Page 42 of New River Gorge(ous)
“Yes, and now that Meemaw’s doing better, I’m—” I drop my voice to the barest of whispers because I do not want Meemaw to overhear what I’m about to say. “I’m bored out of my mind.”
“You need your people time,” Paige responds. The summer we were camp counselors together led us to know each other in a way that’s more like siblings than friends. She absolutely knows I need time with people, the same way I know she needs timeawayfrom people. “You should get a job.”
I blink slowly. A job sounds perfect. I haven’t wanted to figure out anything for employment because I didn’t know how long I’d be here, but there’s nothing for me in Marquette right now, and I might as well have a little money coming in. Surely Meemaw won’t mind if I’m gone a few hours a week.
“Brooke?” Paige asks, concern in her voice.
I shake myself out of my stupor. “What? Sorry. A job sounds like a great idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“I have no idea, but I will take credit for being a genius.”
“Fine. Paige, you’re a genius,” I deadpan. “Now, could you tell me about how being married is treating you these days?”
She lets out a happy hum. “It’s amazing. We have an adventure week planned soon. I’m really excited about it.”
“What’s an adventure week?” I ask.
“It’s a week off, and we’re going somewhere, but we just don’t know yet. We’ll see where the road takes us.”
I’m grateful Paige cannot see my face through the audio-only phone call because it has landed on an expression of supreme disgust. Not planning a trip? That sounds terrible.
“Sounds … not planned.”
It’s comical how I can envision her bristling on the other end of the line.
“Connor likes the spontaneity of it. I do too.”
I laugh, energized by a conversation with a friend. “Well, New River Gorge is a great place to visit if you’re so inclined.”
“I’ll do some—” she cuts off. “Oh, sorry, Brooke, but I gotta go. Let me know how things go with the neighbor. I’ll pray for you.”
“Bye, Paige.”
I smile. Paige has changed so much since I first met her almost three years ago. The way she naturally doles out the promise of prayer is a far cry from the woman who didn’t have faith at camp.
I click the internet icon and start humming to myself as I begin my job search.
23
Beck
Brooke likes June’s porch swing. And somewhat foolishly, I look for her on it every time I am coming or going from my house. I’m glad I braved the naked old men at the gym facility attached to the hospital after my lengthy E.R. shift, because today I do not smell like antiseptic and fried onions. I’m doubly glad because, as I pull into the shared portion of my and June’s driveway, my eyes track to June’s porch swing, where Brooke sits.
Brooke sees me, hops up, and waves. It almost looks like she’s waving me over, but I can’t tell for sure.
I roll down the window, and she runs down the porch steps and to my truck.
I guess she did want to see me.
“Hey, Beck!” she says through a slightly labored breath. “I know you’re busy, but could you help me with something?”
“Sure,” I say, my eyes tracking to her lips as she bites the bottom one, but what I really mean is,Absolutely, I’ll help you with anything. Is it by chance mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?
“I’m looking for a job, but I can’t figure out what’s a good place to work around here.”
“Oh.” My shoulders deflate. She wants me to help her find a job. A job means she won’t be sitting on June’s porch swing all the time. I really like her on that porch swing.
“It’s just that I’m here for a while, and Meemaw’s doing better, so I need something to do.”
