Sarah felt Finch’s eyes on her as she marched down the familiar halls. Even after she’d found cover in a waiting patient’s room, she felt him with her. What was she thinking not only volunteering to help but begging?

While it was true the prospect of a mystery to unravel excited her, it was also true that she couldn’t deny her attraction to the man who’d been assigned to help her solve it. Nothing about this was good. Falling in love had never been in the cards for Sarah, and she’d also never been a one-night-stand kind of girl. So where did that leave her and Finch?

Heart-deep in frustration, no doubt.

But it would only be for a short while. Sarah’s forays into others’ lives never lasted long. How could they when she spent nearly all her time with folks already at death’s doorstep?

Finch, on the other hand, was very much alive—strong, vibrant, and with a bit of an attitude problem. Sarah could handle attitude and often did with her patients, but while it was easy to rebuff the advances of the old men who said she reminded them of their loves from long ago, what would she do if Finch put the moves on her?

Probably run screaming into the night.

I’m only doing this to help Eleanor, she told herself over and over again, hoping she could eventually convince herself it was true. It was on the three-hundred-and-something repetition of this new mantra that she finally found something else to focus on.

“I was your age not so long ago,” a new patient named Agatha told her in a trembling voice as Sarah checked her vitals. “I was pretty like you, too, with a natural curl to my hair. Made me very stylish back then.”

“I bet you were a great beauty in your day,” Sarah answered with a smile. She knew better than to point out that the woman was still beautiful, just in a different way. When patients wanted to journey to the past, they didn’t need anyone pulling them back into the harsh reality of the present. That’s part of the reason why she lived out their glory days alongside them. It was like falling in love, finding an adventure, and following your dreams again and again.

“Of course,” Agatha continued, “by the time I was your age, I already had two little ones with a third on the way. It was different back then than it is now.”

Sarah couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Tell me about your husband. How did you meet?”

Deep crow’s feet formed around the corners of the old woman’s eyes even before the smile reached her lips. After letting out a dreamy sigh, she said, “The same way everyone did in my day—at the local church. Albert and his family moved to my town after the war. I saw him that Sunday wearing his creased trousers and a shirt that was too large on his thin waist, and I knew he was the one I wanted to love forever.”

“Forever?” Sarah said, her eyes widening. “You saw him and you knew it was love? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Agatha said, closing her eyes. Sarah wondered if she was picturing that first glimpse of her beloved now, if she was mourning the loss that had brought her here to live out the rest of that forever on her own.

When she opened her eyes again, she smiled at Sarah and said, “Love at first sight is very real. You’ll know when you find the one that’s meant for you.”

Before Sarah could stop it, her mind conjured up an image of Finch saying hello, saying goodbye, asking to see her again. His tranquil blue eyes, the sharp cut of his jaw, the sandy tones in his hair… There was no doubt she found him attractive.

But to love?

Nothing so magical had happened as it did for Agatha and Albert.

So she had a crush on one of her residents’ relatives. It had happened before. It would happen again. There was nothing special about Finch Jameson, just as there was nothing special about Sarah Campbell. They were simply two people whose paths had crossed, who were meant to come together for a short while and then continue on their journeys alone.

I’m just doing this to help Eleanor, she reminded herself yet again.

“I’m going to let you get some rest, Agatha,” she said, motioning to Lucky to take her place at the old woman’s side. “But I’ll leave Lucky with you for a bit of extra company while I finish my rounds. See you in the morning.”

She gave Lucky the hand signal that meant stay and left Agatha’s bedside in search of Eleanor. She found her a short while later in the community room watching a hummingbird at one of the many feeders while wearing a blank expression.

“Eleanor?” Sarah said softly, coming up beside her.

Eleanor hummed a beat in acknowledgment but kept her eyes glued to the planters outside. Sarah wondered if she even saw the beautiful flowers, butterflies, and birds before her—or if her mind was far off somewhere else.

“About today…” Sarah hesitated, not wanting to rile the old woman’s temper. “Is there more you can tell us so Finch and I know where to start?”

Eleanor frowned, a rare expression of true emotion on her stoic face. “You already know where to start, but perhaps this will help.” Reaching into her cardigan pocket, she pulled out a folded sheet of lined paper torn haphazardly from a spiral notebook.

Sarah reached out for the paper, but Eleanor kept it close to her chest.

“First I want a promise from you. No matter what you do or don’t find, please make sure he doesn’t hate me in the end.”

“Of course not. How could he hate you?” Sarah patted her arm, wishing she’d brought Lucky with her. He was better at comforting the patients than she’d ever been.

I’m only doing this to help Eleanor, she repeated. This time, it was easier to believe.

“Just promise me and know that I’ve already suffered more than my share these years. I’d hate to lose the only bit of family I have left in the end. Especially since I’m trying to set things right before I go.”

Sarah nodded. “I understand, and I promise.”

“Then this is for you.” Eleanor pushed the paper into Sarah’s hand and then turned to leave the common area.

Sarah waited until she had gone, then carefully, reverently, unfolded the paper and read the list of words and numbers scrawled in cursive across the page:

It went on and on and on. First a random word, then a big string of numbers. Again and again…

None of it made any sense.

None of it helped at all.

Finch headed back home and prayed the hours would pass quickly. The innkeeper, Joshua, greeted him warmly. His service dog sat alert beside him.

“Have a good day?” Joshua asked from his usual place in the main lounge area.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Finch answered as loudly as he could without yelling. He didn’t feel like getting into it, especially with Joshua, who had lost most of his hearing during combat and wasn’t exactly the easiest choice of conversational partner.

Still, he was a good guy.

In another life, he and Finch could have been great friends. However, in this one, seeing Joshua always reminded Finch that the other man’s life had changed because of a heroic sacrifice and Finch’s had changed due to sheer stupidity and poor planning. It always made him feel guilty envying the disabled veteran as he did. He probably didn’t have deranged great aunts insisting a mystery be solved before time ran out. But he also didn’t know Sarah, the beautiful angel of a nurse who had come to his rescue today who Finch would be seeing later tonight…

Or did he?

Finch eyed the service dog again. His name was Charlie and he always stood at Joshua’s side, nudging his hand or tugging on his shirt to act as his owner’s ears. Was it possible that Lucky and Charlie might be related and thus the owners might somehow know each other?

He shook his head as he let himself into his room. Even if they did know each other, what did it matter? Sarah was interested in Eleanor’s mystery, not in Finch. And he couldn’t blame her for that. No one was interested in Finch anymore unless they needed a good laugh at his misery.

Sarah was different in the best of ways.

Perhaps her lack of awareness regarding his very public embarrassment is what endeared him to her, but he also felt as if something more was there—just beneath the surface waiting to be discovered.

The hours passed slowly, but at last the evening came and to the dog park Finch went. In his eagerness to see Sarah again he arrived a bit too early. Actually, twenty-two minutes early.

Groaning at himself, he took up a seat on an old wooden bench in the shade and watched strangers’ dogs run in and out of the surf in pursuit of balls, sticks, and other projectile objects. Their owners stood in a huddle, chattering with each other and throwing the odd toy whenever one of the dogs brought something back.

Do they do this every day? Finch wondered.

Would getting a dog add some stability to his life, allow him to meet new people, people who didn’t care about his failures in the business world but rather about how his day had been, or which trick his dog had learned?

Maybe.

At least it was something to think about once all this business with Eleanor Barton had been brought to a satisfactory close.

That’s all he did now. He got by one day at a time.

Once a long time ago, he’d had passion, true excitement for the future. Back then it had been his love for nature, plants, animals… the big wide wild as he’d called it then. As a little boy, he’d begged his parents for a dog, but they’d only ever conceded for a cat—a devil of a Maine Coon named Mr. Kerfluffle. Finch didn’t much care for the cranky feline but he loved taking pictures of him basking in the sun, lapping up water from his dish. Sometimes he’d even let Mr. Kerfluffle outside against his mother’s orders so that he could photograph him among the flowers in the garden.

He smiled at the memory and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He rarely carried a camera with him these days, the joy of his once fervent passion having largely been extinguished when… well, you know.

Everyone knew. Except, it seemed, for Sarah.

Alone with his thoughts and the anticipation of seeing sweet Sarah once more, Finch felt the beginnings of a spark. It would be short-lived, he knew, but still, he just had to capture a few photos while he waited. There was something magical about the way the water splashed up around the short legs of a Basset Hound as he charged into the tide.

Finch zoomed in and snapped several pictures of the hound before moving on to a large mixed breed who would perfectly resemble a Pitbull if not for his long, wiry hair. He was an odd and intriguing fellow who shook off a hurricane of tiny droplets each time he exited the water.

He sat reviewing his photos and chuckling to himself when a yellow blur shot across his peripheral vision and Sarah appeared at his side.

“Hey, those are pretty good!” she said, glancing at his phone over his shoulder. “Could you take some of Lucky, too? I’d love to have a few decent shots to post on Reel Life.”

Finch sighed and jammed his phone back in his pocket without first nabbing a couple shots of the happy Golden Retriever. He studied Sarah briefly, trying to remember the way she looked at him when he was just somebody’s long lost nephew and not a national disgrace. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

As expected, her features crumpled in confusion, apprehension. “I told you I don’t.”

“And you didn’t Google me?” There was no avoiding it. If he didn’t tell her, someone else would… and likely soon.

“Why would I? Besides, we just got off work and came straight here.” Sarah plopped herself down onto the bench at his side and held out her hand with a smile. "Now, if I give you my number, will you take some pictures of Lucky and text them to me please?”

Finch handed her his phone so she could input her number and text herself his contact details. Once she’d finished, he took a deep breath and began.

“Sarah, listen. I think there’s something you should know about me…”