I love having a place we can come to on our days off. Sometimes I’m here alone. Other times Jared comes out here while I work a job. On a rare occasion like today, we’re both here together.
I should go ahead and call Mindy as much as I’m thinking about her. I don’t know what I’d say, though. I mean, we aren’t dating, and that’s a tragedy, but one that doesn’t seem avoidable right now. Still, while I sit here, I think I sure would like to hear her sweet voice.
Jared’s on the couch across from me scrolling his phone.
“Hey, Jared. I think I want to call Mindy.”
“Go for it. You should.”
“But what am I going to say to her? ‘I think of you all the time’? That’s too much. ‘I wish I were closer so we could go out again’? Lame.”
“Overthinking, dude. Ask her about what she’s up to. This is so not you. You never worry about what to say.”
“I know. With her it’s always been like this. I turn into a more reserved, careful version of me.”
“I wouldn’t believe it if I weren’t seeing it. Seriously, though. Remember what you said when you got back from the wedding? You said, ‘I’m taking that guy Brett’s advice. I’m going to fight for something between me and Mindy.’ So, go fight for it. Only don’t get so uptight. Just call. Ask how she is. Listen. Say ‘Good to talk to you. Take care,’ and hang up. Bam. You’re welcome.”
I throw one of the pillows off my couch at Jared and then I grab my phone before nerves get the better of me.
“Hey, Mindy. It’s Caleb. Well, yeah. You know it’s me. Caller ID and all. Anyway, I was thinking of you and thought I’d just call and see how you’ve been since Sunday.”
“Hey, Caleb. How sweet of you to call. It’s been a week full of kids going bonkers. But, that’s to be expected.”
“What kinds of things are you doing with them to wrap up the year?”
I’ll keep her talking just so I can hear her voice, plus I am interested.
“We’ve been doing an end-of-the-year project. It includes art and them writing. What was I thinking having them focus on paragraphs this close to the culmination of our school year? I just want to prepare them for the jump up to fourth grade. You know? There’s a lot more writing required then. Oh, I must be boring you to tears. I’m sorry. How are you? How’s the planned burn?”
“You don’t bore me at all. I remember the end of the school year—of course I remember it from a student’s perspective, not from the teacher’s vantage point. Sounds like you’ve been busy. Kids get pretty crazy with the end of the year just around the corner. I know I sure gave our teachers a run for their money.”
She says, “I’m not going to argue with that! I remember you in elementary school. So cute and so ornery.”
Did Mindy just call me cute? I’m holding back a big whoop. I wonder if she still thinks I’m cute, or if she just thinks the 3rd grade version was cute.
She asks, “So, how’s fire stuff?”
“Well, like I told you, we’ve been preparing for a controlled burn. It’s been a lot of meetings and checking different parts of the forest around where we’ll burn. Some of it’s just low grass—we’ll set it burning and stamp out right away. Other stuff we have to let spread, so that’s where it gets tricky with wind and other things. We have it as planned out as we can. Now Jared and I are at our home for our day off. Did you know we had a house in West Yellowstone?”
“I didn’t know that. I guess I assumed you just lived at the station. You two are heroes. You know that, right?”
I say, “Thanks. I love what I do. The planning part, not as much, but the collaboration and the anticipation, the fine tuning—that part’s all energizing. The burn itself will be more my style of work, to be sure.”
“Well, you be safe out there. It was so sweet of you to call. I better run. I’m heading to see Mom and Dad. Take care, Caleb.”
“I will. Thanks. I just wanted to check in on you. I hope you have a good rest of your week, Mindy. Bye.”
Jared took off when I picked up my phone, but he must have heard the room go silent when we hung up, because he pops his head in to check on me. “So? How’d it go?”
“Good. I mean, I guess.”
“She’s doing well? It sounded like she was holding up her end of the conversation.”
“Yeah. She’s doing great. Wrapping up school, handling kids who are getting the end-of-the-year itch. She was interested in our project with the burn. She called us heroes. Sweet of her to say.”
Jared says, “You know you’re my hero.”
“Ha. Well, you’re not mine. Unless you’re cooking dinner then I’ll reconsider.”
I’m not sure why I feel half empty after talking with Mindy. It was great hearing her voice. I think it’s just the more time I spend with her, the more I feel the vacant space in my life she was meant to fill. Talking to her like we’re old friends isn’t how I want this to be. I want more with her. I love our talks. I just want to have it all out in the open and finally tell Mindy what’s in my heart.
chapter four
Mindy
STANDING AT THE FRONT of my class, I look at the twenty-four little faces I’ve come to love this year. I’ve been busy wrapping up our schoolwork. It gets pretty consuming the last few weeks before classes let out. I’m working on a “people of the year” project with my third graders.
They are mostly acting like someone snuck in and gave them a vat of red Kool Aid or Doctor Pepper before school started today—squirrelly doesn’t begin to describe it. I’ve had to explain the project five times so far.
“Miss Morse, can I do Martin Luther King Jr.?”
“No, Jonathan. It needs to be someone you know—this year—they would need to still be alive. Dr. King is not alive anymore. It could be a coach or a friend. Maybe a relative—you know, someone in your family. It could be a neighbor. I want you to pick a person who impacted you. Who can help everyone understand what impact means?
“Yes, Maggie.”
“Well, it means that person did something that made you think, hmmm. And it was a good thing that you won’t forget.”
“Right. That’s a pretty good way to think of it. For example, I know a woman at the retirement home where I visit. She shared with me about when she feels fearful. She said she remembers to focus on what is right in front of her instead of thinking about what bad thing could happen next. I thought of that lesson even after we talked. That was impact. Does everyone understand? If not, please raise your hand so we can help you.
“Yes, Steven?”
“Do you think I could write about my toad? I found him behind the house and he sure impacted me.”
The class goes up in giggles.
“Steven. I am glad you brought that up. This is a report about a person. That’s why we call it person of the year. Anyone else?”
Dare I ask?
Thank God no one raises their hands, so we can finally get started. After the students write for a while, we incorporate art into the project by drawing a headshot of their person. I use some wonderful instructional videos to help them walk through learning how to draw people’s faces.
At lunch, Shannon and I sit planning the details for our “field trip to the next grade” where my class will visit Shannon’s and each of my students will pair up with one of hers for an hour to try on what fourth grade will be like. This afternoon we have our end-of-the-year party out on the playground with all the other grades. I feel like I could sleep for a week straight. All these extra activities compound my already full load when I add in grading and other administrative tasks that are due.
Kat and Jack came back from their honeymoon a few days ago. Kat asked me to join them for supper tonight. It’s been a long week, but I haven’t seen her since the wedding, and I want to hear about their trip and reconnect. I have all day tomorrow to sleep in since it’s Saturday.
I drive up to the Anderses’ home and grab the salad I brought out of the back seat. Kat must
have heard me park because she comes running out the front door to greet me.
“Hey, Mindy! I’m so glad you are here. I know it’s a hairball getting through the end of school. I hope you are doing okay. Maybe we should have waited to get together. Well, I didn’t want to wait. I missed you. Good night, I’m rambling! Come on in!”
We walk into their home.
“Thanks. It’s been a long week. Good, but long. I’m ready to call this year a wrap. I say that now, but as soon as I lock up my classroom, I always miss the kids. I start thinking how they won’t be mine next year. But I remember I’ll have a whole new set of twenty-four children to love and lead.”
Kat says, “They’re blessed to have you, that’s for sure.”
I step into the kitchen where Jack is standing as Kat and I keep talking.
“Hi, Jack.”
“Hey, Mindy. Glad you could come over.”
“Thanks for having me. I’ve been dying to hear about Costa Rica and to catch up with you two since you got back.”
Kat starts sharing in her signature animated style.
“Oh! It was amazing! We stayed at this place called Peace Lodge in the heart of the jungle. There are pools on site and only eighteen rooms, so it wasn’t crowded. The property itself has five waterfalls and our room had a private Jacuzzi with its own waterfall!”
She smiles over at Jack. I can tell they are remembering their time together.
Kat continues, “I know we have waterfalls up the bazookie here in Montana—but this was tropical and exotic. Just different, you know? We went zip-lining, saw the Poas Volcano—which is basically up in the clouds, spent time on beaches, ate in the little villages.” Kat sighs. “It was so relaxing and so much fun. And! The coffee! You know me and coffee. The coffee we had in Costa Rica was local and fresh.”
“Kat, you are hilarious! Of all the things. You come back telling me about coffee.”
Jack steps closer to Kat and gives her a little side hug.
“That’s why she married me. It was the coffee that won her over.”
He laughs.
“Yep. You got me there. I married a coffee shop owner so I could get the family discount!”
They look in one another’s eyes laughing, and I smile. Jack and Caleb don’t resemble one another, but as I watch Jack, I can’t help wishing Caleb were here laughing and looking at me as we shared private memories between us.
Jack asks, “You girls ready to eat? I made salmon with rice. That salad you brought will complete the meal.”
We sit around the table talking and laughing. Kat truly is a naturally engaging storyteller. She tells me about some of the adventures they shared on their trip.
“We looked at the brochures and we decided we wanted to try ziplining. Actually, it was Jack who was all ‘Let’s zip-line!’ But when he got up there, he stood on the platform refusing to budge. The instructor kept urging him while trying to be patient. I thought Jack wasn’t going to go. The instructor finally said, ‘I’ll go with you.’ That did it. Jack said, ‘Let’s do this!’ and off he went!”
I look over at Jack before giggling along with Kat.
Jack says, “That was what did it for me. When that guy said he was going with me, I considered the extra weight and how that would add speed, and I couldn’t get out of there fast enough! I’m glad I did it. It was fun. Scary as heck. Beautiful, and fun.”
“Sounds amazing, you guys, really.”
They share a glance that makes me simultaneously aware of happiness for them and an ache of emptiness for myself. I’m not jealous. I love what they have. I think of Caleb. What would it be to come home to supper together, to host friends, to travel and share adventure?
As we’re clearing our plates, Jack excuses himself to the living room.
Kat turns to me and asks, “So, I know my head was in the clouds at my own wedding, but I couldn’t help noticing the extra attention the younger Anders brother was paying you all night. Anything going on between you and Caleb?”
“Oh. I don’t know. I mean, Caleb is sweet. We’ve grown up together. He’s practically like a cousin to me or something like that. I’m sure he feels the same way. I think he was just glad to see me since it’s been a while. He’s always been a big flirt. He’s like that with everyone—you know—full of life, complimentary, makes you feel special. It was nice getting to see him at the wedding.”
Kat is a dear friend, but my crush on Caleb is something I have never told another soul about. The only one I talk about Caleb with is God. Other than that, I have never shared how I feel. My private thoughts about him are precious and a little fragile. If I say something out loud, they may just shatter like something made of thin glass. I hold them carefully and keep them safe.
Kat looks at me with a look that seems like a mix of pity and concern.
She says, “Sometimes we don’t know love when we see it right in front of our own noses. Take me and Jack. Goodness knows we had a million opportunities to figure it out. We almost lost one another—over a misunderstanding because we didn’t talk openly with one another as we should have. You know there’s a lot more to our story.”
“What I’m trying to say is that from where I’m sitting, Caleb has feelings for you, and if the sparkle in your eyes when you looked at him meant anything, I hope you act on it. I know I’m more of a leap-before-you look person than you are, but don’t let your naturally reserved personality keep you from happiness with a man who seems to matter to you as much as I think Caleb does. If I’m over the line, tell me.”
I steady my face so as not to reveal too much.
“I don’t know. I think it might be complicated. Thanks for caring enough to say all that to me, though. You are a precious friend. I’m thankful for you.”
We wash dishes in silence for a while. I think about the day Caleb called me a few weeks ago before he went on his planned-burn job. I hadn’t expected that call. He sounded a bit down too. Maybe prepping for a burn was stressing him out.
After the wedding, I’ve been thinking about him on and off—mostly on, except when school has been distracting me. It was sweet of him to call, but it also highlighted what we aren’t. We’re platonic. That’s what I am to Caleb—a friend.
Still, it sure was nice hearing his voice. I’ll never complain about a call from Caleb Anders. I hear what Kat was saying, and the night of her wedding was magical, but that’s what it was—a night. After that we’re back to being what we’ve always been.
Kat breaks the stillness by saying, “So, do you have special plans for the summer?”
“I have to take a CEU class. Most of it is online, but a few nights meet on campus at MSU. Otherwise, I’m volunteering with summer camp a few of the weeks.”
She asks, “Would you like me to come teach another day of photography to the kids?”
“I would love it. Last time they couldn’t stop talking about you after you came. Remember, that was the day we met.”
“So much happened since that day. I am so grateful we became friends.”
“Me too.”
I stifle a yawn which is my clue that I need to get going.
I say, “I need to get on the road before you have to make up a guest room for me.”
“You know you are welcome to stay if you need to.”
“Thanks, but I think I’d rather head home.”
Between exhaustion and the ping-pong game my thoughts about Caleb are playing in my head, I just need to be alone and get some rest. I’ll have a new perspective after a solid night’s sleep.
SUNDAY MORNING I AM a greeter at church. I ran with Shannon this morning, got ready and arrived here plenty early so I can help people get settled and make them feel welcome. Our church is pretty casual, and I’ve made some good friends, especially in small group.
As I’m standing in the doorway during a lull between people, Dale walks up. He’s in my small group and I think he might be Jack’s age. I greet him, but he doesn’t pass through the doors. Inst
ead he stands next to me, off to the side, like he has something to tell me.
“Dale, did you need something?”
“Yes. I was wondering if you would like to go to dinner and a play with me Friday over in Livingston. You don’t have to answer right now. I know you are greeting. Just let me know after service or later this week. Well, I guess I’ll see you in the service.”
“Okay. Dale.”
Right then a family I haven’t seen here before walks up. I greet them and point them toward the sign in for our children’s program.
Right before the service starts, I enter the church sanctuary, which looks more like a room used for conferences at a hotel or somewhere local theater could perform. I take a seat near my friend Jade as the worship team starts playing the first song.
I am not here to think about Dale. I want to spend this time connecting with God. I force my thoughts to focus on the lines of the songs. Throughout the service, the idea of Dale asking me out keeps barging in like a child without manners. He really should have waited until after service. This is unsettling and I feel distracted which is the last thing I want to be during church.
At the end of service, I make my way out of church after offering some quick goodbyes to people. I probably looked like I thought the building were about to cave in the way I was rushing out of there. I think I’d rather contend with a dodging falling bricks than to have to figure out whether to go on this date.
Dale is nice. It’s not him. I just don’t want to have to think about dating. It’s not like Dale just asked me out for any date. Livingston is a little over a half hour from my place. That’s like a mini road trip. I didn’t even know he was interested in me.
I get in my car and turn the ignition. I’m driving to the retirement center as usual. Offers of dates aren’t going to derail my Sunday rhythm.
Dale is pleasant. I should like him. He checks all the boxes. He’s responsible; has a good job; is kind; loves God. I’m doing what feels like a scan of myself as I drive into the driveway of the retirement center. I’m probing to see if I have any reaction to Dale Miller. Just fine. Nice. That’s it.
The Fireman's Perfect Match Page 3