The Choices I've Made

by J. L. Berg

  But, as I walked back into the house, wine glass emptied long ago, I couldn’t help but remember the boy with the unrealistic expectations.

  The boy who had stolen my heart long before I knew it could be claimed.

  Was he really coming home?

  For the sake of my sanity, I hoped not. I wasn’t sure my heart, the mangled remnants of what he’d left behind, could ever survive another round with Jake Jameson.

  Long after the Lovells had retired to their guest room, I found myself wandering the grand house. I lingered in the breakfast room, making sure chairs were tucked in their proper places and the settings were just right. I carried that attention to detail into the sitting room, fluffing pillows and refolding blankets.

  It wasn’t like me to primp so much.

  I’d been doing this routine for years, well before my name was listed as proprietor. So, why was I so eager now?

  Checking the antique clock, I squinted to see the tiny hands.

  It was late.

  Well past the time when Dean should have checked in. He’d been busy the last few days, grabbing supplies on the mainland as the Sutherlands prepared for an upcoming busy season.

  Dean Sutherland was from one of the most well-known families around. Born into a wealthy family who owned a commercial fishing company, he’d had his life planned out for him as clearly as mine had been.

  It was why I had been attracted to him in the first place—his dedication to his trade and his family…to this town. It was our common ground. It didn’t hurt that we’d known each other since birth either.

  Checking the clock again, I began to feel anxious. Surely, he’d call if he was running late? He always had, so why would today be any different? Realizing I was wearing a path across the floor, I went in search of my cell phone.

  I found it on the kitchen counter just as it began to ring.

  Taylor Sutherland—Dean’s younger brother.

  I answered on the second ring.

  “Molly? It’s Taylor.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief at hearing Dean’s brother on the other end. They must be running late and Dean was making his brother call to avoid my wrath.

  “Hi, Taylor.”

  “There’s been an accident. I’m up here at the hospital in Virginia Beach.”

  “Virginia Beach? Oh my gosh, are you okay?” I asked, suddenly frightened.

  “I’m fine. It wasn’t me, Mols.” There was a deafening pause. “It’s Dean.”

  The dreadful feeling I’d had crept back up my spine. “What happened?”

  “An explosion on the ferry. They think the engine blew. Several people are dead, and—”

  I swallowed audibly. “And Dean?” Tears stung my eyes.

  “He’s in surgery now. They’re trying to save his arm. He’s in bad shape Molly.”

  My hand flew up to my mouth as sobs tore from my throat. “Oh God, Taylor.”

  “Listen,” he said intently, “I’ve arranged for a pilot to fly you up here. The ferry is out of operation until further notice. Do you think you can make it?”

  I nodded before answering, “Yes, absolutely.” I wrote down several details—the pilot’s name and where to meet Taylor when we arrived. My mind was going a mile a minute as I operated on autopilot, not giving myself a second to react.

  We said our good-byes, and I quickly sprang into action. Calling my parents, I filled them in on Dean.

  “I’ll be back by morning to serve breakfast,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes.

  “Are you crazy?” my mom said. “Go take care of this. We can watch over things for a day.”

  “But—” I tried to argue.

  “You don’t have to take care of everything all the time,” she reminded me.

  “Okay,” I finally answered.

  I hated caving, but I knew she was right. I’d never missed a single morning since I took over the inn but Dean needed me and as hard as it was for me to admit—I needed help.

  I quickly thanked them before grabbing a light jacket and keys to my pickup. I drove as tears streaked my face, the reality of the situation finally kicking in as I willed myself to pay attention to navigating the dark roads.

  Finally, I arrived at the local airport. Like most things in Ocracoke, it was ridiculously small. After stepping out of the car, I was greeted by a man Taylor had mentioned. I recognized him instantly from countless encounters on the island. I often recommended his scenic tours to my guests. While we had many adventures to partake in across the island, nothing was as beautiful as seeing it from the air.

  I had a feeling it wouldn’t elicit the same feelings at night, especially under these circumstances.

  “Good to see you Molly,” the pilot said, slightly yelling over the engine noise.

  I simply nodded.

  “I’m going to take us to Norfolk, and someone should be picking you up from there, correct?”

  I confirmed the details before we boarded the small prop plane. My nerves got the best of me as I took one of the few passenger seats. A woman I didn’t recognize was sitting nearby.

  “My name is Marin,” she said, holding out her hand.

  I took it, giving it a light squeeze. “Molly.”

  “Are you—I mean, do you…know someone on the ferry?”

  “Yes. My fiancé,” I managed to say.

  She looked down, a single tear falling from her cheek. “My husband,” she replied. “He travels a lot for work. This was supposed to be our anniversary weekend, but he got stuck at the airport and missed his flight. I was so mad,” she said, shaking her head. “I yelled at him on the phone. Can you believe that? I yelled.”

  I didn’t bother to respond. I could tell by her demeanor that she wasn’t talking for my benefit.

  In her mind, she was confessing her sins.

  “He left the airport and rented a car, drove all evening just to catch the last ferry. For me.”

  I unbuckled my seat belt, taking the spot next to her. Grabbing her hand, I said nothing. Just simply held it as we sat in silence, sending up prayers to the heavens.

  The flight itself didn’t take long, although it felt like a lifetime. Marin and I held on to each other for support, and I offered her a ride to the hospital when we landed, knowing Taylor wouldn’t mind in the least.

  “Thank you,” she replied.

  Taylor managed to arrive just as we deplaned, giving me a big bear hug the moment we reached each other.

  “How is he?” I asked, seeing the pain in his eyes over his older brother.

  “We don’t know yet. He was still in surgery when I left to pick you up.”

  Arm in arm, we walked to the car as I introduced Taylor to my new friend. His eyes lingered on her as understanding blossomed. We were all in this together.

  Local, tourist, brother, friend—none of it mattered when lives were on the line.

  The ride to the hospital was quiet. None of us felt much like speaking.

  Honestly, I thought we all felt a little numb.

  Numb to what was happening, numb to what we might discover.

  Just cold, hollow, and numb.

  My hands shook as I opened the passenger door, seeing the flashing lights outside the emergency room. The air smelled salty and familiar, reminding me of summers long gone. My family had once vacationed in Virginia Beach, just to see how different it was from our own little island.

  It was the last beach vacation we took.

  I remembered, on the way back home, my father had said, “Why go to the beach when we have one in our backyard?”

  I brushed back my unruly blonde hair, but the breeze threw it back in my face. Dean loved playing with my hair. One night, over a bottle of wine, I’d even taught him how to braid it while we stayed up late playing board games.

  “You need to know this,” I said.

  “Oh? And why is that?” he asked, his husky voice betraying the amusement in his eyes.

  “Because, one day, you might find yourself with a darli
ng daughter with hair just like mine, and being the princess she is, she’ll demand it be taken care of.”

  “Hair just like yours, huh?”

  I turned to him, smiling. “Just like mine.”

  It was the first time we’d talked about kids.

  It was the first time we’d talked about anything beyond that night.

  I’d thought he’d run away, scared, but he never did.

  Instead, he’d gotten down on one knee the following morning and asked me to marry him, just like that. That was how our relationship had been from that moment on, easy and uncomplicated.

  I’d thought we’d have forever to get to know each other like that. Like lovers rather than longtime friends. But, now, all that was up in the air. So fleeting.

  Everything was a blur the moment we entered the hospital. I said my good-byes to Marin as she dashed to the front desk, seeking answers. As I followed Taylor back to the waiting room they had especially for the surgical wing, I couldn’t help but notice the faces around me.

  No one had routine surgery this late at night.

  There were tears, families huddled in prayer, and tired, confused children who had been ripped from their beds. Some, I recognized. Neighbors and friends from town.

  I wasn’t the only one who’d made it off the island to be here for someone. Surely, I wouldn’t be the last. Once news spread, every boat and plane would be put to use, carrying people back and forth. Those tourists stranded on the island would be helped, either given shelter or a way back home.

  We never left anyone behind.

  Most of Dean’s family was together in that small room, hunched tightly in the corner as they awaited news.

  Dean’s mother, Dottie, gave me a hug. “So glad you could make it,” she said, her distinctive Ocracoke brogue standing out against all the other voices.

  “I’m thankful for the arrangements,” I replied, holding her in my arms.

  I’d known Dean’s family for as long as I could remember. Everyone had. I used to ride past their large house on my ten-speed, wondering what it looked like. Eventually, I’d discovered what lay inside. It hadn’t taken long. Once school had started, the three of us—Dean, Jake, and I—had become inseparable.

  It’d turned out, the Sutherland house was just that—an ordinary house. Nothing as extravagant as my young mind had dreamed up, but it was lovely all the same.

  Sometimes, I wished I’d never stepped foot inside. Then, the mystery and magic of the place would still remain.

  But life had a way of letting us down sometimes.

  We grew up and lost the magic of our youth.

  We suffered loss.

  I only prayed that day wasn’t upon me.

  I didn’t know how long we sat there, waiting for an update. Dottie explained the surgeons were trying to repair Dean’s arm.

  To save it.

  “And if they can’t?” I asked, scared to hear the answer.

  “Then, we will be there for him,” she simply said.

  I wanted to ask all sorts of questions, but instead, I fell silent.

  No one knew any more than I did.

  Finally, a doctor entered the room and calmly called out for us, “The family of Dean Sutherland?” He was still dressed in his scrubs and booties.

  “Here!” Taylor said, holding a hand in the air.

  We met him halfway, eager for information, but his face said it all.

  “We did all we could to save his arm,” he announced regretfully. “But nothing could be done. The damage was too severe.”

  My heart sank.

  “Is he okay?” Dottie asked, grabbing my hand.

  “Yes, he’ll recover. Although it will take time. He has a broken ankle as well, probably from the initial blow that severed his arm. He’ll need to remain in the hospital for a week or two to heal, but eventually, we should be able to transfer him down to The Outer Banks Hospital for physical and occupational therapy, so he’s closer to home. There he’ll learn how to live as an amputee.” He paused to let that all settle. “It’s going to be an adjustment. For everyone.”

  Amputee.

  The word seemed so foreign to me. Thinking of it brought up images of wounded soldiers and veterans from wars long ago. But, to hear it now, it felt unreal and wrong. Surely, my fisherman fiancé, so normal and unassuming, couldn’t possibly be an amputee. He had so much more to do.

  We both did.

  “When can we see him?” Taylor asked.

  “He’s still coming out of anesthesia, but I can allow one of you in to see him if you’d like.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” I said, shaking his hand.

  He nodded before instructing us on where to go.

  “I’ll wait here,” I said, assuming Dean’s mother would go.

  “No,” she replied. “We think you should be the one to see him,” she explained, placing a loving hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be a blubbering mess if I go and right now, he needs strength.”

  I gulped loudly, agreeing to her instructions.

  In the Sutherland house, Dottie was the head of the hardheaded family, and I’d learned very quickly that whatever she said was law. I always admired that courage within her, assuming it had come from her need to be a mother and father after her husband passed.

  But, now, I just ached for it. Ached for the calm resilience she wore. Ached for the knowledge that everything would work itself out even though my every thought screamed something else entirely.

  After saying a few good-byes to those still waiting for news on their loved ones, I journeyed down the long hallway until I found my way.

  I checked in with a nurse, and she escorted me through double doors to where Dean was recovering. My hands shook as we approached, as I was unsure of how I’d react to seeing him so frail and weak.

  He’d always been larger than life.

  “He’s still asleep,” the nurse announced. “But feel free to take his hand and let him know you’re here.”

  “Will he be able to hear me?” I questioned as I followed her into the room.

  Several other nurses were around, but I barely noticed them.

  All I saw was Dean.

  “Honestly, I don’t know, but I like to believe so,” she replied before ushering me over to him.

  A quiet sob tore through my chest.

  He was battered and bruised but clean, hooked up to several monitors with wires everywhere. The cuts and gashes on his chest and legs had been bandaged and cared for, his ankle set in a cast.

  I couldn’t look.

  I wasn’t ready.

  But I had to.

  I had to be strong for him.

  Fighting back tears, I took a step forward and grabbed his left hand, his only hand.

  “Hi, it’s me,” I said lamely, not knowing what else to do. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I wanted to let you know, I’m here for you. We all are.”

  I took a deep breath. “I made your favorite today,” I said, sort of rambling, forgetting that it was well past midnight and a completely new day. “Peach scones. Mr. Lovell loves them, too. I think I forgot to mention, he and his wife were visiting this week. They’re some of our regulars. You may remember them from way back. Anyway, he asked about you—or about my fellow, as he phrased it. He wanted to know if you were worthy of me—or maybe vice versa. I don’t know. Anyway, I’m not sure why I said that. Maybe I should just shut up.”

  “No, keep going.”

  My body froze instantly. Even after a decade, I recognized the rough cadence of the voice behind me, and who it belonged to. I remembered every word he’d said to me. From the shy hello in the schoolyard when we were no older than five to the unrelenting determination as he’d promised me the stars.

  My breath faltered.

  “Jake,” I breathed out in a whisper.

  A hundred different memories flooded my mind all at once as I fought to turn around. The first time I saw him—not the boy who had pulled my hair and called me names, bu
t a man, full of possibilities and purpose. Our first kiss—an awkward meeting of lips that still, to this day, made my stomach flip every time I thought of it.

  Broken promises and heartache as I’d watched him walk away, knowing I’d never be enough for him.

  Squeezing Dean’s hand one last time, I took a deep breath, steadied my thoughts, and turned around. At first, I was almost surprised by how much he’d changed. Dark blue scrubs covered his tall, lean body. His dark brown hair was shorter, and there was definite stubble across his chin and jaw.

  But he was still there.

  The boy with eyes as blue as the sea and a heart as big as the ocean.

  “He’s stable,” he finally said, his voice taking on a professional quality that I recognized from whenever I’d visited his father at the clinic. “The surgeon who tried to save his arm, he was good; I can vouch for that. But it was just too late after the amount of time it had taken the paramedics to reach us,” he said, letting out a deep breath. “There was nothing he could do.”

  “Us?” I asked in confusion.

  “Dean and I were on the ferry together. We sort of ran into each other beforehand. I’m here for my father’s funeral. He left me his practice,” he explained.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, taking a step in his direction before stopping myself.

  Before remembering who I was.

  Who he was.

  He held up a hand of reassurance. “I’m fine. I don’t know how or why, but other than a few bruised ribs and some superficial cuts and scrapes, I got out of there nearly unscathed.”

  “Lucky you.” I deadpanned.

  My attention returned to the man next to me—my fiancé, who’d just come out of surgery and who would spend the rest of his life without the use of one of his arms.

  “Well, thank you for assuring me that he was well taken care of. I appreciate it.”

  All my focus shifted back to Dean. My hand rested atop his as Jake moved closer. I could feel the heat of him, smell the smoke that still clung to his skin.

  “Mols, I—”

  I simply shook my head. “No,” I whispered. “Not here, not now, Jake.”

  Not ever, I failed to say.

  “I’ll leave you two alone,” he said, stepping away from the bed where Dean lay still. “Congratulations by the way. In the short time we spent together, I could see he was happy. I’m sure you had something to do with that.”