I COULDN’T DENY IT; I was rattled.
I had known returning home would be difficult.
I’d walked away with little to no desire of ever returning. Severing those ties had made it easier. I’d convinced myself it was the right decision for everyone, and eventually, the guilt had become nothing more than a distant memory.
But running into Dean and the mess that followed had brought it all back.
It’d brought everything back.
My hands shook as I washed them in the doctors’ lounge after finishing an impromptu lunch. Or dinner. I wasn’t sure. Since arriving in Virginia Beach, I’d been doing everything I could to help with the victims and their families.
Having privileges in Illinois and North Carolina only, I’d been granted emergency privileges in the state of Virginia to help with the ferry boat victims. This hospital was used to taking the brunt of emergencies from up and down the coast, splitting them with Greenville, North Carolina, but tonight, they were far from sufficiently staffed.
I was more than glad to help and welcomed the short-term distraction wholeheartedly.
It had been a long night, and it wasn’t over.
Finding Molly…it could have been avoided. I could have spent the entire night at the hospital without seeing her. But I’d promised Dean I’d take care of her, so I had done the only thing I could. I’d tried to calm her fears, but instead, I’d found myself as the fearful one.
“Jameson,” Dr. Fisher called out as he breezed in and collapsed on one of the couches, “you did good tonight.”
“Just trying to help,” I said, grabbing a paper towel for my hands.
“Crazy night.” His eyes were closed, but his hands continued to move in slow circles around his temples.
I recognized the posture.
Exhaustion.
After working my ass off through years of school and a never-ending residency, I knew the feeling. It seemed to be the only constant in my life.
“Chief said you know some of the patients who came in?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “I was on the ferry, headed home for my father’s funeral.”
He immediately sat up. “No shit?”
I simply nodded.
“They’re saying it’s the first ferry accident around here in years.”
“Decades, I’d wager,” I answered.
Fisher returned to his horizontal position on the couch, and we continued to make small talk. He seemed unaffected by the events that had taken place tonight. Being a transplant from Ohio, he didn’t have the deep connections like some of us.
To him, it was just another long night. I wish it were for me, too.
Leaving him to his sleep, I made my way out of the lounge to check on a few patients. Since arriving, I’d mostly been working in the ER. My own minor wounds had been tended to, and then I’d gone to work. Idly sitting around never suited me. I much preferred the chaos of the hospital to the silence of my apartment.
It was why I’d risen through the ranks at MacNeal. With the chief of surgery looking to retire soon, it would only be a matter of time before I was running the whole place. But, until then, I was here, fulfilling my father’s last wish.
One I’d repeatedly told him I didn’t want to be responsible for.
After checking up with the nursing staff and stopping by a few rooms, I knew there was still one thing left to do.
Heading into the surgical waiting room, I found a set of familiar eyes.
“Jake,” Dottie called out.
The emotion in her voice was audible, and it broke my heart to see this woman I’d once considered kin in such pain.
“I’m here,” I said as she rushed into my arms.
My eyes squeezed shut as the tiny woman wrapped herself around me. She’d once been my mother’s dearest and closest friend. Since her death, Dottie had been a constant reminder of everything I’d lost.
“It’s okay. He’s okay.”
Her hands searched me, touching every scratch and mark the accident had left upon my skin. “Are you well?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” I assured her. “I have news on Dean.”
Her eyes found mine as Taylor joined his mother’s side. Although he was several years our junior, I always had a soft spot for this specific Sutherland. Dottie always said it was the only child in me because his own brother couldn’t stand the kid. I’d laugh and roll my eyes, but secretly, I agreed with her.
Taylor had been as much my little brother as Dean’s.
And here he was, standing with his mother, looking me straight in the eye, begging for answers.
“He’s been moved to a room,” I announced, having just checked on him during my rounds.
A sigh of relief was felt between us.
“He’s awake, and they’re doing their best to control his pain.”
“Can we go see him?” Dottie asked.
I nodded. “Yes, but don’t expect him to be very alert.”
“We understand,” Taylor answered for the both of them.
“I’ll take you now if you’re ready.”
Dottie took my hand in hers, and it was as if the years simply began to melt away. I remembered the sound of her voice when she’d called out from the kitchen, announcing dinner. I could see the hurt in her eyes when I’d told her I was leaving.
It was the same pain I saw tonight.
“Thank you, Jake.” She squeezed my fingers between hers.
“Of course.”
I escorted them down the hall and up the elevator to one of the general patient floors. She never let go of my hand the entire way.
When we arrived at Dean’s room, I stopped short, allowing them privacy. As he opened the door, Taylor sent me a heartfelt glance of gratitude.
My work here was done. Backing away, I heard the sobs as Dottie took it all in.
This part was never easy. The relief that he was alive, but the realization that things would never be the same.
It was a war of emotions, and I’d seen it over and over with my patients over the years.
Turning to leave, I found myself eye-to-eye with Molly once again. In her hand was a cup of coffee from the café down in the lobby.
“He’s awake,” I simply said.
She nodded. “I was with him,” she explained. “The nurse in recovery took pity on me and let me stay until they brought him up here.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” I said, stepping aside. My hands shook in my pockets as I turned to leave.
In all my life, this girl—this woman—was always my one weakness, even after a decade apart.
“Jake,” she said softly, making me turn back around.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks,” she said, “for saving him.”
My jaw twitched as I watched her walk away, joining her awaiting family. Life had moved on without me, and now, it was time I did the same.
I spent the next few days in the hospital, attending to those who had been injured in the ferry accident. With access to and from Ocracoke being so few and far between, I decided my skills were being put to better use in the hospital.
Or at least, that was what I told myself, but really I was just overstaying my welcome at the hospital and avoiding reality. Most of the patients I’d attended to the night of the accident had either moved on to staffed doctors, been discharged or transferred to other facilities.
I had officially become useless.
Toward the end of the week, I finally made the decision to venture back down toward Hatteras. My father’s funeral was coming up, having been delayed several days due to the accident, and as much as I’d like to skip it and spend the day in a bar with a bottle of Jack, I knew that wasn’t an option.
He might not have been the best father, but he was mine, and I’d honor his memory like the good Southern boy my mama had raised me to be, even if it killed me.
I couldn’t bring myself to visit Dean before I left. I hadn’t been a significant part of his life in years. There was no use in pretending we were something more now. He was well attended to anyhow. The Sutherlands had been the model family, taking shifts and commuting back and forth to the island so that he was never alone.
Dottie had made an effort to stop by and check on me after that night in the waiting room. I’d downplayed her affection, saying it was just part of the job.
Her face had said it all. I’d hurt her. Once again.
She hadn’t visited since.
It was just as well. I hadn’t returned here to rekindle old friendships or make new ones. I had a life back in Chicago. A career I’d spent a lifetime to achieve. Two months in Ocracoke could never change that.
So, with a fond farewell from the staff, I made my way down the coast. The ferry system had opened back up to the public while the authorities investigated the vessel. So far, nothing had been released regarding the explosion. I couldn’t decide if there was simply not enough information or if there was, and they just didn’t want to say.
In any case, I boarded the ferry with confidence. After witnessing as many traumas as I had in the last several years, I was sort of numb to the idea of it happening again. Even after the first explosion had occurred while chaos broke out all around me, I’d operated on pure instinct, tending to the injured while giving no real regard to what was happening.
I could have made an excellent soldier.
Stone-cold and laser-focused. That had been my motto during my residency. Everyone had feared me while secretly wishing they could take my place.
Dean had said I’d always had a tender heart.
But that had been the old me.
There was no room for bleeding hearts and emotions in a surgical room. Just precision and endurance.
That was the new version of Jake Jameson, and I’d do well to remember it over the next few weeks. Being here, in this place, would inevitably get to me, and I couldn’t risk getting too attached.
Only a dozen or so cars bordered the once-packed ferry that carried tourists and locals alike. With high season approaching, I suddenly found myself wondering how the island would fare with so many of its people depending on this ferry to bring in revenue.
No doubt, it would cause much concern and worry among the inhabitants.
“Jakey Jameson? Is that you?”
Hearing my old nickname had me stumbling back in time before I had a chance to respond.
“I love you, Jakey.” Molly smiled.
“Jakey? That’s horrible. It sounds like Minnie Mouse’s cousin or something.”
She laughed, resting her head on my shoulder. “No, it’s endearing and adorable. Just like you.”
I shook my head, chuckling under my breath. “Couldn’t you have thought of something endearing, adorable, and perhaps a little sexy? Manlier maybe? God forbid Dean hears that. I’d never live it down.”
“Then, it will be our little secret.”
It wasn’t. By noon the next day, I had been called Jakey by everyone I knew. From that moment on, it’d stuck.
Jakey Jameson.
I hadn’t heard it in years.
I guess the fact that I was just hearing it now, after seeing so many familiar faces, meant something.
I truly was an outsider.
I turned from my hunched over stance on the railing overlooking the water. The sun was high and bright in the sky, offering little shade. But the breeze from the ocean gave a much-needed reprieve from the heat as I attempted to recognize the man behind me.
“Mr. Lovell?” I said, noticing the familiar white hair and kind smile. He’d been a frequent guest at the McIntyres’ inn. So frequent, I had known him by name, even now.
“Good to see you, old boy.” He smiled, offering a hand.
I took it and embraced him for a quick moment, noticing how frail and thin he’d become.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “Surely, your week at By the Bay should have come and gone by now.”
He joined me against the railing. “Oh, yes, last week,” he replied. “But, with the ferry being out, we ended up staying past our welcome.”
“Highly doubt that. The McIntyres treat you like family. No way they’d get sick of you.” I said, remembering how much the McIntyres loved their guests, especially the ones who came back year after year.
“Miss Molly said something of the sort as well. But we felt obliged to offer some assistance after hearing about Dean. She doesn’t ask for help much, you know. She’s always trying to run everything on her own.”
“Molly’s running the B and B now?” I asked, not surprised at all.
After all, it was what she’d always planned on doing.
Nothing could have deterred her.
Not even me.
“Oh, yes. For about a year now. Her parents retired, and she’s been doing a fine job in their absence. A fine job,” he pressed.
“Good. That’s good. So, what are you doing ferrying back and forth like a local?”
He laughed. “Oh, running some errands for Miss Molly, of course. She’s been traveling up and down to the hospital to care for Mr. Sutherland, and I felt it was only right to help her out.”
“Sounds about right,” I muttered.
Molly always had a knack for exceeding her limits in order to aid everyone around her.
“When my mother died, she visited our house every day for months, delivering casseroles and desserts. I thought my father and I would both die of diabetes by the time she was done with us.”
He chuckled, a hoarse sort of sound rising in his chest. “Her mother never could keep her out of the kitchen. That sister of hers though? She couldn’t boil a pot of water.”
I laughed out loud. “Millie? You’re right about that. She was never meant for the service life.”
He paused shortly. “I’m sorry to hear about your father,” he said.
I nodded, choosing to look out toward the water rather than at the old man beside me. “Thank you,” I managed to say.
“He was a good man.”
“You knew him?” I asked, not realizing how close Mr. Lovell and his wife had gotten to the folks who lived on the island.
“Oh, yes. There was one visit, several years ago, when I came down with the flu. Awful fever and chills. Just my rotten luck, but your father made a special house call for me—visiting me in our guest room at the inn. Kind fellow, your dad.”
It wasn’t how I remembered him—at least, not the last few years—but I was relieved to hear he’d done his duty as a doctor, caring for those in town.
“So, you’re headed to the clinic, is that right?” he asked as we ventured across the open water toward the other side of Highway 12.
“Not right away. My…” I stumbled a bit. “My father’s funeral is today,” I explained.
“Ah, you’re right. My apologies, Jakey. You’ve had a rough go at it this week.”
I agreed, slowly nodding my head. “For all of us, I believe.”
“True, you are,” he replied. “Well, I wish you well. It’s no easy thing—saying good-bye to a parent. But I guess you already know that.”
I nodded, remembering the hollow ache I’d felt since the day we buried my mother. It had grown every day…until, finally, I couldn’t stand it.
So, I’d done the only thing I could.
I’d left.
There were very few things I’d prepared myself for when returning to my hometown.
The least of all? My father’s funeral.
I had known it was going to take place. I’d helped arrange the damn thing. But knowing and seeing were two entirely different words.
Driving up to the old church he’d faithfully served most of his life felt almost surreal. Having dressed in the cramped bathroom on the ferry so that I could avoid returning to my childhood home for a few hours, I couldn’t help but notice the sheer number of cars.
Mr. Lovell was right.
My father had indeed been a good man, a hero in fact.
To everyone but me.
He’d served these people well, making them part of his family as much as his own flesh and blood. They were the weak and helpless, begging for help when they couldn’t find any themselves.
And he had graciously granted it.
With a prescription for the flu or a splint for a sprain, he had been the saving grace on this island.
I only wished I’d felt the same about the old man.
Perhaps then, this wouldn’t be so hard.
My face was recognized almost instantly among the crowd as they quietly took their seats. I nodded and shook hands with many, making my way to the first pew saved for family members. As his only living relative, it was quite empty.
Just as well, I thought.
I was an outsider as much as any tourist now. Hell, even Mr. Lovell had more of a connection to this place than I did. The reverend who’d delivered my first communion and put up with me for two solid years of confirmation classes took his place at the pulpit. After he gave a solemn nod in my direction, the organ began its sorrowful medley.
I’d asked for a closed casket.
No one needed to see him like this.
Not even me.
It was a small favor I’d granted him in his death. To be remembered as he had been. I’d been informed he’d gone quietly with little pain or fanfare.
Cancer, they’d told me. He’d been living with it for years until, finally, it’d gotten the better of him. No doubt, he’d struggled until the very end.
As the music finished and Reverend Brown stepped up to the pulpit, I felt someone slide in next to me. Molly didn’t say a single word as she took her seat beside me. She simply stared straight ahead, doing her best to ignore me as the reverend began to speak. My mouth opened, but I couldn’t find the words. Instead, I just followed her lead, giving my attention to the front of the church.
The reverend spoke of my father’s service and dedication to the community, his charity work, and his love for Jesus. He mentioned the deep devotion he’d had for his late wife and how proud he had been to see his son following in his footsteps.
“May he find his everlasting peace with the heavenly father,” he said as a final thought.
The church echoed with their amens.
It was a nice service with people from all over speaking of his accomplishments and his love for the island.
At the end, I sat, unmoved and rigid. As the music began, Molly rose, faltering for a brief second, and then she was gone without a word. I didn’t stay after that. I knew I should have, but in doing so, I would have had to endure the masses of people ready to offer up their words of condolence.
And I simply wasn’t ready for that yet.
So, instead, I snuck out the back while the little old ladies from the congregation rushed around, preparing the potluck that was to follow.
Hauling ass to my car, I revved the engine, and I drove.
I drove from one edge of the island to the other and then back again until, finally, I made my way up the familiar street. The one I’d memorized after years and years of walking down its dusty trail. I knew exactly how many trees lined each side. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d ridden my bike up and down it during the sweltering summers while my father worked up the road.
Pulling into the driveway, I took a moment to look up at it.
Nothing had changed since I said good-bye. Same blue paint my mother had spent weeks agonizing over, determined to pick the perfect color.
“I want it to look like the sky, Jake. Help me find the sky.”
Being all of five years old, I’d happily pointed up, and she’d laughed and held me close. In the end, she’d done it because the house truly looked as blue as the horizon.
But, like all things, the years had taken its toll on it. And what had once been a bright, vibrant color had now faded into something less than ideal.
Stepping out of the car, I dragged my feet, not wanting to enter, knowing I had somewhere else to visit before I could do so. Veering to the left, I entered the small garden my mother had tended. To my surprise, it was just as full and green as the day she’d left us.
“At least you got one thing right, Dad,” I murmured, grateful for the respect he’d given this place. No doubt our next-door neighbor was to thank for this.
As I walked on, I found it.
My mother’s memorial.
It had weathered some since I was last here, but I could still see her name as clearly as the day it had been installed.
Maggie Jameson.
Kneeling, I brushed the front of the large boulder, feeling the grit of dirt beneath my fingers as I traced each letter, remembering the day we carved them.
It was the only thing my father and I had agreed on—making sure her memory lived on in this garden.
We’d spent days chiseling each letter with painstaking precision.
And when it was finished, we released her ashes into the wind, spreading them amongst the flowers she’d loved so much. It was the last time I’d been in this place.
“Looking good, Ma,” I said, fidgeting with a small flower that had been placed next to her name.
I wasn’t sure what else to say. I hadn’t made it a habit to speak to the dead. Usually, I was doing my damnedest to keep them alive.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the church, young man?”
The familiar voice brought a smile to my face as I turned.
“Heard the ladies made a real nice spread. And you look like you could use a little homecoming.”
My hand rested on my flat stomach. “And maintain all this?” I grinned. “I don’t think so. Besides, you’re one to talk. Looks like you’re skipping out as well.”
“Bad back,” she replied, her hands resting on her hips as she took a place next to me.
Terri had been our neighbor since I was barely able to walk. Her husband had died before I could remember, and since then, it had always been just her.
And her giant garden. She’d been my mother’s mentor when it came to growing, and a friend when it came to everything else.
“Good to see you,” she said, not bothering to hug me like everyone else had.
“I take it this is your doing?” I asked, pointing to the fresh vegetables and fruit popping up all around us.
She shook her head. “No,” she answered. “This was all your father’s work. After you left, he came to me, drunk as all hell, and asked why all the plants were dead. I smacked him across his stupid face and told him you had to water the damn things. The next day, he returned, sober as a priest in church, and apologized, asking for help to honor your mom’s legacy.”
I swallowed hard, trying to imagine it.
“He didn’t touch the stuff from that moment on. But the damage had already been done. He got the cancer several years later.”
I nodded, remembering the letter he’d sent after he was diagnosed with liver cancer. At the time, I’d thought it served him right. God knew I’d spent several years of my adolescence trying to pry a bottle from his hands.
“He never told me he’d quit,” I said, not bothering to hide anything from this old woman.
Neighbors knew everything.
At least, on this island.
“Doesn’t surprise me. It was a hard battle for him. He fought the temptation every day until his death. Besides, it wouldn’t have made a difference. You had your life by then. He didn’t want to disrupt it.”
I let out a sort of snort.
“That’s why he dragged me back now? Because he didn’t want to disrupt my life?”
She bent down, tending to a few weeds intruding on the small lettuce crop. “Ah, well, I’d wager he was hoping you’d do it on your own. Guess he was wrong.”
My body exhaled in a sigh. “I’m not sure I can do this, Terri.”
“Fancy doctor like you? I imagine you’ll do just fine.”
“Not maintaining the practice. I mean, I’m not sure I can do this,” I said, pointing to the house.
“Too many ghosts,” she said simply. “Well, I’d tell you just to buck up and face them, but I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. Best advice I can give: do what feels right, and just like your daddy, take it one day at a time. It’s all you can do.”
She didn’t bother saying good-bye. Instead, she just briefly patted my shoulder and headed back out the way she’d come. Terri wasn’t big on formalities and always spoke her mind—whether I wanted to listen or not.
Today, however, I chose to listen.
Saying a silent good-bye to my mother, I pivoted on my heels in the direction of my rental car.
And I never looked back.