Me and the Helpful Hurricane (Good Grief, Idaho)

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Me and the Helpful Hurricane (Good Grief, Idaho) Page 16

by Gussman, Jessie


  “Well?” she says.

  I wish I could mess with her, tease her a little, act like I have no idea what she’s waiting on me for, but I can’t. I have to smile.

  “I can’t believe you’re exploiting my relationship with Miss Leah,” I say instead, which isn’t exactly what she’s done, but it’s close.

  “I’m not above using every weapon at my disposal to get my way,” she says, her stern expression easing. I know she’s kidding, just as she knows I am.

  “I see. Does Leah know?”

  “I didn’t tell her any more than what I told you.”

  “Which was nothing,” I supply, in case she’s forgotten.

  “Exactly right,” she says, and I don’t think this woman has ever forgotten anything in her life before.

  My personal cell rings and I pull it up. “It’s Leah,” I say, for the benefit of the people staring at me.

  Every single one of them smile, and I feel, even though most of them are sitting down, like they all move closer.

  “Hello?” I say, trying to not sound like I’m ecstatically happy.

  “Have you been on any social media this morning?” Leah asks breathlessly.

  “No,” I say, honestly.

  “We are viral.”

  “Oh?” I try to sound innocent.

  “Yes! The coverings, the prom dresses, the hole in the front yard, even the romance novelist mix up with what’s-her-name and our whitewater rafting trip...the honey, the ropes-M”

  “Hey, don’t go saying anything against the honey and ropes. I thought I’d bring some of those along on our honeymoon.”

  I can’t keep from grinning, because Leah has gone from breathless excitement to stunned silence.

  Then she laughs.

  “You know.”

  “I didn’t know what caused it, other than Miss Agnes had something to do with it.”

  “Caused what?” she asks, humor still lacing her voice. I think she thinks I’m kidding about the honey and ropes. No way.

  “Caused me to have over fifty phone messages and more emails from people asking to move into Cherry Tree. Apparently they think not only are we the hippest senior living facility in the west, but love is, apparently, in the air. Or maybe I should say, on the ground, because the messages I listened to specifically mentioned us on the ground and you looking at me with stars in your eyes.”

  “It’s you looking at me that way!” she exclaims, with more than a little exasperated humor in her voice. I love that I’ve found a woman who will take my teasing. Funny, because I didn’t even realize I wanted that.

  “So,” I say, looking at Miss Agnes who looks very pleased with herself, “Miss Agnes and her granddaughter have made more work for us today. When you get in, we have a lot of contacts to chat with and some applications to process. We also have some tours to give.”

  “Oh, we can help you with that,” Chubb says.

  Miss Agnes nods. “We’re very helpful. Leah is such a great example of that. Maybe you should just let us completely handle the tours. We can tell them what life is really like here.”

  “Oh?” I say. “And what is it really like?”

  “Living in a hurricane,” Miss Agnes says. I think she winks at me.

  “Are you having second thoughts about me?” Leah asks in my ear.

  I laugh. “No way. They’re confirming everything I already knew and making me want you more.”

  “I’ll be right in,” she says.

  I can’t wait.

  Epilogue

  Bain

  As a tour guide, it’s funny the way you bond with people when they’re out in the wilderness, away from their normal lives, experiencing a bit of danger and discomfort.

  People you barely know invite you to their wedding.

  I have to admit, having Doug and Leah and the seniors at their living center on a tour with me was a lot of fun. I wouldn’t have guessed older folks could be so interesting, but it was one of my best trips ever. Of course, Doug and Leah did stuff with honey that I’d never even thought of, so there’s that, too.

  But, I guess, most of all, there was Kimber. She and I were about as different as two people could be. Me, being raised in the backwoods – never even went to an actual store until I was in my teens. I was homeschooled in the winter with actual book learning, but most of the rest of the year, my parents taught me to live off the land and be content with very little.

  Kimber is pure city sophistication.

  Why are we always attracted to people who are as different from us as space rocks are from pudding?

  She’s at the wedding, too.

  As honored as I was to be invited to Doug and Leah’s nuptials, I’m not sure I would have come except I was hoping to see Kimber again.

  Not that anything will happen between us. Even I – as backwoods as I am – know that. I’ve been in society enough to know that a lot of the way I was raised is considered strange, at the very best, and child abuse at worst.

  They can think what they want. I suppose, until they’ve experienced it, they don’t really know what they’re looking down on. And, honestly, I love that I don’t need “stuff” and peoples’ approval in order to feel happy and satisfied in my life.

  Still, I am moved in some odd way by Kimber and, since I probably will never see her again after today, I think I might ask her to dance.

  I don’t really know how to dance, but one thing about the way I was raised – I’ve never let a little thing like not knowing how stop me from going after what I want.

  Kimber was conversing with an older gentleman who was just asked by Miss Agnes to dance, so now is my chance.

  I get up and walk towards my destiny.

  THANKS SO MUCH FOR reading!

  If you’d like to read Bain and Kimber’s book, Me and the Sweet Snowstorm, you can get it HERE.

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