“No, Dad. I’ll help with this Hillsdale situation, but then I will look for other employment.” It was good for us to have clear expectations.
“I appreciate you and all the work you’ve done. You’re a wonder.” Dad pulled me in for a hug. “If you are ready for something else?—”
“I am, but I’ll help get things situated first.”
Dad nodded and headed toward the door. “If that changes, let me know. Now don’t forget.”
“Dinner, next Sunday. Got it.” I waved goodbye.
I sighed and melted into the couch. Just when I thought my plan was getting back on track.
Chapter Five
MARISSA
Monday,gross. I reached up and felt for the goose egg on the back of my head. I think it shrunk enough to brush my hair without flinching . . . at least I hoped it did.
I wondered how Scott’s injuries were healing. Silver lining: if he got a concussion, he wouldn’t remember anything about the night we met. If I could erase that date from existence, I would. At least I didn’t have to worry about seeing him again.
I pushed back my worn patchwork quilt, sat up in bed, and reached for my phone, silencing the alarm. My screen was flooded with notifications of texts from Rose.
Rose: Morning! I thought you might like a copy of these . . .
I looked through the pictures that she took of the girl’s night; it was an epic evening. The last photo popped up, and I groaned. Of course, she took some with me and Scott. I zoomed in on the picture. Scott was reaching down and pulling me up beside him. He was smiling, and I was blushing.
Okay, certain parts of the date were worth remembering. His gray eyes were gorgeous. He was funny, and when he rubbedcircles on the back of my hand with his thumb, I melted. Not like the classy, smooth melty chocolate, but more like the kind when you find an old candy bar in your car, all messy and distorted. Not bad, but maybe not good either.
I laid back down on the pillow, studying the next picture longer than I would ever admit to. It was me standing next to Scott on the trailer, his lips hovering dangerously close to my ear.
I can’t believe he asked to see me again . . . before my overreaction and almost-killing-him thing. I closed my eyes. I had dating rules to protect me, but never considered them to be for my date’s protection too. No one could have planned those chains of events for sure. I shrugged and set down my phone.
I crossed my small bedroom to the closet and pulled off my PJs and grabbed my Lucky Charms shirt off the hanger. I pulled it over my gray tank top and tucked my tank into my faded jeans. The scars on my stomach from the car wreck with my parents never healed properly. The constant tank tops were dual purpose: to keep the scars from rubbing on my jeans and so people could stop giving me sad looks. Most of the town gossips had moved on to more recent stories years ago and I was fine without the reminders.
Okay, no more dwelling on the past. Today was a gift, each day was. I didn’t want to waste it reliving old nightmares.
“How’s the noggin?” Nan eased into my bedroom, her hair in tight curlers and wearing her worn pink fuzzy bathrobe.
“I’m great, Nan.” I pulled on my tennis shoes, glancing at her as I tied the laces.
Worry lines formed around Nan’s mouth.
“Honest, just had a bit of a headache yesterday. No worrying about me. You need to focus on your own recovery. How’s your hip?” She huffed, waving away my concern. I eased past her, heading through the living room towards the kitchen. “I mean it, no more ladders,” I said over my shoulder. “Ever.”
“I'm fine. Just set the ladder up wrong, plus I got a nice newhip.”
Nan grinned as she wiggled her hips from side to side. “I wonder if I could have a job as a magnet tester or something.” She giggled at her own joke. She leaned against the kitchen door frame, tired from her efforts.
I loved Nan and her ability to joke about anything. I had watched Nan work extra shifts and long hours for years as she raised me through high school. It was my turn to take care of her. “Speaking of jobs, I better go, or I’m gonna be late.”
I grabbed a granola bar from the pantry, gave Nan a quick peck on the cheek, and ran for the front door, stepping over the patch of raised linoleum I needed to still fix. “No beer, boys, or broken promises,” I hollered over my shoulder. Nan chuckled at the saying she used on me in high school. “And no ladders,” I added.
“I’m old enough. I can have all the boys over I want,” Nan shot back and waddled to her favorite rocking chair as I rushed out the door. The screen door flew back with a loud bang, reminding me of another thing I needed to fix.
I headed in the direction of the Hillsdale Law office. It was only a little over a half-mile away and I intended to enjoy every minute of the fall air. I started my job when I was a sophomore in high school, but never meant it to last this long. Harry gave me the manager position once I graduated, but nothing changed but the title. I think it was his way of showing gratitude.
I was going to leave this town right after graduation for my three months in Europe. But one thing led to another, and I'm grateful I've got a job.
Hillsdale wasn’t all bad. There were people here I loved, but I did not love Hillsdale. I wanted to fulfill the plans I had made with my parents. To travel, see different cultures, and taste different food. There wasn’t a decent Indian restaurant within an hour’s drive from town. In fact, it had little of anything. A few gas stations, two competing churches, a questionable bar or two, a pawnshop, a few school buildings—that was basically it. A newstop light was hung a few years ago. The whole town came out and watched it being installed.
