Off the Grid

She scrapped the bark free with her knife and they continued onward, stopping along the way for yarrow for abrasions and clotting inducement should an injury occur as well as lemon balm to use as a topical agent.

“Oh, there’s a real beauty,” she exclaimed as she stalked forward. He watched while she knelt and extracted the blue Echinacea flowers. “The first sign of the sniffles, you take this and it’ll lessen the virus greatly. My Grandma swore by these to keep working during the flu season.”

“Your grandmother was a jewel.”

“More like a flower. Her name was Rose.”

Every time she shared something personal he felt himself soften toward her. It was the most time he’d spent with a woman one-on-one that he wasn’t working for or sleeping with. Don’t ask her.

“Is that how you got your name?”

“Yes, actually. Purple was her favorite color, and I was the first girl to be born to the family in two generations. It was a huge deal.”

“I can imagine. My cousin, Charlotte, is the same way. She sort of hated us growing up. I think we chased her to Nashville where we couldn’t keep an eye on her,” he admitted sheepishly.

She chuckled. “Oh, I know that feeling well, but I could never leave here for too long. This place has my heart and it’s in my blood and bones. College was enough to teach me that.”

“I felt the same way about the military. I’ve seen more countries that I can count, been in and out of multiple states, and all I wanted to do when I got out was come back home.”

“Are you happy you did?” she asked softly.

“Yeah. I can’t imagine working anywhere else. I set my own hours and spend my days out in the place I love most. Not many people can say that.”

“Very true. It’s how I feel about journalism. I tried to explain it to my daddy, but he’s very much a numbers man. If he can’t see a foreseeable solid future, he’s not too keen on it. He wanted me to be a nurse or an accountant, something folks would always need. It was Gran who convinced me to go for my dreams. She was the matriarch after Papa passed away. If she had your back on an issue, there was little you couldn’t get away with.”

He grinned. “I take it your old man is a traditionalist?”

“Very much so. Like most men around these parts.”

“You don’t want to do the family and kids route?” he asked, saddened by the thought of her not being someone’s mother. She had a nurturing vibe about her.

“No, I do. I just feel you can balance that with work. You don’t agree?”

He could hear the disappointment in her voice.

“I never said that. I think just like a man, a woman should decide how she wants her life to play out. I never bought much into that you Jane, I’m Tarzan bullshit like some of the men around here. Yes, I want my future wife to be maternal, and know how to cook and clean, but that’s so we’re equals. It takes a team effort to make things work.”

“Good answer, Finch.”

“Glad you approve, Fehr,” he retorted as they continued farther into the woods to gather items.

“Oh wait.” She pointed.

Turning, he saw a layer of moss on a pile of rocks.

“You can never go wrong with moss. Not that I’m too keen to eat it, but it’ll work in a pinch, and has many other properties that make it a must have.”

“You sure you’re not auditioning for a job with me?”

She laughed. “Ha. No way. I’d go insane without research and the need to type words never dissipates.”

“So why not write fiction?”

“’Cause I like history and current events. It’s important to keep the people of this town informed and updated on what’s going on. We’re one of the few places where the newspaper business hasn’t declined. They still like to physically read a paper. I’m proud of that. I find it more interesting. Besides, writing fiction is hard as hell and people are cruel.

“It’s like anything else in the entertainment industry, subjective, and these days folks don’t mind letting you know how they really feel. I’d be a sobbing, self-doubting mess. News is the news. You’re actually supposed to be biased. Maybe one day I’d like to write about the local history of town.”

“I’m sure everyone would pitch in. We have a lot of older folks who love to talk.”