friends, interesting clients, a roommate that I can’t stop thinking about, and a dog.
Somehow, I accidentally built an entire life here without noticing that I was planting roots. I think part of it is good-natured conspiracy. My family wants me to stay. This town wants me to stay. Every connection I make here binds me tighter to the community. Every class I teach, every client I help is one more root planted. Every bonfire, every kiss, every beer or pepperoni roll or day on the water makes Bootleg Springs more a part of my life. And I don’t know if I want to fight it anymore.
My heart did an agreeable little tap dance as several stimuli worked on my system simultaneously.
The woman in me swooned just the tiniest bit at Jonah’s admission that he couldn’t stop thinking about me. The data nerd tap danced at the fact that he’d willingly filled out the survey.
Attacking me from my romantic and analytical sides in one fell swoop. I approved.
What made the researcher in me push back from my chair and do a little boogie was the idea of the levels of assimilation. It wasn’t just one group like a church or an office full of coworkers that did the heavy lifting when it came to providing a sense of belonging. Bootleg Springs was an organism that used multiple prongs of attack.
You weren’t only welcome at Moonshine Diner or just Yee Haw Yarn & Coffee. You were welcome in the park, the church, the police station, Sallie Mae Brickman’s kitchen table. They called you by name in the Pop In and were happy to see you at Build A Shine. Jimmy Bob Prosser remembered what kind of a dishwasher you had in your kitchen when you came into the hardware store.
The entire town worked together to entice and welcome and infiltrate every aspect of residents’ lives. Until there was no boundary between the individual and the society.
I envisioned vines, all sprouting from the same place, all wriggling and stretching and winding their way in and around the society binding everyone and everything together.
Jonah Bodine had just unlocked my entire thesis. Removed the block. Turned the angel chorus on in my head.
He’d also just inserted a key directly into my heart. And I wasn’t surprised at all.
I pirouetted, startling Billy Ray who barked himself awake from under the table. I picked up the puppy, swooping him into the air in a circle.
He wriggled with joy.
“Billy Ray, your daddy is a genius, and your mommy is going to get her doctorate. Doctor Mommy!”
I set him on the ground and tossed a ball for him. He tore after it, little feet scrabbling on the floor. A glance at my watch told me I needed to leave now to get my ten miles in if I didn’t want to do the entire ride in the dark.
Good. Exercise seemed to juggle everything that swam in my head into neat and tidy boxes. A nice summer evening bike ride would give me a chance to figure out exactly how to make Jonah’s answer the center of it all.
With Billy Ray mournfully ensconced in his crate with a handful of treats and his favorite stuffed bear toy, I pulled on my fluorescent green cycling shirt, clipped on my helmet, and set off on the route Jonah had programmed for me.
The crickets were loud, and a few early fireflies lit up over the fields.
A part of me couldn’t believe that I, Shelby Thompson, was pedaling a bike over hill and dale in rural West Virginia. Not too many years ago, I’d been convinced that I needed to be in a city, working in the trenches with families and children in need. It was the most direct way to help. Yet even then, with that naïve confidence in the cause, the work didn’t sit well with me. I’d sit in my car, eyes closed, taking slow deep breaths to work up the nerve to knock on doors I dreaded.
I felt like a failure giving it up. But I also knew, after the attack, I couldn’t knock on another door again. I hadn’t exactly embraced the sense of failure. More like tucked it away and tried to think about anything and everything else.
Research was safe. But it was also essential. And it brought me joy—bright, exciting, nerd-like joy—every time I dove into new data. It made me happy. Now, I was on the very early side of accepting that being happy in my