“That will be fifty dollars, Sam,” the young girl behind the counter says as she bats her big brown eyes at me.

“Thanks for getting Sadie in for me. I have no idea what she got into, but she smelled so bad I couldn’t even let her near me. She kept wanting to rub up against my jeans,” I tell her as I hand her cash.

“You can bring her anytime. She’s the only goat that we groom and she’s so cute.” She places her elbows on the counter and puts her chin in her hands to look up at me. Her cheeks flush.

I wait for a minute, thinking she’s eventually going to go in the back and get Sadie for me. “Um, do you want me to go get her?” I ask, trying not to smirk at the young girl.

“Oh, no. I’ll get her.” Her cheeks fill with color again as she jumps up. She comes back with Sadie in tow, wearing a pink bowtie around her neck. “Doesn’t she look pretty?” the girl asks, batting her eyes at me again.

I shake my head in amusement, knowing good and well that as soon as I get out of here that pink bow will be coming off and going in the trash. “Thanks again.” The bell on the door jingles as I exit out onto the sidewalk, Sadie following close behind on her leash. Despite the town’s small size, the sidewalks are always bustling with people window shopping, couples holding hands, parents pushing strollers, and kids riding their bikes. I’ve been here almost three years now. My favorite little coffee shop and bakery is on the corner of Main Street and 5^th Avenue. I buy black coffee and a cinnamon roll anytime I’m in town. Most of the people here are lifetime residents, growing up happy and never having any reason to leave. The small town in flat, central Florida was given the ironic name of Mount Dora. Coming from the mountains of Utah, I can’t help but laugh at its title. In a state as flat as Florida, even being perched a measly 184 feet above sea level merits the title “Mount”. It is a beautiful, charming little town nestled amongst low rolling hills and several nearby lakes. Christmas season sees the streets turned into a perfect Norman Rockwell scene. A tiny hill, yet very large by Florida standards, rises in the center of town, and the town government has snow shipped in each December so that the kids can wait in line at the top to sled twenty feet to the bottom. Most of them have never seen real snow in their lives and they laugh all the way down the hill each time, having the time of their lives. Once the thermostats in town dip below sixty degrees, every native of the town can be seen on the streets bundled up in their winter gear.

“Oh look, Momma, there’s Sadie,” a little girl, whose mom owns the coffee shop, squeals. “Can I pet her, Mr. Sam?” It is a rhetorical question, since she is already on her knees hugging her. Sadie is loving the attention. “I like your bow,” she tells Sadie.

“Izzy,” her mom says.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Baxter, Sadie loves her.” I sit down on the corner bench.

“Tell Mr. Sam thank you, Izzy. We have to get back to the shop.”

“Bye, Sadie,” she says sadly and waves at me.

Sadie jumps on the bench next to me and we watch them walk away while I absentmindedly remove her bow and place it in my pocket. The sole purpose of my trips to town is generally to get coffee and have Sadie groomed. I rarely enter any of the small shops along the main drag, and am unfamiliar with most of the town’s regulars. But as I lazily look up and down the storefronts across the street, a brown-haired woman catches my eye through the window of a dress boutique.

Intrigued, I lead Sadie over to the intersection and wait for the light to turn red so we can cross to the store front. An artistic sign adorns the front that reads Cloze Pinz Fashionz. The brunette is chatting with a customer and doesn’t notice me staring at her through the windowpane. Her beauty is breathtaking, and I lose track of time while watching her. After some time passes, she turns back in my direction. I quickly avert my eyes down and talk to Sadie.

“Did she see me staring at her? Because that would be really weird.” Sadie looks up at me and makes a noise as if she understood what I was saying.

I glance back up as a little girl and a man, who looks to be about my age, open the store door. The little girl runs into the woman’s arms and the guy kisses her on the cheek. A glint of light flashes off her left hand as she places it on his face and my heart sinks a little. It’s a wedding ring.

“Too bad, Sadie. She would have been the first woman that I would’ve been interested in since I came here. Who am I kidding? I’ve never really been interested in anyone before.” Sadie cocks her head at me. “Come on girl, let’s go home.”

* * *

My old pickup cries out loudly in protest when I try to start her up. “Come on Lagitha, don’t let me down now.” I beat my fist on the dashboard and she finally roars to life. Sadie already has her head stuck out the window. I bought this truck shortly after I moved here because it reminded me of August’s old farm truck. I’ve kept the car he gave me, but I wanted something more useful to use on my property.

I purchased a run-down, one-bedroom shack just outside of town. It sits back into the woods and can’t be seen from the long dirt road that runs all the way to the lake. The property came with a small, pristine fishing lake.

I’ve been slowly working on rebuilding the house. I recently finished making all the outside repairs and am now working on building a second bedroom to use as an office. I have been supporting myself by freelancing tech work for several large companies. It’s just enough to keep me afloat so that I don’t have to dip into any more of the money I made when I worked for August. I miss him and Nash, but I needed to get away and find my own way after bringing August’s brother into their lives and him almost killing both of them. I know neither one of them blame me, but I blame myself for being too trusting. It’s been pretty lonely here, but I still try to keep to myself most of the time.

One day when I was up working on the tin roof, I kept hearing an animal cry. I followed the sound and stumbled onto Sadie. Her legs were trapped in vines and she couldn’t get out. She was still a baby and needed to be hand fed. I looked for her mother but never found her, so I decided to keep the baby goat for a pet. She always brings back fond memories of August hand-feeding Bacon when he was a piglet. Now Sadie follows me everywhere and she walks on a leash just like a dog. She’s good company for me, I really enjoy having her around.

Sadie starts hopping in the seat. “Yes, I know, we’re home.” She jumps over my lap and bounces out of the truck into the driveway the moment the door opens. I can’t help but laugh about how enthusiastic she is about being home. “Come on, I’ll feed you,” I say as I shut the truck door. She runs over to her bowl in her pen and looks up at me. “Meh-meh,” she says, voicing her opinion.

A catch in my lower back sends a bolt of pain running down my leg when I bend over to fill Sadie’s bowl. I steady myself on her little house until it passes. It’s been happening more and more lately, always coming on quickly and taking several minutes to ease up. “Damn that hurt!” I bend over and blow out a breath, waiting for relief.

Once it subsides, I go inside and fix myself a stiff drink. Before I’ve even had a chance to take a swig, my phone rings. It’s my mother. I know without even looking at it - she calls this time every week.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hi, Sam. When are you coming home?” She asks me the same question every single week like a broken record.

“I don’t know, Mom, I’m just not ready yet.”

“How much longer do you need? You’ve been gone three years and you have only flown out to see me twice. Can you at least tell me where you are so that I can come visit you?” she asks.

“Mom, we’ve been through this. When I’m ready, I’ll come home.” I sigh, knowing that is not the answer she wants to hear.

Several moments of silence pass before her voice comes through the other line again. “You know, August and Nash are expecting another baby any day now. They would love for you to be part of it.”

I’ve been able to pay cash for everything so that I could cover my tracks and August couldn’t find me. He’s my best friend and I miss him dearly, but I needed time away to figure things out and he would have chased me down if he knew where to find me. I haven’t even spoken with him since the day I left, but my mom is good about keeping me posted.

“I know, Mom, but I’m not ready to face them yet,” I tell her.

“There is nothing for you to face, you did nothing wrong. When are you going to get that through that thick skull of yours?” She sounds agitated with me.

“I want to be on my own. Why can’t you understand that? Please…” I soften my tone. “I will come back when I’m ready. I love you, mom.”

“I love you too, son,” she sniffs.

I hate making her cry. Every week I fight the urge to go home, but I’m not ready yet. There are still some things here that I feel like I need to do. I don’t know exactly what they are, but my gut tells me that I’m not done here yet. Trusting my gut is something that I’ve had to learn to do.

“I’ll talk to you the same time next week, mom.” I hold on until she hangs up the phone.

I decide against the drink that I fixed and pour it down the drain, opting for a glass of ice-cold water instead. When I first moved here, I drank a lot and I don’t want to be sucked into that dark hole again. Instead of wallowing in my own self-pity, I started to focus on becoming a better man - the man that I wanted to be, not a man molded by bad decisions. I’m no longer the child that left years ago, and I’m also no longer as naïve and trusting.

My house has only the basics as far as furnishings go, but I’ve kept up with technology. I’ve been able to educate myself on building everything I need to sustain myself here. It’s amazing that you can learn to remodel an entire house just by watching Youtube.

The sharp twinge of pain returns in my hip this time as I gingerly lower myself into the recliner. In the wake of the pain, I notice that the bottom of my left foot feels numb. I pull off my boot and start rubbing it, hoping to God that it’s only asleep. The sensation doesn’t fade. It has me nervous enough that I decide to go to the Emergency Room. I need to find out what’s changed and why I’m having issues again. I haven’t used my cane since the day I left Tennessee and there is no way in hell that I want to become dependent on it or anyone else again.

* * *

The waiting room at the hospital only has a handful of people in it. A few people look up as I walk by, but most are caught up in their cell phones. I’m greeted by a stout, elderly nurse who hands me paperwork to fill out.

Thankfully the wait isn’t too long, since the gentleman next to me has been hacking his lungs up since I sat down. “Mr. Sawyer.” A nurse, who looks no older than 19, calls my name. I follow her into a room surrounded only by curtains. She draws the curtain closed behind her and starts asking me a million questions. With my history of being paralyzed and the multiple surgeries I endured before I was able to walk again, you would think I would be used to it, but I still hate talking about my past medical condition. It’s only been four years since I rid myself completely of my wheelchair, which served as my primary mode of transportation since I was a toddler. August’s drunk father caused the accident that took the use of my legs. When August was old enough to understand what his father had done, he did everything in his power to help me and my mother. He saved my life and hers. He has taught me everything I know about being a man and he has given me more chances than I deserve. I want to prove to him that I am the man that he thinks I am. I needed to grow up and prove to myself that I’m really okay and can manage on my own.

I choose to give the nurse minimal information since I’m only going to have to rehash it with a physician. For the sake of time, I only tell her about the pain in my hip and numbness in my foot. She tosses me a gown and closes the curtain behind her, saying something about an x-ray.

“Sunny, lay down,” I hear a voice from behind the curtain to the right of me. Four golden feet, visible underneath the curtain, walk in a circle and Sunny lays down on the floor. The dog’s shaggy tail wags underneath the curtain into my room. “No, Nana. We are not ready to go home until the doctor has seen your test results,” I hear the sweetest voice say from behind the curtain.

Her Nana evidently doesn’t want to stay as she argues back through a coughing fit. “You can’t breathe, Nana, you need a treatment,” she tries to soothe her.

A tech interrupts my eavesdropping, pulling back the curtain and pointing at a wheelchair. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll walk,” I say and head toward him.

“I’m sorry, sir, it’s hospital policy that I transport you via wheelchair,” he says politely.

“Well, I either walk myself or I’m out of here.” I point my thumb to the exit. God, I sound like August. I know how much he hates hospitals, but I refuse to be in that damn wheelchair for even one second.

He shrugs at me and parks the wheelchair off to the side. I follow him, glancing in the direction of the woman talking to her Nana. It’s the girl from the shop downtown. I pause in the hallway for a moment in surprise. The dog lifts her head towards me, watching me warily. Nana’s eyes catch me staring into the room and she tugs her sheet higher in embarrassment. I divert my eyes and follow after the tech.

Once the x-ray is done and I’m led back to my holding room, I can’t stop myself from looking again. I don’t linger long, since the man I saw kissing her cheek in the store is standing at the foot of the stretcher. He nods when he sees me and I return it in acknowledgment. I can only assume he is her husband. Instead of sitting on the stretcher, I choose the padded chair next to it and wait for my results.

“Emma, Nana has pneumonia again,” I hear someone telling the girl next door from outside of her curtained waiting room. “She needs to be admitted for a few days to receive some IV antibiotics. I know how stubborn she can be,” he tells her.

“I know, Dr. Debo. She thinks she has to take care of me and Tennyson. She forgets that I’m a grown woman and more than capable of taking care of us.”

“Speaking of taking care of yourself, have you scheduled the surgery that we talked about?” he asks her.

She lowers her voice so that I can barely make out what she says, “Now is not a good time to be thinking about myself. I have too much to take care of here, especially now that Nana is sick again. She is in no way, shape, or form able to take care of Tennyson for a month on her own anymore.”

“I know you would want Chase to go with you, but he could handle Tennyson for you. She adores him, and the longer you wait the less chance you have of a complete recovery. You need to think about yourself for once,” he says sternly.

“I promise, as soon as I know that everyone I love is taken care of, I will consider the surgery, but for now the focus needs to be on admitting Nana without an all-out war from her.” She dismisses him and I watch her feet move back into their room. I listen as she reiterates the conversation to Nana.

My curtain draws back. “Mr. Sawyer, I’m Dr. Debo,” he says, extending his hand. “I’ve looked over your x-ray, but I think you’ve left out some pertinent information in your history. I see signs of multiple surgeries,” he says as he pushes his glasses up further on his nose.

I lower my voice. “Yeah, it’s not something I like to talk about, but could you just tell me what you found?” I motion for him to walk closer to me.

“Well, without you giving me any background, I see some deterioration in your lower spine where you’ve had surgery before. There is suggestion of some instability at the spinal cord. I’m recommending some further testing and that you come clean with your history.” He removes his glasses and sits on the edge of the stretcher waiting for my response.

I stand in front of him as close as I can and, as quietly as possible, tell him about the car accident years ago and all the subsequent surgeries and therapies that I’ve received through the years.

“I can understand your concern for the symptoms you’ve been experiencing. Let’s get you an MRI and then I can make some recommendations. You can write down the name of your specialist and I’ll make sure he gets the results,” he stands up.

“I’m not in a position to see him right now, so I’d appreciate you handling it for now.”

“Suit yourself, but in this small town, I’m not sure there is much I have to offer you as far as care goes. I’ll send the tech back in to take you to the MRI when they are ready and I will call you with the results.” I reach out and shake his hand this time.

About two hours later, I’m back home and my foot feels fine. I’m wondering if I imagined the whole thing. Maybe the quiet loneliness is getting to me. I shove my phone in my pocket and open Sadie’s pen. “Come on girl, let’s go down to the lake and catch some fish.” She hates the water so I don’t have to worry about ruining her freshly groomed fur.

* * *

Just as the bobber pulls under, my phone rings. I pull it from my pocket and notice it is a local number, but one that I do not recognize. I let out a deep sigh and answer it.

“Hello.”

“Is this Sam Sawyer?” the voice asks.

“Yes, it is.”

“Hi, Sam, this is Dr. Debo. I’m afraid the news isn’t good. You’re in danger of losing the use of your legs again. You really need to see a specialist.”

“Is there anything you can do until I can set that up?” I ask him.

“I can prescribe something for the inflammation and the pain, but that’s about all I can offer you. I’ll fax the order over to the pharmacy that you listed.”

“Thanks, doc.”

“Sam, you really should see him as soon as possible,” he adds before he hangs up.

I don’t know why I’m so hesitant. There is no way I want to risk being crippled again, but I have a nagging feeling that I can’t leave here yet. I’ll call my specialist office tomorrow and see if he can recommend someone in a nearby city. For now, I’m going to catch a few fish and then head to the pharmacy to pick up my prescriptions. Back home, I clean the largemouth bass I managed to catch and place them in the fridge to cook when I get back home. I hop in the shower and throw on some old jeans and my faded Aerosmith t-shirt, just one of many in my collection of band t-shirts. Sadie gives me an enthusiastic meh as I head out the door in my pair of black Reefs. “Not this time, girl. I won’t be gone long.”

The pharmacy on the corner, across from the bakery, has been here for over thirty years and owned by the same family the entire time. Behind the counter, I am surprised to find, yet again, the beautiful girl from the shop. Scanning through my memories, I vaguely remember the doctor calling her Emma. I walk up beside her and decide to be friendly and break the ice. “I saw you at the hospital earlier today. Is your Nana okay?”

She turns in my direction. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” she asks. Her faithful dog sits protectively at her side.

“No, I was in the room next to you. I couldn’t help but overhear that your Nana was sick. I’m sorry for eavesdropping. My name is Sam,” I extend my hand, but she doesn’t look down.

“Hi, Sam, my name is Emma. You must be new here. I thought I knew everyone in this small town. Part of the curse of growing up here,” she laughs.

“I don’t know, I would think it would be a good thing to know your neighbors.”

She whispers, “Well, I guess if your neighbors weren’t nosey, it would be okay.” She smiles and her face lights up.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a nosey neighbor. It was tight quarters and I couldn’t help but hear every conversation going on next to me.”

“It’s okay, Sam, I’m just teasing with you. Thanks for asking about my Nana. She’s none too happy to be in the hospital.” This time she extends her hand in my direction, but it is the first time I’ve noticed that her round, pale green eyes haven’t focused on anything. I take her hand in mine and she squeezes around it. I move my head from side to side to see if she follows, but she doesn’t. She must be blind, which explains a lot. The dog next to her must be her Seeing Eye dog. He doesn’t have a vest or a leash on and I see no signs of a walking stick near Emma.

The pharmacy tech interrupts us with her medications, handing them over and asking if she has any questions. She’s very friendly to Emma, she’s probably known her for a long time. I place my scripts on the counter.

“So, where are you from, Sam?” Emma’s attention is back on me.

“I’m from Utah, but I’ve been living here for about three years now.”

“How have you managed to be here that long and we haven’t met before?” she scowls.

“I pretty much keep to myself. I only come into town for coffee and baked goods and, on occasion, when I’m getting my goat groomed.”

“Oh, I’ve heard Tennyson mention a man that walks around town with a goat on a leash.” She laughs and my heart skips a beat. My eyes fall to the rings on her left hand, despite my guilty feelings.

“Yeah! Said goat would be Sadie. I found her not long after I moved here.”

“I would love to meet her, and I know Tennyson would be thrilled. Why don’t you bring her by my shop one day around closing time? It’s the one directly across the street from here. It’s called Cloze Pinz Fasionz.”

“I’ve walked by it a few times. Cool name for a clothing store.”

“Thanks, it’s only been open for a couple years now, but sales are pretty good. I design all the clothes myself,” she proudly adds.

“How… well, how…”

She laughs. “Do you mean how do I design clothes when I’m blind?”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to ask the obvious.” Even though it wasn’t obvious to me until about 5 minutes ago that she is blind. She hides it well. Her movements certainly don’t indicate that she can’t see, probably a benefit of knowing the town so well.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. People around here have known me so long that they don’t even mention my blindness, so I’m sure as a stranger you would have questions. I don’t need to go straight home, would you like to go have a cup of coffee?” she asks.

This woman is way too trusting. I could be a serial killer for all she knows. “You don’t even know me, I could be a convict for all you know.” The pharmacy tech hands me my medications.

Emma sticks out her elbow for me to hold. “I don’t think a convict would take the time to ask me about my Nana.”

“You never know, I’ve trusted people I thought completely harmless before and have been proven wrong,” I tell her, my heart aching at the thought of August’s brother TR.

“Sam, are you a convict or a serial killer?” she asks, grinning at me.

“No,” I laugh.

“Then what about that cup of coffee?” she reaches out, touching my arm.

“What about your husband? He might not like the idea of you going with some strange man for a cup of coffee.”

Her hand goes to her mouth and she laughs. “I’m not married, Sam.”

I touch the rings on her finger. “You have these on,” I say.

“Well, if you will treat me to a cup of coffee, I will explain the wedding rings.” She takes my elbow to lead her, even though I don’t think she needs my guidance. “Come on Sunny, Sam here can buy you a dog treat too.” Sunny gets up and follows us out of the store.