19. Annette
Chapter nineteen
Annette
Things He Never Told Me
The arrivals board flashes ON TIME just as Keisha steps through the sliding doors, pulling a navy suitcase behind her.
I don't wait.
I weave through the small crowd and wrap her in a hug before she has a chance to set it down.
She laughs. "I was hoping for at least five seconds before you tackled me."
"You've been gone three months, Netty."
"Four."
"That's even worse."
She hugs me tighter before stepping back to look me over.
"You're thinner."
"I've been busy."
"You've always been busy."
She narrows her eyes. "Something else has changed."
I immediately look away. "Can we at least get you to the car before the interrogation starts?"
She grins. "Ah."
"There it is."
"What?"
"The subject change."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Mmm-hmm."
She hooks her arm through mine as we head toward the parking garage. Forty minutes later we're sitting in my apartment surrounded by takeout containers, two mugs of tea, and enough laughter to make the quiet rooms feel lived in again.
Keisha kicks off her shoes and curls one leg beneath herself on the sofa.
"I love how cozy this place is."
"It's small, but it's home."
The simple words settle somewhere unexpectedly deep. Home.
I'd been so focused on work these last few months that I hadn't stopped to think about whether Frostholm had started becoming one.
Keisha studies me over the rim of her mug. "You seem happy."
"I am."
She waits. I know that look. It's the same one she used whenever she knew I hadn't told her the whole story.
"What?"
"You didn't say you were busy. You didn't say you were tired." She smiles. "You said you were happy."
I shrug, trying to sound casual. "I like it here."
"The job?"
"Yes, and the people, the hospital."
She nods thoughtfully. "It really is a wonderful place."
"It is."
"Since I changed over to the med-surg floor back home, I'd forgotten how much I like the rehab department. I almost wandered into the therapy gym the other afternoon out of habit."
"Someone probably would've handed you a resistance band."
"You absolutely would've if you had been there."
We both laugh. The easy kind of laughter that only comes from years of shared memories.
***
The rest of the evening slips by the way that old friendships can.
Comfortably. Effortlessly.
Somewhere between reheated brownies and our second cups of tea, we end up laughing about the time we accidentally switched two patients' resistance bands and spent ten minutes trying to figure out why Mr. Donnelly suddenly thought he had developed superhuman strength.
"You blamed me," Keisha says.
"I absolutely did."
"You were the one who handed him the blue band."
"I was new."
"You'd been there six months."
"I was still emotionally new."
She laughs so hard she nearly spills her tea. "My friend, I have missed you."
"I've missed you too."
The apartment grows quiet again. Not awkward. Just...comfortable. Keisha looks around the room, taking in the overflowing bookshelf, the knitted blanket draped over the sofa, and the small collection of framed photographs on the mantel.
"You've made this place yours."
I follow her gaze. "I guess I have."
"You never unpacked this quickly before."
"I know."
"You usually live out of boxes for months."
"Yep."
She smiles. "Something about Frostholm feels different."
"It does.” The answer comes more easily than I expect. "I think that people slow down here. They notice each other. The cashier at the grocery store knows my name. My landlord keeps leaving fresh muffins outside my door."
Keisha laughs. "That sounds slightly suspicious."
"Mrs. Jensen is seventy-eight."
"I stand corrected."
"And last week my neighbor shoveled my sidewalk before I even got home from work."
She tilts her head. "You like belonging somewhere.
" The words settle softly between us. I hadn't thought of it in quite that way. Maybe she’s right.
Maybe somewhere between the frozen lake, friendly neighbors, and long days at the hospital, Frostholm and Briar Cove have quietly stopped feeling temporary.
Keisha stretches and glances toward the clock.
"So..." she says. "What's on the agenda tomorrow?"
"I thought I'd give you the grand tour."
"Oh?"
"The lake, downtown, the bakery you’ve heard me talk about."
She smiles. "I've heard more about this bakery than any actual tourist attraction."
I laugh. "That's because around here the bakery practically is a tourist attraction."
"Who's the owner?"
"The owner’s name is Sadie. She's married to Colby Reid, one of the hockey players, and they have an eight-year-old daughter named Jillie."
"Oh, I like that name."
"You'll love Jillie. She has enough personality for three children. And she has this wonderful habit of asking questions nobody else is brave enough to ask."
Keisha smiles. "I thought most hockey stars dated actresses and influencers."
"So does half the internet. I shake my head, laughing. "Instead, he fell in love with the local baker and her little girl."
Keisha's expression softens. "I like him already. Now what else is in store for today?"
"There's a little independent bookstore on Main Street."
"Oh, now you're speaking my language."
"It belongs to a girlfriend named Brooke Reed who will inherit it from her grandparents."
I smile and continue. "It's one of those places with creaky wooden floors, overstuffed reading chairs, and a cat who firmly believes he owns the business."
Keisha laughs. "I'm sold! What’s a bookstore without a cat?”
Keisha studies me for a moment. "You've made friends." The observation catches me by surprise. I glance down at my mug before answering. "I guess..." A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. "...I have."
She smiles back. "I was hoping you would."
For a little while neither of us says anything. The apartment settles into that comfortable silence only old friends understand
Funny, when I first accepted the temporary position in Frostholm, I'd planned to keep my head down, finish my rotation, and head home.
Funny, when I first came to Frostholm, I'd told myself this was temporary.
Finish the rotation. Learn everything I could.
Then move on to the next assignment. Somewhere along the way, I'd stopped thinking of this town as somewhere I was working.
Without realizing it, I'd started thinking of it as somewhere I belonged.
Keisha studies me for a moment. "Careful."
I smile. "About what?"
"Belonging."
I laugh. Yeah, I know. I still have one more clinical rotation after this."
"Right."
"A few more weeks and I'll be packing everything back into boxes again."
Keisha nods slowly. "But that doesn't stop you from enjoying where you are now."
"No." I glance around my little apartment.
"I suppose it doesn't."
The words sound more certain than I feel.
***
Outside, snow drifts lazily past the living room window. Inside, the only sound is the soft ticking of the kitchen clock.
Keisha studies me over the rim of her mug. "Okay."
I smile. "Okay what?"
"We've talked about the town."
I nod.
"The bakery."
Another nod.
"The bookstore."
"Mmm-hmm."
"The muffins."
I laugh.
"I feel like you're building a case."
"I am."
She sets her mug on the coffee table. "Now..." Her smile softens. "Tell me about Jamie."
Not Captain Walker. Just...Jamie. The way she says his name catches me off guard. For a moment I simply stare into my tea. "What do you want to know?"
She shrugs. "Whatever you haven't been telling me."
I smile to myself. "That's a dangerous question."
"I know." She leans back onto the sofa. "So, answer it."
I take a slow breath. "I don't even know where to start."
***
"Start with this." Her voice is gentle. "What makes him different?"
The question surprises me.
"You've had wonderful patients before."
"I know."
"Funny patients."
"I know."
"More stubborn patients."
She laughs. "I definitely know."
"So, she waits. "What makes Jamie different?"
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. Because I'd never really tried to put it into words before.
Finally, I say, "I think..." I stare at the dancing flames in the fireplace. " it’s that he notices people."
Keisha doesn't interrupt.
"He remembers everyone's name, remembers birthdays, and asks about grandchildren. He somehow knows when someone is having a hard day. I honestly don't know how he keeps track of it all."
The room falls quiet again. Then Keisha asks softly, "And who notices him?"
The question steals the breath from my lungs. I blink. "What?"
"You just described a man who spends his life making sure everyone else feels seen."
She tilts her head. "Who does that for him?"
I don't answer right away, but I already know. "I try to."
The words barely rise above a whisper.
Neither of us speaks for several moments. Finally, she asks, "What happens when your rotation ends?"
"You still have one more clinical placement."
The smile fades from my face. "I leave. They'll assign me somewhere else."
"Do you get any say?"
"Very little."
"Could be anywhere, Seattle. Chicago. Boston.Who knows?"
"And Jamie?"
I look down at my hands. "He'll still be here."
The words hurt more than I expect. "He'll have hockey, the team, this town."
I laugh quietly. "And I'll pack up another apartment and start over somewhere else."
Keisha reaches across the space between us and gently squeezes my hand.
"Is that what scares you?"
I don't even have to think. "I'm not afraid that I'm falling in love with him."
The admission hangs quietly between us. "I'm afraid," I swallow. "…of what happens when I have to leave."
My eyes sting unexpectedly. "I keep telling myself this was always temporary."
"A rotation, a few months, one assignment. But somewhere along the way, I glance around my apartment, it stopped feeling temporary."
Keisha nods. "I thought it might."
"And Jamie?" I smile sadly. "He has no idea."
"Have you told him any of this?"
I shake my head.
"Why?"
"Because..." I look toward the window, watching snow settle on the railing outside.
"...I'm his therapist. And in a few weeks..."
My voice grows quieter.