Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
I supposed it was intended to inspire me to work hard every day. Instead, it just gave me something to chew over while I was only half listening to customer complaints. It sounded romantic or adventurous. I could imagine something like a hidden treasure map in a secret compartment in my desk that would lead to life-changing riches, or maybe there was a puzzle that I would have to solve that would end with true love.
The background to the poster was a mountain landscape, something far away and up north. I had never traveled, and the picture felt less like a window to a foreign land than a cheesy backdrop for an even cheesier sentiment. I worked eight to five with a half hour for lunch. More often than not, I ate at my desk. There was a breakroom, once the kitchen, where many of the workers gathered for their breaks. But I was one of the only women on the job, and I wasn’t always comfortable sitting with a large group of men.
My boss Porter Hayes was a nice enough guy. It was no secret that he was in a recovery program. In his office on the second floor, he had a bunch of twelve-step sayings framed. Every so often, he would throw office parties where he would pull out a barbeque and make burgers and dogs for the crew. There was never any alcohol involved, only sodas and water. I was always in charge of the chips and sodas, making sure all the paper plates were stacked and the condiments were arranged for ease of use.
It was Porter’s soon to be father-in-law who owned the lumberyard, though that wasn’t how he got the job. He had been friends with the original owner, a family named Weller who had lived in the house. In fact, I had been to school with both Porter and Mike Weller, the son of the original owners.
That thought brought me around to Lincoln Matthews. I was working on the accounts payable when my phone buzzed. There was no one else in the office, so I pulled it out and checked it. A text from my friend Mary Beth struck me with the full force of a hurricane. Lincoln Matthews was back in town.
Suddenly, the spreadsheet I had been working on lost its appeal. Are you sure? I texted back.
100%, was the response.
Where? When? I asked.
Now. I just passed him.
Are you sure it was him?
Yes!! I think he was injured. He had a cane. Three rapid fire texts erupted.
The front door opened, and Porter walked in, carrying a clipboard. I dropped my phone and went back to my computer, filling in another line item before looking up. Should I tell him? Lincoln was his almost brother-in-law, uncle to Porter’s son. It had been so long since anyone had seen Lincoln though, not since right after high school. To my knowledge, he had never met the baby and possibly didn’t even know there was one.
We had all gone through school together and were closer than any of us wanted to be. Mike and Porter had been best friends. Lincoln’s sister Gina had been one of the smart kids. They had their own AP classes and generally kept to themselves. Everyone knew Lincoln, but he had been a quiet and broody teen, sitting at the back of the class, always getting into trouble. I had my own small clique and rarely ventured out of it.
Whenever I had class with Lincoln, I caught myself staring at him. He had dark hair and dark eyes, and his lack of interest in interacting with the rest of the students intrigued me. What had he known that the rest of us didn’t? Was he dreaming of foreign lands even then? While the rest of us were sneaking around down at the lake, Lincoln had been doing his own thing. I had never seen him with a girl.
Then he was gone. After we all graduated, some people went off to college while others got a job, but Lincoln just disappeared. The Wellers sold the lumberyard to Mr. Matthews, and I was hired. Porter started as a laborer, hauling lumber on and off delivery trucks. Then he started dating Gina and went through his sober awakening. Now he was one of the two managers who oversaw the daily operations while Mr. Matthews checked in occasionally from his home.
I had an opportunity to ask my boss’s boss about his son once, and Mr. Matthews had told me Lincoln had joined the Army.
“He’s deployed in Afghanistan,” Mr. Matthews had said.
“I’m sorry,” I responded. I didn’t know much about the military but understood enough. No matter what had transpired between a father and a son, no man would wish his flesh and blood to go through hell.