3. Finn Waits for the Ferry
Chapter three
Finn Waits for the Ferry
Ten Minutes Earlier
The ferry is late.
Again.
Fog drifts over the harbor in pale gray ribbons while Mayor Calloway paces the dock like an anxious penguin in a red windbreaker.
“I’m telling you,” he mutters for the third time in ten minutes, “this one’s going to work out.”
I lean against the piling beside him, coffee in hand. “You said that about Dr. Halpern.”
Mayor Calloway grimaces.
“Okay, fair point.”
“And Dr. Brennan.”
“That woman prescribed whiskey for migraines.”
“She was ahead of her time.”
Calloway ignores me completely, still peering into the fog like he can manifest the ferry through sheer municipal desperation.
Honestly, I almost feel bad for him.
The town’s gone through doctors the way tourists go through lobster rolls in summer. Some leave because island life isn’t for them. Some leave because Bloodhaven Cove is too isolated. Too weird. Too quiet.
And some leave because eventually they start asking questions nobody wants to answer.
We haven’t had a doctor for three months and need one.
I take another sip of coffee and glance toward the distant outline of The Cliffs above the harbor. Fog curls around the old estates up there, swallowing the lights one by one.
Even after twenty-nine years on this island, that place still makes the back of my neck itch sometimes.
“You nervous?” Calloway asks suddenly.
I snort.
“No. Why? Because we’re about to meet the fourth doctor in three years while standing on a dock that looks like the opening scene of a murder documentary?”
“Optimism has never been your strength, Finn.”
“Correct,” I reply. “My strength is sarcasm. Very different skill set.”
He sighs heavily.
The truth is…
yeah.
I’m nervous. Because this one matters. The clinic matters. The island matters.
And if this Dr. Arabella Russo bolts after two months like the others, I may personally swim to the mainland and drag back a replacement myself.
I love medicine. I love nursing. Always have. Even as a kid.
While other island boys learned fishing routes and boat engines, I was the weirdo reading anatomy books at the harbor diner while my grandmother told customers I was destined to become “either a doctor or deeply annoying.”
Turns out I became deeply annoying and a nurse.
Close enough.
I got accepted into programs all over the Northeast. Boston. Hartford. Providence.
Eventually landed in Boston for nursing school and stayed there almost two years afterward working at the hospital and trauma center in Salem.
Good money. Good hospital. Good coffee. Absolutely horrifying rent.
But every time I walked home at night through crowded summer streets and concrete and strangers who never looked at one another, something in me felt off. Like my bones were homesick.
Which is ridiculous.
Bloodhaven Cove is objectively bizarre. The fog alone feels emotionally manipulative.
But it’s home.
I know every road here. Every blade of grass. Every cove and fishing boat. Every family. Every rock. Every old feud. Every storm season. Every ridiculous island tradition.
I know Hazel mutters warnings before bad weather.
I know Molly Calloway will feed anyone within fifty feet of her coffee shop.
I know nobody walks near The Wilds even if they pretend it’s superstition.
And I know every time that bell rings at sunset, this entire island holds its breath together.
You grow up here, you stop questioning certain things. Or maybe you just learn which questions make people uncomfortable.
Mayor Calloway squints toward the fog suddenly.
“There!”
The ferry finally appears through the mist, slow and ghostlike. I straighten automatically.
“Moment of truth,” I mutter.
“Positive thinking, Finn.”
“Mayor, respectfully, you once declared the Lobster Festival fireworks a ‘minor controlled emergency.’ I don’t trust your judgment.”
“That was one time.”
“That was three times.”
The ferry bumps gently against the dock.
Passengers begin filing out. Some locals who went shopping on the mainland. Then supply workers.
Then her.
Long hair pulled back against the wind. Long coat. Good posture. Smart eyes scanning everything immediately. Not nervous exactly.
Assessing. Like she’s already cataloging the island before she’s even stepped onto it.
And beside her, a massive black dog. Some kind of long-haired shepherd. The dog pauses halfway down the ramp and stares directly at me. Intensely.
I blink.
“…Why does that dog look like he knows secrets?”
Calloway squints. “Probably because he’s a dog, Finn. They all look that way.”
I grunt. Then the woman glances down at the dog and says something quietly.
And I swear to God, the dog looks amused.
Well.
I’m not sure what to think about that.
“Dr. Russo!” Calloway shouts, immediately bouncing forward with all the contained energy of a Labrador elected to public office. “Welcome, welcome to Bloodhaven Cove!”
The woman smiles politely. The dog keeps staring at me. Then his tail wags once, slowly and deliberately. Like he’s made a decision.
I point subtly.
“The dog likes me already.”
Calloway snorts as they descend the ferry.
“You say that like it’s some sort of accomplishment.”
“It is,” I reply seriously. “Animals are excellent judges of character.”
I feel hope stir in my chest. Maybe this doctor stays. Maybe she’s strong enough. Maybe she’s stubborn enough.
God knows she’ll need to be.
Because Bloodhaven changes people eventually.
The island always does.