Accidentally, On Purpose
A Romantic Comedy, Chapter 3
The interview.
Cara got the call. She had an interview set for that afternoon at four. She stood in front of her closet trying to figure out what to wear for an in-home interview for a caretaker position. In her mind, most caretakers wore scrubs or something similar, much like nurses. She didn’t own any scrubs and felt that running out to buy a pair would be a false representation of who she was – or wasn’t, which was a nurse. She was simply Cara, a now former cashier of six years.
In the end, she decided upon brown slacks, her chocolate suede boots, and a cream-colored turtleneck sweater. She styled her short, dark hair with a little mousse, added a touch of mascara and a little Nude lip gloss, and stood back to check herself in the mirror. She looked presentable. The slender slacks were tucked inside her knee-high boots, and her sweater fell to her hips helping to make her short legs look a bit longer. Why that mattered for an interview caring for a blind person, she couldn’t fathom, but it had always been a sore point for her. At five-foot, one inch, she’d always wanted to be taller. Instead, she was a midget. Almost. Two to three inches shorter and she would’ve been legally classified as disabled. At least the heels on her boots added another three inches to her height. Every little bit helped.
She picked up her glasses and shoved them onto her face. Grabbing her tan Sherpa coat, she picked up her purse and car keys, and headed out the door. She needed a little extra time to find 2211 Moose Run in the newly built Pine Vista Estates subdivision. It was on the other side of town in the more prominent region of Moose Ridge. In the past five years, wealthy Californians looking to build homes had moved in following a viral article about her quaint town. Off the beaten path, but not too far outside of Portland, caught between Salem and Willamina, Moose Ridge boasted a community of three thousand at the time of print. Since then, it had ballooned, mostly to the west end, by five thousand more and growing. Construction boomed, and homes were built, new businesses moved in, and even three new schools had gone up.
Now, their city council, once pleased as punch to have new tax revenue come in, were struggling to slow the population explosion which was taking away everything that made Moose Ridge a quaint, quiet community. With new residents came new problems, like crime. No one wanted that. The natives of the ridge began protesting regularly at council meetings, and those protests grew until the councilmen and women realized they wouldn’t be maintaining their jobs and standing within the community unless they found a way to staunch the incoming flood of new residents.
Cara watched it all from the sidelines and heard the gossip from every single person who’d come through her register at Wegman’s. She loved her hometown, and although she recognized the need to grow and change a little to keep up with the world, there was also much to be praised about retaining small town values.
As she turned into Pine Vista Estates, she searched for Moose Run. It was the last road in, past the opulent entryway. She took a left, ogling the mansions she passed. Growing up in a three-bedroom house with one bathroom was the height of luxury ‘round these parts five years ago. Now, by comparison, her home was a shack that could fit inside one of these homes six times over. Cara looked for house numbers. She finally located 2211 on a wrought iron gate set into a red brick wall. It wrapped around the grounds of the home she now approached, slowly inching up the inroad to the circular driveway.
The house was massive. Its red brick exterior rose three floors with a pitched roof. The windows were complemented with black shutters outside of white-framed windows. Two tall white columns accented the porch and portico extending out over the front door painted a bright evergreen. Stained glass decorated that door, which was further enhanced by two old-fashioned wrought iron, gas sconce porch lights on either side. It was a beautiful home in all. Even the grounds were gorgeous with manicured pine trees, red berry bushes, and what Cara imagined would be a rolling green lawn come spring and summer. Right now, it was covered in snow.
She pulled up behind a Black Hummer and parked her rusty old Chevy truck. She still had a good twenty minutes before her interview and decided to sit there for at least ten of those minutes getting herself together. This would be her first real job interview. The one she had six years ago with Mrs. Wegman hardly qualified as such. Her mother, Betty, had been good friends with Laverne Wegman, and since both Mr. and Mrs. Wegman had known Cara all her life, when she turned sixteen, it went without saying that Mrs. Wegman simply offered Cara her first job. She’d trained her from stocking shelves to cashiering.
This time, however, someone she didn’t know would be asking a lot of questions she wasn’t sure how she would answer. Still, talking wasn’t Cara’s biggest obstacle. What she worried about most was getting through her interview without tripping, falling, or breaking anything. It really wouldn’t bode well for a prospective employer seeking a caregiver to be confronted with a walking accident waiting to happen. She knew she would have to get both her nerves, and her life-long curse under control. Fast.
***
Beau sat on the back porch, huddled deep into his coat. The home he’d been so proud to purchase two years ago when he’d signed on with the Vancouver Canucks had become a liability. Where its impressive size and features had once been a joy before his accident, they now served as obstacles he couldn’t quite overcome. The loss of his sight made navigating the large house a real problem. He couldn’t even enjoy his home theater. He was glad he was able to convince his mom and dad to move in at least. God knew there was more than enough room, and when he was out of town for games, they were there to keep an eye on the place. Now that he couldn’t see, having his parents living with him in Moose Ridge had become necessary. Even so, he knew it was a burden on them both having to treat him like a toddler who couldn’t be trusted alone.
The sounds of the wildlife in the pine trees kept him entertained only for a short while. Before long, Beau turned inward to his thoughts. He’d had trouble sleeping what with not being able to tell night from day, and even though his doctor assured him that the swelling was coming down, and they’d know soon what was to become of his eyesight, he worried. Three weeks had passed since the accident, and he was no closer to seeing—as far as he could see. It was a bad joke in his mind, but hope had turned to fear, and fear was evolving into bitterness. If his eyesight didn’t come back, he’d never play hockey again, and then what?
The sound of an engine in the distance pulled him out of his dark void. Someone was out front. Since his parents hadn’t told him they were expecting anyone, Beau wondered who might be calling. He tilted his head, listening for his mother inside the kitchen. If he concentrated hard enough, he could detect her footsteps before they receded too far out of range of hearing. He wasn’t in the mood for visitors, and sincerely hoped it was someone coming for his parents or maybe a delivery.
***
Edna Hamilton glanced out the French doors to see Beau sitting on the patio. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t noticed the sound of a car pulling up. She walked calmly to the front of the house, heading to the front door. The young lady Faith Millhouse told her about had arrived. She only hoped she was as sweet and reliable as the woman stated. She and Ed needed help. Taking care of her son wasn’t the problem, but his growing dependence upon them was, and so was his increasingly bitter attitude. It wasn’t healthy. He needed someone else around, someone closer to his own age.
Doctor Percy said the blindness was temporary, but the longer it took the swelling to go down, the more damage they would find. Three weeks seemed a long time to have that much inflammation, and so far, Beau had not reported the return of any sight at all. He couldn’t see light or shapes, nothing. Usually an optimist, Edna had begun to worry. Beau wouldn’t see any of his teammates since he’d come home from Vancouver, not even Jerry Bartleby, and those two had been inseparable for the past two years.
No, Beau wasn’t going to listen to his mother or his father. That was why she’d begun to consider bringing in some outside help, if for no other reason than to prepare her son for the possibility that he might spend the rest of his life blind. The thought brought tears to her eyes and pain to her heart. She’d broken down a bit in front of Faith Louise that morning over a quick cup of coffee and a pastry. Edna had left Beau at Dr. Appleby’s office, Dr. Percy’s counterpart in Moose Ridge, at his request, and since he’d begun to push her away when it came to knowing about his condition, she’d walked around the corner from the clinic and stopped inside Three Sisters Diner to await her son’s call.
It was there, she’d found a sympathetic ear in all three owners. Coffee, pastry, and venting hadn’t solved the mounting problems, but at least she’d felt a bit less burdened when she left. The weight on her shoulders had grown even lighter when Faith Louise called later telling Edna that she had the perfect candidate for a caretaker for Beau, someone reliable, young, strong, healthy, and sweet as peach pie. Edna didn’t hesitate to call the young woman and make an appointment for an interview, and now, she was here, standing outside the door. The older woman shook herself and straightened her blazer.
“Well, don’t just leave the girl out in the cold, Edna,” she muttered to herself. “Let her in.” With that, she calmly walked out of the kitchen to the front of the house, chin held high, and expectations even higher. “Hope she’s as competent as Faith Louise says she is.”
Next chapter arrives Wednesday! Become a paid subscriber to read Accidentally, On Purpose.
Get caught up on last week’s episode here.
Read the first episode FREE here.