Beep, beep-beep, beep, beep-beep . . . the monitor chirps at slow, even intervals, like a slow waltz. It’s a sound that I’ve grown accustomed to working in Great Falls as a nurse at St. Joseph’s Memorial Hospital, so familiar I can tune it out unless it stops.

But in this particular patient’s case, someone who had been at death’s door just a week ago and a half ago, it’s music to my ears. Fighting off severe pneumonia can be hard for anyone, and this patient wasn’t the strongest to begin with.

A hacking cough interrupts my thoughts, and my instincts kick in. I can’t help it. Even before I was a nurse, I wanted to take care of people.

“You feeling okay, Mrs. Smith?” I ask concernedly, rushing over to check the numbers on the monitors and more importantly, pat her back and comfort her through the coughing fit. “How’s the chest?”

Eleanor Smith, a seventy-one-year-old woman with a shock of wiry gray hair who’s a total hoot and has taken to giving me unsolicited advice over the week she’s been here, waves me away unconcernedly, her bushy brows crinkling her forehead into a patchwork of wrinkles. It takes a moment for her to regain control of her breathing to speak as she shakes her head. “Of course I am, dear. Just a little coughing, that’s all. Probably from being cooped up in this dreadful room all day.”

She gestures a gaunt arm at the window where I see the clear blue skyline of Great Falls. The air is so crystal-clear I can even see the snow-capped Bear Mountains in the distance. They look so beautiful. A part of me wishes I were there soaking in some sunlight, right up at the ski resort I can just make out on the nearest of the hills. “I understand, Mrs. Smith.”

“It’s so depressing lying in here when all that is waiting for me out there.” She shakes her head, looking rightfully agitated. “A damned shame, really. My garden needs me.”

I smile knowingly. It’s the beginning of spring, barely past our last frost and while Great Falls thawed quickly this year, the only thing Mrs. Smith’s garden is growing is mushy snowmen. “Well, I have some good news for you,” I say cheerfully. “Dr. Turner says your condition is stable enough that you’ll likely be discharged in a couple of days. He just needs to run some additional tests to make absolutely sure you’re all set.”

“Well, he’d better hurry the hell up then,” Eleanor grumbles. “The radishes can’t grow themselves.”

I chuckle, knowing her radishes will be just fine even if she’s here for another month. “I’m going to change your bedsheets out now, Mrs. Smith, okay?” I ask gently. “Do you want me to roll you over or do you want to get in the chair?”

Eleanor gives a faint nod towards the chair. “Oh, I want to sit up in the chair for a bit. Can you help? Just watch the hip. It’s always giving me trouble. Too much rump shaking in my younger days, if you know what I mean.”

I can’t help but giggle, realizing patients like Eleanor are one of the reasons I love what I do. Sure, it’s a little weird to see a woman old enough to be my grandmother talking about booty shaking, but who knows? Maybe she was getting her freak on at Woodstock. And I’ve always enjoyed meeting new people, getting to know them, their personalities and all their quirks. Helping them get better and sending them on their way in better condition than when they arrived are what drive me to do what I do.

“All set,” I say when I’m done helping Eleanor’s to the chair and changing her bed. “Is there anything else you’d like to make you more comfortable?”

Mrs. Smith shakes her head, patting my hand. “No, thank you. You’re such a sweet girl, Anabelle . . . and a wonderful nurse.”

A surge of warmth flows through my chest. I always love to get compliments from my patients, a sign that even if they’re stuck in the hospital, something that is by nature depressing, I did something to brighten their day. “Thank you, Mrs. Smith.”

Eleanor looks at me, her wise rheum-lined blue eyes searching my face. “But my word, child, you look tired. Are you getting enough sleep?”

I open and close my mouth for a moment, shocked by her blunt statement. “Pardon?”

Eleanor gestures at the mirror over the sink. “Look at yourself, girl. You look like you haven’t rested in days.”

I begin to protest but stop short when I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror. With brown sugar eyes, bra-length honey-brown hair, and an hourglass figure, some would say I’m pretty. But with a shock, I realize that Eleanor’s right. I do look more haggard than usual, and the dark circles under my eyes are underscored with bags fit to be luggage.

But I can’t help it. The flu season this year was a bitch, and a lot of nurses have been calling off with bugs of some type or another. I’ve been helping, taking overtime shifts on the regular because they needed staff. But I’ve been so busy lately, I haven’t even noticed the subtle changes in my appearance.

“I’ve been working a little overtime,” I admit grudgingly, “but I don’t mind.”

Mrs. Smith tuts me, and I’m reminded that in her previous life she was a junior high school teacher. “Oh, that’s bull, young lady. You’re a human, not a robot. How long have you been working hard like this? A year? Two? I think you need a serious break, my dear,” Eleanor says, gesturing back at the window. “And a lot of sun. You’ve been here since they brought me in on what I thought was my last breath. I’ve seen how hard you work, but you need some down time too. Do it for yourself, but if you won’t do that . . . do it for me, an old lady who understands that a day relaxing in the sunshine is just what you need. Trust me. You’ll thank me later.”

My immediate urge is to brush off Eleanor’s suggestion. Yes, I work hard, but I’m used to it, going straight from all-night study sessions to twelve-hour shifts at the hospital. Plus, honestly, I need to work hard. I’ve still got a stack of student loans roughly as long as my arm. Besides, I truly love what I do, so working a lot doesn’t feel like a burden. It gives me focus and keeps my mind off my lack of a social life.

I hold back the dark snort at my ‘social life’. My life consists of work and the occasional dinner with my brother, Trey. He seems to think it’s my fault I haven’t found a man, dramatically bemoaning that I spend most of my time working or with my nose stuck in a book. Of course, it doesn’t help that he’s found the man of his dreams in Brad, a hair and makeup wizard who is an absolute trip. Falling in love has suddenly made Trey into Team Love’s biggest cheerleader, and he’s decided that I’m missing out.

Worst part is? He might be right. I haven’t been looking for love, but lately, nights alone over TV dinners and DVR reruns don’t feel the same. I’d like to find that ‘special someone’ to come home to, but it hasn’t happened. I really don’t know what’s wrong with me. At twenty-eight, I still have time, and my biological clock hasn’t started screaming doomsday. Maybe that’s been the issue? No sense of urgency, so I’ve just been coasting along, focused on other things like school, work . . . the past. Nope, not going there. Definitely not.

As if reading my mind, Eleanor pulls me out of my reverie. “And you definitely look like you could use a date,” she says, putting a little emphasis on the word ‘date’ to show she doesn’t mean a dinner out on the town. She lowers her voice to a whisper. “How about that Adam fella who comes in here at night? That boy’s sure got a nice tush on him.”

I start to protest. Adam is definitely not my type, considering his brain is solely focused on gym schedules and new protein shake combos to help bulk up. But to my horror, a giant yawn escapes my lips instead of my explanation.

Eleanor jumps at the opening. “See, what did I tell you? You’re about to pass out on the floor.”

“Okay,” I admit grudgingly. “Maybe I am a little overworked. But it’s nothing a good night’s rest won’t fix.” I give Eleanor a gentle smile. “Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Smith, but I’m fine. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit, okay?”

She gives me a wise scowl and crosses her bony arms across her chest. “You’ll be seeing things my way soon. Watch. Us old bats know these things.”

For the rest of the morning, I make my rounds through the floor, checking in on each of my patients. Eleanor’s words never leave my mind, and the more I think about it, the more I like the idea of a little vacation—some fresh air, clear blue skies, and sun to keep the pep in my step. The flu ‘epidemic’ is waning. What harm could it do?

It’s not long before I’m daydreaming about all the fun places I can visit. Disneyworld . . . Hawaii . . . okay, those might be a little beyond my means. But there’s one place that stands out to me more than others, a place I haven’t been to in over ten years but a place I’ve been yearning to go back to.

Ironically enough, it’s local.

You can’t go back there. That was a different time, a different space. There’s nothing there now but memories. Dead memories.

By the time I make it back to Eleanor’s room for a scheduled check-in, I admit to myself that I’m feeling a little bit tired from all the running back and forth between patients. And I’ve still got med rounds and making sure lunches go out correctly.

“Well look who’s back,” Eleanor teases, taking her eyes off the TV and fixing them on me. “Ready to switch places with me yet? I’ve got this bed warm and comfortable for you.” She grins and pats the bed next to her.

I laugh and throw my hands up in defeat. “Okay, Mrs. Smith, I’ll admit it. You’re right. I’m a little tired, and now that you mentioned a getaway, I’ve been thinking about it all morning.”

Eleanor smiles and gives me a thumbs-up. “That’s the spirit! Have you thought about where’d you like to go?”

Picking up the clipboard from the end of her bed, I write as I talk. “A little bit. But if I do end up taking off, it has to be somewhere that’s worth it.” I give Eleanor a wry smile as I fix my eyes on the snow-capped mountains in the distance. “Somewhere special.”

I’m hungry by the time I make it to the break room. Unfortunately, I didn’t pack lunch, and I have no desire to walk down to the cafeteria. But I did manage to stuff two of my favorite dudes in the freezer for a snack before my shift.

Ben & Jerry . . . I know you’re cheating man-whores who’ll put out for any girl who’ll wave some money and a spoon in your face, but damn if a mouthful of your cream isn’t what hits the spot.

I grin at my own dirty double-entendres and retreat to the corner of the room to enjoy my half-eaten tub of Rocky Road, sinking down on the beaten-up but comfy old couch some doctor donated long before I started working here. While I eat, I watch as some of my co-workers come in and out, chitter-chattering about the latest gossip.

Usually, if a subject interests me, I join in. That’s how conversations go around here, just jump in with both feet while you can and drop out when you have to. But today, I’m content to listen from afar. My mind is too busy contemplating an actual vacation.

Throughout the day, I’ve thought about going to Paris, Barcelona, Greece, a whole bunch of exotic places. But I quickly discarded those ideas. If I can’t even do Disney, flying overseas would break the bank, and besides, I definitely don’t want to take a trip like that by myself. I try to remember the last vacation I actually took. Maybe when I was a kid, piled up in the backseat with Trey to drive to some rock formation or museum? Shit, has it really been that long?

I’m in the midst of a delicious bite of ice cream, my tongue lightly scraping over a nugget of delicious fudge, when a brochure on the wall catches my eye. I squint, trying to see details from where I’m sitting. It looks like some brochure for a vacation hot spot.

With all the talk of a vacation today, I can’t help myself. I get up and walk over to examine it. The headline at the top seems to jump out at me.

Relax and get away. Find peace and beauty you have to see to believe!

It’s a gorgeously laid out pamphlet, with pictures of a beautiful cabin and scenery located in the Bear Mountains. The same mountains I saw through Eleanor’s window today.

There’s one picture in particular that sticks out to me. A nighttime shot of a small lake that feeds into a lagoon, the stars twinkling above. It’s so beautiful yet so very familiar. It plays with my mind as I leave the break room and go to get meds ready.

I’m about halfway through Mr. Robinson’s twelve pills when I realize, and I’m so shocked that my fingers go numb and the bottle falls out of my hand to clatter to the top of the med cart.

That lake . . . I’ve been there before.