I Am Girl Power

by Katie Cross

  “Ah, yes. I spoke with Blake at West End a few days ago,” Jodie said. “He was pretty upset that he couldn’t hire you onto their flight team. If you’re still interested in a flight-nurse position, I think I can help you out.”

  Jodie’s slightly husky voice moved like a stream of chocolate—soothing, with an occasional ripple. The smooth edges of her words carried a Spanish accent.

  “Yes!” I cried and then cleared my throat. “Uh, sorry. I mean—yes. I would love to find a flight-nurse position. But I’m currently working at my brothers’ summer camp. I won’t be available to work for at least six weeks.”

  “Hmm…” She tutted under her breath. “That could complicate things.”

  My heart fell into my stomach like a stone.

  “Oh?”

  “Well, you see, getting you a flight position can be tricky. It’s all about timing. But let’s not worry about that until we have to. Could you leave the summer camp if I find something for you?”

  I leaned back against the fridge, one arm folded across my middle. The warm summer air had started to turn tacky. Would I leave Adventura? I needed a job eventually. The little issue of the credit card bill popped back into my mind. I bit my bottom lip.

  “I don’t know if I could leave the camp, to be honest. My brother had a hard time finding anyone to do this job.”

  “Are you a nurse there?”

  “No. I cook for the staff.”

  “Ah, yes. Well, that’s easily replaceable, isn’t it?”

  I hesitated, unsure of what to say. Cooking hadn’t been easy, but it hadn’t been rocket science either. Surely someone else could do it.

  “Maybe?”

  “Well, something to think about. We’ll just move forward and see what we find. If I can’t find you a flight-nurse position, how do you feel about another Intensive Care Unit?”

  My mind strayed to my mortgage, car payment, and the credit card bill burning a hole in my backpack. A generous sign-on bonus could almost cover the credit card—18% interest included. Jodie’s voice drew me out of my thoughts.

  “I don’t see a Respiratory ICU on your resume,” Jodie continued. “Maybe we can find you something there?”

  “Sure. I’d like that. Uh, I do have a question. Are there any hospitals offering a sign-on bonus?”

  “Sign-on bonus? Some do. Not many. I can usually get you relocation. Is a sign-on bonus a deal-breaker for you?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “Uh, mostly curious.”

  “Oh, shoot.” She let out a long breath. The sound of someone speaking in the background came through the earpiece. “Listen, Megan, I just had someone show up in my office. Can I call you again? I want to get to know you more so I can fit you into the best slot.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “No problem.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes open, and we’ll talk soon. Bye.”

  Once the conversation ended, I shoved my phone into my pocket and crossed my arms. What if Jodie did find a flight position for me? Would I take it? The ring of my promise to JJ echoed in my head.

  You always have me.

  Until the perfect job comes along, I imagined myself tacking on. A pit grew in the bottom of my stomach. I drove a hand through my hair with an agitated intake of breath. No reason to worry about that yet. Who knew what she’d find? Having Jodie on the search made me feel better. At least I had career cogs moving again. A squeak near the pantry startled me. I whipped around and saw the pantry door move a millimeter.

  “Hello?”

  It opened an inch. A pair of blue eyes peered out of the crack in the door. Justin waved at me with a sheepish grin on his face. “Just me.”

  I stacked my hands on my hips.

  “Were you spying on me?”

  “No!” He held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “I swear. I just came into the pantry for quiet while I figured out how to fix a storage shed. It’s chaos out there, and I can’t think in chaos.”

  He held up a piece of paper with writing on it as proof. My skin frosted into a sheet of ice. He’d been in the pantry the whole time? I shuffled forward a tentative step.

  “What did you hear?”

  His lips parted. “I swear, Megan, I wasn’t trying to spy on you. Just … consider me deaf. I didn’t hear anything.”

  “But you did.”

  “Yeah.” He readjusted his ball cap. “Yeah, I did hear a few things.”

  “Like how I’m looking for a job.”

  He winced. “Yeah.”

  And how I might have to leave early if I find another position. The unspoken words rotated in the back of my mind like a squeaky wheel. I could barely meet his eyes when I said, “They were making cutbacks. I was the least senior nurse on the floor and got the boot.”

  “Sorry, Meg. That’s tough.”

  “Work is very important in my family,” I said, even though I could see in his eyes that he didn’t need an explanation. My shoulders crept higher and higher. “Mark has Adventura, and Mom’s a flight-nurse. Dad has been sheriff in Beaumont for … forever.”

  “Except for JJ.” Justin’s dimple made a brief appearance. “Who has never had an official job before Adventura.”

  Most recently, JJ had lived out of a crappy van he bought from some hippies while he attempted to free climb El Capitan. Before that, he had lived to climb, earning money from races, climbing sponsorships, and guided climbs. He’d never had a true boss. Even now, one could hardly call Mark a boss.

  A fleeting grin surprised me. “Yes. Except for JJ.”

  His expression sobered.

  “Would you leave?”

  My heart pounded. “I don’t know. It’s just that I … if I get … it’s complicated. And there’s no telling whether she’ll even find a flight-nurse position for me. I’ll cross that bridge if it comes up.”

  Justin relaxed into a smile. “Well, next time I have a pantry meeting, I’ll schedule it with you.”

  The teasing glint in his eyes smoothed out my final ruffle. He didn’t seem to be horrified by my situation. I smiled. “Thanks.”

  “Good luck with the job search, Meg. Any hospital would be lucky to have you.” He stepped onto the porch and said over his shoulder, “And I hope you don’t have to leave early.”

  Things That Smell Better Than Nathan

  Not Mark’s breath.

  Morning.

  Wet pine needles.

  Campfire.

  Skunkweed.

  Fresh dirt by the creek.

  Pink wildflowers.

  The sun. On everything.

  My soggy tennis shoes.

  Vetiver.

  Chapter 9

  Not Your Fight

  Thursday afternoon, I parked the truck in the heart of Beaumont, a sweet little mountain town twenty minutes outside Jackson City. Dad had been working here since I started elementary school. I’d grown up not far away, right in between Beaumont and the outskirts of Jackson City. Adventura lay only an hour west of Dad’s office.

  An old-time ice cream store flanked a touristy shop, where two teenagers dressed in feather boas and extravagant hats posed for a tin-type photo. In the background, kids squealed from a wagon pulled by horses as they rode down Main Street. I cut across the road and hurried up the steps of the Sheriff’s Department in a pair of jeans and flip-flops.

  Rhonda, a pale-faced woman with bright pink lipstick and two chins, sat behind a desk. Her mouth wagged open as I stepped inside the cool, air-conditioned building. It sent chills up my hot skin.

  “Oh. Mah. Gawsh. That can’t be Maygun Bailey!” she cried, standing up. “Come give Rhonda a hug! I haven’t seen you in years.”

  “Hello, Rhonda,” I said stepping into her warm embrace. Her thick arms wrapped around me like a steel trap. She pulled away, gripping me by the arm. Sweat dotted her upper lip.

  “What’s a big-time nurse like you doing in a place like this?”

  “Just here to see m
y dad.” I glanced behind her. “Is he in? I thought I saw his truck outside.”

  She motioned behind her with a jerk of her head. “He’s back there. Just filling out some paperwork from an attempted robbery last night.”

  “Did he get them?”

  Rhonda grinned. “You bet he did. Your Daddy is thuh best.”

  “Hey!” a gruff voice called from the back. “What kind of riff-raff just walked in my door?”

  A tall, imposing figure in wranglers and cowboy boots stepped into the office doorway, filling it with his frame. He set his hands on his hips, glaring at me through hazel eyes.

  “Hey there, old man.”

  “Well, hello there, Miss Bailey,” he said in the familiar burr that I knew deep in my bones. He spread out his long arms. “Well? What’s taking you so long?”

  I rushed over and threw myself at him.

  A gentle, quiet laugh rolled through his chest when I pressed the shell of my ear to it, squeezing his ribcage with my arms. He smelled like Old Spice and gunpowder. Strands of salt-and-pepper hair fanned above his ears, highlighting the mellow hues of his eyes. Age seemed to have caught up with him, making his lips thinner, his crow’s feet deep as canals. Though still lean and strong, his shoulders bowed as if he carried the invisible burden of time.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, pulling away. “Thought you weren’t coming to see me until next week.”

  “Well, I flew back home for one of Rudy’s hamburgers and was tired of waiting for it,” I said. “No one makes them like Rudy.”

  A hint of a smile crossed his lips.

  “C’mon.” He reached behind him and grabbed his cowboy hat from a nail inside his office. A corkboard filled with pictures of fish hung on the wall next to it. “Let’s go out to lunch. Rhonda, call me if you need anything.”

  Rhonda rolled her eyes. “You never answer.”

  He winked at me.

  “You know where to find me if you need me. Let’s go, Megan. I can hear your stomach from here.”

  Rudy’s Diner, a kitschy place with high wooden booths and rustic decorations, buzzed with tourists and locals. The sizzle of the grill and the heady scent of French fries drifted through the restaurant, making my empty stomach growl. A man behind the bar spotted Dad and waved us ahead of the line and into a booth at the back. Dad held up two fingers.

  “With everything,” he called over the din. The man gave him a thumbs-up.

  “You’re a celebrity now?” I asked.

  A sheepish grin flashed across his face. “I let him out of a parking ticket last week.” He set his hat on the bench while I laughed. “Listen, Meg, I’m sorry that I haven’t come to see you yet,” he said. “Work has been busy.”

  “I get it.”

  He grunted. A circle of matted hair ran around his head from his hat. He ran a hand through it, mussing it like Mark’s. It fell back into place.

  “So, what’s going on with you?” I asked. “How’s Beaumont?”

  “Fine.”

  “Anything exciting?”

  He shook his head. Dad had never been a man of many words. Want to pay off my credit card debt? I thought of sliding in. Or just loan me a couple hundred bucks to keep the sharks at bay until I have a job?

  Unemployment never felt so humbling.

  “Are you going to come try out Adventura’s rifle range with me?” I asked instead, sipping a glass of water that a waitress brought over. Breaking into my debt without incurring the wrath of Dad would require some finesse. “Gary brought a couple of rifles to try on the weekend.”

  “I could do that.” He leaned back in the chair, studying me with narrowed eyes. “Enough about me. I’m boring. I want to hear about you. You gonna marry that Nolan guy?”

  “Nathan.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Seems unlikely,” I said.

  “Huh.”

  Unable to bear the cordial small talk, I leaned forward. “What’s going on with you and Mom?”

  I expected a flinty expression brimming with irritation, but nothing happened. His eyes closed, as if he’d been waiting for my outburst. He scrubbed a hand over his cheeks, which needed a shave. Music from an old jukebox switched to a Hank Williams song, strumming just below the cacophony of voices.

  “That’s our business, not yours,” he said softly. “Nothing you kids need to worry about.”

  “My family. My business.”

  He picked up a roll of utensils and flipped them from end to end with a rhythmic thunk on the table. In the silence, a waitress brought two plates each loaded with a greasy hamburger, pickles, and golden fries. She left. Neither of us made a move toward them.

  “Things are different, kid,” Dad said, his voice low. “Ever since all of you left, it hasn’t been the same. The house is quiet. Empty. There’s not as much to do at home. Things between your mom and I … shifted.”

  “How?”

  He scowled. “I don’t know. It’s different. Your mom has work, so I go fishing. She’s gone for days at a time, and I started working odd shifts.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up. That didn’t sound right.

  “Odd shifts? But you always work days.”

  “That was before your mom left for work all the time.” He shrugged. “It’s easier to work or hunt or fish while she’s gone than just sit at home alone. But then we were both gone all the time. Without you kids there … it just … it’s different.”

  A hole opened up in my heart, expanding through my chest. It would swallow me up soon. Disbelief pervaded my thoughts. My parents had always been madly in love … hadn’t they? Frequent dates. Passionate kisses. Bouquets of wild irises for no reason. The memory of those flowers filled my nose with their distinct scent.

  “So, she started working, and you drifted apart?”

  “Yeah. It’s like … I stopped mattering to her.” He rambled off into another grumble I didn’t try to translate.

  “What about counseling?”

  “Just started.”

  “And?”

  “Too soon to tell.”

  “Dad, give me something here.”

  “No. This is our business.”

  We stared hard at each other. The pain in his eyes made my own seem pale in comparison. I relented first. “Fine. I’ll stop asking about your business. Can you just tell me whether you think things are salvageable?”

  He looked away, and though he promised nothing, his silence at least meant he was thinking about it.

  “Nothing’s impossible, Meg. But I just … I just don’t see how we can repair something that’s been in the making for so many years. We need a little more time, I think.”

  “Do you ever see each other anymore?” I asked.

  He picked at a fry. “Not really.”

  “Because…”

  “It’s too hard.”

  “To see her?”

  “Yes.”

  I held my breath, hardly daring to voice my worst fear. “Did something happen?” My voice croaked. “I mean, did she cheat? Did you cheat?”

  Just saying the words filled my mouth with a metallic taste. He grabbed one of his pickles and threw it at me. It hit my face with a splat.

  “What was that for?” I cried, peeling it off. Ketchup and mustard dripped down my cheek. I wiped it away with my fingers.

  “You deserved it!” The hurt in his eyes cut right through me. “How could you even say that?”

  “Well, you haven’t said what’s going on. What am I supposed to think?”

  “It’s not your business!”

  “Fine,” I said, holding my hands up. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

  He relaxed. “You really want to know why we aren’t talking and barely see each other?”

  “Yes. I do.”

  “We fell out of love, Megan. That’s what happened.” He pounded the table with every word. “It’s. That. Simple. It happened slow, over the years. We forgot to t
ake care of each other and just took care of ourselves. We drifted apart.”

  Tears filled my eyes. I tried to swallow them back, but they brimmed like hot springs. Betrayal simmered hot and humid under my skin. Why didn’t they take care of each other? What did marriage mean if not that?

  “Fine. You fell out of love. You can get it back.”

  His jaw tightened. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

  Betrayal turned to pain, filling my chest with fire and venom and darkness. I couldn’t stop it.

  “JJ knows something is going on, and he’s frustrated that no one will say anything. Mark is ignoring it, probably because he doesn’t want it to be real, and I’m so confused I can’t sleep at night.”

  “What do you want me to do, Meg?” he asked, spreading his hands. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to fix this! I want you to be honest with us.”

  “I can’t do that on my own.”

  “Yes, you can. Talk to Mom. Spend time in the same room. Come visit us at Adventura. Fight, for heaven’s sake!”

  He leaned back, his voice vibrating. “Let this go. It’s not your fight.”

  “But I can’t! Dad, I’m scared.”

  “It’s not as easy as talking to your mom. If it were that simple, I would have done it long ago.”

  “Why isn’t it that simple?”

  “Because I’ve already tried.”

  “Try harder! You can’t throw this away. It’s more than just you two.”

  “I did try!” he yelled, slamming his palms on the table. “I tried. I tried, Megan. But she’s not sure she wants me back. That’s why. Are you happy now? After thirty years of marriage, she doesn’t want me!”

  He balled up his napkin and threw it on the table. With two moves, he grabbed his hat, threw a twenty on the table, and disappeared into the stunned crowd. Move, I told my frozen muscles. Follow him. Move!

  They didn’t respond.

  Immobilized, I watched him go. A gamut of emotions flooded me. Terror. Uncertainty. Confusion. Regret. I shouldn’t have put everything on his shoulders. But … how could they just fall out of love? How could he let that happen? Why didn’t Mom know if she wanted him anymore?

  I closed my eyes and sank further into the cushion.