“So, is it sponsorships? I didn’t see any ads on your YouTube channel.”
“And you won’t. I want the access to be immediate, not ‘wait, watch this thing you don’t care about, and then you get to see.’ We do get sponsorships for our equipment, some clothing, a few other items and tools we use, in exchange for a credit at the end of the video version.” He shrugged. “We’ve started selling hard copies and digital downloads of some of the trips, made into a sort of documentary. That’s what I’m working on this summer, actually, for our Nepal trip. That revenue is what we live on now—me, and the few people on my crew I employ full time. Occasionally I do interviews, things like that, not to get paid directly, but to donate funds to the organization. The less overhead we have to deal with, the more we can do.” He lifted a shoulder. “Otherwise, we all live pretty simply, my crew and myself. The ones who work for me have been with me from the early days. Abroad, we usually hire some locals, translators, people who can help us navigate the cultural aspects of things. And we have others who hire on for each venture, depending on where it is, what we need, whom we need. They may come and travel with us for a while, then move on when it’s time to settle down. It sounds like an exciting life, and it is, but it has become pretty nonstop, and most folks need a home base, at least periodically.”
“And you? Is that something you ever see for yourself? Settling down?”
His smile was more fleeting then, and she saw a hint of the weariness he’d only alluded to. “I can’t do what I want to do and be home at the same time. I figure when the call to settle down somewhere is louder than the call to keep going, I’ll listen to it then.” A moment later, his grin was back, and the peek into that part of him was gone.
“Sounds complicated, or complex, anyway, working things out as you go, and juggling all the external things, like the documentaries, and getting them made and distributed. That by itself has to take a lot of focus.”
“It is, but we kind of learn as we go. If the revenue from the documentaries starts to really pick up, then I can hire someone to take it on.”
“I can’t even imagine.” Chey shook her head. “Where do you go next?” She wanted to know, and not know, all at the same time. Getting to know the stranger Wyatt was a lot easier than navigating the past with her old friend Wyatt. She felt like she was just getting to know this person. And she liked him. A lot.
“After the summer in Wales? I don’t know yet.”
“A whole summer in one place,” she said, then smiled. “How will you stand it?”
“I think I can handle it for a few months.”
She saw flickers of that weariness again, and wondered if, for all his enthusiasm, he was feeling a little burn out. Not about the work itself. He clearly was still deeply passionate about it. Still, how could it not take a toll? She suspected he said yes to more projects than he should, in an effort to disappoint as few as possible. “Good on you then.” She let out a little laugh and said, “Self-care.”
“What?” he asked, laughing with her.
She waved the question off. “Nothing, just a little private joke.” Here she’d run off to Ben Campbell’s place to assuage her sudden fragile sensibilities. While Wyatt was just hoping to lay his head on the same pillow for more than a few nights in a row before he jaunted off again to risk doing God knows what to be a champion for those with no voice. “Maybe the difference you need to make is for yourself this time around. Just for a little bit.”
Rather than laugh the suggestion off or refute her, he surprised her and quite soberly said, “Maybe.” He pushed to a stand then, surprising her with the sudden movement. He held out a hand. “Come on. Right now, we need to go save a certain town high up in the hills of the Blue Ridge.”
She put her hat back on and stood without assistance, thinking she was feeling enough as it was. She didn’t need his touch to bombard her already overloaded senses. “Child’s play,” she said with a smile. “The most dangerous wildlife you’ll encounter here is an occasional black bear protecting her cubs.” She smiled. “And I doubt they’ll be attending any of the council meetings.”
He smiled at that, but said, “Oh, I think Mr. Hammond might prove to be something of an obstacle.”
Chey’s smile fell. “Yeah, me too. Even if we get every artist, winery, cidery, and farm owner to come together over this, we still won’t have near the clout or the financial resources he does.”
“Oh, we have a very powerful resource,” Wyatt said. “It’s not the kind of currency with Benjamin Franklin’s face stamped on the front of it. It’s the kind that has millions of faces stamped on the front of it.”
Chey smiled and started down the dock, liking that she didn’t have to shorten or slow down her typically ground-eating stride. They’d always been well-matched that way. Now that she understood him better, reminders like that, of who he’d been, who they had been together when they were younger, felt comforting rather than disconcerting. “Good thing,” she said, “because we don’t have piles of the Benjamin kind.”
They reached the end of the ramp road where they’d both parked. Theirs were still the only vehicles in sight. She paused at the driver’s side door of her truck and turned back to him. “You don’t have to stay here,” she told him. “In the Falls, I mean. You worked hard for this break. A working break, I know, but . . . you should go and take it. We’ll figure this out.” She flashed a brief smile. “You haven’t met Addie Pearl. She doesn’t have a livestream, or whatever it’s called—heaven help us if she ever did—but when it comes to manning the helm, she makes Vivi look like a wilting wallflower.”
“Well, now I have to stay,” he said, a teasing smile curving his lips, “just to meet her.” Despite the smile, his gaze was a lot more direct than it had been, and far more serious. “I want to stay,” he said, more quietly now. “And help.”
She nodded. And help. He’d made sure to make that part clear. Not for any other reason. Which was a good thing. Wasn’t it?
“It’s your call, but—” She looked down, took a moment deciding what she wanted to say, then met his gaze again. “I’m glad we had this chance to talk, too. So I could get to know you.”
“You know me,” he said, equally quiet, gaze so intent.
She shook her head. “No. I knew you, once upon a time. But not now. Not since you walked into my barn. Not just because you look different. Your energy is completely different, too, the confidence you exude now, as naturally as breathing, all of you . . . it threw me. Not good or bad, just . . . I couldn’t match this you with the boy I knew. You’d peek out once in a while, which was so disconcerting. Only . . . now that I know your story . . . it all makes sense. I meant what I said before—I’m happy for you, proud of what you’re doing. All of this is such a good thing. It just took talking to you for it to fall into place.”
“Well,” he said, looking a bit taken aback, though she’d said all of it kindly, meant it kindly. “Now you know us both.”