Light the Lamp by Catherine Gayle

job anyone has for me, as long as it pays. I was able to work enough to eat at least every day.”
    At least every day . Not necessarily more than once a day.
    I had an urge to go to the store and buy every jar of peanut butter they had so she could eat it as often as she wanted.
    “ And your brothers still don’t know?”
    “ I figured I could find a job before the end of the semester. I could get a place for us to live by then, so they could have somewhere to come home to this summer. Then I could tell them—once there wouldn’t be a reason for them to think it was a good idea to quit school.”
    “ But you haven’t found a job in months of looking.”
    “ No.” She took another bite of salad, contemplating me while she chewed. “But I was looking for a job that would mean something, other than the odd jobs I did here and there. I can find a job that will pay the bills. I can go bag groceries or pump gas or something. Like I said, I’m not proud. It wouldn’t have to be permanent.”
    “ And you would be miserable.” What she’d said about wanting a career with meaning really rang true to me. She wasn’t the sort of person who could stay long in a job where she didn’t believe wholeheartedly in what she was doing.
    Noelle was smiling when she shook her head. “I don’t believe in being miserable. It wouldn’t be ideal, working in a fast food place or whatever, but I wouldn’t be stuck doing it forever. I would make the best of it. You know…find the good and focus on that.”
    “ It scares me,” I said, “but I think you’re right about that.”
    If anyone could be happy working in a miserable job, it would be Noelle. She would find a way to make it work for her.
    That sweet, glorious laugh of hers, the one that made me think of Liv’s wind chimes, filled the room around us. “Are you done?” She pointed at my empty plate and salad bowl.
    “ I am.”
    She stood up and gathered all the dishes, loading everything into the dishwasher. While she did that, I put away the rest of the food. It only took us a few minutes, and then we went into the living room.
    I sat on the sofa, and Noelle took the seat beside me.
    “ Your turn,” she said. “Tell me about your family.”
    For the next hour or more, we sat together talking about everything we could think of. We talked about family and friends; about how Liv used to make wind chimes and the beauty of Sweden in summer; about the trips her family used to take into the mountains when she was a little girl; about Swedish meatballs and lingonberry jam, my mom’s äggakaka , and how Americans’ ideas about pancakes were all wrong.
    The longer we sat there, the closer we got to one another. Before long, I put my arm around her back and drew her into my side. She rested her head on my shoulder. Slowly, gradually, she dropped down until she was lying on her back, her knees bent up so her feet were on the sofa, her head draped over my lap. I couldn’t resist letting my fingers run through her hair. She took my other hand in hers, wrapping me up in her gentleness. It felt so easy and natural and right that it made my heart hurt.
    We were still sitting like that and talking when Babs came in. Noelle convinced him to take a seat and tell her all about his family. He was the oldest of seven, all boys, and they all played hockey just like he did. The oldest of his younger brothers was apparently eligible for the NHL draft this summer.
    I hadn’t known any of that about Babs, even though I’d been living with him for a couple of weeks. I just knew that he was an incredibly talented young hockey player who had a thing for Katie Weber and who couldn’t cook to save his life.
    As she kept talking to Babs, I could only stare in wonder at Noelle. She made it so easy for everyone to open up to her. Even me. She made me feel as though everything I told her was sacred to her.
    If I wasn’t careful, I could easily see myself falling in love with her. And that