11. Bella - The Next Morning
Chapter eleven
Bella - The Next Morning
Morning arrives like it’s been negotiated.
No dramatic sunrise. No burst of color. Just a gradual easing of the gray, the fog lifting by degrees until the world comes back into focus one piece at a time.
I’m awake before the alarm I never set would ring. I would normally go for a run but decide against it. Not with Finn and Silas who need me downstairs.
Charlie is still asleep. So for a bit longer, I lie still, staring at the ceiling, trying to decide if last night actually happened or if my brain just stitched together a very convincing hallucination out of exhaustion and a new address. And the dream.
Then I turn my head. The journal sits on the nightstand. Real.
“Great,” I murmur. “Love that for me.”
Charlie lifts his head from the foot of the bed, stretches, and says, we are not questioning reality, we are getting up.
“Right,” I say, pushing myself upright. “Patients and breakfast first. Hauntings to consider later.”
Downstairs, the clinic smells faintly of clean antiseptic, lavender and wood polish, a combination I’m deciding is oddly comforting.
Silas is still asleep, with Finn nearby reading a book, wrapped in a blanket.
“He did well, doc,” Finn says, looking up. “How did you sleep?”
“First nights are always a little odd, but thanks, Finn. I got some sleep.”
Charlie runs into the room to greet Finn, who reaches down and pets him. “Good boy, Charlie,” he murmurs as Charlie wags his tail excessively. They are already fast friends.
A human properly trained in dog appreciation, Charlie murmurs. Plus he smells safe and funny.
I check Silas’ vitals—pulse steadier than last night, though still not where I want it. His color is marginally better. The wound at his neck looks … calmer, if that’s a word I can apply to something I still don’t understand.
“Okay,” I murmur, adjusting the blanket. “He’s holding. That’s something. Thanks for staying the night, Finn.”
Silas’ eyes flicker open briefly. “Doctor,” he mumbles.
“Morning,” I say. “How do you feel?”
“Like I slept through a storm.”
“You kind of did.”
He huffs a faint laugh, then winces. “Figures.”
“I’m going to step out for a bit,” I tell him. “Coffee run. I’ll bring some breakfast back for you and Finn. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good answer.”
Finn says, “Did you say caffeine? I take two creams and no sugar. Silas likes his black.”
I laugh.
“Okay, I’m heading to Molly’s. What do you want with your coffee?”
He pretends to consider it. “Surprise me.”
“That feels like a trap.”
“It is.”
“Great. I’ll bring you something you probably won’t like.”
“Perfect.”
“Oh, I left a list of supplies to order. Can you handle that today?”
“Is the pope American?”
I laugh, and Charlie is already at the door by the time I grab my jacket. I clip on his leash. “Let’s go.”
--
The town in morning daylight is a different place. More defined. The fog has pulled back just enough to reveal the details I missed yesterday: the colors of the shop signs, the way the harbor water laps gently against the docks, the narrow paths worn into the grass between houses.
People are out. Not many, but enough to feel like a town instead of a set piece.
A couple of fishermen near the docks glance up as I pass. One nods. The other studies me for a beat too long, then looks away.
Charlie walks at my side, alert but comfortable, occasionally pulling toward something interesting—an old post, a patch of grass, a scent I can’t detect.
“New territory,” I tell him. “You’re allowed to be curious.”
Charlie slows briefly near the edge of the street. I smell secrets and fog everywhere.
We reach the square just as Molly flips the sign to OPEN.
“Good timing,” I say, stepping inside. The bell above the door chimes.
“Doctor!” Molly calls from behind the counter, her smile bright. “You survived your first night.”
“Barely,” I reply. “I’m here for reinforcement.”
“Coffee?”
“Please. Three. Finn is awaiting his back at the clinic. Two coffees with cream, same for me, and one black for Silas. And whatever passes for breakfast.”
She laughs, already moving. “We’ve got pastries. Nothing fancy, but they’ll keep you standing. I’ll slip an orange juice in for Silas, too.”
“You’re an angel.”
Charlie settles near the door, immediately attracting attention from two kids at a nearby table.
“Can we pet him?” one asks, already halfway over.
“Yes, you can,” I reply as Charlie wags his tail. Of course he does.
“What’s his name?”
“Charlie.”
Within seconds, he’s surrounded by small hands and delighted whispers, his tail wagging like he’s found his true calling.
“Ham,” I say under my breath with a smile.
Charlie leans shamelessly into the attention. I was born for public life. Plus children understand greatness instinctively.
“He’s a hit,” Molly says, sliding the coffees across the counter in a carrier. “You’re going to have to start charging for appearances.”
“Good idea,” I laugh.
“We’re so glad you’re here, Doctor Russo.”
“Please call me Bella,” I say. “And thanks.”
She leans in slightly, lowering her voice. “How was it? The house?”
“Big,” I say. “Quiet. A little … opinionated.”
“That’s one way to put it. These big old houses have personalities. Mine does.”
I take a sip of my coffee and immediately feel more human. “It’s fine, really,” I add. “Beautiful and stately. But old and creaky. Probably full of mice.”
Molly’s eyes flicker, just for a second. “Probably,” she says with a look.
“Silas is stable,” I say.
“Good,” she replies, genuine relief in her voice. “He’s been around forever. The town would feel it if we lost him.”
“I’m not planning on letting that happen.”
“Glad to hear it.”
I hesitate, then ask, “Molly, do you remember a doctor named Mercer? Elias Mercer?”
Molly stills. It’s subtle, but it’s there.
“Why?” she asks carefully.
“I found some of his notes, a journal,” I say, keeping my tone casual. “In the house. He lived there and ran the clinic?”
“He did,” she says. “A long, long time ago. Before my time.”
“What happened to him?”
She shrugs, but it’s too quick. “People come and go. It was too long ago to know.”
That’s not an answer, I think. I take another sip of coffee, watching her over the rim of the cup.
“His notes described cases … similar to what I saw yesterday,” I say. “Unusual wounds. Blood issues.”
Molly’s gaze flicks toward the door, then back to me. “I’m the wrong person to ask about this stuff … talk to the mayor, Bella.”
“Okay.”
“This is a small town,” she adds. “There are secrets in small towns. Things that can’t be rushed. Things that are hidden.”
“Right.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then she softens. “Just … take it one day at a time, Bella,” she says. “You’ll learn what you need to learn.”
“And the rest?”
She gives a small, tight smile. “The rest will find you in good time.”
“Great,” I mutter. “I love it when problems are proactive.”
She laughs as I gather the package and pay.
“Be sure to eat,” she tells me. “You’ll need your strength.”
Charlie disentangles himself from his fan club reluctantly, giving the kids a final, dignified tail wag before trotting back to my side.
This island improves steadily, he says. I’m building a fan club.
“Only the best for you, Charlie,” I whisper.
We step outside. The fog has lifted just enough to reveal the cliffs behind town more clearly.
I stop. From here, I can see them properly for the first time.
They rise sharply from the edge of the island, stone cutting into the sky. And along the ridge, grand buildings.
Not houses. These are estates. Manors. Chateaux.
Large, spaced apart, set back from the edge like they’re deliberately keeping their distance from the town below. Glass catches the light in places, reflecting the pale morning sky.
They’re beautiful. And completely out of place.
We head back toward the clinic. By the time I return, Finn is exactly where I left him—leaning against the counter, looking like he’s been awake just long enough to regret it.
“You’re a hero,” he says, taking the coffee from my hand.
“Sure.”
“What’d you get me?”
“Something you won’t like.”
He takes a sip. Grimaces. Opens the bag and takes out a pastry.
“You’re dead to me. Actually, I love it. Molly chose it, huh?”
“Yep,”
I hand Silas his food and orange juice, helping him sit up enough to manage a few bites. He’s quiet this morning, watching me with that same distant focus.
“You remember anything else about the attack?” I ask gently.
He shakes his head. “Just … fog. Movement. Making it home and Fred waiting. Then you.”
“Lucky me.”
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Lucky you.”
--
The early afternoon comes with movement.
“Field trip,” Finn announces, clapping his hands once like he’s corralling a group of reluctant students. “The mayor wants you to meet people. Get the lay of the land.”
“I’ve had the lay of the land,” I say. “It’s damp and confusing. But I do want to get to know this place.”
“Good. It gets better,” he promises. “Or at least more familiar.”
“Okay.”
Betty, a part-time nurse that steps in for Finn arrives. She’ll stay with Silas and Charlie until we return. We walk back into the town, the day now fully awake around us.
Finn leads the way, pointing things out as we go—who lives where, who to call if something breaks, who to avoid if I value my sanity.
“That’s Silas’s place,” he says, nodding toward a weathered house near the edge of the harbor. “Assuming he ever leaves your care.”
“He will.”
“Confidence. I like it.”
We pass Lucy Lennox’s herbal shop—a narrow space packed with jars, bundles of dried plants hanging from the ceiling and odd knick-knacks.
Lucy herself stands in the shop doorway, watching us with a knowing half-smile. She has long, thick curly hair with a life of its own. A cute face, a long dress and interesting earrings. She wears four silver chains.
“Doctor,” she says as we approach. “I was wondering when I’d meet you.”
“I’m making the rounds,” I reply. “Trying to understand where I landed.”
“That’s a dangerous endeavor.” Lucy’s smile widens slightly. “Of course. Anything worth it always is.”