Hear Me Roar 
Chapter 8
Hear Me Roar
A warbling bird outside my cabin ushered in the second week of camp after a luxurious, lazy weekend at the waterfront with JJ and Mark. Forty campers raced through Adventura, smelling like sunscreen and sweat.
Tuesday afternoon, Mark burst into the kitchen from the dining hall, his face streaked with sweat and dirt. His radio squawked.
“I’ve already talked to Troy,” he said into the speaker. “Possible heat exhaustion. Nothing too serious yet. He’s got the kid in medical now, and we’re monitoring. Over and out.”
He tossed both the radio and the clipboard on the island, then dropped to the floor and sprawled, spread eagle, with a groan.
“Oh, man.” He threw an arm over his eyes. “What was I thinking? Why did I start a summer camp? Some kid just threw up on JJ at the climbing wall. Another kid won’t drink anything but Sprite. He’s dehydrated with possible heat exhaustion. And Sione found some kid in the biffy smoking a cigar he stole from his dad.”
I grimaced. No matter how far away I went, I didn’t miss the vomit side of nursing. Trying to figure out how much chili and corn bread to make for dinner seemed easy in comparison to Mark’s ever-evolving job.
“Yikes,” I said.
“There’s so much to do,” Mark said, rubbing his forehead. “I’m not sure we’ll get it all done before skit night. Oh, this tile floor feels so cold.” He shivered in delight. “It’s amazing. I think I’ll take a nap.”
I whirled around.
“Did you say there’s a lot to do? Do you need help with something? I’m free for the next hour.”
Mark popped one eye open, then sat up and leaned on one elbow. “Seriously?”
“Yes! Anything to get out of the kitchen.”
I grabbed the Clipboard of Power and swung it toward me. As usual, a grid of the day sat on top of a stack of papers. On the left, he’d scrawled a list of chores. I ran my finger along it, then stopped at the last one and tapped on it.
“That. I’ll do that.”
He climbed to his feet, peering at my choice. “You want to chop wood for the bonfire tonight?”
“Yep.”
“Have at it, little blister. Better you than me. The ax is in the storage shed behind the main office. The wood’s back there too. Don’t forget gloves. You don’t want to have a blister and be a blister.”
He departed, guffawing at his own joke.
With the high sun overhead, I changed into a pair of workout clothes, braided my hair, and headed for the woodpile.
Fifteen minutes later, I hefted the axe in my hands. Seemed lighter than I’d expected. Two chips had broken out of the curve of the blade, which didn’t appear all that sharp. Probably wouldn’t make a difference. Chopping wood was more about muscle power than blade precision.
I wrangled my first casualty onto a nearby stump with hack marks, then grabbed the ax. After a few practice swings, I took my first shot. The ax embedded itself halfway through the log. I lifted it and slammed it back down. The ax head slipped cleanly through. Three pieces of wood clattered to the ground. I tossed the logs into a nearby wheelbarrow and lugged the next victim over.
No denying it—slamming an axe into something felt awesome.
For the next twenty minutes, the physical jolt of swinging the ax and feeling it bite the logs, cleaving them into smaller chunks, sang through my arms. I let fly, enjoying the movement of my muscles and the satisfying thwack of the axe.
Just as my arms began to tremble, the ax embedded itself partway into a log. I gripped the handle close to the head and tried to pump it loose. Nothing. I slammed the log onto the stump to force the axe through, but it didn’t budge.
For ten minutes, I wrestled the wooden beast in every possible position. Breathless, I leaned back, wiping sweat off my forehead.
“You gotta … be kidding,” I muttered. No inanimate object would defeat me.
Shavings of wood, perfect for kindling, scattered the ground. I reached down to gather them and give my weary arms a rest. Just as I collected a neat handful, a splinter slid into my nail bed with finite, precise agony. I jerked my hand back.
“Ow!”
Just seeing the splinter embedded in my nail made my toes curl. My fingertips blanched white from squeezing them into my palm. I rolled my lips together to keep from screaming.
“Hey, Meg. Nasty splinter?” a voice called from the trees. Justin stepped into view wearing a holey pair of pants flecked with wood stain, his face and neck sweaty. My hair had started to fall out of the braid in frizzing strands, pasting itself to the side of my neck as I worked. Every tiny bone in my hands seemed to tremble, radiating agony into my shoulders. Sweat dripped off my face and forearms.
Of course, I thought with cynical amusement. You’ve seen my underwear. Why not see me scream like a banshee?
“Yep,” I gasped. “Just a little one.”
Panting from the pain, I turned my back to him. Did I remove the splinter in the safety of my cabin where I could scream into my pillow, or have Troy do it at medical? Something about stalking to the medical cabin seemed humiliating. No. I had to do this on my own. Or with Justin present, as he didn’t seem inclined to leave.
He motioned to my hand with a nod.
“You, uh, need some help?”
“Nope. Got it.”
He didn’t move, so I reached down and plucked the splinter out as if it happened every day. My nostrils flared as the wood slid free. It hurt almost as much coming out as it had going in. The nail pulsed, but soon the strength of the pain faded.
“Burns, doesn’t it?” he asked, grinning.
My nostrils flared. “Yep.”
He studied me, then motioned to the half-finished log with a nod. “Need some help?”
“Nope.” I snatched at the embedded axe. “Got it, thanks.”
“Looks like it’s stuck.”
“Nope. It’s good.”
Justin shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back on his heels with a smirk as if to say show me what you got.
Ignoring him, I clutched the ax handle in my trembling hands and pulled in a deep breath. I would win. This knotted, stingy piece of wood would not embarrass me in front of Justin, of all people. With patience, I finally worked the ax head free, stepped back, and set my teeth.
All right, Megan, I thought. Give your anger wings.
With Nathan’s face in the back of my mind, I let out a guttural, warrior-like call and circled the ax down, driving it deep into the wood. Using that momentum, I lifted the ax, log and all, and slammed it back down. Once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth slam, I gathered the last of my reserves.
I will win. I tightened my grip. I will win.
With one last, mighty swing, the axe broke through. Two pieces of knotty pine fell to the ground with dull thuds. My shoulders burned like a magma flow.
Justin stared, eyes wide.
“Do you need anything?” I asked, fiercely proud of myself.
A slow grin spread across his face. He started to laugh. Low, at first, like thunder. It gained volume in his belly and then rolled out in the deepest laugh I had ever heard.
The corners of my mouth twitched.
“You should see yourself.” He wiped the corner of his eye. “Oh, Meg. You should see yourself. Good work. Good. Work.”
He turned away, still chuckling.
“I am woman.” I drove the axe into the stump. “Hear me roar.”
The hot, soapy dishwater turned my fingertips into raisins the next morning. My wounded fingernail stung for the first five minutes of washing and then went numb.
Behind me, the dull thud of footsteps echoed through the dining hall. The kitchen door swung open and closed again. I set the last dish on a towel to air dry and wiped my hands off on my apron. When I turned around, no one was there.
Odd.
I reached behind me and undid my apron strings, tossing the apron onto a hook on the wall. The familiar hint of vetiver lingered in the air. I pulled a paper calendar off the fridge and studied it. Sandwiches for lunch. Again.
Feeling a bit more adventurous than usual, I reached for Grandma’s recipe book. As I skimmed the entries, my phone rang from the top of the fridge. I answered while perusing a Naked Black Forest Cake recipe.
“This is Megan,” I said into the phone.
Baker’s chocolate? I thought, staring at the list. How is that different from regular chocolate?
“Megan Bailey,” said a low, feminine voice. “This is Jodie Renner from EveryHealth Corporation.”
My heart leaped into my throat. I slammed the book shut.
“Jodie the nurse recruiter?”
“Yes. I hope you don’t mind, but I pulled your phone number from our old employment records.”
“Oh, no. I don’t mind.”
“I thought this would be easier than email. Can you talk?”
I darted to the swinging door and peered into the dining hall. Empty. Only the fans rotated overhead. Outside, campers and counselors chattered around each other. The pantry door was closed. I let out a long breath and stood by the back door, just in case someone strolled up.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I’m happy to hear that you’re interested in a job with EveryHealth Corporation. Karen and I have been friends for years. She speaks very highly of you.”
“Thank you.”
“My job as nurse recruiter is to find the right person for the right job. EveryHealth is committed to their patients—we only hire the best. Your resume is impressive, Megan. I think we can find a position for you.”
“That’s good to hear. I’m mostly interested in flight nursing.”
“Ah, yes. I spoke with Blake at West End a few days ago,” Jodie said. “He was pretty upset that he couldn’t hire you onto their flight team. If you’re still interested in a flight-nurse position, I think I can help you out.”
Jodie’s slightly husky voice moved like a stream of chocolate—soothing, with an occasional ripple. The smooth edges of her words carried a Spanish accent.
“Yes!” I cried and then cleared my throat. “Uh, sorry. I mean—yes. I would love to find a flight-nurse position. But I’m currently working at my brothers’ summer camp. I won’t be available to work for at least six weeks.”
“Hmm…” She tutted under her breath. “That could complicate things.”
My heart fell into my stomach like a stone.
“Oh?”
“Well, you see, getting you a flight position can be tricky. It’s all about timing. But let’s not worry about that until we have to. Could you leave the summer camp if I find something for you?”
I leaned back against the fridge, one arm folded across my middle. The warm summer air had started to turn tacky. Would I leave Adventura? I needed a job eventually. The little issue of the credit card bill popped back into my mind. I bit my bottom lip.
“I don’t know if I could leave the camp, to be honest. My brother had a hard time finding anyone to do this job.”
“Are you a nurse there?”
“No. I cook for the staff.”
“Ah, yes. Well, that’s easily replaceable, isn’t it?”
I hesitated, unsure of what to say. Cooking hadn’t been easy, but it hadn’t been rocket science either. Surely someone else could do it.
“Maybe?”
“Well, something to think about. We’ll just move forward and see what we find. If I can’t find you a flight-nurse position, how do you feel about another Intensive Care Unit?”
My mind strayed to my mortgage, car payment, and the credit card bill burning a hole in my backpack. A generous sign-on bonus could almost cover the credit card—18% interest included. Jodie’s voice drew me out of my thoughts.
“I don’t see a Respiratory ICU on your resume,” Jodie continued. “Maybe we can find you something there?”
“Sure. I’d like that. Uh, I do have a question. Are there any hospitals offering a sign-on bonus?”
“Sign-on bonus? Some do. Not many. I can usually get you relocation. Is a sign-on bonus a deal-breaker for you?”
“No,” I said quickly. “Uh, mostly curious.”
“Oh, shoot.” She let out a long breath. The sound of someone speaking in the background came through the earpiece. “Listen, Megan, I just had someone show up in my office. Can I call you again? I want to get to know you more so I can fit you into the best slot.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“No problem.”
“I’ll keep my eyes open, and we’ll talk soon. Bye.”
Once the conversation ended, I shoved my phone into my pocket and crossed my arms. What if Jodie did find a flight position for me? Would I take it? The ring of my promise to JJ echoed in my head.
You always have me.
Until the perfect job comes along, I imagined myself tacking on. A pit grew in the bottom of my stomach. I drove a hand through my hair with an agitated intake of breath. No reason to worry about that yet. Who knew what she’d find? Having Jodie on the search made me feel better. At least I had career cogs moving again. A squeak near the pantry startled me. I whipped around and saw the pantry door move a millimeter.
“Hello?”
It opened an inch. A pair of blue eyes peered out of the crack in the door. Justin waved at me with a sheepish grin on his face. “Just me.”
I stacked my hands on my hips.
“Were you spying on me?”
“No!” He held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “I swear. I just came into the pantry for quiet while I figured out how to fix a storage shed. It’s chaos out there, and I can’t think in chaos.”
He held up a piece of paper with writing on it as proof. My skin frosted into a sheet of ice. He’d been in the pantry the whole time? I shuffled forward a tentative step.
“What did you hear?”
His lips parted. “I swear, Megan, I wasn’t trying to spy on you. Just … consider me deaf. I didn’t hear anything.”
“But you did.”
“Yeah.” He readjusted his ball cap. “Yeah, I did hear a few things.”
“Like how I’m looking for a job.”
He winced. “Yeah.”
And how I might have to leave early if I find another position. The unspoken words rotated in the back of my mind like a squeaky wheel. I could barely meet his eyes when I said, “They were making cutbacks. I was the least senior nurse on the floor and got the boot.”
“Sorry, Meg. That’s tough.”
“Work is very important in my family,” I said, even though I could see in his eyes that he didn’t need an explanation. My shoulders crept higher and higher. “Mark has Adventura, and Mom’s a flight-nurse. Dad has been sheriff in Beaumont for … forever.”
“Except for JJ.” Justin’s dimple made a brief appearance. “Who has never had an official job before Adventura.”
Most recently, JJ had lived out of a crappy van he bought from some hippies while he attempted to free climb El Capitan. Before that, he had lived to climb, earning money from races, climbing sponsorships, and guided climbs. He’d never had a true boss. Even now, one could hardly call Mark a boss.
A fleeting grin surprised me. “Yes. Except for JJ.”
His expression sobered.
“Would you leave?”
My heart pounded. “I don’t know. It’s just that I … if I get … it’s complicated. And there’s no telling whether she’ll even find a flight-nurse position for me. I’ll cross that bridge if it comes up.”
Justin relaxed into a smile. “Well, next time I have a pantry meeting, I’ll schedule it with you.”
The teasing glint in his eyes smoothed out my final ruffle. He didn’t seem to be horrified by my situation. I smiled. “Thanks.”
“Good luck with the job search, Meg. Any hospital would be lucky to have you.” He stepped onto the porch and said over his shoulder, “And I hope you don’t have to leave early.”
Things That Smell Better Than Nathan