Nickels (23 page)

“Aw, ma!” he howled as he opened the sliding glass door.

The doorbell rang again, announcing the rest of their
guests.  She recognized them from the BBQ on Memorial Day, but she couldn’t
remember their names.  Well, she had been a bit distracted by Trevor—the jerk.

“You remember Matt and Joe,” Marcy said, helping her out.

She flashed a quick smile of appreciation.  “Nice to see you
again.”

Matt turned on the charm.  “You look nice.  Did you do
something different with your hair?”

“I washed it last week sometime, I think.”  As his eyes got
wide, she added, “Then I let the salon fix it this morning.”

“Ah,” Matt said with a knowing smile.

He was a nice looking guy, with his short light brown hair
and gold eyes.  Yah, she was checking him out.

Then she mentally shook herself.  She didn’t want to date. 
It must be the talk with Marcy.  She was getting inside her head.

Marcy ducked outside to help Kyle and Chad, not that they
needed help.  If she didn’t know better, she would have thought Marcy left her
alone with Matt and Joe on purpose.

“Can we help with anything?” Joe asked.

Niki pointed to the cupboard.  “Plates are there, and
silverware there,” she tapped the drawer next to where she was standing.

As she chopped up the rest of the veggies for the green salad,
Matt and Joe set the table.

“So, how long have you been renting this place?” Matt asked.

“I don’t rent.  I own the house.”

“Wow.  It’s really nice,” Matt said.  “Not often you see
someone our age and single in such a nice place.”

Niki smiled at the compliment, knowing she should have told
him she inherited it.  No need to go there now.

Marcy, Kyle, and Chad filed in from outside with the grilled
chicken.  Niki set the rest of the food out on the table as Marcy filled
beverage orders.  When they sat down, she started to reach for one of the
dishes until she saw everyone else fold their hands and bow their heads.

Chad spoke, “Lord, bless this time together.  Help us to
enjoy the good food and company.  And please bless Niki for opening up her home
to this crazy bunch.  Amen.”

Can you really pray like that?  Isn’t it supposed to be all
solemn and drab?  Then again, Kyle had prayed kind of like that too, like God
was just sitting in the chair next to him. 
Ugh.
She didn’t want to
think about this.

“So,” Niki said, “you guys been camping before?”

“Joe hasn’t,” Matt volunteered.

“Hey, I’m a city guy.  How rough is roughin’ it?”

“Since Marcy’s a diva,” Niki said, getting a swift kick in
her shin from across the table, “we have to have ‘facilities’—if you want to call
a slow drip coming from a showerhead pointed at your nose a facility.”

That brought a few laughs.

“The campground is really posh, no wilderness camping for
this
diva
,” Marcy said.  “There are restrooms, showers, laundry room,
basketball court, and group picnic area.  But, don’t worry, we’re still in the
great outdoors.”

“Everyone else has been camping, right?” Niki asked,
undeterred.  Nods all around answered.  “What about hiking?”

“Does schlepping through a desert count?” Kyle asked. 
“Cause I’m pretty sure I’ve done that.”

“I wouldn’t recommend combat boots for this hike,
Lieutenant,” Niki teased.  She regretted it when a brief shadow fell across his
face.  “A nice sturdy pair of hiking shoes are a must for this trip.”

“Here we go,” Marcy said putting a hand to her forehead in a
dramatic sigh.  “Field Guide Niki Turner’s trip prerequisites.”

“Hey, it’s serious stuff.  Lest you forget George.”

“George was an idiot,” Marcy countered.

“An idiot that we nearly airlifted off the mountain.  And
the trail wasn’t even that bad,” Niki shot back.  “Who hikes in Arizona—a very
dry climate—in the middle of summer with just an eight ounce Dasani bottle? 
Insane.”

“So, I take it you prefer we bring two?” Kyle asked.

Niki glared at him.  “You’re not helping.”

Matt asked, “I supposed Field Guide Niki would recommend two
or three liters of water in a Camelback.”

“Well, yes, Junior Field Guide Matt.  That’s exactly what
I’d recommend.”

“A camel, what?” Joe asked.

“Camelback.  It’s a water bladder in a special backpack.  It
has a little hose from the back to the shoulder strap so you can sip your water
while keeping your hands free.  A lot better than messing with water bottles,”
Niki said.

 “No tennis shoes?” Joe asked.

“Be gone from my presence,” Niki said holding her arm at
length, turning her head away.

“Maybe we should promote her to Queen Niki?” Chad suggested.

“Great, we’re going camping with a queen and a diva,” Kyle
muttered, drawing a round of chuckles.

“In all seriousness…” Field Guide Niki took over.  “Good
hiking shoes, comfortable loose fitting shorts—not denim—and a good Camelback. 
There will be no airlifting.  There will be no whining from city wimps.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Joe saluted.

Following the meal, they finished the planning for the
camping trip.

“For fun,” Marcy said, “I thought we could take the sky lift
at the ski resort.  It’s open year round now for rides to the top of the
mountain.  The view is incredible.”

“That’s hiking and sky lift.” Chad patted his belly and
said, “But what about food?”

“Oh, don’t you worry, dear,” Marcy said.  “I promise you
won’t starve.”  She gave him a kiss on the cheek.  He grinned from ear to ear.

Niki put her fingers to her lips and made a fake puking
motion.  “I think I’m going to be sick.  Are we going to have to watch that all
weekend?  Can’t we leave them here?”

“Of course, what single woman wouldn’t want three dashing
men to herself for a weekend,” Marcy volleyed back, creating a round of red
faces.

Niki jumped to her feet.  “Brownies anyone?  Made them from
scratch.”

Matt grinned with enthusiasm lighting his eyes.  “A woman
who bakes.”

Her face heated again.  This was going to be an interesting
trip.

The Friday before the Fourth, Niki rushed to get ready
before everyone arrived.  They decided to carpool up to the campground.  Since
they had so much stuff and only Kyle had a truck, they were taking three vehicles,
two passengers each.  As usual, she and Marcy were trying to think of all those
last minute items.

Kyle was the first to arrive.  He looked awful—had all
week.  He was pale and pasty.  He walked stiffer than normal, if that was even
possible.  The dark circles under his eyes made him look older.

As he carried gear out to his truck, Niki pulled Marcy
aside.  “I’m worried about Kyle.  He looks like he’s ready to drop.”

“I know.  But he’s not going to stay behind.  He’s too
stubborn for that.”

“Is it his back?” Niki asked.

“Probably.  He called earlier this week complaining that the
monsoon was aggravating it.”

“Really?  Do you think it’s the moisture in the air?”

Marcy sighed.  “I don’t know, but I’m worried too.”

She had visions of Kyle being airlifted off the mountain
during their hiking.  “Just do me a favor.  Make him stay at camp if he’s not
up to the more vigorous activities.”

“I’m fine,” Kyle said from behind her.

She jumped and spun on her heels.  “You are not fine.  Don’t
be stupid, okay?”

“I can take care of myself without Mother Hen One,” he said
pointing first at Marcy and then at Niki.  “Or two.”

He went to grab the cooler.  Marcy sat down on it.  “No, you
don’t.  You are not lifting stuff.”

“I’m fine,” he growled.

“Still, you’re not lifting another thing.”  Marcy squared her
shoulders.

He glared at her for a minute.  When Chad came in, Marcy
stood and let him carry the cooler.  Kyle stalked off to his truck in a huff.

Once the vehicles were loaded, the group of six stood in a
circle in Niki’s driveway.  They prayed again for a safe trip.  As she worried
about Kyle, she prayed—at least she thought it might be a prayer—that he would
survive this trip.

When the prayer ended, Matt stood next to her.  “You want to
ride with me?”

She looked from Kyle’s grumpy face to Matt’s gorgeous eyes. 
Tough choice.  Not.

“Sure.”

As they pulled onto the freeway, Matt started the
conversation.  “How long have you lived in Arizona?”

Niki let out a slow breath.  “My parents and I moved here
when I was fourteen.  Then, when they were killed in a car accident, I went to
Germany to live with my brother, Jack.  He was in the Air Force, stationed in
Ramstein.  When I graduated, Marcy and I moved here to go to ASU—mostly because
I inherited the house so I had a place to live.”

“I’m so sorry about your parents.  That must have been
hard.”

She debated whether or not to mention what happened to Jack.

“Where’s your brother now?  You said he was in the Air
Force.”

She looked out the window as they drove through the city,
watching buildings
whoosh
by.  That was kind of like her life—
whooshing
by whether she wanted it to or not.

After a minute of silence, she finally answered.  “Jack was
killed in Afghanistan a month before I graduated high school.  I lived with
Marcy and her parents until I graduated.”

“Oh, my.  I’m so sorry.”

She looked over at him.  He seemed rather upset.

“I suppose it’s about time I started talking about it
without bawling my eyes out.”  She laughed nervously.  “It’s been eight years.”

He nodded. The awkward silence stretched.

“What about you?  How long have you lived here?”

“Born and raised.”

“A native!  They do exist!  I always thought it was a myth.”

“Yeah, there’s at least one or two of us.  Though it always
amazes me—the large number of people that constantly move here.”

“Did you go away to college?”

“No.  I went to ASU, too.  Got a degree in Finance.”

“What does one do with a degree in finance, anyway?”

“I ended up as a financial analyst at that big semiconductor
chip manufacturer in Chandler.”

Niki was impressed.  This guy seemed to have it together.

As they neared Anthem, one of the last major signs of
civilization on the way to Flagstaff, Matt asked, “Do you need to stop for
anything?”

“Nope.  I’m good.”

“So,” he continued.  “You and Marcy met in Germany then?”

“Yup.  I was the awkward brainiac from the States.  Never
been on a military base and then all of the sudden I was thrown into this
strange group of people—military brats.  Marcy befriended me the first day I
was at school.  It was the middle of the school year, but everyone was used to
students moving in and out as their parents got reassigned.  Anyway, she made
the experience bearable.”

“Did you know Kyle in school?”

She smiled.  “Did I ever.  He made my life miserable.”

“
Ooo.
  Give me the dirt,” he said with excitement.

“Well, the first thing he did was pick on me for wearing
glasses.  Then he and his buddies must have been trying for the Guinness Book
of World Records for most consecutive days of toilet papering one person’s
house.  It sucked.  Jack made me clean it up every time, usually by myself
because he had to rush off to work.”

“I’ll bet he liked you even then.”

Matt’s comment struck her as odd.  She doubted very much if
Kyle noticed her then as anything other than his kid sister’s friend.

“My best year of high school was my junior year—after Kyle
left and before Jack was deployed to Afghanistan.”

He laughed.  “I think my best year of high school was…  None.”

“You didn’t like high school.”

“Not really.  Junior high and high school were tough.  I
wasn’t exactly the most popular kid.”  His voice went soft, “And my dad’s
sudden departure didn’t help.”

“What happened?”

“One day when I was eleven, my dad just packed up his stuff
and took off.  I learned much later that he didn’t want any responsibilities
any more. He felt too tied down with a wife and a kid.  Can you imagine, after
eleven years he just decided he was done?”

She wondered if that was even worse than losing your family
unexpectedly.  Talk about feeling rejected.

“How awful.”

The silence lagged and Matt turned on his CD player.  She
looked around the late 90’s Civic.  It looked in excellent shape.  The light
gray interior was immaculate despite its age, much like its owner.  The only
thing newer than the car was the stereo system.  As the fast paced music danced
from the high end speakers, she smiled.  Boys and their toys.  She found
herself listening to the lyrics of the unfamiliar music.

“Who is this?” she asked.

“Skillet.  They’re my favorite band,” Matt said.  “It’s not
too loud is it?”

She laughed.  “It’s about half the volume of what I set mine
at.”