4. Bella Arrives
Chapter four
Bella Arrives
Mayor Calloway meets me at the foot of the ramp like he’s been waiting there all morning, which, judging by the way he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, he probably has.
“Dr. Russo!” he calls, waving both arms like he’s trying to guide a plane in. “Welcome, welcome to Bloodhaven Cove!”
He appears dangerously enthusiastic. He’s relieved you’re here, Charlie observes. That usually means trouble already exists.
“Let’s be on good behavior, Charlie,” I murmur to him as we join the mayor. He snorts.
The mayor is shorter than I expected, broad through the middle, with a red windbreaker that looks like it’s seen better decades and a smile that lands somewhere between relief and triumph.
“You can call me Arabella, mayor,” I say, offering a hand. “Actually, most people just call me Bella.”
“Bella,” he repeats, pumping my hand enthusiastically. “Wonderful, wonderful. We’re so pleased you’re here. Truly. The town’s been in a bit of a … situation without a proper physician.”
“Happy to help,” I say, because that’s what I say when I’m not entirely sure what I’ve just signed up for.
Charlie sits neatly beside me, eyes tracking every movement on the dock. People are watching us. Not openly staring—this isn’t that kind of place—but there’s a definite awareness. Conversations dip. A few heads turn. One or two smile.
We’re being assessed, Charlie notes calmly.
“Ah, and this must be—” Calloway gestures down to Charlie.
“Charlie.”
“Charlie,” he says, as if committing it to memory. “Fine animal. Very fine. Good to have a companion out here. Keeps a person grounded.”
“Or drags them into the ocean,” I say. “We’re still negotiating terms.”
I see Charlie roll his eyes.
Calloway laughs a little too loudly at my comment. “Yes, well, plenty of ocean to get to know here.” He glances over his shoulder, then back at me. “We’ve got your things handled. Finn!”
A tall man with sandy hair and a grin that looks like it’s permanently one inch away from trouble steps forward. “That’s me,” he calls.
“Who else?” Calloway snaps, though there’s no real heat in it. “Get Dr. Russo’s bags, would you?”
Finn saunters over, taking in me, Charlie, and the single suitcase I’ve managed to compress my life into. “That it?” he asks.
“That’s it,” I say. “Minimalist era.”
“Love that for you,” he replies, grabbing the handle. “I’m Finn. I work at the clinic, your trusty nurse. And by work, I mean I keep it from falling apart and occasionally hand the doctor sharp objects.”
“Comforting,” I laugh.
He grins. “You’ll get used to me and my personality. Some think it’s charming and entertaining. Others think it’s annoying,” he says, now looking at the mayor.
Excellent. Another creature with anxiety and poor boundaries. This one survives through sarcasm, Charlie decides. I like him.
“I do, too,” I whisper as I lean down.
The major frowns at Finn. “We must make a positive impression on the doctor, Finn,” he says with a huff.
“Well, I’m honest,” he says cheerfully, already heading for the truck.
Mayor Calloway gestures toward a narrow road that winds up from the harbor. “We’ll get you settled first,” he says. “Your house is just up from the square. Beautiful old place. Plenty of space. You’ll find it suits your needs perfectly.”
“House and clinic combined, right?” I ask as we start walking.
“Exactly. Ground floor for patients, upper floors for your private residence. It’s worked well in the past.”
“Past being…?”
He clears his throat. “Well. It’s been some time since we had a permanent doctor.”
“How long is some time?”
Finn calls over his shoulder, “Long enough that people started Googling their symptoms and that never ends well.”
“Finn,” Calloway says sharply.
“What? It’s true.”
I bite back a smile. “Good to know I’m arriving just in time to prevent a WebMD apocalypse.”
“Precisely,” Calloway says, seizing on the word like it’s a life raft. “Your timing is impeccable.”
We pass the cluster of shops I saw from the ferry. Up close, they’re more charming than worn—painted signs, small windows, a kind of stubborn neatness that suggests people here take care of what they have.
A bell chimes as someone opens a door, and the smell of coffee drifts out, rich and warm.
“Coffee shop,” Finn says, nodding toward it. “Molly runs it. Best thing on the island besides me.”
“Debatable,” a woman’s voice calls from inside. “And you still owe me for last week.”
Finn winces. “See? Unfairly maligned.”
We keep moving, but I catch a glimpse inside—wood tables, a few kids clustered near the counter, a woman with dark hair tied back, wiping her hands on a towel as she eyes us with interest.
“Everyone’s going to know I’m here before I unpack, aren’t they?” I ask.
Mayor Calloway beams. “Of course. It’s a small community. We look out for one another.”
“Define ‘look out.’”
“Mostly we mind our own business,” Finn says. “But we do it collectively with a bit of gossip mixed in.”
“That sounds like a paradox.”
“You’ll fit right in,” he replies.
We turn into a small square, really more of an open space with a few benches and a weathered statue I can’t quite make out through the fog. The bell tower rises at one end, taller than anything else in town, its dark stone stark against the pale sky.
An old woman stands near its base, wrapped in layers that don’t quite match, her gray hair escaping from a scarf. She’s muttering to herself, words slipping in and out of sense.
“…tide turns, blood learns… bell don’t lie… they never listen…”
Calloway’s smile tightens. “Hazel,” he says, with forced brightness. “Good morning.”
She looks up, her eyes sharp and startlingly clear. They land on me, then on Charlie.
“New one,” she says. Not a question.
“That’s right,” Mayor Calloway replies. “Our new doctor.”
Hazel takes a step closer, peering at me like she’s reading something written just beneath my skin. “Doctor,” she repeats. “Mends what’s broken.”
“That’s right,” I say, keeping my tone light.
She tilts her head. “Careful what you call broken, girl. Some things are just built that way.”
A small shiver runs down my spine. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Hazel’s gaze flicks toward the cliffs, barely visible beyond the rooftops. “Bell rings, they feed,” she mutters. “Bell rings, you hide. That’s the rule.”
“Hazel,” Calloway says, a warning threading through his voice now.
She ignores him. “You don’t know the rules yet,” she says to me. “But you will.”
Charlie watches the old woman carefully and sniffs her. That one hears things humans usually ignore. Charlie then goes still beside me. She knows things about this place.
Hazel looks down at him, then smiles—a surprisingly warm expression that softens her whole face.
“Smart dog,” she says. “He sees it. He knows.”
“Sees what?” Calloway asks.
She just laughs, a dry, rasping sound, and turns away, wandering off across the square, muttering.
I watch her go. “Is she always like that?”
“Harmless,” Calloway says quickly. “Just a bit… eccentric. Every town has one.”
“Translation,” Finn adds, “she says things people don’t like hearing.”
Charlie laughs though no one but me can hear. He and Finn are going to be good friends, I can tell.
“Finn!” Calloway snaps.
“Well?”
We leave the square and head up the street lined with older houses, each one leaning slightly into the next as if bracing against the wind. At the top, set back behind a low iron fence, is my new home on the edge of the little town.
And it’s amazing.
Victorian. Three stories of light wood and tall windows trimmed with old-fashioned details, a wraparound porch that’s seen better days but still holds itself with a kind of stubborn dignity.
Places for flowers and plants, my hobby!
A pretty little gate and an ornate front door with some glass to peer out.
The paint is peeling in places, but the structure is solid. It’s full of potential.
“Wow,” I say, because there isn’t a more sophisticated response available.
Mayor Calloway puffs up a little. “Built in the 1800s. Served as the original physician’s residence for the island. A trust has kept it in place for a doctor along with a small budget for medical supplies. We’ve kept it maintained as best we can.”
“It’s incredible,” I admit.
Charlie is already pulling toward the yard, nose working overtime.
Many things have happened here, Charlie observes. Also, something lives under the porch. Bella, this place smells like storms, medicine, and ghosts. I love it.
I let him go as far as the leash allows, watching him bound through the grass like he’s just been handed his dream.
Mayor Calloway unlocks the front door and swings it open with a flourish as he hands me the keys. “Welcome home, Dr., I mean—Bella.”
I step inside.
“Ground floor is your clinic, doc,” Finn says, heading up the steps with my bag. “Exam rooms, small ward, basic equipment, some patient rooms for overnight. We’ve got supplies, but you’ll probably want to make a list of needs once you settle in.”
“I definitely will.”
“Second and third floor is living space. Furnished. Includes old storage and a few odd rooms, like all of these old Victorian places.”
“Sounds good,” I say. “I have … one suitcase.”
“Give it time,” he replies. “You’ll accumulate island junk like the rest of us.”
The air is cooler than outside, carrying a faint scent of wood and something older, like the house has a memory it’s not quite ready to share.
A ceiling fan in the entry hall is ornate and beautiful.
The room serves as a waiting room for the clinic but is scattered with comfortable chairs and a few tables for magazines.
It looks more like a living room than a waiting room.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, and I mean it.
“It’ll serve you well,” Calloway says. “And we need you.”