Page 16 of Ella’s Data

“It might not just be kids who’d like to learn,” I slowly say as his words run through my head. “Dammit, I think we’re gonna need to buy another building so we can do the things you’re talking about if the school board won’t let us come in and teach since we don’t have those certifications.”

“That could work too, though, because we can have Phoebe and Ella put on a first aid clinic for basic skills, maybe even teach CPR or something,” he replies. “Okay, let’s go grab some lunch so we can get back to it.”

“What if y’all found oozy slime to put around the fake zombies?” Ella asks as we order dinner at the diner.

Yes, I managed to talk her into meeting me to discuss the haunted houses because we’re trying to finish them up so we can open in the next week or so.

“That’s not a bad idea, but doesn’t it get sticky?”

“Hell if I know, I’ve just seen it before on tv and always thought it would be cool to use,” she says. “Let me look it up,” she adds, pulling her phone out of her purse.

I appreciate that when we’re with each other, her focus isn’t on her phone. Granted, she keeps the ringer on low, but Phoebe has a special ringtone and that’s the only time she answers the call. Everyone else goes to voicemail.

“Oh, Data, look!” she exclaims. “This stuff would be perfect for the decomposition effect y’all are going for, and I’m going to get some of this kinetic sand for the kiddy house.”

“What does it feel like?” I ask.

“It’s squishy and pretty malleable, actually. I know it looks like sand, but the texture isn’t gritty,” she replies. Looking at me, she adds, “I’m reading reviews, I don’t know firsthand.”

I chuckle because one of the things I’ve always loved about Ella is she is refreshingly honest. I know there are some who probably think her not sharing what happened in her past belies that fact, but that was her trauma and she deserved to handle it how she saw fit. Outside of that, which I won’t call an omission, she’s truthful to a fault. Some would say she’s blunt, but she’s quite tactful.

“Go ahead and order a sample if you can, I’m sure we can find a use for it,” I suggest.

Giggling, she taps at her screen then puts her phone down. “Done! Now, what are we going to eat today?”

CHAPTER

TEN

Ella

Since spilling my guts to Fee and getting her perspective on me and Data, I’ve been trying to figure out how to broach changing our relationship status to something more than mere friendship. I don’t just want the benefits, either, after being around these past few weeks.

I’ve seen how Prophet dotes on Fee, as well as his two girls, watched Paul as he’s made things easier for Esther with regard to her chickens and garden, and how Rebel oversees his men while also making Holly and his three children the center of his universe. And don’t even get me started on Ash and how he is with Marnie and their little girl, Becca.

These folks have taught me that family is about more than blood, and when you love someone, you should embrace every single day, no matter what it brings. Now, I just have to talk to Data and tell him how my ideas about everything have changed.

But I’m a bit of a chickenshit when it comes to relationships, since I’ve got a shitty record. I can run into a tense medical situation and handle it with ease, but when it comes to feelings, especially talking about mine? I turn into a stammering, stuttering idiot.

“They have a grilled chicken salad that adds mandarin oranges, candied pecans, blue cheese crumbles, and they pair it with a homemade dressing to meld all the flavors together,” he replies.

“Meld?” I muse, giggling. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that word used in a sentence.”

“Stick with me, kid, and you’ll learn so much more,” he retorts in a shitty impression of James Cagney. My Aunt Ruby loved old movies which is the only reason I know who the actor is because he was before my time.

“I learn something new every day,” I reply.

“What did you learn today?” he asks after we give Gladys our food order.

“I realized in some areas, I’m fearless and bold, but in others, I’m a chicken,” I admit.

“I suspect you’re fearlessly bold when you’ve got a medical emergency on your hands,” he says, “but can’t fathom you being a chicken about anything.”

“Feelings,” I blurt out. “When it comes to talking about them, I clam up completely. And if they hit, I try to push them down until I’m alone and can process.”

“You know feelings are just that, right? They’re neither right nor wrong, just the actions we have after acknowledging them if we react in a negative fashion and lash out,” he gently replies.

I take a deep breath because despite my fear, I want to grab the proverbial brass ring and hold on with two hands. Do I know how my future would look with him at my side? I mean, I’m a travel nurse, and I have no desire to tie myself to a hospital. It works for Fee, of course, but I’m more of a free spirit.