4
ZOSHA
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I’m so happy to be back in America. Back amongst friends. It feels good to be in the cafeteria again, talking with the other bakers about the menus and plans for what we’ll make next week, how to tweak the recipes, what is a hit with the kids.
Caleb’s there too, with his old grumpy self. I swear the dude is young but acts like he’s a freaking old man with a chip on his shoulder. He grumbles about everything , but somehow it still gets done.
I’m getting ready to pack up for the evening when King comes back through the cafeteria. Honestly, we thought he was turning in for the day since it’s getting late and we’re closing down, but here he is, walking straight toward me.
“What can I do?” he asks, looking around like he wants to help.
“You don’t have to do anything. I’ve got it,” I reply.
“Erica usually would help you with this.”
“She did help me. It’s just that… I wanted to stretch a little bit longer because one of the activities went on a little long, so I kept open a little bit more.”
“That’s nice of you,” King says, giving me a subtle trace of a smile.
While he helps me stack the trays and wipe down the counters, we talk about things happening around the camp, basically playing catch-up.
One thing I’ve noticed is that King and Erica appear to be fighting again for some reason.
Which is weird considering the both of them survived together out there. I wonder why.
Down in Poland, my cousin Mickey told me, “If you like the guy, you have to go after him or at least be his friend and make yourself his safe space.” So I’ve always tried to be a little bit more open when it comes to King.
It helps that he seems friendly with me, stopping by often just to say hello or to tell me how my pastries taste.
As King is helping me fold the tablecloths, Sister Madysen spots him and comes over to the area, pulling him away slightly. She seems a little too comfortable with King, but maybe that’s just me being a little jealous.
As I keep packing up, I overhear their conversation.
“Brother King,” Madysen says, “I just wanted to say that I’m very sorry for my behavior that day. I should have apologized sooner. It’s just that… well… I was ashamed.”
“It’s okay,” King tells her. “I forgive you, but you should really talk to Erica and ask her for forgiveness too.”
Madysen dips her head in agreement, a gentle curve to her lips.
Now that King is back, I can get a little closer to him. He seems interested in talking to me. The fact that he’s here helping me out and not with Erica means a lot. There’s hope.
After thanking King for his help, I handle the rest when he leaves, packing up my station and wiping down the last counter. Miss Margo, the lead baker, bends over holding her back.
Walking over right away, I ask, “What’s wrong?”
“Arthritis,” she replies.
“Is it in your back?”
“It comes and goes. You’d be surprised.”
“I’ll help you back to the cabin and change if you need to,” I tell her.
“No, it’s okay.”
“Come on, please. I insist .”
We start walking back to her cabin. She holds on to my arm the whole way. Some of the people we pass stop and ask Miss Margo if she’s okay. She waves them off with a smile.
“It’s fine. I got my adopted granddaughter here helping me.”
We both laugh, and one of them says, “That’s very sweet of you.”
Her cabin is a few down at the end of the row, through a set of trees, next door to another one. I help her inside and get her settled.
Once she’s sitting, Miss Margo starts talking about the old days.
“This whole area of Hossville used to be mostly forest,” she says. “A tiny town with a few close neighbors. Now look at it. It’s good the church opened this youth camp. Makes me feel useful again.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” I reply. “My mom is the same way. If she doesn’t feel useful doing something, it makes everything worse for her.”
As I help her change into her nightie, she asks, “How is your mother?”
“She’s a lot better since we got back from Poland.”
She settles into bed, then looks at me. “Why aren’t you married off or have a boyfriend? You should be off having fun. Are you going to the bonfire this evening?”
“I don’t know. I was planning on just staying in my cabin.”
“Listen to me, child,” she says. Then she gives me some wisdom. “While you’re young, enjoy it. Because one day you’re going to wake up like me and have pain everywhere, and you’re going to have regrets, saying you should have done this, taken more time to do the things you love.”
She stares off for a long moment, then adds, “And chase after the ones you love.”
Blushing, I wonder if she knows. She gives me a knowing look as I tuck the blanket around her and sit on the side of the bed.
“So when are you going to talk to him?” she asks.
I’m confused. “What?”
“I see the way you look at him. The white-haired boy.”
Starting to blush fiercely, I feel Miss Margo laugh and put her hand on mine.
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. But I see the way you look at him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.
“Girl, I was not born yesterday. Don’t insult me. It’s all in your eyes every time he comes around.”
I smile. “I’ve liked him since the first time I saw him.”
“King is a good boy,” she states. “I say you’re shooting for the stars with that one.”
My eyes cast downward. “He doesn’t even see me, Miss Margo.”
Her eyes are laden with her advice she’s about to give.
“When I was young, there was a man I loved. My parents wanted me with a wealthy man who would take care of me and any kids we had. So I stayed with that one. But the man I truly loved, the only man I ever loved, he had nothing. He was stationed away and never came back.”
“Is he living somewhere else?” I ask.
“No, sweet girl. He’s not living anymore. And I just keep thinking… had I been happy with him, we would have had a family…”
She trails off. I ask, “But what about your husband? Did you grow to love him?”
“We divorced a long time ago after his sixth infidelity. There’s only so much a woman can take. We’re asked to suffer through so much.”
She grips my hand a little firmer but gently. “If you want something, you’re going to have to go after it. It’s empowering. We’re always taught as women that we should let things come to us, just sit and let things happen. But I followed that advice and look where I am now.”
“You’re still young, Miss Margo,” I smile.
She laughs a hefty, full-belly laugh. “Yes, if 61 is young , then you have a way with optimism.”
Then she tells me, “If you love that boy, or if you even fancy him, then don’t let it go to waste.
What’s the worst he could do? Reject you?
But don’t sit there and wait for it to happen.
Besides, that boy, he is smart and loving, I can tell.
And I know he has a lot more in him under the surface that he doesn’t show anyone.
But I know he sure as hell ain’t going to get up and chase someone even if he likes them. You never know.”
“Yeah, there are a lot of other prettier girls than me,” I say.
“Don’t you dare talk about yourself that way. All I’m saying is there’s a reason why he keeps visiting you at your corner.”
Grinning, I think about that. I don’t think King likes me yet, but it’s an improvement. I always remember a time when King wouldn’t even speak to me.
“Thanks, Miss Margo,” I say, hugging her.
“Now why don’t you go get ready and go to that bonfire? Since I can’t go, tell me how it goes,” she replies.
My cheeks lift, joy beaming through me. Holding her hand, I silently agree.