One Hundred Reasons

by Kelly Collins

  She thought about the woman who had made a difference in her life. A big difference, if she counted the fact that she’d lost her job.

  “Sage?” Lydia called from the top of the second story staircase. “Is that you?”

  Sage wiped at her sore, swollen eyes and croaked out, “Sorry I woke you.”

  Words barely out, Lydia was down the stairs and edging Otis off the couch. He curled up in front of the fireplace that hadn’t seen a flame in years.

  “Who died?”

  Sage pulled herself up. “Am I really that bad?”

  Lydia tilted her head.

  The lack of response told Sage everything. She let out a ragged exhale. “Bea Bennett.”

  “Let me get some tea, and we’ll talk.” Lydia disappeared into the kitchen. The cupboards opened and closed, and the microwave beeped.

  All the while, Sage looked at the envelope in her hand.

  The couch dipped under Lydia’s weight. She faced Sage, pulled her knees to her chest, and sipped at her tea. “Was that the nice old lady with the bad heart?”

  “Yes.” Sage gripped the hem of her T-shirt and dabbed at her tender eyes. At what point would she run out of tears? For those she cared about, there seemed to be an endless supply.

  “I’m sorry, I know you were fond of her.”

  Sage had told Lydia little about Bea, since they almost never had time to sit down and chat. Lydia worked around the clock, and Sage worked four ten-hour shifts a week. They were literally bodies that handed off Starbucks and hugs as they passed in the night, but she had mentioned her once or twice because Bea was important.

  “It’s more than just her. Of course, I’m sad she passed. I feel it nearly as deep as Grandma’s death. She reminded me of her. A little vinegar and a lot of honey in her personality.” She set the papers down and reached for her lukewarm tea, mimicking her sister’s body language. Curled into a tight ball, she faced Lydia. “As if that’s not enough, I’ve been put on unpaid administrative leave until they can find me a new position.” She explained to Lydia the events of the evening.

  Her sister stared at her like she was determining the correct diagnosis or dosage for meds. Lydia set her mug down and leaned forward, putting her chin on her knees.

  “I can’t say I disagree with Mr. Cross. Having you work in the geriatric ward was a bad idea from the beginning.”

  The grumble Sage let loose came from the most wounded part of her heart. “I wanted to be there when Grandma died.”

  Her sister shook her head. “I know, but the problem is, you think you can save everyone, but you can’t.”

  A louder growl ripped from Sage’s throat. “You sound like Mr. Cross. I don’t have a savior complex.”

  Lydia laughed and reached out to pat her sister on the head. “No? What about that time you gave our belly-up goldfish CPR? Then there was that butterfly with a broken wing that you patched together with Scotch tape.” She looked at Otis, who was back to snoring in front of the cold fireplace. “Should I continue?”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll confess to wanting to save Otis.” She closed her eyes to picture the fish she’d called Flip, and the nameless, broken-winged butterfly. “I gave CPR to the fish and tried to save a butterfly, but I’m not on a crusade to save everyone and everything. I just want to make a difference.”

  “Ah, sis, you do. You make a difference in so many lives. I wish you could see how special you are.” Lydia cupped her sister’s cheek the same way their mother did when they were little. It was a touch of affection Sage missed.

  “They were all special, Lydia. Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Bea were special, and they all left without a goodbye.”

  “They didn’t have a choice.” Lydia pointed at the envelope. “Are you going to open this?”

  Sage nodded. She picked up the envelope, slipped her finger under the flap, and tore it open. She unfolded a few pink pages to find several sheets of white paper stapled together. On the first page, right under the bank name, were the words “Property Deed.” The next line gave the address of 1 Lake Circle, Aspen Cove, Colorado. The next line showed Sage Nichols as the owner. Bea Bennett had left her a property.

  “Oh. My. God. She left me a property.” The deed fell to her lap. Why?

  She had only known her for a brief four weeks. Four weeks were not enough. Not enough for Sage, and not enough for Bea to leave her something like this.

  She pulled the pink pages forward to read the letter.

  My dearest Sage,

  The time has come where I must leave. I always thought being left behind would be harder, but when I look around and see the people I have to let go, it nearly breaks my already broken heart again.

  I’m sure you’re wondering why I’d leave you with B’s Bed and Breakfast. You need it, and Aspen Cove needs you.

  I approached this gift as I do with everything else in my life. I jotted down all the reasons it was right. And this is right, Sage. I know in my heart you will come to love the little town of Aspen Cove as much as I do.

  With love and hope,

  Bea

  She went to the next page, where in Bea’s fine script was the title One Hundred Reasons, and beneath it she’d made a list that started with 1. You need to live a little and ended with 100. Aspen Cove needs you.

  Sage dropped the pages to her lap and cried.

  “What is it?” Lydia scooted closer.

  Curved fingernails left crescent moons in the palm of Sage’s hands. “All I did was my job with Bea, and look what she gave me.” She arranged the pages in order and handed them to her sister.

  Lydia looked through them one by one. Her eyes grew big. She glanced up, grinned, then laughed. Not a smile or small giggle more appropriate for a somber moment, but a full-on belly laugh. When she finished, she said, “She left you a house, and you don’t think you made a difference?” Lydia put the pages down and moved to curl into Sage’s side. She pulled one of their grandma’s crocheted throws from the back of the sofa and covered them both. “I massaged a man’s heart for over an hour yesterday, and I didn’t even get a thank you, nonetheless a house. Today, I went to check on him, and he told me I should have been more gentle because I bruised him.”

  An unexpected giggle burst from Sage’s lips. “Did you tell him he could have been dead and to stop complaining?”

  “Oh yeah, I screamed at him silently inside my head and gave him the imaginary finger while I smiled at his wife and upped his pain meds.”

  Sage tugged the throw to her chin. “Do you ever tire of being a doctor?”

  Lydia leaned her head on Sage’s shoulder. “I still love it, although it’s not all it’s pumped up to be.” Her shoulders shook with another bout of laughter. “I expected it to be glamorous. I was told I’d be rich. All lies.” She untucked her arms from the blanket and gave the room a wide sweep of her hands. “Look at me. I live in a two-story tract home with my uber-rich, super cheap boyfriend and my sister who would be happy to live with her handicapped dog in my basement for the rest of her life.”

  Sage pulled back and frowned. “That’s not true.”

  “Which part?”

  She looked at Otis, then whispered, “Hush, he doesn’t know he’s handicapped.”

  “You’re deflecting.”

  “I’m not.” Indignation colored Sage’s voice, but it was a welcome change from the sound of sadness. “You act like I’m that guy from Failure to Launch. The movie where Matthew McConaughey lives with his parents and doesn’t want to leave the comfort and convenience of living at home. Let me remind you that you asked me to come live here after Todd and I broke up.” Sage yanked on the blanket and wrapped the lion’s share of it around her body.

  “Really? You want to go there? You didn’t leave your bed for weeks except to pull your shift at the hospital.”

  “I was tired.” Sage knew Lydia was right. When Todd told her he’d taken a job out of state, she was stunned. She didn’t even know he’d been looking. When she asked him about th
eir relationship, he laughed and told her it was fun while it lasted. “Okay.” She relented. “I was broken up, but I’d given him everything for three years.” He’d abandoned me.

  “And therein lies the problem. You give everyone everything. You have nothing left for yourself. Isn’t it time you did something for you? You’re thirty years old. Start living, Sage. Staying in my basement isn’t really living.” She pointed to the papers. “Maybe this is the opportunity you need. What do you have to lose? Go see the place.”

  “I don’t even know where it is.”

  “Does it really matter? Bea gave you a gift. The least you can do is check it out. It might be everything you want. If not, you can sell it and come home. Just go. It might make you happy.”

  Leaving Lydia’s terrified Sage, but maybe she was right. She was always the voice of reason.

  “Are you happy, Lydia?” Sage wrapped her arms around her big sister and squeezed.

  “Oh . . . you know . . . I’m as happy as a girl who works herself to near death can be.”

  Leaving her sister would be hard. She was all Sage had. Then again, she couldn’t depend on her sister for her own happiness. One look around, and she had to admit only to herself that she had overstayed her welcome.

  “I’ll go, but don’t rent out my room just yet. I might be back.”

  “Okay, but if Matthew McConaughey wants to rent your room, I’m letting him.”

  “Never gonna happen, but what will you do once I’m gone?”

  Lydia maintained a neutral expression. “I’ll do what Terry Bradshaw did in the movie—get a big fish tank and turn your space into a naked room.” Lydia couldn’t contain her stoicism any longer. She let out the laughter Sage was sure to miss.

  “Do nothing with my space until I’m settled somewhere.” Sage was certain she’d get to Aspen Cove and turn right around, but she owed it to Bea and herself to take a look.

  Chapter Five

  On Tuesday, Sage packed up her car with what little she had. Bea would be buried tomorrow, and she intended to be in Aspen Cove in time to say goodbye.

  All her worldly possessions fit into the back of her silver SUV. As she shut the hatch, she reflected on how sad it was that her life could be contained in a couple of duffel bags and a few boxes.

  Lydia stood in the doorway, sipping coffee, while Otis sat at her feet with a have-you-lost-your-mind expression. The truth was, Sage wasn’t positive she hadn’t lost her marbles. She lost everything else. Her job. Her focus. Why not her mind?

  “Come on, Otis,” Sage said. “It’s time for an adventure.” The dog teetered back and forth on his hind leg and looked up at Lydia with pleading puppy-dog eyes.

  She lifted her chin toward the car as if to say, Go on.

  Otis lumbered down the front steps and over to the SUV where Sage helped him climb into the passenger seat. He curled up, and Sage tucked his stuffed bunny into the curve of his body. Otis might be her comfort, but that bunny with its soft fur and floppy ears was his. He’d had it since she’d adopted him from the shelter.

  A quick goodbye hug with Lydia turned into one that she never wanted to end. Sage reluctantly pushed away. It wasn’t like she was leaving forever, just a few days at most. Something about that thought comforted and depressed her equally. Her status quo was anything but exciting. She had few friends, and no lovers. It was a sad day to admit that her best buddy was a three-legged golden retriever in love with a stuffed rabbit named Phineas.

  “Call me as soon as you get there.” Lydia gave her a final squeeze. “It will be different. Don’t decide if you love it or hate it on the first day.”

  “Right,” Sage said with little conviction. “Bea loved it. How bad could it be?”

  Lydia raised her coffee cup. “You need to look at things from a glass-half-full perspective.”

  Sage snatched the cup and drank the remaining coffee. “Fine, but your glass is now empty.” She pressed the “I’m a physician not a magician” mug back into her sister’s hand and gave her a weak smile before she walked down the steps, climbed inside her SUV, and backed out of the driveway.

  Too bad Lydia wasn’t a magician. She could use a little magic in her life right now.

  As the flats of Denver grew distant in her rearview mirror, Sage focused on the landscape in front of her. A stray pine tree or two turned into a forest. Small rocky outcroppings turned into mountains. She wound through the pass and broke through the thick cloud cover that had blanketed the city and her life for days. She caught her first glimpse of the sun. Did its appearance after days of gray mean something? Was the darkness behind her? Were brighter days ahead? Sage hoped so and drove toward the light.

  Almost three hours later, she arrived at her destination. Tucked between Longs Peak and Mount Meeker was the tiny town of Aspen Cove. She pulled onto Main Street and took a deep breath, hoping the air filled her lungs enough to keep her sinking heart in place.

  The metropolis of Aspen Cove wasn’t even the length of a full city block. Trade the few visible cars for horses, and it would be perfect for the set of an old spaghetti western.

  Sage pulled her car into an empty slot at the end of the street, intent on exploring. She wanted to give Bea’s town a chance before she offered her personal diagnosis. With the way some of the windows were whitewashed and others boarded up, she feared the town had flatlined years ago. The deserted block confirmed that Aspen Cove had less life pumping through its veins than the patients in the geriatric ward.

  Seeing as Otis was sound asleep, she rolled down the window and set out to explore the town Bea had once called home. The air was crisp and clear, and the scent of pine hung like perfume around her.

  There was no one in sight. She crossed the street to stand in front of the Corner Store, aptly named for its location. It was the kind of place she’d stop to get a soda but never produce. Next in line, a tailor, a hairdresser, and a dry goods store sat clustered together, but sadly alone in their abandonment. Just past the dry goods store was Maisey’s Diner. It still had life, but not today because it was after two o’clock on a Tuesday, which was closing time for the diner whose door sign said it opened two days a week.

  Across the street sat a building with the word Sheriff etched into the frosted glass window. The only thing missing was a man in a cowboy hat with a star pinned to his chest.

  She’d made it halfway through the town’s meager offerings. There was no way she’d be able to stay. Aspen Cove had no Starbucks. No Safeway. No Target. No Sephora. There wasn’t a McDonald’s, a Taco Bell, or a Dunkin’ Donuts. Nothing here offered the comforts of the life she had in Denver.

  There was a small pharmacy, not the kind where she could get a prescription refilled, but the kind she imagined was stocked with expired cough syrup and last month’s Penthouse Forum. In the window, “The Doctor Is In” blinked in bright neon red. Sage moved quickly past.

  Beside the tiny pharmacy sat a storefront with crystal clear windows and a big wooden sign that read “Bishop’s Brewhouse.” Despite the town’s rundown look, this place appeared taken care of from its neatly lined up liquor bottles to the jukebox glowing in the corner. How could a small town support a bar but not a full-time diner?

  She hurried past the closed Bishop Bait and Tackle store and ended her tour of Aspen Cove standing in front of a bakery called B’s. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Sage pressed her nose against the glass. Black and white checkered floor tiles supported white café tables. Pinstriped wallpaper was the backdrop for the cross-stitched pictures that hung on the wall. A glass display case stood empty next to an old-fashioned black cash register. On the other side of the bakery, a woman slumped over a café table. Her hands cradled her face, and her shoulders shook.

  Could she be a relative of Bea? A recipient of the pink stationery Sage had replenished for Bea with regularity?

  She rapped against the cool glass several times before the young blonde lifted her head.

  “The bakery is closed.” Although muf
fled by the door, her voice nearly broke with each word, and Sage could practically feel her grief.

  “Can you let me in for a moment? I just want to talk to you.”

  “I have nothing to offer you.” The woman looked behind her at the empty display case. “Can’t you see there’s nothing here?”

  “You’re here, and I’m not asking for anything except that you open the door. I’d like to talk to you about Bea.”

  At the mention of Bea’s name, the woman’s features softened. She rose from her chair and walked to the door. The lock turned, and the door opened.

  Sage wasted no time in pulling the woman in for a hug. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” With each death she’d experienced, those words had comforted others.

  The woman cried while Sage lent her shoulder for tears and a hug for support. When the racking sobs transitioned to a warbling whimper, she led the woman back to the table, where they each took a seat.

  “I’m Sage Nichols.” She reached across the table and offered a touch of comfort.

  The young woman, whose eyes were a deep ocean blue, took a breath and shook Sage’s hand. “I’m Katie Middleton.” A smile lifted the corners of her lips. “Not that Katie Middleton.”

  Sage giggled. “No? And I was excited that I’d finally met a royal.”

  Katie let go of Sage, pulled the sleeve of her sweater over her hand, and brushed the tears from her eyes. “Well, I’m a royal pain in the butt.” Her voice drawled with a twang. “If I were that Katie, I’d be knee-deep in crown jewels and philanthropy. Not to mention her rather dreamy husband. Dreamy if you like designer suits and polo ponies.” She bobbed her pageant-worthy hair. Sage thought Katie a southern girl, but couldn’t quite place the accent. Texas? Louisiana? She looked past the voice to the woman.

  “Some girls have all the luck.”

  “I’ve got luck, but it’s mostly bad.” Katie ran her fingers through blonde hair streaked with a caramel-strawberry that could only come from nature. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even know you, and here I am blubberin’ like an idiot and talking about Prince Charming. You must think I’m crazy.” She sat back in the chair. “I’d offer you some sweet tea or somethin’ else if I had it, but I was being honest when I said I had nothing to offer.”