by Katie Cross
For some reason, I just couldn’t face Lexie right now.
Rachelle sobered as I sat next to her at the white wooden table, sinking into the chair as if I hadn’t sat in days.
“Out with it, Megan Bailey.” She slid a slice my way. “I want to hear everything.”
I pulled in a deep breath.
“Okay.”
I told her everything, starting with the night Nathan broke up with me, through the job loss, the creditors calling, all the way up to Blake’s phone call offering me the job. Piece by piece, she listened to my life review, murmuring in all the right places. But still, my heart ached.
Rachelle leaned back. “Sucks, doesn’t it? Divorce is the worst.”
Exhausted, I slumped in my seat, rubbing a hand over my eyes. My second cup of tea had turned cold.
“I know.”
She leaned forward, her earlobes glittering with sparkly black earrings. She’d lost more weight in the past six weeks. I almost hadn’t recognized her at first.
“So?” she asked. “What are you going to do?”
“Work. I start tomorrow morning. Then I can pay off my debt in time, keep myself out of credit hell, and figure out how to deal with this whole divorce thing in the meantime.”
Unable to meet her gaze, I dunked my teabag up and down in the tepid water. While my townhouse held all my belongings, it didn’t feel familiar anymore. I felt like a stranger in a strange land. The kitchen here seemed too neat, as if it had been put together for a magazine photo shoot. The flawless stovetop hadn’t ever met three pans of spaghetti sauce. I didn’t even know how the oven baked a loaf of homemade bread.
My heart sank a little deeper in my chest.
This place was supposed to be home. I remembered the ratty, poorly lit kitchen at Adventura. The deep laughter of the staff rolled through my mind. No one would walk through here and try to spray me with the sink nozzle. Or un-alphabetize the pantry while I wasn’t looking. The closeness of the walls felt suffocating after I’d lived under a wide expanse of stars and mountains. The warmth of Adventura seemed suddenly more permeating than anything I felt here.
Chills brushed me, and I shuddered.
“Do you remember your parents’ divorce?” I asked, needing the spotlight off myself. Maybe Rachelle could shed a little light into my all-encompassing darkness.
Rachelle leaned back against her chair with a heavy sigh. “A little. I was pretty young at the time. I remember being confused. Having nightmares. Feeling scared at night. Not much else. There’s a sense of betrayal, I think, no matter when it happens. Nothing makes it better, either.”
Her solidarity comforted me.
“I came back because life here used to make sense.” My eyes darted over the too-small walls. “I was hoping it would make sense now.”
She glanced around, and I wondered what she saw. “Does it?”
“No.”
“Are you expecting it to?”
“Hoping, more like it.” I swallowed. “I don’t think it ever will again.”
Rachelle rolled her lips together. “No,” she whispered. “For a while, it won’t. And even then, it’ll be a whole new kind of normal. Holidays, birthdays, all that will be different.”
Tears filled my eyes. I downed the last of the cold tea and set the cup back down. A heavy ball of agitation had been unrolling in my chest ever since the plane landed. It threatened to break free. Taking my heart and all its many broken pieces as its victim.
Rachelle stood up.
“I’ll give you some space,” she said. “I recognize that look. Call me, okay, if you just need to talk.”
I cleared my throat.
“Yeah. Will do.” My voice deepened with emotion, grateful to be left alone with my thoughts. “Thank you, Rachelle.”
The next morning, I stared at the golden plaque on Blake’s door. My heart beat a heavy staccato beneath my ribs. Every time I blinked, sandpaper moved under my eyelids. Sleep hadn’t come easily, despite a king-sized bed all to myself. Behind me, two staff members walked by, the lines in their faces deep, their gait slow.
Brushing it off, I squared my shoulders and stared at Blake’s name again. Focus, Megan, I thought. This means everything.
With a sigh, I reached up with a fist to rap on the door, but a buzz from my phone caught my attention. I’d been avoiding all phone calls since leaving Adventura. Mom had called five times last night before I silenced it. With a rush of courage, I checked the screen.
Voicemail (2)
Jodie Renner
I tucked it back into my pocket. I’d call her after I spoke with Blake. My knuckles rapped quietly on the door. Seconds later, the door swung open. Blake grinned, a toothy smile on his stubbled, thin face. He stretched an arm into his office, which overlooked the landing pad through sprawling glass windows.
“Megan Bailey,” he said. “Welcome home.”
With a relieved sigh, I stepped into his office.
Organized stacks of paperwork littered his mahogany desk. Two young girls smiled from his computer screen. He wore a pair of scrub pants and a t-shirt, and his badge jangled with every movement. I missed the singsong of hospital life. The overhead paging system. Phones ringing. Medication drawers slamming. Being back inside reaffirmed what I already knew deep in my bones: I belonged in a hospital.
Outside, the blades of the helicopter spun so fast they appeared not to move at all. A nurse ran out in a flight suit, leaping inside. The door closed behind her.
My stomach clenched.
That will be me soon.
The thrill I’d expected didn’t come. Instead, I pictured Mark sitting on the counter at Adventura, his heels banging into the cupboard as he told me about his day and laughed at his own terrible jokes. Blinking, I cleared the picture from my mind and sat down.
Maybe the jokes hadn’t been that terrible.
“So,” Blake drawled. “How does it feel being back?”
I smiled, forcing it wider. “Awesome. I think West End missed me.”
He snorted. “Confident. I like it.”
“How are things going here?” I asked. “With the hiring freeze and cutbacks?”
He shrugged but didn’t make eye contact. “You know. It’s going. A lot of people were understandably upset. Budgets are a little tight. But thankfully we’re making it work. Next to your impressive resume, I think that’s the reason they approved your hire, to be honest. You worked for us so recently, it’ll save money.”
Way to sweep me off my feet, West End. But what did it matter? At least I had the job. Even if my home felt strange, my best friend was getting married, and my parents were divorcing, I always had my career.
“And the CICU?” I asked. I pictured Karen’s haggard face. “How are things going down there?”
“Fine.”
He leaned forward, flapping a hand.
“Enough of that stuff. Let’s get down to business. You’ll sign the contract with Michelle in HR, but I like to meet with new hires and discuss the training schedule, expectations, etc.”
He grabbed a folder and flipped it open, producing a thick wad of papers that he tossed to me. They landed with a light thump. The professional header across the top made my heart flutter.
West End Flight Team.
Swallowing back a swell of emotion, I scanned the words that directed the next step in my career. Phrases jumped out at me. Full-time position. Twenty-four hour shifts. Training modules completed to success. OR rotations. Survival training. Although Blake said something every now and then, I felt as if I were alone in a vacuum of silent words and the ghosts of my decisions. Why did my hands feel clammy? Why couldn’t I focus on the words? The whole paper seemed to blur in front of me. I re-read the third line four times before moving on, having no idea what it said.
“—starting immediately. I’m really excited to have you on our team, and so is everyone else. Although you’ve only worked here a year, everyone speaks very highly of you—”
B
esides, I wouldn’t even make you sign a contract, Mark said in the back of my mind, overriding Blake’s easy chatter. That’s how much I trust you, blister.
Like a landslide overwhelming my heart, the truth fought a mighty battle against my walls. And won.
I never should have left Adventura.
Mark’s words swept over me again and again, circling back to the ugly arithmetic. I’d abandoned my brothers. My Adventura family. Justin. Sione. Hollis. For the first time, I allowed myself to ask: What would happen in my absence?
And why hadn’t I asked that before I left?
Tears filled my eyes from a deep, aching remorse. What had I done? Blake shouldn’t hire me. Not because I wasn’t qualified but because I wasn’t honest. This wasn’t right.
“Meg?”
I jerked out of my reverie. Blake peered at me.
“You all right?”
“Oh, sorry.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “Yes. I just … I just lost my train of thought. Sorry.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Okay. Well, like I said, the work agreement extends out for—”
“Blake, wait. I have to stop you there.”
He snapped his mouth shut and raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”
I swallowed.
“Listen, I’m sorry. But…” I slid the sheaf of papers back to him. His brow lowered. “I can’t take this job.”
My fingers braided together in a knot of ice on my lap. I squeezed them so tight my nails blanched white. Don’t do this! my mind screamed. You’re giving up a golden opportunity.
No, I said, responding to my own inner fear. This is the right thing to do.
Blake frowned. “I’m sorry. You … can’t?”
“No.”
“Do you mind if I ask why?”
My shoulders lifted as I drew in a deep breath. “Because I wasn’t honest in how I came to this job. I-I mean that I was working somewhere else this summer, and I just left them. In a big lurch, I think. I want to work for you. But … it wouldn’t be the right thing to do.” I bit my bottom lip. “Besides, things aren’t good in my family right now. I’d like to be close to them. I can’t do that here.”
Blake leaned back in his chair. “What did you do there? Throw together some sandwiches and bandage knees? This is real life stuff. You’re turning down a major promotion and a salary increase. I mean, c’mon, Meg. It’s a summer camp.”
“No.” I shook my head. “It’s my word.”
He spread his arms. “But you’ve wanted this job for years. When you first started at West End, you came to my office, introduced yourself, and said you hoped to be a flight-nurse on my team within two years. I tried kicking you out, but you came back. All the time. You weren’t kidding then. I hope you’re kidding now.”
“No. I’m not. And I’m sorry, Blake. You worked hard for me, and I can’t tell you how much it means to me. But I’d never be able to live with myself if I don’t fulfill my obligations at Adventura. And you wouldn’t want a nurse on your team that didn’t live up to her word, right?”
A long stretch of silence swelled between us. Blake ran a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh, making it stand up on end.
“Wow, Meg. I don’t know what to say. This came out of nowhere.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.”
He stared at me, long and hard. A thousand thoughts seemed to fill his gaze. Questions. Doubts. Frustration. Curiosity. He mirrored my own feelings, which moved like the wings of a hummingbird.
“I know you are,” he finally said. “And although I don’t like this, I can at least respect what you’re doing.”
A deep sense of relief and mourning washed over me. Not taking this offer from Blake effectively cut my ties with West End Flight Team. Refusing the golden chalice meant I wouldn’t get another chance here. But maybe I didn’t want tired West End as much anymore.
He stood, hand extended, a wan smile on his face. I followed suit, accepting his firm handshake with one of my own.
“Thanks, Blake.”
“Best of luck to you, Megan Bailey. You’re a good woman. Whatever you do, you’ll kill it.”
My hand fell back to my side. The consolation of doing the right thing—even while losing the thing I’d wanted—filled the empty hole in my chest. With one last glance over my shoulder, I stepped outside his office and let the door close behind me.
Megan: Rachelle, are you busy? Can I stop by your work?
Rachelle: YAS! I’m ssssoooooooo bored. My client is asleep. AGAIN. I’m playing checkers by myself now.
Megan: I need to ask you a massive favor.
Rachelle: You’re going back to Adventura, aren’t you?
Megan: Yeah.
Rachelle: Come on by. We’ll look at flights together. My mom will buy. You can pay her back later.
Megan: Thank you! I owe you BIG time.
“Hey Megan, this is Jodie Renner again. Sorry for the second voicemail. Look, we need to talk. Job opportunities aren’t looking great, but I may have an idea. One that I need to talk with you about off the record. Call me when you can.”
Chapter 22
Responsibility
Twenty-four hours, a last-minute flight, and a rental car later—I cringed at the $800 I owed Rachelle’s mother—I pulled into the parking lot at Adventura at 3:34 a.m. An empty energy drink can sat in the cup holder next to the brake, covered by an empty package of jerky.
My hands jumped. My blood veins twitched. With this much caffeine careening through my veins, I’d beat Justin up Custer Mountain for sure.
Markedly fewer cars than normal filled the gravel lot. No lights dotted the landscape. I felt a nudging of hope that all hadn’t fallen apart.
I stepped out of the car, enjoying the velvety darkness and the sweet, dry air of the mountains. Despite being high summer, a chill lay across the night, making me shiver. Without light pollution from the city, a dusky array of stars glittered overhead.
For the next thirty minutes, I snuck around Adventura, rushing from the car to the kitchen with as little noise as possible. An abnormal number of plastic bread bags filled the trash cans, and a few dishes were soaking in the sink, but nothing else had changed. I set to work. Simple tasks like cutting butter and measuring flour had never been so soothing.
When the staff began to stir at six, my plan was nearly complete. The sweet, sticky scent of warm fruit and crackling bacon mingled in the air. When I scooped the first batch of crispy bacon onto a paper towel, Justin wandered into the kitchen.
“Megan?” His voice rolled with deep, sleepy tones. He stifled a yawn, eyes wide. “What are you doing here? I’m not dreaming, right?”
His sleepy gaze moved to the aggregated food near the rolling window. Stacks of golden French toast and a warm pot of syrup awaited. The door opened behind him, and JJ slammed into his back.
“Geez, bro,” JJ muttered. “There are better places to—oh.” He stopped, blinked, and jerked his head in greeting. “Hey, Meg.”
“Hi.”
His eyes darted around the kitchen. “What’s going on?”
“I’m here to beg for forgiveness.” I motioned to Justin. “From all of you.”
Justin moved to the side, clearing his throat. JJ hesitated in the doorway, seeming to rotate through every emotion before his shoulders softened.
“I shouldn’t have left,” I said. “It was wrong of me to not fulfill my agreement. And leaving you and Mark when we needed each other most … so I’m back. Hopefully that’s going to be okay.”
With his characteristic ease, JJ shuffled inside. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and closed the distance between us. The friction in the air cleared. I wrapped my arms around his waist and blinked back tears.
“Food is a good place to start,” he said, squeezing tight. “Thanks for coming back, Meg. We always love you. That was a … messed up day.”
The back door opened a third time.
“JJ,” Mark cried. “I smell bacon! I thought you opposed it on t
wenty different lev—”
He halted as I stepped away from JJ. His gaze bored into me like a knife. My toes curled. JJ had always been quick to forgive, but Mark held on to emotions with dogged persistence, like Dad.
He swallowed. “What are you doing here? I thought you left for your perfect job opportunity.”
“I came to beg for my job back. And apologize. To you and the staff.”
Justin excused himself through the back door, leaving the three of us alone. The leaden, heavy air expanded again. Tears filled my eyes. JJ shuffled back until he hovered just behind me.
“I’m sorry, Mark. I shouldn’t have left you in the lurch. The divorce frightened me, and I panicked. But still … I owed you way better than that. As an employee and as a … little blister. Regardless of what Mom and Dad are going through, the three of us are, and always will be, a family. I’m sorry.”
Mark and JJ exchanged a look, one that I couldn’t read. At times like these, they seemed to be of one mind. Not a hint of forgiveness flickered in Mark’s steely eyes.
“We almost had to shut down,” he said.
I winced.
“Mom couldn’t get every shift covered to help, so I had to draw up a waiver for parents to sign, saying they recognized I only had intermittent licensed medical personnel. Only five parents agreed. Five. I’m losing thousands of dollars because of you. You picked one hell of a week to bail—this was supposed to be my biggest group. Fifty campers. And now we have five. Now I’ll have to report a loss to the investors, and I may not get funding for next year.”
His voice grew in volume with every word. I held his livid gaze by sheer willpower.
“I’ll pay it back, Mark. Every dime. That’s why I’m here. I want to make it right. It’ll take me a while to get you the money. There’s this issue with a credit card and other people I owe, but I’ll do it.”
