a zoo keeper is the best plan.”
Mari sighed, pulling her now rosy pink fingers out for inspection. “I know, but now I have no idea what to do.” She slipped her gloves back on.
Joe slowed for a red light and turned to look at her. “Maybe it’s time to pause, reflect, just be for awhile. Let God speak to you.”
Mari smiled. “That’s an awful lot of advice for someone you barely know.”
Joe focused back on the street as traffic began to move again, a smile teasing the corner of his mouth. “Don’t I know it.”
After a few more turns, he pulled into a parking lot. “Joe, I probably should have mentioned this sooner, but I have a really high deductible on my insurance, and I don’t have the money for this.”
He put the truck in park and opened his door. “Don’t worry about it. This is on me.”
He carried her to the medical building and couldn’t help smiling when he caught a glimpse of her crazy pig slipper reflected in the window. The next moment he felt a tightness in his chest, and he had no idea why.
***
After an hour waiting for an x-ray, Joe was seriously ready to challenge the name “Prompt Care” on the sign outside, but he had to admit that Mari had made the time more enjoyable. He knew she was in pain, so he kept her talking, and after about thirty minutes, he had made her lie down on the bench they shared and put her feet in his lap.
He’d learned that she had spent most of her life in Oklahoma, although some of her studies had taken her out of the state. Her father had been a banker and her mother sold real estate until they both retired a few years ago. She related a number of funny anecdotes about living in a big family full of boys that Joe could relate to, but her female perspective gave everything a new slant—especially since she was the last of the bunch. Being the baby of the family and the only girl, her dad doted on her, which explained his almost inexhaustible patience with her career stops and starts.
It had taken some prodding, but he finally got out of her just how many degrees she had: a B.A. in literature and masters degrees in design, psychology, and most recently, teaching.
“So how do you not have a job? That’s a heck of a lot of experience.”
“Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes.”
He smiled. “Is that one of your spontaneous quotes?”
She shifted on the bench, trying to fluff up the scarf she was using as a pillow. “Oscar Wilde.”
Joe nodded, but his mind was on another track. “So you’ve been going to college for... how long?”
“Over a decade.”
Joe blinked. He would have never guessed that she was so close to his age. Her big eyes, button nose, and curls made her seem much younger. He was suddenly aware that he had one hand on her knee and the other was holding her ankle. He casually released his hold on her and awkwardly looked for a place to set his hands. Settling his forearm on the bench’s arm and sliding the other along the back, he tried to pull his brain back into the conversation.
“So why aren’t you teaching?”
“I would be teaching if no children were involved.”
Joe laughed out loud. “Well, I see how that could be a problem. What about older kids—high school?”
Mari sighed. “They’re even worse—all attitude, and the language—my heavens, sailors have nothing over today’s youth for absolutely atrocious language. I cringed all through my student teaching.”
“With the degrees you’ve got, you could teach on the college level.”
“That’s what my dad says.”
Joe grinned. “Sounds like a smart guy.”
Mari closed her eyes with a painful look on her face. He was about to ask if her foot was hurting worse, when she burst out with, “To tell you the truth, I don’t know why I haven’t looked for college teaching jobs. Something about it just feels wrong.”
“But zoo studies felt right?”
“Not exactly right, but it didn’t feel wrong.” She sighed. “I
Mari sighed, pulling her now rosy pink fingers out for inspection. “I know, but now I have no idea what to do.” She slipped her gloves back on.
Joe slowed for a red light and turned to look at her. “Maybe it’s time to pause, reflect, just be for awhile. Let God speak to you.”
Mari smiled. “That’s an awful lot of advice for someone you barely know.”
Joe focused back on the street as traffic began to move again, a smile teasing the corner of his mouth. “Don’t I know it.”
After a few more turns, he pulled into a parking lot. “Joe, I probably should have mentioned this sooner, but I have a really high deductible on my insurance, and I don’t have the money for this.”
He put the truck in park and opened his door. “Don’t worry about it. This is on me.”
He carried her to the medical building and couldn’t help smiling when he caught a glimpse of her crazy pig slipper reflected in the window. The next moment he felt a tightness in his chest, and he had no idea why.
***
After an hour waiting for an x-ray, Joe was seriously ready to challenge the name “Prompt Care” on the sign outside, but he had to admit that Mari had made the time more enjoyable. He knew she was in pain, so he kept her talking, and after about thirty minutes, he had made her lie down on the bench they shared and put her feet in his lap.
He’d learned that she had spent most of her life in Oklahoma, although some of her studies had taken her out of the state. Her father had been a banker and her mother sold real estate until they both retired a few years ago. She related a number of funny anecdotes about living in a big family full of boys that Joe could relate to, but her female perspective gave everything a new slant—especially since she was the last of the bunch. Being the baby of the family and the only girl, her dad doted on her, which explained his almost inexhaustible patience with her career stops and starts.
It had taken some prodding, but he finally got out of her just how many degrees she had: a B.A. in literature and masters degrees in design, psychology, and most recently, teaching.
“So how do you not have a job? That’s a heck of a lot of experience.”
“Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes.”
He smiled. “Is that one of your spontaneous quotes?”
She shifted on the bench, trying to fluff up the scarf she was using as a pillow. “Oscar Wilde.”
Joe nodded, but his mind was on another track. “So you’ve been going to college for... how long?”
“Over a decade.”
Joe blinked. He would have never guessed that she was so close to his age. Her big eyes, button nose, and curls made her seem much younger. He was suddenly aware that he had one hand on her knee and the other was holding her ankle. He casually released his hold on her and awkwardly looked for a place to set his hands. Settling his forearm on the bench’s arm and sliding the other along the back, he tried to pull his brain back into the conversation.
“So why aren’t you teaching?”
“I would be teaching if no children were involved.”
Joe laughed out loud. “Well, I see how that could be a problem. What about older kids—high school?”
Mari sighed. “They’re even worse—all attitude, and the language—my heavens, sailors have nothing over today’s youth for absolutely atrocious language. I cringed all through my student teaching.”
“With the degrees you’ve got, you could teach on the college level.”
“That’s what my dad says.”
Joe grinned. “Sounds like a smart guy.”
Mari closed her eyes with a painful look on her face. He was about to ask if her foot was hurting worse, when she burst out with, “To tell you the truth, I don’t know why I haven’t looked for college teaching jobs. Something about it just feels wrong.”
“But zoo studies felt right?”
“Not exactly right, but it didn’t feel wrong.” She sighed. “I
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