I Am Girl Power Page 7

  I eyed him. “Aren’t you vegetarian?”

  “I am. Everyone else isn’t. I’ll make my own breakfast so you don’t have to worry about it. I don’t mind.”

  “Thanks, JJ.”

  Once he departed for the climbing tower, Grandma’s recipe book seemed to stare at me from the kitchen. I straightened up. I did make a wicked pan of brownies. Perhaps their friendship just needed a little … chocolate.

  Mark rushed into the kitchen, breathless and red-faced, just as I reached for the recipe book.

  “Hey, blister, uh … I totally forgot something really, really important.”

  “Oh?”

  “You don’t happen to have a food handler’s permit, do you?”

  I snapped my fingers. “Left it at home with my hairnet and apron.”

  His glare cut a hot line through me. “I need you to go into town and get it. Right now. Like … don’t fix any more food until you have it. I forgot to have you do it before you came. It’s my fault.”

  “Where do I go?” I asked.

  He pulled a folded piece of paper out of the back of his Clipboard of Power. “Here’s the information. Find a place with wi-fi in Pineville, and take it there. Print off two copies. And maybe backdate it to before camp started?”

  With a snort, I accepted the paper. “What about lunch?”

  “Set out stuff for sandwiches. We can throw it all together.”

  I beamed. Best day ever!

  “Sounds great!”

  He paused halfway out the door. “Oh, and Meg? Don’t fail the test. Just … get all the answers right.”

  He disappeared before I could counter with a witty quip. I shoved the recipe book to the back of the counter. Brownies—and the rampant adoration of the staff—would have to wait until dinner.

  Dinner snuck up on me like a bandit.

  By the time I showered, set out food for lunch, tracked down the truck keys, and drove down the canyon, eleven o’clock had come and gone. I hunkered down at an Italian restaurant that smelled like garlic. A middle-aged woman with tomato sauce on her shirt let me print the certificates.

  “We’re all family here,” she said, waving off my profuse gratitude.

  Four o’clock rolled around as I climbed out of the truck back at camp, food handler’s permit in hand. Spaghetti, French bread, salad, and meat sauce had to be ready at five. I jogged through camp, spilling into the empty kitchen with my heart racing.

  Brownies and epicness forthcoming. Win their hearts tonight, Meg, I reminded myself. Win. Their. Hearts.

  After slinging meat into the pans, filling a massive pot with water, and firing up the stove, I tossed two extra packages of noodles in the boiling pot and cooked twice as much ground beef as I’d originally planned. These twenty hungry men would leave the lodge stuffed like Thanksgiving turkeys.

  By the time I leaned outside and rang the dinner bell, the buttered pasta waited in a gleaming, piping-hot bowl. Meat sauce bubbled on the stovetop in three separate pans, and I’d knelt on the floor in front of the oven to watch the French bread brown to perfection. The smell of brownies drifted through the air like a tease. Several curious noses sniffed through the swinging door.

  By the time the staff lined up to eat, sweat ringed my underarms, my face flushed as hot as the stovetop, and I wanted to shove my head into a cooler of ice. I satisfied myself with standing at the now-working freezer with the door open.

  “Dinner looks great, Meg,” Justin said, gliding by with a fist extended. “Solid work.”

  “Thanks.” I bumped our fists. “Feeling good about this one.”

  “Busy day?”

  I put a hand to my high ponytail. “No. I always look like this.”

  He chortled, shoving through the swinging door and into the lodge. Over his shoulder, my eyes caught empty tables and chairs. I straightened. Hold up. Where was everyone? I hurried to the window and counted heads. Ten. Why were there only ten guys?

  “Hey.” I hurried after Justin, grabbing his arm. The tips of my fingers sank slightly into his skin. I let go, taking a step back. “Oh, sorry. Uh … where is everyone? Are they coming late? I can keep it warm.” I frowned. “I think.”

  Justin’s brows furrowed. He lifted an arm, gesturing to the room.

  “This is everyone.”

  “Whoa!” Mark cried, coming out of the kitchen behind Sione and Hollis. “Are we feeding the Salvation Army tonight, blister? Why so much food?”

  I sucked in a sharp breath, reassessing every face. Program staff. The only people gathered tonight were program staff. I swallowed.

  “The counselors eat with the campers, right?” I asked.

  Justin bit his bottom lip as if he sensed where this disaster was about to go. “Yes. The counselors teach the campers to cook over a fire. That’s why the commissary distributes food to them.”

  “Right.” I gave a cool thumbs-up. “Right. That’s what I thought. Just checking.”

  He eyed me askance but said nothing as he reached for a plate. I’d just made enough spaghetti for the whole staff—twenty people—when I only had to cook for ten. I smiled at everyone as they passed through the kitchen into the lodge.

  Leftovers for days!

  Mark sped through announcements for the program staff while they ate, discussing the schedule for the next day while I cut through the brownies, stacking them in a perfect formation on the plate. Only half the spaghetti had disappeared, leaving mounds behind. JJ sent me a thumbs-up.

  As nonchalantly as possible, I set brownies out at each table and retreated back to the kitchen to wait.

  Rampant adoration, here we come, I thought.

  One by one, the program staff polished off the brownies. Just as the last brownie disappeared, all of them stood at Mark’s call.

  “Let’s go, ladies,” Mark said. “We have a night hike to run.”

  “Thanks for the brownies, Megan,” Sione called. A few other staff waved. They shuffled out the front of the lodge, guffawing and chortling with each other. What? I wanted to say. That’s it?

  I sighed. So much for rampant adoration. I grabbed a corner piece out of the pan. At least the brownies had been edible.

  The kitchen door slammed open, and Mark ran inside, brownie in hand. He clapped me on the shoulder.

  “Dinner was awesome tonight, blister. Seriously. We needed a good carb load before the night hike. It can’t be easy trying to figure out how to cook for that many people or getting stuck in this hot room with a lot of dishes to do. So, thank you.”

  Suspicious, I narrowed my eyes just enough to study him.

  “What?”

  “Dinner,” he said, enunciating. “It was great. Thank you.”

  My tense arms unwound.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” He chucked me lightly on the shoulder. “I’m really glad you came. Thanks for all you’re doing.”

  “But I—”

  He shook his head, cutting me off. “Nope. No buts. I’m just glad you came.” His radio crackled. “Do you want to come on the night hike?”

  “I need to clean up.”

  “You can do that later.”

  The idea of a warm bed and a good, long sleep pulled at me. My legs still ached from a brief morning run with JJ.

  “Next time,” I said. “Otherwise, I’ll be scrubbing tomato sauce for hours tomorrow.”

  With a shrug, he spun on his heels and headed out the back door, letting the screen slam shut behind him. I stood there, feeling a strange bundle in my chest, both light and heavy, confusing and clear, at the same time.

  Chapter 7

  The Right Time

  Wednesday morning, lodgepole pines flashed by the truck like thousands of matchsticks topped with green branches. I’d set out bowls, spoons, oatmeal, and milk for breakfast before escaping, leaving only a quick note of explanation for Mark.

  Running to Pineville for groceries.

  The wind whipped my hair around my face as I navigated the winding canyon, in
terspersed with sharp boulders and a frothy river. My thoughts grew as wide as the canyon until I reined them back in at the Frolicking Moose Cafe.

  A wave of coffee and vanilla bean greeted me when I stepped inside. Real hardwood floors gleamed in the honey-glow of several lamps. “Welcome to the Frolicking Moose,” a barista with burnished copper hair and porcelain skin said. “My name is Lizbeth. Wi-fi password is on the chalkboard. Can I get you something to drink?”

  She pitched a white washcloth over her shoulder. It landed right on the spigot.

  “Basketball player?” I asked.

  “Nah. I just practice when no one’s here. Do you work at Adventura?”

  My eyebrows shot up.

  “Yeah, I do. How’d you know?”

  She flashed me a quick grin, her eyes sparkling. “I’m in touch with the forest spirits, but I’m not crazy. I reserve that designation for people like my mother.” Her playful gaze and layers of hair reminded me of a fairy. Young. Bright. Willowy. And a tad bit quirky.

  “You’ve heard of Adventura?”

  “JJ and Mark bum off the internet all the time. You have to be their sister. Your eyes are just like JJ’s.”

  “That’s a compliment, right?”

  Her lips twitched. “Trust me,” she said, turning away. “Looking like JJ is a blessing from the gods. Let me know if you want anything.”

  She wandered back to the counter, the layers of her summery white dress trailing behind her. Four text messages from Lexie occupied my attention while I waited for the wi-fi to connect.

  Found out they make birthday cake Oreos now. Saboteurs.

  The gym is boring without you showing up the male lifters.

  Bought a Prana headband. Look like a dork. I long for sculpted cheekbones.

  Still not engaged. The suspense is killing me.

  After responding to Lexie and a text message from Dad to schedule a Rudy’s Diner date, I switched to my internet browser. “Let’s check on Nathan,” I murmured and logged onto Facebook.

  Lexie had posted a meme about donuts, a friend from college had sent me a message, and Nathan…

  …had posted a lovely photo of his new flat in New York.

  An ache in my chest made me grimace, but it ebbed away. His profile betrayed nothing about our broken relationship. Had I wanted it to? Not really. But some acknowledgment of my slip from his life would have been nice. At least, I thought it would.

  Resigned, I switched to email. A bill payment reminder from Travelers Credit Card caught my eye. Right below it waited for a message from an unfamiliar sender.

  “Jodie Renner?” I murmured, clicking on it.

  Megan,

  My name is Jodie Renner. I work with EveryHealth Corporation as a nurse recruiter. Your old manager, Karen, speaks highly of you.

  If you’re still looking for a job, give me a call or send me an email. I have lots of options. No reason to limit yourself to the Intensive Care Units. We even take travel-nursing contracts. I can direct you to the right companies if you’d like.

  EveryHealth has been on a building binge the last decade, so I have contacts everywhere. I think I could find you a flight-nurse slot. Karen mentioned you’ve been on that path. Would that interest you?

  I look forward to hearing from you.

  Regards,

  Jodie

  A scour pad moved underneath my ribs with every breath. As soon as I finished reading the email, I set my phone down, blinking.

  I think I could find you a flight-nurse slot.

  Would that interest you?

  The thought made my heart pound in my throat. A flight-nurse position would mean classes. Certifications. New thrills. A chance to exceed expectations. Major career advancement. It seemed too good to be true. Too easy.

  “You still on planet earth?”

  Lizbeth’s voice broke me out of my trance. I jumped.

  “Whoa, Nessie.” She held up a palm. “Take it easy. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t having one of those weird seizures where people just stare.”

  “No,” I said with a sheepish smile. “I’m good. Just … thinking.”

  She put her palms on the counter and leaned against them. “Want to talk about it? Baristas make better therapists than bartenders. I kept the Olsens from divorcing last year.”

  “It’s more of a career thing than a relationship thing.”

  Lizbeth’s eyebrows rose.

  “Oh?”

  “Uh … just a job opportunity may be coming through. Seems a little too good to be true, though.”

  Her pixie-like expression fell. “Probably is.” The bell on the door tinkled. A man with a belt buckle the size of my face swaggered in, cowboy boots thudding with every step. Lizbeth backed away from me.

  “Good luck.” She waved a pale hand. “I hope it’s something good.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  But something good at the right time, I silently thought. What if Jodie found me a job while I was working at Adventura? Could I leave if the perfect position came up?

  Deciding I’d think about that later—if Jodie could even work such magic—I flipped my phone over, pulled up the email, and tapped out a quick response. I doubted she could simply wave a wand and find me a flight-nurse job.

  But maybe.

  Jodie,

  I’m very interested. When can you talk?

  —Megan Bailey

  Things That Scare Me

  Choking when I’m alone.

  Rustling in the forest.

  Mark with a gleam in his eye.

  Current politics.

  Not being a flight-nurse.

  Mom when she cries.

  Drowning

  The first week ended like a slow bleed. By the end, everyone—even the campers—looked haggard, sunburned, and exhausted. When the last camper left at nine on Saturday morning, the staff scattered to Pineville and Jackson City. JJ and I stayed behind. I dropped onto his cot in the cabin he shared with Mark and stared at a picture of El Capitan he’d tacked on the wall.

  “Hey,” he said, looking up from adjusting a climbing harness. “Just you and me, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “Just the way I like it,” he murmured.

  I grabbed a plush basketball from the floor and attempted to throw it in the hoop. It missed and bounced off the wall. A vibration buzzed against my leg, and I pulled out my phone to see a voicemail reminder from earlier this morning. While JJ studied the tension on his harness, I clicked on the voicemail and pressed the phone to my ear. It crackled at first but came through clearly when I sat up.

  “Megan Bailey, this is Jameson from Traveler’s Credit Card. I’m calling in regards to a missed payment for last month—”

  My heart skipped. I shut the phone off and stuffed it under my leg. The credit card bill. I’d completely forgotten. My mortgage and car payment would have already gone through by now, leaving only twenty dollars in my account.

  Dad, I thought with a sudden spark of hope. I’ll ask him for a small loan at lunch next week. Problem solved.

  “Hey, wanna prank Mark?” I asked, shoving thoughts of debt aside. “We could string his underwear up the flagpole.”

  JJ snorted. “Rookie.”

  “Maybe a run? I want to build my endurance back up.”

  He tossed a harness over to me. It landed on my chest with a heavy thud. “We’ll go for a run this evening. Get your shoes. We’re climbing.”

  I perked up. “Where?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  After we burdened ourselves with ropes, carabiners, and gear, JJ strode into the forest, his man bun bobbing with every step. He wore a pair of gray shorts and a loose white shirt that deepened his already tan skin. The bulging muscles of his calves flexed with every step.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, glancing behind us. “The tower is that way.”

  “We’re not climbing the tower.”

  Content to be away from Adventura and alone with JJ, I followed wit
h no further questions. JJ had a soothing, easy presence—the perfect counter to Mark’s constant spark of energy. Sunlight rippled through the leaves as we passed underneath the branches. The path gave way to a trail, then a footpath. I’d just started to work up a sweat when we stopped.

  “This,” JJ said, craning his head back, “is what we’re going to climb.”

  A wall of rock stood before us, decorated by occasional spurts of grass. Tufts of wildflowers clung to ledges barely wide enough for a handhold. The top loomed far overhead. The sun blazed full on my shoulders now, and I enjoyed the friendly burn.

  I dropped the rope I’d been carrying. The climb would be two rope lengths, I imagined. A nice challenge to get back into it. JJ would lead. He always did. I stretched my arms behind my neck.

  “Perfect. Let’s scale this beast.”

  JJ morphed into another man when he climbed. Gone were the carefree smiles, the easygoing nature, and the universal acceptance. His face grew taut. His eyes hardened. He glanced back at me over his shoulder, clips swinging at his hips.

  “Ready?”

  “On belay, brother.”

  We committed to silence for the next half hour, except for the occasional comment as JJ searched for handholds. He ascended with a fluid, easy grace, taking his time. He made it look so natural, as if he’d been born on the rocks.

  Once at the top of the first pitch, he called down.

  “Let’s go, Megara. Your turn.”

  I ran my fingers along the harness to keep it from digging into my thighs. “Right,” I said, cracking my neck. “Here I come.”

  Within two minutes, my feet stumbled over the footholds. Although I burrowed deep with my toe box, my shoes didn’t grip like JJ’s. Undaunted, I pressed on, moving from grip to grip, using the power in my legs. If nothing else, pushing my body released some of my simmering frustration. For the second time since arriving at Adventura, I lived in the moment and let go of the rest.

  When I grappled for the top, my arms weak with fatigue and legs trembling, JJ grabbed my arm. He pulled me up, and I flopped onto my back.

  “You’re weak sauce, Megara.” He tossed me a Nalgene with a grin. “Looks like we’ll have to climb together every weekend until you get your strength back.”