Page 14 of The Risks of Reuniting (Love Connections #1)

Both

CHLOE

Dear family,

Gavin – your plumbing jokes are horrible, and no one should be as obsessed with pipes as you are, but in the spirit of sibling solidarity, here's one I heard the other day.

How are a doctor and a plumber alike? They both bury their mistakes.

Yes, Peru plumbing leaves something to be desired, but no, I don't think the government is interested in bringing you on as an advisor to solve the issue.

If you have that kind of time on your hands, I'd use it trying to talk a girl into dating you.

A bit of advice though: stop leading with talk about sewage backups and dead birds stuck in pipes.

Let her get to know you before opening the curtain on your side-show. It's your only hope.

Grandma Sue – yes, I put on sunscreen every day, and night cream every night.

I still have the porcelain skin that would make a Victorian maiden jealous.

No new freckles, although I think they add spunk to my otherwise faded complexion and I don't hate them.

No, I do not carry an umbrella with me when I'm in the sun, and no, I did not bring an evening gown in order to attend special functions.

I brought scrubs, and sweats, and ankle socks.

Don't hate them until you try them. I'm here to help under-served people, not hobnob with the rich people in order to marry a foreign prince.

PS – I don't think Peru has princes, so you'll have to see if one of the other cousins has any foreign travel planned.

Maybe encourage Kaden to take a long tour of Europe when he finishes school and see what he comes home with.

Mom – last week I ate as many vegetables as fries, so don't fret over my diet.

I keep busy and drink plenty of water. Although this past weekend Rachelle and I were too tired to boil water to brush our teeth and took the risk of brushing with local water.

We were sure to spit it all out. I live on the edge now, you won't recognize me when I get home.

Prepare yourself for my rebellious stage.

Dad – my car does not need an oil change and tire rotation while I'm in Peru.

It will be sitting in my car port, minding its own business, not putting on miles.

Please don't worry about this anymore. Allie is picking up the mail and taking out the garbage, and if a sprinkler line bursts that's the problem of the HOA that we – and I'm quoting you here – waste our hard-earned money on every month.

Allie can handle it. If you need to do something, surprise Gavin with a visit to his garage at home.

I hear he leaves his tools lying around and not put away in their proper places.

Peru is awesome, and the people are kind and resilient. I am so glad I came, and can't believe I'm already one week down. I should have signed up for longer.

Love you all,

Chloe

I chuckle to myself at the idea of my cousin Kaden taking a long trip. Poor Kaden, it's got to be rough to be the cousin no one likes, and even worse when it's your own fault for being such a nob.

Since I'm once again outside the area with a WiFi spot, I shoot off a text to my cousin group.

Just told Grandma Sue to send Kaden on a long-term European tour. Think she'll fall for it and get him out of our hair?

Poppy

And deprive herself of the company of her favorite person? I doubt it.

I told her he might be able to find a princess to marry

Poppy

I take it back, she might go for that.

Dani

Please, please, please let it be so.

Avery

I will love you forever if this happens, Chlo. Genius move!

Lucy

Yes, yes, yes. Then Dani could write a book about their love story.

Sadie

Eww, that's Kaden we're talking about. No one wants to read his love story.

Dani

Yeah, Lucy, are you trying to kill my career? Besides, I write romantasy. Unless he's going to marry a princess and then get eaten by a dragon, I'm not touching it.

All I'm saying is I planted the seed, it's up to you ladies to help water it. You have your missions, should you choose to accept.

Poppy

On it!

HOLT

Gardening is not my forte. Thanks to the careful tutelage of my father, I can create beautiful things with wood, hammer, nails, drills and tools, but I have a black thumb of death when it comes to greenery.

Every plant my mom had in our house was fake, and we got our nature time by being outside as much as we could.

I try to explain that to Carlos on Tuesday morning when he asks me to join a group going up the hillside to a community garden they're starting, but he doesn't listen.

The morning is warmer than usual, and I use my work glove to wipe away a trickle of sweat before it can get in my eyes.

My dark tee is already sticking to the backs of my shoulders and if I'm going to be sweaty, I want it to be from working, not from talking.

As far as I'm concerned, this conversation is a waste of time – and I hate the thought of being unproductive.

I've already been here a week and I'm feeling the press of hours flying by.

I want to get as much done as I can for these people while I'm here.

"The garden is important," Carlos presses back.

"I can build some garden boxes," I offer hopefully.

"They do not need boxes," he states. "We are in our dry season and need to get seeds in the dirt."

"I'm not good at growing things," I respond, holding up my hands. "I kill plants."

He shakes his head and hands me a crate filled with seeds and spades. "But you do not kill seeds."

I nod once, accepting defeat, and hold the crate close to my chest as I follow Cesar and four other people heading uphill.

Cesar is carrying water and a picnic lunch for each of us in a backpack, and he tugs a shade hat lower over his brow.

The others are carrying shovels and rakes, and more water in jugs they have over their shoulders.

I'm in decent shape, but the incline is steep and my body is burning by the time we reach the square of land amid the shanties.

I haven't come this far up yet, and I have no idea how the people living here manage to haul water up and down each day for their needs.

It would exhaust even the healthiest person, but these people often don't have enough food to keep them going.

It's humbling, and I suddenly don't mind being put to work gardening.

If it brings the food closer to them, that has to be a good thing .

The soil is dark brown as we dig in, reminding me of the color of Chloe's eyes.

Everything reminds me of her. It was easier when we were thousands of miles apart, but having her easily accessible has made it impossible to ignore her.

I keep an eye out for her all day long, hoping to catch a glimpse.

More often than not, when I do see her, I'm left disappointed.

She's polite at best, cold at worst, and I understand that it's her way of protecting herself.

Chloe is slow to warm up, but when she loves, she does it with her whole heart. And when she's hurt, she's hurt deeply.

The thing is, even when we officially broke up I knew it was a mistake.

I never actually tried to stop loving her.

Instead, I threw myself into my pharmacy school, and getting to know my roommate Brock, and working out regularly to keep my mental health good.

So it's not a surprise to me that I have no chill where she's concerned. I never did.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts by volleys of Spanish directing us, and Cesar and I fall into our assigned roles of using hoes to dig lines in the soil.

Others follow us, making holes, and others after them, dropping in seeds and covering them.

Last in line is the water guy, dripping cupfuls of precious water over every seed.

I can understand why they wait for the dry season to plant.

On a hillside like this, rain would wash the seeds downhill before they could take root.

The work is monotonous, so when one of the women starts singing a Peruvian song, the others join in.

It doesn't take long for me to pick up the gist of it, and I add my voice to theirs, humming when I don't know the words.

A few of the songs are familiar – songs my abeula sang while sweeping her house and hanging laundry – and it lightens my heart to be among my people this way.

It's been a gift in my life to live in two worlds – America and Peru.

I hope I've taken the best of both of them as I live my life .

We get the square of potatoes planted and take a break, sitting in the dirt to drink our water and snack on some dried fruit. Well, the local people snack on fresh fruit. I may have spent a lot of time here growing up, but my digestive tract is still very American.

"I have an idea for this weekend," Cesar says as he bites into a handful of goldenberries, his hands covered in dirt and his shirt damp with sweat.

I watch, amused, when his face pinches for a second as the tartness hits his tongue.

"Oh, yeah, what's that?" I ask.

"There is a bus . . ." He pauses, thinking of the correct word in English, and I wait because he recently asked me to stick with mostly English as a way for him to practice, and I'm happy to do it. "Recorrido?" He looks to me.

" Tour is the English word."

"Okay. Bus tour in Lima. You see the city, then you walk to see the old buildings too."

"That could be fun. Where is it?"

"Plaza Mayor and San Agustín," he answers, taking another handful of berries. "We can bring your friends."

I think of the way Chloe avoided my eye contact at breakfast the past two mornings and feel hesitant.

However, my desire to show her Peru outweighs my concerns that she'll reject the offer.

I've wanted her to see this for a long time, and it may be the only chance of it happening, even if we aren't going about it the way I'd hoped.

"Yeah, okay."

Cesar smiles and takes a swig of water. "I will get . . . " Another pause while he taps his hand against his knee in thought. "Tickets?"

I nod. "Yes. Tickets."

"It will be fun. "

He's right, it will be fun. The thought energizes me, and I get back to work, digging into the next square of soil for the peppers that will be planted.

I imagine, with each pass of the hoe, that I'm filling the mouth of someone who desperately needs this food.

I love the sense of purpose and helping others.

It's what drove me into pharmacy as a career choice.

I felt drawn to the idea of assisting people with their health and helping do it in a safe way.

This desire to help others was something Chloe and I had in common.

She did it through her dental hygiene. And those same inner values had delivered us both here, to a place where we could make a difference even if it was in a temporary way.

Now that I've had a taste of it, I know it won't be my last humanitarian trip.

I used to love watching Chloe and Allie get all worked up as they'd talk about the things they were studying, and when they began working on real patients at the University clinic, swapping stories about relieving people's pain through good care, it was even more inspiring.

She's so beautiful when she's passionate about something.

"What are you thinking about, amigo?" Cesar interrupts my thoughts with a laugh.

It's probably for the best. I need to stay focused on the garden, not on the dancing eyes of a woman who is still unsure about being near me.

"Carrots," I tease. "I have a real love for them."

Cesar laughs. "I thought you were dreaming of a pretty lady. You had a funny smile."

I'm sure I did. "Tell me, do you have a pretty lady waiting for you at home?" I ask him.

His grin widens, and his eyes crinkle. "Si. Ana. She is the woman all want, but I want her to only look at me."

I reach over and give him a high-five. "Is it working? "

He shakes his head. "No, but I can wait. She will." I don't doubt it. Cesar has a way of getting into your affections. "Do you have a woman?"

I shake my head, my heart momentarily flopping on my chest. "I did, but not any more."

Cesar frowns. "You are a nice man, you think about others. You will find a girl."

Nice? I hope so. I try to be. But I can't deny that one time I failed spectacularly at thinking about others, and it created the biggest heartbreak of my life.