The Choices I've Made

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The Choices I've Made Page 22

by J. L. Berg


  “You tried to call me?” I asked, kneeling beside Terri.

  My hands went to my pants pockets, checking for my phone. It wasn’t there.

  “I fucked up,” I said under my breath, my eyes squeezing shut.

  A few weeks ago, I had known where my phone was every second of the day. It had been my lifeline to the hospital. They needed me, and I was ready. I’d been here a few weeks, and I’d somehow managed to leave my phone in the car for hours without even noticing.

  And, now, Terri was in the ER because of me.

  “Terri,” I said, reaching for her hand.

  Her eyes opened and found mine. “Hey, Doc.” She smiled weakly.

  “We’re going to get you fixed up, okay? Just give me a minute to get you back there.”

  She nodded.

  I stood, my hands closed into tight fists, as I swore under my breath.

  I’d seriously fucked up.

  “HEY, JAKE,” I SAID, HOLDING the phone to my ear, feeling like a complete idiot. “I’m not sure how this boyfriend-girlfriend thing works between us now, but I was just wondering what you were doing for lunch today since I know the clinic closed early, and I haven’t heard from you, which is fine,” I quickly added, “I’m not trying to be stalkerish or clingy. Just hungry, I swear. Okay. Bye. Oh, and I love you.”

  I gave myself a giant eye roll, ending the call and shoving the phone in my back pocket.

  “Way to go, Mols,” I said out loud. “That was smooth. He won’t think you’re crazy at all.”

  Letting out a giant sigh, I roamed around the empty inn, feeling an odd sense of boredom. It wasn’t something I was used to, usually excelling in the art of keeping myself busy from dusk till dawn. But knowing Jake had gotten out of work early today, I’d rushed around the house, taking advantage of my guests early morning activities around town. I’d cleaned their rooms with gusto and finished all my tasks before eleven, hoping to make use of my boyfriend’s open afternoon schedule.

  But, now, it was well past one o’clock, my stomach was growling, and I was short one handsome doctor.

  Boyfriend.

  I’d said it this morning, and he hadn’t flinched. He was my boyfriend, right? I mean, when you started talking about moving halfway across the country for someone, it was well past casual dating. It wasn’t like Jake and I could ever be called casual anyhow. We’d been voted Most Likely to Get Married by our high school class, for God’s sake.

  And was it too early to say I love you out loud? I mean, we did. We always had. But to actually say it was different somehow.

  Everything was just moving so fast. Too fast? I wasn’t sure.

  Realizing I was walking circles in the living room, I decided to go ahead and eat. Waiting for a man was pathetic, right? And I had a kitchen full of amazing leftovers calling my name.

  Heading into the kitchen, I was interrupted by the phone in my pocket.

  Smiling, I reached behind me and grabbed it, expecting to find my missing doctor.

  Instead, I saw a local number I didn’t recognize. Being a business owner, I didn’t have the luxury to screen calls, so I answered on the second ring.

  “Hello. By the Bay Inn,” I greeted cheerfully.

  “Molly? This is Henry Miller.”

  “Oh, hey, Henry,” I replied, instantly recognizing the elderly restaurant owner’s voice.

  I knew most of the local restaurateurs well, having made numerous reservations for my guests over the years—before and after I had taken over the inn. Henry though, I had a special place in my heart for him, as he was the sweet man who always stole my vegetables from Terri in a feeble attempt to steal her heart.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “It’s Terri,” he said, immediately grabbing my attention. “I stopped by her place just now to grab a few things, and she looked like hell in a handbasket. Said she visited Jake earlier this week and was waiting for lab results. Do you know where I can find him? I think she needs to be seen right away.”

  “Did you try the clinic?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he replied. “Gave the emergency number on the answering machine a try, too. But it just went to his voice mail. Thought I’d try you next, seeing as you two are an item again.”

  Sometimes, I forgot how quickly word got around this place.

  “Um, I don’t actually know where he is, but I’ll see if I can track him down. How bad is she?” I asked, now back to my circular pattern in the living room.

  “She doesn’t look good,” he answered honestly.

  I could hear the worry in his deep voice.

  “Then I’d go ahead and see if someone could give you a lift up to the hospital. Emergency services will do an airlift if needed, but there are several locals with private planes or boats who call in favors in situations like this. Don’t wait for Jake. If it’s as bad as you say, he’d be sending you that way, too. I’ll text you a list of names to try.”

  “Right. Okay.”

  A silence fell over the phone line.

  “Do you want me to take her?” I asked. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “No,” he answered. “I want to. I mean, I need to. Terri is special to me even if she’s too bullheaded to notice. I’m just worried, is all.”

  I smiled warmly. I knew the old man had a crush on my Terri. I knew it.

  “Then, take care of her,” I said. “And keep me updated. I’ll let you know if I hear from Jake.”

  “Thank you, Molly.”

  He hung up then, and I looked around the room, so silent and empty. I bit my lip, full of worry. I felt useless, and I had nothing to do. Pulling out my phone, I dialed Jake’s number. Like Henry had said, it rang and rang and finally went to voice mail.

  “Where are you?” I asked out loud.

  Of course, no one answered.

  I called around, asking anyone I could get ahold of if they had seen Jake. I asked the nurse, Betty, who worked at the clinic. She reported he’d left right around the same time as her, wishing her a good weekend, and that was it. He hadn’t been seen around any of the restaurants or stores.

  I even drove by his parents’ house and the clinic to be sure he wasn’t in the middle of some sort of mental breakdown.

  But he was nowhere to be found.

  Returning to the inn to take care of my afternoon duties, I put out the usual spread of light hors d’oeuvres and wine for the few guests who’d returned while I continually checked my phone.

  Nothing.

  Finally, I got a text from Henry’s number.

  Henry: We’re here. Found Dr. Jake. He was already here at the hospital. Praise God! Getting checked in. Call in a bit with updates.

  Jake was at the hospital?

  It dawned on me why.

  Dean.

  The only reason he’d drive all the way up the coast was to visit his best friend. He hadn’t spoken much about Dean since that day he offered me a ride to the hospital.

  And I’d never asked.

  I’d been so caught up in my own issues that I never thought to take a moment to walk in his shoes. Did he feel guilt over the accident? Remorse?

  There had once been a time when we confided in each other completely. Hours and hours had been spent exploring every thought and dream. We had known one another inside and out.

  But, now, it seemed like we might be skipping a few steps in our rush toward our happily ever after. Our night on the beach, I’d felt it—the pull back to where we’d once been. But we’d both severed it, refusing to discuss the hard topics in favor of what was easy.

  Because of that love that still lingered so fiercely between us.

  I didn’t know how long I sat in the empty living room after my guests retired to their rooms or ventured back out into town for dinner. I was lost, without a clue on what to do. I moved through the motions of the rest of the evening, going on autopilot as I prepped for the following day.

  Until, finally, I had nothing left to do but wait.

  It
wasn’t until I was about to head back to my room when I saw the headlights from Jake’s car. What normally brought a jolt of excitement to my heart suddenly brought something closer to dread. It had been hours since I heard any news from Henry, and I couldn’t help but fear the worst for my dear friend Terri.

  I watched from the stained-glass window near the front door as he made his way inside. He looked tired and weary, like the weight of the world had just been dropped on his shoulders.

  I took a deep breath and opened the door.

  Our eyes met. It was like staring into a deep well of emotion.

  Pain, regret, sadness. It was all there.

  He brushed past me, his fingers clinging to mine for the briefest of moments. He smelled of soap and disinfectant, his hands rough from meticulous scrubbing.

  I gave him time to get settled. He did so silently, taking off his coat and dropping it off in my room. He returned a second later and hovered in the entryway, his tired gaze settling on mine.

  “Have you eaten?” I asked hesitantly, taking a single step forward.

  He nodded. “On the way back,” he replied.

  Not on the way home. I noticed the difference.

  “Can I get you anything?” I asked, feeling awkward in front of him for probably the first time in weeks.

  He was standoffish and rigid, nothing like the man I’d laughed with under the stars.

  “Something to drink would be great,” he said.

  Glad for the distraction, I nodded, turning toward the kitchen. I heard his footsteps headed toward the living room. The old sofa creaked under his solid weight as I grabbed some iced tea from the refrigerator, pouring it into a large glass piled high with ice.

  By the time I made it out to the living room, he was resting on the sofa, his head leaned back toward the ceiling with his eyes closed.

  Was this what a typical day at the hospital back in Chicago was like for him?

  Setting the glass on the coffee table in front of him, I quietly took a seat in the chair beside him, allowing him time to decompress.

  Finally, he sat up, stretching his neck, and reached for the iced tea. He drained nearly half of it in one gulp. “Thank you,” he said softly.

  We sat in silence as he finished his tea, and I pretended not to watch. Eventually, the quiet got to me, and I couldn’t wait for him to regain his ability to speak.

  “Terri…is she…” I swallowed hard, tears stinging my eyes. “How is she?”

  “She’s okay,” he said, finally turning toward me. It was like he’d suddenly remembered who I was, beyond the bearer of beverages. His hand reached out for me. “She’s fine. Promise.”

  I nodded, my tears betraying my need to stay strong.

  “It was a heart attack,” he went on, his eyes almost blank as the words fell from his lips. “She’ll be in the hospital for a while, but she’ll be okay in the long run.”

  “A heart attack, but how?” I asked. “I thought you said she was fine the other day?”

  “I thought so too,” he mumbled, the pain evident in his voice. “Nothing more than a urinary infection like every other old person in this town. But cardiac disease doesn’t always present like it should in women.” He took a deep breath. “And I missed it.”

  The pit of my stomach dropped. “You couldn’t have known, Jake.”

  He turned away, his gaze distant and without emotion.

  “It’s my fault,” he whispered softly.

  “What?”

  “The whole thing. I’m her doctor. I should have seen it. She came to me, and I should have seen it.”

  He turned around to face me, and I could see the haunted look in his eyes. I’d seen it once before in my life.

  On someone who’d shared those same bright blue eyes.

  Jake’s father.

  I stood just then, realizing both of us could use a bit of fresh air. Taking his lifeless hand in mine, I pulled him upright. He barely noticed, so focused on nothing and everything in his blank, far-off stare. But he followed nonetheless as I led us toward the patio, in the direction of the water. The bay was still tonight, and like always, it gave me the strength I needed to carry on.

  With his hand nestled between mine, I squeezed it tightly. “Jake, look at me.”

  It took a few more times, but eventually, he did, turning his gaze toward me.

  “Terri is fine, do you hear me? She’s still alive and kicking, and she will be for a long time. That woman has more gusto and stubbornness than a mule in heat. She’ll outlive us all.”

  A weak smile bloomed across his face but died just as quickly. The change in setting didn’t seem to faze him at all. “I don’t even have her test results back yet. In Chicago, I could have had those tests run the same day if I needed to. Better yet, I could have sent her to the damn hospital ten minutes away, not three fucking hours. I’m useless here, Molly. Terri could have died while I waited around for those test results. And the worst part of it all is, me. In the few weeks I’ve been here, I’ve become complacent—leaving my phone in the damn car when I’m supposed to be on call, missing signs of an impending heart attack. I’m a fucking heart surgeon! I sent her home when I should have driven her to the damn hospital myself.”

  My soul ached for him. For the boy who would always check on my scraped knees and twisted ankles. Jake had been a doctor long before he went to school or took the Hippocratic Oath.

  “I know where you’re headed with this, and I won’t allow it, Jake. You’re an amazing doctor. This is not your fault—”

  “Don’t say it, Molly,” he said, taking a few steps away from me. “Don’t say I’m not like him.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” I replied. “But surely this isn’t the first time you’ve second-guessed yourself. We’re all human, Jake, even doctors. You can’t tell me there isn’t a single moment of your career you can’t look back at and wish you’d done something differently.”

  “Of course. Dozens of them. I’m a perfectionist. I second-guess everything,” he said, his voice rising.

  “Then, what is different now? Why is this moment sending you over the edge?”

  “Because, this time, I care!” he shouted to the heavens.

  All those emotions he’d carried through the door with him, so carefully boxed up inside him, broke open in that moment. The rage, the pain, and most importantly, the regret. He fell to his knees. That great big bear of a man I’d loved since I could barely walk crumpled to the ground and roared as the tears fell to the grassy sod below.

  The sound echoing from his mouth, out of his lungs, destroyed me. I’d heard him cry only once—when his mom died. He’d sobbed in my arms as he told me the story, crushed under the weight of the news. Back then, I’d been holding a boy grieving over the lost years with his mother that he’d never get back. But, now, as I knelt on the soft green grass next to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I was holding on to a man.

  A man deeply crippled and heartbroken over his own mistakes.

  Feeling my arms around him, he turned, eyes rimmed in red. He planted himself on the ground, like we had done as kids. I noticed the knees of his jeans were stained green as he stretched his long legs out in front of him.

  “I can’t stay here,” he said softly.

  “What?” My throat went dry as my mind tried to make sense of his words. Just twenty-four hours earlier, I had been flying high at the idea of him waking up in my bed, greeting guests, and making his mark.

  And, now…

  “I can’t go on like this, Molly. I wasn’t trained for this kind of life. I’m a surgeon. I thrive on chaos and speed. Sitting around and waiting for lab results while my patients are slowly dying? I can’t do that. I need to know I’m making a difference.”

  “You are making a difference,” I pushed. “You saved Terri’s life today.”

  “No,” he countered. “Henry saved Terri’s life today. If he hadn’t stopped by her house today, who knows what would have happened? And I couldn’
t have done shit to stop it while here, on this godforsaken island.”

  “So, you’re going to run because, suddenly, your patients have names and faces you know and recognize? So that you don’t have to feel anymore? Because we’ll still be here, Jake. We’ll still need prescriptions for the flu and someone to check on our lab results. The only difference is, it won’t be you.”

  “Exactly!” he said with conviction. “I’m too close. Too close,” he repeated. “I can’t be the one to do this. I need out. I—” His voice cracked, fading into nothing.

  We both looked out onto the black water. The moon above highlighted its tiny movements, making it almost shimmer before us.

  “So, what does this mean for us?” I asked softly, turning away from the pristine view, as my heart slowly began to crumble.

  His eyes explored mine. Those wild blue irises that had haunted me for years studied every inch of my face, as if he were searching for answers somewhere deep inside me.

  “Come with me,” he finally said.

  My chest tightened.

  “Come with me,” he repeated, this time with a resolute clarity behind his words.

  “What? I can’t just—”

  His hands wrapped around mine as he shifted in the grass, pulling me closer. “You can, Molly. Come with me. Let’s not make the same mistakes of our past. Make a life with me in Chicago. You’ll love it there. We’ll eat at a different restaurant every night. My apartment is big enough for the both of us, and if you hate it, we’ll move. Hell, if you hate Chicago, we can go anywhere in the world.”

  Except here.

  He didn’t say it, but the words hung there, in the air like a puff of smoke.

  Leave my hometown. Leave my family and career, everything I’d ever known, for the one thing I’d always wanted.

  Him.

  All I had to do was say yes.

  I could see the light and excitement burning bright in his eyes. The word was right there on the tip of my tongue.

  But I couldn’t do it.

  So, instead, I kissed him.

  I kissed him hello and good-bye, all at once. In that kiss, I gave him my heart and my soul and whatever else I had left.

 

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