Chapter 2 #2
Callum laughs, then gestures for me to follow him. "Let's continue the tour, shall we? We've got a lot of ground to cover before your first shift officially starts."
We pass by several more treatment rooms, a small surgical suite, and an aviary where injured seabirds recover in spacious enclosures.
Finally, Callum leads me to his office, a cluttered space decorated with sea glass, driftwood sculptures, and framed photos of a Selkie woman and two Selkie children.
"Have a seat," he offers, clearing a stack of papers from a chair.
I perch on the edge, maintaining the professional demeanor that's become my armor. Callum studies me for a moment, his seal-like eyes unnervingly perceptive.
"Your résumé is impressive," he says, tapping a folder on his desk. "Two years at Tufts vet school before your hiatus. Stellar recommendations. But I want to know why Saltford Bay? We're not exactly a career-making center."
I've prepared for this question, but it still unnerves me.
"I wanted somewhere I could make a direct impact. Somewhere quieter where I could just focus on the job and not my ambition." Then I take a deep breath and decide to get the obvious out of the way. “I know everyone has heard of my father’s work, and I’ll always be grateful for that.”
Callum nods slowly.
"I read about your father's passing. I'm sorry. His writing will be remembered for generations."
My stomach tightens. Of course he knows. Everyone in literary circles knows about Henry Durand and his tragic illness. Most don’t know a thing about his daughter, who gave up her promising career to care for him. And I want to keep it that way.
"Thank you," I say with an even smile I don’t feel at all. "I'm looking forward to making my own mark now and I hoped I could do it here."
If Callum notices my deflection, he doesn't press the issue. Instead, he moves on to outline my responsibilities: morning rounds, nutritional plans for recovering animals, rehab exercises, and community education. All things I look forward to.
"We're starting you with the seal pups," he explains. "That's your specialty, according to Dr. Grenshaw's recommendation letter, and Mira could use the help. We’re having a particularly busy season."
I nod eagerly. "I'd love that."
"Perfect." Callum smiles. "Let's get you over to the food prep area. Mira's probably already mixing up fish smoothies."
Sure enough, when we reach the kitchen area, Mira is operating a large industrial blender filled with a grayish-pink slurry that smells intensely of fish.
"High-calorie formula for underweight pups," she explains, seeing my expression. "Not appetizing to humans, but baby seal caviar."
I roll up my sleeves, easily falling into the familiar routine. I’ve trained long enough that this is second nature for me. "What's your herring-to-supplement ratio?"
"Three-to-one, with added fish oil." Mira hands me a clipboard with feeding charts. "We've got five pups right now, all rescued after that nor'easter last month separated them from their mothers."
I scan the charts, noting weights, symptoms, and progress notes.
"Have you tried increasing the calcium phosphate for the smallest one? It'll help with bone density during this growth stage."
Mira raises an eyebrow.
"Didn't think of that. Good call."
Callum’s cell phone rings, and he excuses himself after I reassure him that I’m ready to start the work right away. Mira and I work side by side, preparing specialized formulas for each pup and the time passes. The technical discussion feels comfortable, grounding.
This is what I trained for, what I know. It feels like a balm on a burn after years of feeling out of place.
"So," Mira says casually as we label containers, "what made you leave Boston? It's quite a change, coming to a small town like Saltford Bay."
I focus intently on measuring fish oil. I knew those questions would come. It doesn’t make it any easier.
“I needed a change of scenery.” It’s not even a lie. “Everyone deserves a fresh start, don’t you think?”
"That’s true." Mira sounds unconvinced. "But you could have found a position in one of the most prestigious research centers. Especially with your connections. You must have a lot."
My hand stills, and the knot returns in my throat.
"Do you Google all your new coworkers?" I turn to her with a direct gaze. I’ve spent enough of my life justifying myself to strangers. If this place is going to be my fresh start, then I’m not going to start it by hiding from my past.
"Only the interesting ones," she admits with a grin. "Don't worry, I respect your privacy. Just figured I'd get the awkward 'I know who you are' moment out of the way."
I appreciate her directness more than she knows.
"Thanks. It's complicated. But I'm here to work, not rehash my past."
"Fair enough." She squirts fish formula into a feeding syringe. "Though if you ever want to trash-talk entitled Ivy League school students, I know a few who could give you a run for their money. Literally."
That draws a reluctant laugh from me.
"I'll keep that in mind."
While Mira steps out to answer a call, I organize the feeding supplies, finding comfort in the methodical work.
Sylvie interrupts my moment of reflection, bursting in with a stack of papers.
“Forgot to give you these! Employee handbook, tax forms, waiver for the holiday party karaoke competition.” She places a threateningly thick stack of paperwork on the desk at my side. “That last one is mandatory; don't let Callum tell you otherwise.”
I chuckle at her fake glare, then she’s gone again. I have a feeling this is kind of her thing.
The rest of the day passes in a productive blur. I help clean enclosures, check vitals on recovering animals, and assist Mira with the afternoon feedings. By late afternoon, my muscles ache pleasantly from honest work, and my mind feels clearer than it has in months.
I'm wiping down a treatment table when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, expecting a message from Sylvie about the paperwork, but I freeze when I see Chase's name on the screen.
Hey Jax! Hope you're settling in nicely. Was thinking I might pay you a visit soon.
Shit. A knot forms in the pit of my stomach.
I take a deep breath and type back.
This is a surprise. I thought you were busy with that new health supplement business you were so excited about last month?
The three dots appear immediately.
Yeah, well… that's on hold. Just miss you, that's all. It's been weird not having you around.
Suspicion curls in my stomach. Chase never just misses anyone unless he needs something. He's like a child who only remembers his toys when someone else is playing with them.
What's really going on?
The three dots appear, then disappear. Another pause, longer this time before they reappear.
Nothing to worry about, Jax. I'll explain everything when I see you. Promise it's not bad. Just need a little change of scenery.
Sure. I’ve texted you the address already. You know where to find me.
I grip my phone tightly, mentally translating Chase-speak into reality.
"Change of scenery" likely means he's burned bridges somewhere.
"Nothing to worry about" guarantees there's plenty to worry about. Chase is the businessman’s version of Peter Pan.
He never grew up, always expecting others to clean up his messes while he charms his way to the next disaster.
Dad was always his lifeline. Only now Dad is gone and I’m determined not to become his next crutch. He needs to learn to fly on his own.
"You okay?" Mira appears beside me, frowning at my expression. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Just tired," I manage, slipping my phone back into my pocket. "First day and all."
"Sure," she says, clearly not believing me, tilting her head slightly.
I grip the edge of the table, mentally cycling through my options. Tell him not to come? Ignore the texts? Resign my new position and flee town completely?
Minutes that feel like hours pass before I exhale slowly, only now realizing I've been holding my breath.
"See you tomorrow?" Mira asks as she gathers her things.
"Yeah." I force a smile. "And the day after, and the day after that."
Mira laughs at my joke, the sound strange and musical, like little bells hang in her throat, then she goes out the door.
I stay behind a moment longer to gather my things and fill out the paperwork for Sylvie.
When I finally step outside, twilight settles over the bay.
I check my phone before starting my car.
No new messages from Chase. Yet.
As I drive back to my new beach house, the lighthouse beam sweeps across my windshield.
A new job. A new place. A new me.
A new start. A smile spreads on my lips.