15. Dr. Beck
Dr. Beck
My face feels naked. I probably shouldn’t have shaved this morning, but I stood in my outdated pink bathroom, stared at my reflection, and decided that if I was really going to try dating again, I needed to make some changes.
The easiest one I could think of at the moment was losing the beard.
I’ve hidden behind it for years. I grew it after Addie left, and it’s been something that shielded me from everything and everyone.
But, as I discovered through my morning prayer, if I’m going to do this, if I’m going to put myself out there and feel feelings for someone, I might as well do it all the way.
Sure, shaving was metaphorical, but it was also different, and it felt right.
Brooke is quiet, but there’s a nervousness in her posture. Her hands are tucked under her arms in a way that makes me think she might be cold. For the first time ever , I wish I had a newer truck, the kind with heated seats that I could offer to turn on for her.
“You cold?” I ask, and my voice is scratchy.
Brooke angles her face to look at me. “A little. I’ll be ok when we get moving though.”
I’m silent for a minute.
“Wasn’t this area a big part of the Civil War?” she asks.
Oh, thank goodness . A topic I can actually talk about .
I breathe out a sigh of relief.
“Yes,” I say, then point to a historical marker along the side of the road. “There’s tons of history here. It’s a big part of the area. Is that something you … like?”
She directs her gaze out her window at the passing landscape, but she responds loud enough that I hear her over the roar of the truck.
“Yes. It’s my favorite genre to read—historical fiction.
We studied the Civil War in seventh grade and again in high school.
Never did a lot of World War II in school, though, so I’ve learned a lot about that on my own since college. ”
“Maybe you’d have some book recommendations for me, then.” On the outside, I’m cool, collected, and calm, but on the inside, who is this and where has Beck gone? I do like to read, but I rarely have time, and I’ve never picked up a World War II book—ever.
“You like to read?” Brooke asks, and there’s a little bit of surprise in her voice.
“Yeah. I don’t get a lot of time to do it, but I enjoy it when I can.”
She nods, and I catch the movement from my periphery.
“Here’s the bridge,” I say as I turn onto the main road and join the traffic zipping across the New River below. I stay in the outside lane so she can see some of the scenery as we cross, but it takes only about thirty seconds, so she won’t see much.
“Wow,” she breathes. “I wish I could see more for longer. It must have been amazing to be building this.”
“Definitely,” I say, and then inspiration strikes me. I tuck it away in the back of my mind, but I already know what to do for another date, if she’ll allow me to take her on one.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, Beck. She might not choose you.
We’re silent for a while as I drive through the hairpin turns, but it’s not uncomfortable.
Brooke is simply looking at everything, and I want to know what she thinks.
I try to see this area as a newcomer, as she does.
Houses cling to the sides of the mountains, some with well-kept yards, others without.
Poverty is apparent, but so is wealth. There’s not much rhyme or reason to it, but it’s how it is in Appalachia.
“Michigan must be different from here,” I comment, breaking the silence.
“Definitely,” Brooke responds, but doesn’t offer anything else. I want to know about where she grew up. I want to know how she sees the world, how she sees this place, my home, but voicing those questions feels too heavy and too risky.
I turn the truck into the trailhead parking lot.
“We’re here,” I announce with a smile, even though my heart is hammering faster than a jackhammer. I haven’t been on a date in so long, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what Brooke expects. I’m second-guessing anything and everything.
I unbuckle and hop out of the truck, grabbing a backpack from the bed on my way to Brooke’s door. I shouldn’t be surprised when she’s already out of the truck by the time I get to her door.
I frown as she pulls her pink backpack over her shoulders. It’s very small and very feminine.
“Do you have everything you need?” I ask.
“I think so. This isn’t an all-day hike, right?”
I shake my head. I walk to the trailhead, but before I do, I slip a ginger candy in my mouth.
Brooke pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of the sign before slipping it back into her pocket.
“I like to take pictures of things to put into a scrapbook.” She shrugs as I raise my eyebrows. The sign is completely ordinary, but something about her wanting to remember this moment makes my heart thrum.
We walk a few steps stiffly side by side before she reaches over and grabs my right hand with her left one.
Her hand is cool and comforting and soft. There are a few calluses there too. More than anything, I’m grateful for her lead.
“You nervous, Dr. Beck?” she teases as she looks at my eyes with amusement.
“You have no idea,” I say back to her, swallowing. “I’m a little bit…” I pause while I think about the right word. “Out of practice on dates.”
“I think you’re doing great,” she says generously. I know I’m not doing great at this, but I really like Brooke. I don’t want to mess this up.
“Oh!” she exclaims. “Look, a snake!”
I follow where she points with her right hand and see a black snake sunning on a rock to the side of the trail. My mouth drops open. This is a red flag for me.
“Do you like snakes?” I ask, alarmed.
“Not at all,” she says back with a laugh. “But that one’s over there. And we rarely see them in Michigan.”
Michigan suddenly sounds a lot better than the frigid, barren polar wasteland I’ve been envisioning.
“Do you like snakes?” she asks.
“Not even a little bit. Too many horror stories to count in the E.R., and also my sister…”
“You have a sister?”
“Yes.” I think about what to say next, because it’s clear Brooke expects more than just a one-word answer here.
I inhale, trying to find courage. “Her name is Beatrice, but she goes by Bea. She’s three years older than me, so she’s thirty-one, and a herpetologist. She always loved snakes, and she forced me to learn far too much about them when we were kids.
She’s studying them in the Amazon or something right now. ”
Brooke’s brow furrows and she blinks deliberately. Twice. “Your sister is studying snakes? In the Amazon?”
I nod, unsure of what else to say about Bea and her love of reptiles as Brooke blinks.
“Okay.” She draws out the last syllable and sighs. I wish I was better at conversation, but it’s a skill I’ve not honed. Solving medical emergencies? Yes. Talking to people? No.
“So, what made you want to be a doctor?” she asks.
She’s having mercy on me. At least, I hope it’s mercy and not pity.
I can do this.
“I always wanted to help people. My dad … he died when I was ten, and he was always telling me to help whoever I could.” I wait for the crack in my heart that always comes along with mentioning Dad to come, but it doesn’t.
“I was never great with words and talking to people, but I still wanted to help them.”
“I get that sense,” Brooke responds, and there’s a teasing chiding in her voice that makes me think I should probably say more. She sobers. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
I open my mouth once, close it, open it again, and stop on the trail to face her, the sincerity in her voice giving rise to my own emotions bubbling up. “I haven’t really had a lot to say to anyone in a long time.”
Brooke’s eyes soften, and she places a hand on my forearm. “I’ve always had a lot to say, but I like to listen too.”
Her eyes are pleading with me for something, and I don’t know what she wants, but I desperately want to give it to her.
Addie’s voice comes unbidden into my mind. You never talk, Beck. You never carry a conversation.
Could that be what Brooke wants? I put my foot in my mouth when I assumed her twin was her boyfriend. I probably should clear that elephant out of the National Park.
“So, you have a twin?” I start down the path and she keeps stride next to me, so I lean over and take her hand in mine. It’s warm and solid and comforting.
She inhales a shaky breath, and I’m a little relieved that I affect her too.
“Yeah. Matt. He’s my best friend. But that’s led to some awkwardness over the years, like when my grandma’s neighbor assumed we were boyfriend and girlfriend instead of brother and sister.”
“Hey, in my defense, it was an easy mistake to make.”
She huffs. “I hope not!”
“I was jealous.”
Her eyes turn to look at me, and there’s a hint of amusement playing behind in the sparkle. “Jealous. Of my twin brother.”
“I just knew that I’d treat you better if you were my girlfriend. I definitely would have kissed you goodbye.”
Brooke stops and blinks deliberately. “Is that what this is?”
In for a penny, out for a pound .
“It’s what I’d like it to be.”
Her lips form a wry smile, and then she nods. “We’ll see. But I like the sound of that.”
My steps feel just a little lighter as we walk hand in hand down the trail.