Page 29 of Redemption
“Look, I’m going to be frank,” she says, putting her pen down on top of her notepad, “This interview is a courtesy to your mother, but I’m not sure you’re the right—mmm—fit for the position.”
Sitting straight up, I dig my fingernails into the armrests of the chair. “And why, might I ask, do you feel that way?”
My voice is calm and collected, but my eyes tell a different story. I’m positive I’m glaring at her. Frustration ripples through me.
Lily listened to the town’s rumors instead of making her own judgment of me.
“Your resume is—lacking, and honestly, I question your dedication to this town.”
I grit my teeth, trying not to explode. “You don’t even know me.”
Lily stands up primly, smoothing out her skirt, “I know enough.”
The snort slips out before I can stop it, but dang it, I’m tired of being judged by what people think they know about me. Standing, I walk to the door Lily has opened for me, and I stop in front of her. She towers over me, looking down with pure distaste, curling her lip.
“I am more than the rumors you know about me. I’ve spent the last five years of my life learning to put others above myself so that I can save their lives, first in nursing school and then in my job. But if you really want to know my story, it’s actually been longer than that. I’ve been doing it my whole life, and I know what it’s like to lose the person you were trying to save—sometimes in death and sometimes in other ways. Maybe I don’t have a lot of work experience, but I can tell you that I have a lot of life experience that makes me more than qualified for this position. But I can see that you’ve already made up your mindabout me, so I won’t spend more time trying to convince you otherwise.”
I walk through the door she’s holding open for me with my shoulders pulled back. I won’t let her be another person who drags me down. Halfway out of the main office, I hear Lily call my name. I’m tempted to keep walking until I’m out of this town that’s always pushed me out, but something in her voice causes me to stop.
Spinning on my heel, I turn to face her. She stands at the counter, just like when I walked in. Her lip is still curled in distaste, but indecision swirls in her eyes. I don’t say anything as I wait with my arms crossed over my chest.
“The board vote is in three weeks. I’m not saying you have the position, but I’ll at least take it to the board.”
There isn’t much left to say, so I nod once and follow my path out the door. Only once I’m outside do I allow myself one deep breath. There are so many reasons this position isn’t right for me.
Lily. The high school. Nursing in general.
Those things should make me run screaming, but I find myself wanting this job for a reason I can’t explain.
But God and I both know I’m always wanting the wrong things.
______________________
That interview was exactly the disaster I thought it would be, but at least I’m coming out of it with the possibility of direction. And that is enough for me right now.
When I got home, my mom was gone—which was surprising. I thought she would be sitting in the foyer waiting for all the details, grilling me on what I said and critiquing what I did say, but the house was blissfully empty.
Now I’m in my room, and if I don’t get this blazer off, I might suffocate.
Pulling it off my arms, I chuck it across the room and grab a sweatshirt and leggings.
It’s only noon. Dad is probably at the hospital, and Mom is likely at the country club, so I have the house to myself for at least the next couple of hours.
What will I do with my time?
The answer should be to look for any house listings in the area now that I have a potential job, but that is, in fact, not the answer I’m going with.
Walking out of my bedroom, I descend the stairs into the family room. Langston and I are the only people who have ever used this room. It’s one of the smaller ones in the house with a projector screen and theater seats. It was always one of my favorite places to hide from my parents—and sometimes myself.
I guess old habits die hard.
At this point, hiding should be my middle name.
The screen flickers to life, and with the remote in my hand, I click through the channels. I’ve only been searching for a minute when the doorbell chimes.
I’m tempted to ignore it—to continue to hide—but it would be rude.
Sighing, I stand up and toss the remote on my seat.
