Chapter 2
Two
Luc
I wake just as the sun is climbing above the horizon.
Despite my evening out on the beach, this doesn’t surprise me. I’ve always been an early riser, especially in places that aren’t mine. This room is quiet in a way that never lets me forget I’m a visitor here.
Still, I stay in bed longer than I usually would.
Looking around the room, I realize my duffel sits open on the floor where I dropped it a few days ago, one shoe half visible beneath the edge of the bed.
I meant to close it and didn’t. The oversight needles me.
But then Maryanne surfaces. I can’t shake her.
Not because of what we did, but because of how easily I let it matter.
I wonder if I’ll see her at hospital functions. I don’t usually interact with the surgical teams. I’m a general practice doctor, so I refer people to more specialized doctors when their needs extend beyond my care. But I love that it all starts with me.
Anyway, I woke up with her on my mind. Clear. Uninvited. I’d expected the aftereffects to be physical. Awareness of her body that would fade with time.
This is different.
Last night was physical, driven by need. But the urgency faded easily into something else once the heat was gone. It wasn’t unpleasant, and then we went our separate ways.
That’s what unsettles me now.
Despite its end, the way she looked at me felt intimate. There was no expectation in it, no judgment… I don’t know when I stopped holding myself back. I just know I did.
Maryanne said she was from here, but I don’t think she is. Everything about her suggests movement, not roots. She feels like someone passing through. People like that don’t expect things to last, and they don’t leave anything behind. That makes it easier.
It was one night. A shared moment that doesn’t require follow-up or explanation. People meet, connect briefly, and move on. It happens all the time.
It’s ordinary. Harmless. And it doesn’t ask anything of me beyond what’s already occurred.
In the bathroom, I shave carefully, rinsing the blade after every stroke.
When I finish, I wipe the sink, dry the counter, and return everything to its place.
No trace left behind. My uncle may be on his half-year stay in Cabo San Lucas, but he doesn’t need to come back to any mess I left.
I’m lucky to have a free place here until I find the right place to live.
When I walk into the kitchen, I find I’m not alone. My cousin, Elise, is here. I stop short. With Mitch out of the country, I hadn’t expected company.
But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. This is her dad’s house, and she’s always had a penchant for doing whatever she wants. She’s currently leaning against the counter with a mug in her hands, keys set beside her phone.
“I didn’t know you’d be stopping by,” I tell her.
She smiles, like this is exactly where she’s meant to be. “Just checking on how the interview went. We’d love to have you here in Paradise. Oh, and I made coffee. Have some.”
I reach for the pot and pour myself a mug. “Thanks. It went well. He said he’d send me the contract.”
Elise’s face lights up. “You’re going to love it here.”
“Well, first I have to make it through the rest of my residency.”
She waves that away. “Just don’t let them talk you into staying in the Tri-Cities. We want you here with us. It’ll be just like old times, except all year round!”
“That’s my plan.” I hold up my mug and we clink together.
“You were out late,” she says, casual but observant, just as she’s always been. “I came by to invite you to our place last night.”
That takes me aback, but then I find my voice. “Bonfire by the lake.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Really? That’s mostly locals. You don’t usually see newcomers wandering down unless they’ve been invited.”
“I didn’t feel unwelcome,” I say.
She smiles into her coffee. “That’s a good sign.”
I lean back against the counter, taking a sip. The coffee’s strong, exactly the way Mitch likes it. “Seemed like the kind of thing worth seeing.”
“It is,” she says. “It’s the way people mark time here. End of one season, start of another.” She studies me for a second, thoughtful now. “You’ll settle in faster than most.”
The idea of settling in sits a little funny with me, but I let it pass without comment.
She sets her mug down and shifts her weight. “So it’s really happening, and then? You’re taking over Dr. Hutchinson’s office.”
I nod. “I’ll be back in the fall. I’ve got the summer to finish my residency. Then we’ll work together through the end of the year. He’s ready to retire.”
Her relief is immediate and unguarded. “That’s good. That’s really good.”
“For him?” I ask.
“For everyone,” she says. “He’s been holding on longer than he should, and the valley’s feeling it. Appointments are all booked for months out. People driving an hour just to see someone new. It’s not sustainable.”
I didn’t ask for the details, but I listen anyway.
“Black Bear Valley doesn’t get younger doctors by accident,” she continues. “They don’t move here unless they plan to stay. So when someone does—when they commit—it matters.”
That’s the part I’ve been careful not to name, the part I’m not totally sure about. “I’m not exactly a risk-taker,” I say lightly.
She laughs. “You’ll move your life here. That counts.”
I don’t correct her. I tell myself that’s practicality, not agreement.
She takes another sip of coffee, eyes bright. “You’ll be busy. Busier than you think. People here hold on to good doctors. They don’t let go easily.”
I picture my schedule filling in, days stacking, the rhythm of it. The predictability should feel reassuring. I’ve worked hard for this, but there’s a brief, unwanted awareness of how quickly the job could overtake my life.
I push that aside. “I’m ready,” I tell her. I’m so close to being the doctor I’ve always wanted to be.
She pulls me into a quick hug, the kind family gives without thinking. “I’m really glad you’re coming,” she says. “It feels right.”
“Yeah,” I say. “It does.”
With that, she grabs her bag from the chair and reaches for her keys. “I’ve got to get to the vineyard.”
“Of course,” I agree. “I’ve heard things are ramping up.”
She smiles at that, pride in her expression.
She’s the vintner at Paradise Hill Family Estate Winery, as her father, Mitch, was before her until his recent retirement.
As she turns toward the door, I notice how certain she seems, how fully she’s stepped into the life she chose.
There’s no hesitation in her movements, no second-guessing in the way she claims her place.
“Next time you’re back, Kingston and I will have you over for pizza,” she says. “He put in a woodburning pizza oven. It’s great.”
“Can’t wait.”
She waves on her way out, the door closing softly behind her, and the house exhales back into quiet. But the sense of permanence lingers. Soon, these could be my walls and routines.
I don’t have a reason to stay now that my business here is finished for the time being, but I don’t leave right away.
Instead, I move through the house slowly, making sure everything is where it should be. In the kitchen, I rinse my mug and dry it before setting it on the rack, handle aligned with the others. I straighten the chair Elise used, pushing it back under the table until it’s flush.
The guest room is next. The bed is still made tight. Nothing personal left behind.
At the front door, I pause, looking around. I’ll be back before I know it.
For a moment, I consider how easily last night with Maryanne could have carried into today. A text. A coffee. The beginning of something that wouldn’t know when to stop. But that doesn’t make sense, so I let the thought pass.
Before I pull away, I again review the next few months. Finish my residency. Take a little time off. Fall at Hutchinson’s office. Shared patients. A clean handoff by year’s end.
General practice is steady. Necessary. And contained.
It’s a life with clear boundaries. I’ve always trusted boundaries. They make things manageable.
As my uncle’s house disappears behind me, I don’t look back. I’ve left everything exactly as I found it. That’s the advantage of doing things properly. Leaves nothing to worry about.
By the time I reach the main road, the decision feels final. This is a good plan.
I’m doing the right thing. This is going to be the life I want.