Page 106 of The Calendar of New Beginnings
It was like an alien had taken over his body, except she knew he never said anything he didn’t mean. And then there was their mind-blowing lovemaking the other night. That meant something, right?
She schooled her features as she pushed open the front door to the office. A few of the locals who’d worked for Arthur all their lives called out greetings as she made her way across the floor. Everywhere she looked, employees were chatting and talking up the current headlines over coffee, talking with sources on the phone, or hunkered down at the small tables situated in the corners, discussing story ideas.
By the time she passed Meredith and Tanner’s offices—which were empty—on her way to Arthur’s, she felt calmer.
In many ways it felt like her adult life had started here. Within these walls, she’d been exposed to a world beyond Dare Valley, one that was at once complex and flawed, dangerous and exciting. This place had been her salvation, and Arthur her teacher.
When she stopped in his doorway, he was already looking down his nose at her over his glasses. She couldn’t help but grin.
“About time you came to visit this old man,” he huffed out, standing up. “If I didn’t know you’d been busy with my great-nephew, I would have taken it personally. Now, come and give me a kiss.”
To pull his chain, she said, “You never asked me to kiss you when I interned here.”
He barked out a laugh. “Good God, no. Who do you think I am? Some sleazy politician?”
She made her way over to him and kissed his weathered cheek. “Not in a million years. Mind if I close the door?”
He arched a brow. “I like when people ask me that. Means they have something good to tell me. Is it a story?”
Sadly, she shook her head. He huffed some more.
“Then it’s personal problems,” he said, sittingback in his squeaky old chair. “Go ahead and close the door, but I swear, I should start charging you young people money for all the advice I dish out.”
She settled into the same scuffed-up wooden chair that had graced the front of his desk since she was a teenager. Probably earlier even. “Any of it good?” she asked.
He gave her a look. “Still got that sassy mouth on you, I’m glad to hear. When you came home, I thought you might have lost it. You looked pretty done in. Are you going to finally tell me what brought you back to Dare Valley? Tanner said it was your story to tell despite my inducements.”
Nodding, she put her hands to her thighs. “I thought I might lead with that and then tell you about my problem.”
Waving his hand, he said, “Then get on with it. Who knows how many hours I have left in this world?”
That eased the pressure in her diaphragm, and so she launched into the story about the attack on the village she’d been in, taking him through the events and the subsequent outcome. His face didn’t give a thing away, not even when she shared the details about the condition of her right eye.
“Well,” she finally burst out. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
He rubbed his cheek. “Journalism isn’t without its risks, especially in the places you visit. Do you regret going?”
“To the village?” She shrugged. “Sometimes, but I know it could have happened anywhere.”
“Correct,” he said in his tough-as-nails tone. “Wrong time, wrong place. It sucks, as you young people say, but that’s one of the realities of reporting in high-risk areas. Someone has to do it. You decided it would be you, and for that, me and a whole bunch of other people out there are grateful. Here’s another question for you.”
It touched her to hear him thank her for putting her life on the line to report world events. Not too many people did that. “Shoot.”
“Could you have done anything differently that day in the village besides being there?” he asked, putting his elbows on the desk.
She’d thought it through plenty of times. Who didn’t wonder if an event could have been prevented? “No, there was nothing.”
“All right,” he said, sitting back again. “So, you have vision problems, and you’re a photographer. Double whammy.”
Her throat was growing tight. “Double whammy.”
“The big question is: do you want to keep taking photographs of world events and writing stories about them?”
She released a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Even if you get hurt again?” he asked, his eyes zeroing in on her face.
It took courage to admit how she really felt. “I’m still scared of going back out there. And it’s not just because I fear I won’t be able to take the same kind of photos again. I don’t want to get hurt again or hurt worse.”
