Page 40 of New River Gorge(ous)
Brooke tips her head to the side. “I dropped the key. I was picking it up, and I found this.” She holds out a small envelope with my name handwritten on it. “I didn’t open it, but it was kind of stuck in between the floorboards of your porch, and I had to jimmy it out of the crack.”
I take the envelope, staring at the old-time cursive script that simply says ‘Beckett.’ The envelope is white but mottled with yellow spots, so I can’t tell how long it’s been on the porch.
Because I don’t have all my faculties after that shift, I ask the dumbest question I possibly can in the moment as I stare at the envelope. “Who’s it from?”
Brooke blinks at me and shrugs. “I have no idea.” She takes in my haggard appearance. “The chicken is in the oven on warm, and you look like you need a nap.”
She walks away, and suddenly I have no desire to do anything but throw the envelope back into the depths of my porch and invite her in for fried chicken. Is it weird she left it in my house? Yes. Is it weird that I want to go eat it and let her see how much it means to me to have hot food ready after last night? Also yes. But I’m past caring.
Just as I’m about to call her back, I catch a whiff of my own body odor. I smell like antiseptic and fried onions.
I almost don’t even care about that, but in my indecision, I tear a corner of the envelope and see the sort of kitschy art of spoons and a mixing bowl that belong on a recipe card. My curiosity piqued, I open the envelope and pull out what is, in fact, a recipe card.
It takes some time, but I am able to decipher the title of the card.
Neighborly Fried Chicken
I flip the card over and find a handwritten note.“Neighbor, since food is meant to be shared, I’ll pass this recipe along to you. Know I’ll make it for you anytime because I could use the company, but you can make it yourself too. Maybe even impress a woman with it. -June MacCord.”
Instantly, my eyes burn. I’ve been so annoyed with June, thinking she was crafty with her chicken trick when I first moved in. Turns out, she genuinely wanted to do something nice for me. And in a place where family recipes are often more highly guarded than the Treasury Department, she gave hers away.
And I, the awkward man that I am, have never once asked her to make it for me again.
I resolve right then and there to make it up to June. Starting with eating the chicken she made Brooke make for me.
All this time, I thought I was alone after Addie, but June’s been there looking out for me. She’s done it a different way than I would have preferred, but she’s cared just the same.
I whistle as I walk into my house and let the smell of burned chicken assault my nose.
It would appear that Brooke might be an expert in fried chicken under June’s tutelage, but she is not an expert in ovens because she set mine to broil, not warm. A few minutes more, and the entire house might have gone up in flames.
I dispose of the charred chicken quickly, and when I’m done, I pick up June’s recipe card. I know exactly what I’m doing after I shower and sleep.
22
Brooke
Meemaw’s sprained ankle healed over the last week, which means she can use her knee scooter more reliably. Beck’s stern chat with her aboutnotusing it as a step ladder seems to have sunk in, because we haven’t had any incidents. Truthfully, I’m a little bored just being at the house with Meemaw all day when she’s listening to the doctors and resting.
Beck stopped by for lemonade on the porch swing once this week, but he’s been busy. I know when I see his truck in the driveway that he’s sleeping because he hasn’t switched to day shifts yet.
Ben repaired Meemaw’s old car, and I can drive again, but there aren’t a lot of things for me to do around here other than hike, and while hiking can be a great solitary activity, I need interactions withpeople. I’m an extrovert, and I wear the title proudly.
My toes push against the faded boards of the porch, starting the swing into motion as I stare at Beck’s truck. It’s two p.m.,and I know he worked last night, so he’s still sleeping. It doesn’t stop me from wishing I had someone to talk to.
I pull out my phone. Lizzy texted me late last night, but she’s in school now.
Lizzy
OMG! He asked Lara. Thank you so much, Brooke! You’re my favorite big sister.
I can only assume she means that Joey asked Lara, but if he did, I had nothing to do with it.
I contemplate calling Matt, but decide against it. The only thing I could tell him about here is Beck, and I do not want to talk about boys with my twin brother.
I scroll through my contacts, hoping to find someone I actually want to and can talk to. I stop at the P’s. It’s been a while since I’ve talked with Paige. She’s been busy with her life as a married woman, but if anyone knows about a man who’s hung up on another woman’s rejection, it would be her.
I click the text icon because I’m not a terrible friend, and I know that you simply always text first.
