pity.
I can do this.
“I always wanted to help people. My dad … he died when I was ten, and he was always telling me to help whoever I could.” I wait for the crack in my heart that always comes along with mentioning Dad to come, but it doesn’t. “I was never great with words and talking to people, but I still wanted to help them.”
“I get that sense,” Brooke responds, and there’s a teasing chiding in her voice that makes me think I should probably say more. She sobers. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
I open my mouth once, close it, open it again, and stop on the trail to face her, the sincerity in her voice giving rise to my own emotions bubbling up. “I haven’t really had a lot to say to anyone in a long time.”
Brooke’s eyes soften, and she places a hand on my forearm. “I’ve always had a lot to say, but I like to listen too.”
Her eyes are pleading with me for something, and I don’t know what she wants, but I desperately want to give it to her.
Addie’s voice comes unbidden into my mind.You never talk, Beck. You never carry a conversation.
Could that be what Brooke wants? I put my foot in my mouth when I assumed her twin was her boyfriend. I probably should clear that elephant out of the National Park.
“So, you have a twin?” I start down the path and she keeps stride next to me, so I lean over and take her hand in mine. It’s warm and solid and comforting.
She inhales a shaky breath, and I’m a little relieved that I affect her too.
