Labor of Love

by Rachel Hawthorne

  He glanced over at me. “Yeah, she’s fine. There are two girls, actually. They’re with their mom.”

  “How old are they?” I asked.

  “Four and six, I think.”

  “I guess they have new dolls now.”

  “Yeah, but little girls can never have too many, right?”

  I smiled at him, wondering how he knew what I was thinking. “Right. If I bought something for them, would you be able to get it to them?”

  “You could give it to them yourself. When we’re finished, we’ll welcome them home. You’ll get to meet them then.”

  “Oh, cool.”

  I hadn’t realized we’d be doing that. I went back to work, picking things up. I was carefully placing the remains of a clay jar in the wheelbarrow when I heard, “Smile!”

  I looked up. Jenna snapped a picture and then laughed.

  “You look like someone doing something she shouldn’t,” she said. “Let’s try this again.”

  “Why do you need a picture? I’m all scruffy looking.”

  “For one—my MySpace page. But I also want to send a pic to your mom so she can see you’re hard at work and it’ll calm her worries. So smile.”

  “I’m wearing a mask. You can’t even see my mouth.”

  “So smile, anyway.”

  Smiling while picking up trash was kind of like those people who smiled in commercials selling exercise machines. It wasn’t natural. Still, I pulled down my mask, gave a big fake smile, and a huge thumbs-up.

  “That’ll do it,” Jenna said. “I’m going to see what else I can document.”

  She walked away. I pulled up my mask and returned to my task. I was reaching down, wrapping my hands around what looked to be a massive table leg attached to a small section of dining table, when I heard a deep voice I recognized say, “Need help with that?”

  I jerked up, stepped back. My foot landed on an old board that wobbled. I teetered and would have fallen, except strong hands wrapped around my arms, steadying me.

  “Careful,” Brady said in a voice that fell between concerned and amused.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  He was wearing sunglasses so I couldn’t read his eyes. Some sort of white powder was sprinkled over his burgundy T-shirt. Maybe that’s his flaw, I thought. Maybe he does drugs.

  And how had he even realized it was me, with all my gear on? Had he noticed me when I’d posed for the camera?

  “I told you yesterday. I came to volunteer,” he said.

  “But this site?”

  He shrugged. “It’s where they sent me.”

  “So you’re into snow?” Wasn’t that what they called it? Or was it blow?

  “Love snow. Went skiing over spring break.”

  “I was referring to the powder.” I pointed to his chest, trying not to remember how nice it had looked last night without a shirt covering it.

  Glancing down, he started dusting off his shirt. “Oh, that. Powdered sugar. We went to Café Du Monde for beignets. Place was packed. It’s the reason we’re late.” He looked up. “You thought it was drugs?”

  I felt so silly. Talking to him through the mask. Looking at him through the goggles. Accusing him of dumb stuff.

  “I was teasing.”

  And if you believe that, I have some swampland I could sell you.

  He grinned, like he knew I was out of control, but he was willing to tolerate it.

  “You eaten there yet?” he asked, taking the conversation back to his breakfast.

  “No.”

  “It’s a must-do.”

  “They feed us breakfast in the dorm.”

  “Doesn’t mean you have to eat there.”

  Why was I discouraging a hot guy from showing interest in me?

  And why was he interested in me?

  Why not?

  I felt like the before-Drew me and the after-Drew me were on the debate team. And doing a pretty lousy job at substantiating arguments.

  “Are you staying at the dorm?” I asked. It would be totally weird if he was, that everything—fate, the dating gods, whatever—was putting him in my path.

  “Nah, we’ve got some cheap rooms in a small hotel in the French Quarter. Tank knew some people who knew some people.” He shrugged.

  “Is he in charge of your group?”

  “We’re not official, not really organized. As a matter of fact, very unorganized. Tank asked if I wanted to come to New Orleans for the summer and do some volunteer work, said he’d secured some beds, and since I had nothing better to do—here I am.” He made a grand sweeping gesture. “At your service. So let me help you with this.”

  “But you’re not geared up.”

  “I’ll gear up in a minute. Let’s get this done.”

  Squatting, he grabbed the end of the table leg that was still attached to part of the table.

  I bent over—

  “It’s better for your back if you use your legs to lift stuff,” he said.

  “My toes don’t hold things well.”

  He laughed. “Funny. You grab with your hands, but lift with your legs. See?”

  He demonstrated, his legs doing a smooth pumping action, like a piston. He had really nice thighs. Even covered in jeans, they looked firm. Very firm.

  “So, you’re what? A lifting coach?” I asked.

  “Nah. I worked for an overnight package deliverer over winter break. Had to watch safety videos.” He shifted the table leg so he was able to carry it by himself and drop it in the wheelbarrow.

  It was only then that I noticed Tank and Jenna working together to remove a screen from a window. How it had managed to remain attached, I couldn’t imagine. Most were gone, or hanging lopsided.

  “Where’s Amber?” I called out to Jenna.

  “She went to talk to Sara/Saraphina. I think she wants another psychic reading.”

  “Now?” I asked.

  Jenna shrugged as she walked over to me. “She’s still bummed about what Saraphina told her yesterday.”

  “You had a psychic reading?” Brady asked.

  Now it was my turn to shrug. “It’s like eating at Café Du Monde. Something you have to do when you’re in New Orleans.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “Nothing that made any sense. Do you believe in that sort of thing?”

  “Not really.” He reached down, picked up a brick, and dropped it in the wheelbarrow.

  Apparently, I had a new partner for the day—whether I wanted him or not.

  Chapter 8

  “Okay, so her real name is Sara, and Saraphina is, like, her stage name or something. She said it all has to do with marketing,” Amber said.

  It was a little past noon, and we were all sitting on the curb, eating deli sandwiches called po’boys that one of the local eateries had sent over. Apparently some of the restaurants provided food for the volunteers, which made it really nice on our budgets. It also gave us such a sense of being appreciated—not that we were doing any of this for kudos, but still, it was nice.

  “So, did she give you another reading?” I asked.

  “No. She doesn’t give freebies, and she doesn’t do readings when she’s outside the shop. She’s just a normal person today—or as normal as she can be with two different colored eyes, but whatever. She said I’m trying too hard to interpret what she saw. I don’t know how I can not interpret”—she darted a quick glance at Sean, who was attacking his ham sandwich—“what she told me.”

  I wondered if she thought that since Sean was in college, he had the potential to be the better love.

  “It’s not like psychic-ism—or whatever you call it—is an exact science,” I reassured Amber. “She puts a thought in your mind and then when something similar—”

  “Similar? Red Kansas City Chiefs hat is pretty specific,” she interrupted.

  “What?” Brady asked, taking off his cap and looking at the logo on the front, like he was trying to confirm that it was there.

  Befo
re lunch, we’d all taken off our gear and washed up with a water hose. He’d put his cap back on then. I’d put mine on too, because of course I had hard-hat hair.

  “Saraphina said Dawn would meet a guy—” Amber began.

  “She said she saw a red cap—” I interrupted.

  “Close enough.”

  “What happens with you and the red cap?” Brady asked, settling it back into place.

  “Nothing. And look”—I turned my attention back to Amber—“nothing that she saw for Jenna has shown up.”

  “Maybe it has and we just haven’t recognized it.”

  “You know, I heard a story once about a guy who went to see a fortune-teller,” Tank said. “He wanted to know how he was going to die. She told him that cancer would kill him. So he’s looking in the mirror one day and sees this strange-colored lump on the end of his nose. He’s sure it’s cancer and he panics. Jumps in the car, heads to his doctor, and on the way, he’s hit by an eighteen-wheeler. Game over.”

  “So the fortune-teller was wrong,” Jenna said.

  Tank shrugged. “Maybe, but in a way, cancer did kill him.”

  “That’s kinda convoluted,” Amber said.

  “Exactly,” Tank said, “but that’s the way all this mumbo jumbo works. You can read anything into it that you want, and practically force what was predicted to happen.”

  “So you’re saying that I’m overreacting,” Amber said.

  “I’m saying you’re letting her mess with your head.”

  “You don’t believe in psychics?”

  He grinned. “I didn’t say that.”

  “I just really wish we hadn’t gone there at all.”

  I knew Amber was a worrier, but she’d never believed in stuff like this before. Why was she so troubled now? It made no sense.

  I took a long sip of water. I was drinking water like there was no tomorrow.

  “I can’t believe that y’all were assigned to the same site we were,” I said. “What are the odds?”

  “Five million to one,” Brady said, grinning.

  I’d known him less than twenty-four hours and already we had a private joke. I couldn’t remember what private joke Drew and I had—or if we’d even had one.

  “Are you kidding? The odds were stacked in our favor. Jenna called and told me where y’all were working,” Tank said.

  I didn’t know whether to stare at Jenna or glare at Brady. Jenna was leaning against Tank’s shoulder like he was the only thing supporting her, and Brady was studying his sandwich like he was trying to determine what lunch meats they’d stuffed between the French bread.

  “You called them?” I said.

  “Oh yeah,” Jenna said. “They’re not with a group like we are. They’re like freelancers or something. Just helping where needed, so I called him this morning right after we got here to see if they wanted to help out.”

  “John was a little freaked that we were here and not on his list. That guy is way too tightly wired,” Tank said. “Apparently there are people you’re supposed to contact to be an official volunteer, but”—he shrugged—“John decided having our muscles was more important than following the rules.”

  “It’d be insane to turn away someone wanting to help,” Jenna said.

  “Exactly the point we made. Who’d have thought we’d even have to argue?”

  “John’s Sara’s brother,” Amber announced.

  “Really?” I asked.

  “According to Sara.”

  “Guess she wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. Now that you’ve told me, I can see the resemblance, sort of,” I said.

  “I asked him if he could see things, but he said no,” Amber said. “He said that’s Sara’s burden.”

  “I imagine it would be hard to see things, to know things,” Jenna said. “It’s hard enough just knowing the little bit she told us.”

  “All right, people!” John yelled. “Five more minutes and we need to get back to work!”

  “So much for the Big Easy,” Sean said.

  We all smiled.

  “You got that right,” Tank said.

  Amber smiled at Sean, then dropped her gaze to watch a centipede walking between her feet. Her cheeks turned red, like she was embarrassed to have Sean’s attention. Or maybe it was just the heat, which was turning us all red.

  The day was only half over and I wanted a shower already. With lots and lots of soap. A bubble shower. I smiled at the thought of filling a shower all the way up with water and swimming in it.

  “A dip in a pool would be nice right about now,” Brady said.

  And I had a vision of him in the water-filled shower with me, and we were cavorting around like seals or something. Way too much imagination.

  “Ookay!” I said, standing. “Think I’m ready to get back to work.”

  I started the exodus from the curb. Everyone crumpled up the sandwich wrappers and tossed them into a nearby trash bin. Then we went back to picking up the debris brought out of the house and putting it into a wheelbarrow. When it was full, the guys hauled it over to the curb and dumped the stuff there.

  “I think we’ve got the absolute best team out here,” Jenna said.

  She was using the time when the guys went to empty the wheelbarrow to catch her breath. Okay, we all did. But her gaze followed them a little more closely.

  “So you really like Tank,” I said, although my voice went a little high at the end, and it came off sounding like a question.

  “Yeah, I do. And I think Brady might be the one Saraphina was talking about for you. It’s obvious that he likes you.”

  “Or I could just be convenient. You like Tank. He hangs out with Tank. I hang out with you. It’s just serendipity.”

  “Come on. He’s here, helping us, just like Saraphina predicted.”

  “Actually, you sort of orchestrated that, by inviting them. And Sara didn’t say anything really happened with me and the guy. She just said she saw him.”

  “Whatever. We could all have so much fun together!”

  I know she thought I was being difficult, stubborn. And maybe I was. But I’d learned the hard way that you can’t tell by looking if a guy is destined to hurt you. From the outside, they all look nice.

  By about two o’clock, I was hot, sweaty, and ready for another break.

  “All right, people,” John called out, from atop his ladder. “Can I have your attention?” He made sweeping arm gestures, trying to get us all to come closer.

  Jenna, Amber, and I sort of migrated together.

  “Wonder what’s going on?” Jenna asked.

  I shook my head. I didn’t have a clue.

  “We’re making great progress, people,” John said. “But we worry that if we work you too hard, you won’t come back.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Soooo…you have the rest of the afternoon off.”

  Applause, a few roars of approval, and some whistles followed that announcement.

  John waved us into silence. “For anyone who’s interested, Sara arranged a swamp tour! The bus will be in front of Sara’s shop in about”—he made a big production of looking at his watch—“forty-five minutes. Whether you go to the swamp or just hang loose, enjoy your afternoon. Tomorrow morning come back ready to hit it hard again!”

  People began to disperse.

  “Hmm. Swamp,” Jenna murmured. “What do you think? Do we want to go to a swamp?”

  “I watched an old movie called Swamp Thing with my dad once. That’s all I know about them,” I said.

  “A swamp seems like such an icky thing,” Amber said.

  “Okay, so what do we want to do?” Jenna asked.

  I shrugged. “Maybe we could go down to the French Quarter—”

  “Hey, Jenna,” Tank called out, walking toward us. “We’re going on the tour. Are you?”

  “Yeah, we are,” Jenna said.

  Okay, I guess our plans changed.

  “Great! See you at the bus.”

  She waved
at him as he walked away. I watched as he joined up with Brady and Sean, said something to them. Then they headed to his car.

  “Hope you don’t mind,” Jenna said.

  “I’m good with it,” Amber said. “I mean, we’re here to work and have fun.”

  They both looked at me, like they thought I was going to argue with the fun part. I guessed there was no reason why I had to go. But I didn’t want to spend the rest of the afternoon alone either.

  “It’ll be interesting,” I said enthusiastically. I didn’t see how, but I was trying to be a good sport. “But I have an important question here—what does one wear to a swamp?”

  Ms. Wynder took us back to the dorm so we could clean up—fast. She wasn’t going on the tour, but she was willing to drop us off at Sara’s.

  I changed into shorts. I decided to double layer two tank tops that I had, putting a red one over a pink one that peeked out just a bit. I slipped on my red sandals.

  “You know a swamp is probably squishy,” Jenna said.

  “Yeah, you’re right.” I changed into sneakers. I didn’t want muck getting between my toes.

  Quite a crowd was at Sara’s when Ms. Wynder dropped us off. The other three girls in our group immediately headed toward three guys who’d shown up at the site with Sara that morning.

  “Wow, that didn’t take them long,” Amber said.

  “Looks like a lot of people are pairing off,” Jenna said.

  “Here we go, everyone!” Sara said as the bus pulled up.

  “I guess we can all sit together,” Jenna said.

  She said it like it was a fate worse than death, obviously worried that Tank wasn’t there yet. And then suddenly there he was, grinning broadly, Brady and Sean right behind him.

  “Hey,” Tank said, taking Jenna’s hand. “This is going to be awesome.”

  Maybe swamps were a guy thing.

  Brady and Sean were both standing there with their hands in their back pockets, like they weren’t exactly sure what to do. Like maybe they were wondering if we were all going to pair up again like we had last night.

  I remembered how worried Amber had been about how things would play out if Jenna was seeing Tank. I hadn’t wanted to deal with it then. I still didn’t.

  We headed onto the luxury bus. Each row had two seats. Sean was leading the way. Amber was following him. I was behind her. Sean dropped down onto a row, reached out, took Amber’s hand, and pulled her down beside him. I felt a small spark of panic. Where was I supposed to go now?