Me and the Helpful Hurricane (Good Grief, Idaho)

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Me and the Helpful Hurricane (Good Grief, Idaho) Page 11

by Gussman, Jessie


  We sit there in silence for a little bit, in agreement, with maybe both of us giving some acknowledgment to the things that have changed in our lives because of being with each other.

  Maybe I’ve caused him to loosen up a little, but he’s definitely helped me to see the business aspect and to be more concerned about attracting new residents to our facility.

  Not something I thought about six months ago.

  “So do you spend a lot of time at the fire hall because of your mom?” he asks, and it surprises me that he’s making small talk on such a personal level.

  Surprises, but also makes me feel strangely warm. I like that he’s interested.

  At least, I hope it’s interest and not small talk. We could be talking about the weather, after all.

  “Yeah. Although, even before Mom was the chief, she was a member of the ladies’ auxiliary, and we’ve always helped. Just like we do with the library and the church and the school. I mean, come on, it’s our small town. Everybody has to pull their weight, do their part, or it’s not really a community. It’s just a bunch of people living together in the same area.”

  “I guess that’s the way it was in California. We lived in the burbs, and I waved at my neighbors, but we never really talked or did anything together. I don’t even know who was in the fire company. I guess they’re paid to be there.”

  “It’s a lot different when you’re out here, and everybody’s responsible for everyone else, to keep things going, because there’s not enough money to pay people to do it.”

  “I think it might be better that way.”

  “I can’t disagree.”

  “So why aren’t you married?”

  Okay. So this is really personal. Maybe he has the same issues I do after midnight.

  “I was.”

  “I know,” he says before I say anything more. “You told me. To a motorcycle dude, but that was a long time ago. I want to know why you haven’t got married again?”

  My eyes open wide, and I look away toward the other jail cells that are empty, of course.

  I should have known he’d wait. I thought if I don’t say anything for a long enough time, maybe we’d move on to a different subject, or maybe we’d sleep, or maybe I’d be excused from answering. But that seems like the coward’s way out, and the silence is still stretching slowly between us, laden with anticipation.

  So I say, “I guess I just didn’t have any interest.”

  That leaves out a lot. Particularly the fact that I actually do have some interest. In him. But now that I’ve answered his question, I guess I can ask him the same thing. “And you?”

  “Same.”

  I wonder if it’s the same that I said or the same that I didn’t say. Might he not be saying something too?

  I have no way of knowing, and I’m not brave enough to ask.

  “I never thought I would say something like this, but I guess I’m looking forward to the whitewater rafting trip. I didn’t think I was that kind of guy, but I’ve found in my time here that Idaho is beautiful, and it grows on you.”

  When he first started speaking, I thought he was going to say he was looking forward to the trip because I was going to be there too and he was looking forward to spending time with me. I have to admit I’m disappointed.

  But... “I agree. Idaho is beautiful. And while I’ve been rafting a couple of times, I’m looking forward to this trip because I’ve never been overnight.” I lift up a hand, kind of waving it around. “And I’m excited for the ladies too. I think they’re really going to enjoy it, and whatever happens, with the facility with everything else, I know this is a trip they’re going to be happy they took.”

  “I agree.” He pushes away from the wall and sits up. “Have we spent enough time here?” He looks at his watch. “It’s five. Surely that counts as morning?”

  “I hope so.” If we go now, I might be able to catch a couple of hours of sleep before I have to go in to the fire hall and help my mom cook the chicken. My sisters will be there getting it ready, and I think I might be able to show up late.

  I’ve thought of her several times since I entered the jail, but this time, the door opens, and like a whirlwind, she blows in.

  It’s small town; gossip travels like wildfire even in the middle of the night.

  “Phil, I heard from Mrs. Thompson, who heard from Mrs. Park, who heard from Mrs. Richardson, who said her grandson was looking out his window and saw my daughter Leah and her boss Mr. Ripley being handcuffed and taken to jail. Is that correct?” My mom doesn’t stop for a breath but is looking around the jail, and her eyes land on me. “Leah Elizabeth Harding, what in the world have you done?”

  It’s really bad when I get my middle name. I feel like I’m about five and in big trouble.

  My mom is sniffing the air. I’ve kinda gotten used to the smell, but I’d forgotten about Doug and the alcohol he has on him.

  I’ve stood up and so has he, only I’ve walked to the door of my jail cell, my hands on the bars, while he’s kind of stopped in the middle.

  I don’t think he’s exactly afraid of my mom, but she can be pretty intimidating. I wouldn’t put it past her to grab him through the bars.

  Not that she would have any reason to.

  She might grab me, but I know my mouth can work fast enough to get me out of trouble.

  “You wouldn’t believe this, Mom, but Miss Agnes,” I begin, and then I tell her about what’s going on.

  By the time I’m done, she’s nodding and smiling, and honestly, I think she’s about ready to ask Phil to put her in a cell with us, if it’ll make Agnes happy.

  “But actually, Doug, I mean Mr. Ripley and I—”

  “Doug is fine.” Doug interrupts me just to say that. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who is okay with first names, but I glance at him, and I feel like we look at each other and say more without saying anything at all, even though my mom is standing right there.

  Maybe she picks up on it, because my mom is pretty astute that way, but she doesn’t say anything.

  Even so, it wouldn’t matter because if my mom thinks that Doug is going to make me happy, she will be all for it. She’s a fire chief, and she takes that seriously, of course, but first and foremost, I’ve never doubted that she’s my mom and that she’ll go to bat for me no matter how old I am and no matter what I do.

  It makes me happy, and it definitely makes me feel secure and loved.

  I turned back to my mother, tearing my eyes away from Doug. Maybe it’s because I haven’t slept at all, but I find that harder to do than I expected. “Doug and I were just saying that we thought it was time for us to get out.”

  That’s all I have to say. My mom takes care of everything else, and ten minutes later, Doug is driving away in his car, and I’m riding away in mine with strict instructions from my mom to not come to the fire hall until ten. She has assured me that she will get everything set up, and she won’t need me until it is time to start cooking.

  Tonight didn’t quite turn out the way I was expecting, but in a lot of ways, I think it was better.

  And, really, how many people can say they spent the night in jail with their boss?

  Chapter 13

  Leah

  Saturday goes just fine. I see Doug when he comes to get his chicken dinner, but I don’t talk to him.

  My sisters have decided to have a girls’ night Sunday night since I’m leaving on the whitewater rafting trip Tuesday.

  So Sunday night, we all meet up at Claire’s house.

  Claire is engaged to her neighbor, Trey Haywood, and those two are perfect for each other.

  But Trey is not here tonight. I think he has Claire’s girls, Melody and Evie. Evie loves basketball. Melody is really into science, but I think Trey has been teaching them both to play ball, and from what I understand, they’re at the school with my sister Tammy’s husband, Justin, and his son Roy.

  The whole family knows that Roy kinda has a thing for Evie, but so far, they
’re just friends.

  I get to Claire’s first, knock, and then let myself in.

  Claire’s hollering “come on in” as I’m closing the door behind me. Her Great Dane, Midget, is in my face.

  It might be intimidating for some people, because Midget is so huge, but she’s a sweetheart, and pretty soon we’ll be fighting over who gets to sit on the couch and who has to sit on the floor.

  Usually, Midget wins and gets the couch. She’s not exactly a lapdog.

  After I spend five minutes petting the big baby, I walk into the kitchen.

  “Mrs. Thompson dropped those off, would you mind setting them on the table?” Claire greets me with a request for help, and I guess that’s how you know you’re family, right?

  I don’t say anything but pick up the cookies with what looks like a glob of Jello in the middle, and I’m careful not to let the cookies and the Jello touch, because that would just be gross.

  Mrs. Thompson has always been known around Good Grief for her cookies, but I think lately she’s been on a Jello kick.

  I don’t really live that close to her anymore, a quarter of a mile away, so I don’t get her cookies much, and I want to make sure that these don’t get soggy.

  “Do you want me to take the plastic wrap off?” I ask as I set them down on the table.

  Claire walks in beside me with a plate of brownies in her hand. “Would you mind?”

  “Of course not.”

  We work in silence for a bit, with Claire handing me a couple of spoons and me putting them in the dips that she has on the table, and chatting about the weather as Kori comes in, boundless energy as always, with my mom.

  A lot of times, Mom doesn’t make these, because she’s called out on something, so I’m glad to see her tonight.

  “I hope it’s okay, Leah, but I met Miss Agnes in the grocery store with her granddaughter, and when I found out that her granddaughter was just visiting for a week or two and was going on the whitewater rafting trip with you this week, I invited both her and Miss Agnes to come tonight.” My mom smiles and doesn’t look the slightest bit concerned. She knows that it’s perfectly okay. We’ve always felt free to invite anyone to our girls’ nights.

  It’s nice to just have family, but it’s also nice to extend family to others and include them.

  “So is the question just for Leah? Or do I get a say in this as well?” Claire’s being a little goofy, since Mom had directed her question to me.

  “I just asked Leah because Miss Agnes is at the assisted living center where she works.”

  My mom sets a hearty-looking dip down on the table. It looks like it has meat and beans and lettuce and sour cream and pretty much anything that anybody might have in their refrigerator in it. I want to take a spoon and just start eating it., But I don’t. She sets a bag of chips down alongside it.

  “I know. I was just kidding,” Claire says, coming over and giving Mom a hug.

  I think sometimes the townspeople are intimidated by my mom because she’s so capable. She’s great in an emergency, and she’s great when you need a shoulder, and she’s great with Dad’s paperwork, and she’s the best wife and mom I know, and I’m not just saying that because she’s mine.

  Seriously, my dad’s a lucky man, and he knows it. Which is good. Some men are lucky, and they don’t know it.

  I suppose that’s true about women too.

  I wonder which one is true about my marriage.

  I feel like I’ve become a better person since it blew up a decade and a half ago. But I’m not sure I’m ready to try again.

  It’s funny how I’ve been thinking about it more lately, with all the interaction that I’ve been having with Doug.

  I would never pair the two of us together. We’re too different, but I have to admit, when I think about getting married again, he’s the only one I have in mind.

  We’re still chatting when the door opens again, and my oldest sister, Tammy, blows in.

  Anyone who knows Tammy—a very proper high school English teacher, who is tall, slender, and very meticulous—would smile at the idea that she could blow anywhere.

  But that’s the only way I can describe it.

  Her eyes are glowing, her cheeks are rosy, her hair windblown, and she just looks alive and gorgeous and happy, which makes me happy for her.

  She had a really rough time for a few years, after her divorce.

  But she’s met an incredible man, Justin, who honestly is her opposite in every way. He’s interested in things I never thought Tammy would be interested in, and they fit together so beautifully it’s like listening to perfect harmony when you see them together.

  “My goodness, girl, you look like you’ve had a great day,” Claire says as she walks over and takes the vegetable tray out of Tammy’s hand.

  She’s changed, but she hasn’t changed that much.

  “I had an amazing afternoon,” Tammy says with an emphasis on “amazing,” which makes it sound like it was truly spectacular.

  “Wasn’t today the charity run?” my mom asks. She is up on those kinds of things because of being in the fire company.

  A lot of times, they have an EMS and an ambulance sitting on-site.

  “It is. They moved it from tomorrow because of the rain coming, and it was just a gorgeous day.”

  “So did you race, or did you and Justin find a beautiful spot and hang out?”

  Honestly, Tammy’s cheeks were already red, but her whole face kind of pinkens at the suggestion. “We raced. I came in fifth. I can’t even believe it! I think I could have done better too, but I’m a little cautious yet around some of the turns and especially some of the downhills.”

  “Rightfully so. People get hurt on those.”

  Who would have ever thought my mother would be cautioning Tammy to be careful? Life changes in really weird ways sometimes.

  We chat some about the race, and Tammy tells us that we all should buy four-wheelers and go on charity runs, and while part of me wouldn’t turn it down if I had the opportunity, another part of me already has enough things to do, and I’m not looking for a new hobby.

  I love spending time with the ladies at the nursing home, and I’m a little disappointed that Agnes and her granddaughter haven’t shown up.

  I guess I’ll get to meet her granddaughter on our rafting trip.

  We pray for the food, and everybody has gotten a plate when there’s a knock at the door. I look over to see Agnes standing in the window with a tall blonde beside her.

  It must be her granddaughter. She is pretty, and she looks like she is about my age.

  “I’ll get that,” I say to Claire, who is starting to put her plate down.

  I open the door and greet Agnes with a hug. “And this must be your granddaughter?”

  “It sure is. Kimber. You and I have talked about her, and you’ve seen pictures.”

  “I think you showed me baby pictures, and maybe school pictures, so when you say granddaughter, I’m picturing a little girl.” I hold my hand out. “I’m Leah, the activities director.”

  “I’m Kimber, and I haven’t seen any of your baby pictures or childhood pictures, so if you’d like to get some out so we’re even, I’m all for that.”

  I like her right away. There is humor laced all through her voice, so even though she’s dressed in slacks and a blouse and looks like she’s going to a business meeting rather than a girls’ night out, I’m at ease right away. I barely even think about my T-shirt and jeans and flip-flops.

  “Come on in. We just started to eat.”

  I help them get food, and the conversation flows around us until we sit down and my mom looks at Kimber and says, “So I understand from Miss Agnes that you have a vlog? Is that like a video and blog combined?”

  My mom probably knows what a vlog is better than I do, but I’m glad she asked. I had no idea.

  “That’s right. I take videos and I post them online.”

  “I’ve heard of that. People can have quite a following
and make a good bit of money,” Kori says. She’s had numerous jobs, and I wouldn’t say she’s always hopping from the last greatest idea to the next one, but she does seem to get bored easily. She just has so much energy it gets hard for her to contain herself. Or to stay engaged. She’s great at multitasking.

  “That’s true. Some of the bigger people do. I make enough to survive on, and I have a decently sized following at a little over a million people.”

  My jaw drops. A million people? That seems like an awful lot.

  She smiles and crosses her legs, classy and graceful, and I see Agnes in her, if not in her physical attributes, in her spirit.

  Agnes is a little wild and kind of crazy, but that’s partly because she was so decorous for so many years.

  I think sometimes we get older and we regret not using our younger years to do more things that are a little crazy and outside the lines.

  That’s what happened with Agnes anyway, I think.

  “Grandma has already spoken with the facility director, Doug,” Kimber says with her brows raised at me.

  I nod; my mouth is full of my mom’s dip. It’s delicious.

  “And he has a spot for me on the whitewater rafting trip. We were thinking that me posting it online, the different videos that I’ll take while we’re on it, will encourage people to maybe check out the facility and possibly make it their permanent home.”

  I wish I could take credit for that idea. It’s brilliant. I say so, and my family chimes in, loving the idea that Idaho might be on the map for a million people who’ve never seen some of our amazing natural landscapes.

  I think I might have mentioned a time or two how gorgeous Idaho is, and it’s often overlooked. I mean, we don’t exactly have a Grand Canyon or Niagara Falls, and there aren’t any redwoods or oceans in our state, but it’s an absolutely beautiful place to be, and it looks like Kimber has the reach to help us out.

  As I’m thinking that, I’m looking at her closely, and I’m thinking how good she and Doug would look together.

 

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