LITMIR.BIZ

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tension.

      Popping came from her left, where Bear cracked his knuckles, then, with a hand under his chin, twisted his neck until several vertebrae popped. She winced.

      Bina lowered herself into her chair. “We have more time. Does anyone else have anything they’d like to share?”

      The rest of the group settled.

      Hope threw back her shoulders, excitement and worry sparring in her stomach. Write it, talk about it, do it. She took a breath and pushed the words out. “I have some good news to report.”

      “I think we all could use some of that,” Bina said. “Will you begin by telling us about your trauma?”

      Hope walked them through the events of that day, feeling an odd detachment, as if she stood outside herself and watched. She couldn’t help the comparison to Bryan’s story. Not the story itself, but the emotion. She felt his experience in her gut—as if it had happened to her. Her own story felt as though it had happened to someone else.

      She trailed off at the end, leaving the last words dangling in the air.

      Bina’s brows pulled together. “You sound very detached from the trauma, Hope.”

      Feeling the regard of the others, especially the solid presence on her left, she shifted in her seat. “I am. That’s because it happened to the old me.”

      “The old you?”

      “I can’t go back to that life. I have no interest in it any longer. So I’m starting a new one. I’ve rented a wonderful little Victorian cottage. I moved in just yesterday.” She tightened her muscles, her resolve and her courage. Once said out loud, this would be real. “And, after this meeting, I’m hoping to begin my new career.”

      “Congratulations,” Mark said.

      Hope didn’t know Bina well, but her face seemed to be held carefully neutral. “What is your new career?”

      “I’m applying for a job as an adventure specialist.” She loved the way it rolled off her tongue, the words round and fat with promise.

      “Oh, that sounds fascinating. What exactly does that entail?”

      “I’m not really sure.” She smiled, projecting a confidence that would be real soon. Hopefully. “But I’m excited to find out.”

CHAPTER FIVE

      “YOUR PRIOR EMPLOYMENT is a bit...light in adventure. Retail experience is completely missing.” The man across the counter looked up from her application, one brow raised. Travis Kurt, the manager of The Adventure Outfitter certainly looked the part. He had brush-cut brown hair and bronzed skin with starburst laugh lines at the corners, and he had the long muscles of a gymnast. His big hands resting on the glass looked capable and trustworthy. Hope could easily picture him putting up a tent with one hand, while squeezing the life out of a venomous snake with the other.

      She checked to be sure her shoulders were directly over her hips, then tilted her chin up, just a fraction. “I learn fast. You won’t find a more committed and dedicated employee.” She brought his attention to her résumé with a tapping fingernail. “My references will tell you—”

      “That you were a good bank manager, I’m sure.” He nodded. “But the skills required of an adventure specialist are very different.”

      “I’m sure they are. That’s why I’m applying for a retail position.” She clasped her hands in front of her, in an attempt to hide their fine tremor. Widow’s Grove was a small town. Santa Maria, its closest neighbor, wasn’t a big city, either. The employment pool was kiddie-sized. Which probably wasn’t a bad thing, since she wasn’t a strong swimmer. Okay, dog-paddler. “I plan to begin as a clerk, then work my way up.”

      She hadn’t known laugh lines could look skeptical.

      “Ookay.” He breathed the word out like a sigh, and pushed the papers aside with the edge of his hand. “Can you tell me what the tools in this display are used for?”

      She glanced into the lighted case. The top shelf held compasses of many types, the bottom held clear plastic arm boards with Velcro straps. In the middle, plastic maps and small white marker boards. Thank God she’d reconnoitered yesterday, and done her research. “Orienteering. It’s a family of sports that require good navigational skills to go from point to point in a diverse and unfamiliar terrain, at speed. Participants are given a topographical map, and—”

      “You know the definition. But have you ever done it?”

      “Well, no. But—”

      “How about skiing?” He pointed to ski tips, just visible over the tent display to his right.

      She knew about skiing. “Alpine, cross-country or snowboarding?”

      One side of his mouth lifted a fraction. “Any of them.”

      “Actually done them? No. But—”

      He pointed to the long delicate rods on a rack to his left. “How about fishing?”

      Her brain skipped pages. “Spin cast, fly rod, Spey rod or—”

      “Let’s say any of the above.” His eyes reminded her of the close-up photo of a hawk she’d happened upon while researching camping. Watchful. And a bit predatory.

      “No, not actually, but—”

      “Miss—” he glanced down at her résumé. “Sanderson. You’ve done your homework. That much is apparent. But our clientele actually participate in these sports. Our retail specialists require more than a Wikipedia education.” He looked her over, from her dress flats to her carefully arranged hair. “And be honest, given your background and education, why you would you want this job?”

      Her courage melted like candle wax under his hot focus. When her sweaty hands threatened to slip apart, she laced her fingers and hung on. Her career ambitions were shrinking like the rear end of a galloping horse, leaving her in the dust.

      Her mother’s rosary bead litany started up. You give up a perfectly respectable career, what do you expect? I scrimped and did without to see that you had an education, and you throw it away for what? To become a store clerk? You don’t have the sense God gave a paving stone. I am a total failure as a mother if this is what—

      Hope cut off the tape, midscreech. She’d lived with it while her mother was alive, plus two years. She had no intention of living with it any longer. Or the life her mother had so carefully steered her to. She forced her hands to relax, letting blood return to her fingertips.

      Come on, Hope. How do you expect to live a life of adventure, if you give up this easily?

      She lengthened her spine and opened her mouth to say something. Something brilliant, to convince this man that she was the one for this job.

      Nothing came out.

      Her only fallback strategy was to pour out her sob story and hope for the best.

      But she couldn’t.

      Hope snapped her mouth closed so fast, her teeth clicked. She’d be darned—no, she’d be damned (take that, Mom)—if she’d gain passage to her new life through pity for her past one. Courageous people didn’t behave that way.

      She took a breath, a step forward and a chance. “Have you ever in your life wanted a do-over?”

      He tipped his head to the side, which she took as encouragement.

      She forced her shoulders square. “You know, you go day to day through your life, not really thinking. But one day, something happens to make you stop and realize the path you’re on isn’t leading where you want to go. So you look back, and see all the steps you took to get you to where you stand now...see all the missteps that took you off the path to where you want to be.” She released her hands, spreading

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